—Chapter 6—
Malcolm had been up all night on the planet, along with his security teams. They'd broken into the supplies the Orions had kept for themselves and passed out food and water to their former prisoners. Fortunately, there was plenty of food to last them all, until the Vulcans arrived to this planet to take them all away. Leaving the Orion camp to hike to a more defensible position two miles away, the prisoners and crewmen left behind the stench of dead Orions and their beasts, while the dozen or so still living Orions were aboard the Enterprise, being interrogated. Now they just had to wait another two and a half days for the Vulcans to reach them with their transport.
T'Pol was ready to leave for the Bridge the next morning, when her door chime sounded. She knew it would be Commander Tucker for he had recently picked up the habit of stopping by her door to collect her on the way to the Bridge. Her quarters were on the way, so T'Pol did not object to the Commander's idiosyncrasy. His actions were completely logical, for it allowed them to get the small talk which humans relished out of the way before going on duty.
"Good morning, Commander," said T'Pol as she accepted the tall carry-out cup of hot tea he handed her.
She could tell by the smell that it was the brand called Morning Thunder, which featured a wild bovine charging across the prairie. She thought it was supposed to charge her up in a similar fashion, but Vulcans were not affected by caffeine. Still, she enjoyed the brew.
"Morning, T'Pol."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah, real good. That stuff Phlox gave me was like a bottle of bourbon. I don't even remember making my way to my quarters."
"I helped you to your quarters, Commander."
Trip stopped and smiled.
"Oranges," said Trip. "My pillow smelled faintly of citrus this morning and I thought I was crazy since I haven't seen an orange in months, but now I'm catching a slight scent of it from you."
"I had to carry you to your quarters, Commander, and you crawled directly into bed."
"Yeah, but why does my pillow carry your scent, T'Pol?" said Trip with the beginnings of a smile. "I trust there's a logical explanation."
"You dragged me into bed with you, Commander. My head must have touched—"
"Oh, ho," said Trip, interrupting T'Pol, "now I really wish I could remember what happened last night, my fine Vulcan SubCommander. So I dragged you into my bed. What next? Did you giggle as you felt my hungry lips on your elegant, pointy ears?"
T'Pol sighed and gave the Commander a jaded look.
"You know," said Trip with a smile, "if you happened to take some liberties with me last night, SubCommander, I absolve you of any guilt. And if my innocence—"
"No liberties were taken, Commander Tucker, I assure you," said T'Pol. "As for you and innocence being linked together, that is an oxymoron, if ship's gossip is at all accurate. Oxymoron means—"
"I know what the word means, T'Pol.'
Thankfully, as T'Pol saw things, they'd reached the Bridge so that this conversation could die a merciful death.
Captain Archer was in the Situation Room, situated at the back of the Bridge, Ke'Relle next to him, so Trip and T'Pol joined them as well.
"How you feeling, Trip?" said Archer.
"I'm all right, Captain. Where do things stand this morning?"
"No sign of the Orions. Vulcans are sixty-one hours away. Malcolm has things in order down below."
"What do we do if the Orions return before the Vulcan ships get here? said T'Pol.
"We have no choice but to attack them, disable their ships. If it was just a matter of loot I'd let them go without engaging them, but I imagine they've got more captives aboard, which need rescue."
T'Pol nodded her agreement with the Captain's sentiments.
"You need some sleep, Captain," said T'Pol.
Though technically the night shift was commanded by Lieutenant Ortiz, Archer had spent the night in his ready room, reading, in case the Orions popped up.
"You're right," said Archer. "I'm gonna hit the sack. You have the conn, SubCommander."
Ke'Relle gave Archer a slight wave as he left the Bridge.
"I'm off for Engineering, T'Pol. Call if you need anything," said Trip, before giving Ke'Relle a come along gesture with his head.
Ensign Hoshi Sato watched Commander Tucker exit the Bridge with Ke'Relle in tow, and she alone noticed the slight frown on the SubCommander's face as she watched them leave. As a talented linguist, her stock and trade was communication, and communication was not limited to the spoken word and so the good Ensign was adept enough at reading body language as well.
The Ensign had noticed the SubCommander's reactions, subtle as they were, on several occasions when the Commander and the Ke'Relle were together, and Hoshi had found those reactions interesting. In human females, T'Pol's reactions might indicate jealousy, but Hoshi was not ready to make that determination where a Vulcan was concerned. Could be she just didn't like Ke'Relle. Yeah, yeah, Vulcan's weren't supposed to have emotions, but Hoshi knew better. This situation would bear watching though, thought the Ensign.
Why? Why not, she thought.
Later that day, Captain Archer was awakened an hour before dinner time by Porthos nibbling on his toes. The dog did that when he got restless, and the Beagle was restless now, for his master had not kept their regular schedule. Porthos was generally confined to quarters while the captain was on duty, save for lunch time, when the captain took him for a thirty minute jog throughout the ship, and in the evenings, when he accompanied his master throughout the ship. If Archer had to work past his normal shifts, he released Porthos into the wild of the ship to go on a walkabout of the Enterprise on his own, reasoning that it would be cruel to confine a social animal like a dog for the majority of the day.
Porthos loved those walkabouts, because as the only dog on the Enterprise, he was a rockstar. All the other bipeds rubbed him, scratched his ears, threw items for him to fetch, fed him a variety of tasty treats when he made his rounds to the Mess Hall, and he always made his way to the Mess Hall sooner or later. Best of all, some of the female bipeds kissed him on the mouth repeatedly while baby talking to him. Porthos went out of his way for those sweet kisses. This day though, Archer had forgotten to release him into the wild, and Porthos had exhausted his patience, thus the toe nibbling.
"All right, all right, Porthos, I'm up."
The Beagle chuffed at Archer, impatient to stretch his legs. Looking at the clock, Archer started getting dressed, after taking a moment to press the comm button.
"Archer to Engineering."
"Trip here, Captain."
"Hey, you and Ke'Relle want to meet me in the lounge for a pre-dinner drink?"
The Enterprise had a small lounge that allowed off-duty crewmen two drinks a day. Other than that alchohol was not served, nor were crew members allowed to have their own private stash.
"Sure, Captain, sounds good. When?"
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
"See you then."
Archer found his shoes, pressed the comm button again.
"Archer to Bridge."
"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol.
"Come to the lounge after your shift. We'll all have a drink before dinner."
Vulcans generally didn't drink alchoholic beverages, but Trip had gotten T'Pol to try small amounts of various liquors in the interests of expanding her palate, and she had actually gotten to like some of those drinks, namely sake, pear cider, brandy and sipping quality rum, so far.
"Very well, Captain. I take it Commander Tucker and Ke'Relle will join us?"
"Yeah, they will. Problem?"
"No," said T'Pol. "I will be there in twenty minutes."
Good as her word, T'Pol walked into the lounge precisely on time, to see Commander Tucker, Ke'Relle, Hoshi and Captain Archer gathered around Porthos, who was seated upon a chair.
"Hey, great timing, T'Pol," said Trip. "Come here, I want to show you something. In honor of you and Ke'Relle, I'm teaching Porthos some Vulcan customs."
"Really," said T'Pol, and joined the onlookers gathered around the captain's canine companion. "Well?"
Commander Tucker knelt in front of Porthos and extended the index and middle fingers of his right hand, while folding the two smaller fingers inward and covering them with his thumb.
"It took me three pounds of Chef's Italian meatballs to train Porthos to do this bit."
"Trip, you son of a bitch, I thought he was getting kind of plump these last few days," said Archer.
"Here we go," said Trip, snapping his fingers to get the Beagle's attention. "Porthos, ozh."
The Beagle raised his right paw and held it out towards Commander Tucker, while lowering his head, and the Commander reached out with his right hand, touching his two fingers to the Beagle's outstretched paw, while lowering his own head.
"Ashayam," said Trip, his voice rich with emotion, "I hunger, but only for your touch!"
Hoshi broke out in laughter, and Ke'Relle gave a snort and a chuckle. Archer just looked confused.
"What am I seeing here?" said Archer.
"Passion, Captain," said Ke'Relle. "You are seeing two kindred spirits, which have joined into one."
T'Pol was displeased. She glanced dismissively at both Ke'Relle and Commander Tucker, before speaking to the Captain.
"Commander Tucker just performed the ozh'esta, a Vulcan gesture of affection between married couples, with your Beagle, while naming Porthos his 'Beloved'.
Archer began laughing as well though T'Pol turned a stony gaze upon him, then said, "Trip, you bastard. Porthos is my cabin boy, not yours!"