—Chapter 17—

As Trip regained consciousness he found himself in what looked like a semi-private alcove in a large Sick Bay, attended to by a dignified looking Vulcan.

"Ah, Commander Tucker, you are back with us, " said the Vulcan. "I am Doctor Velak."

"Doctor," said Trip, "where am I? How long have I been here?"

"You are aboard the Tal'Kir, Commander, and you've been here for three days."

"What's my condition?"

"You are in good shape now. We're headed for Vulcan, where you will spend another week or so in one of our hospitals. You will undergo some forced regeneration to heal the phaser burn wound in your side and our neurologists will give you the once over, make sure you will not suffer any permanent neural damage."

"I don't remember getting here."

"Given the physical damage you suffered, T'Pol made use of a novel method to bring you here, guided by the suggestions of a Lieutenant Reed. Seeing how badly you were injured, she bundled you back aboard the transporter and essentially carried you along in stasis, as an energy signature in the transporter buffer."

"Like the Happa."

"Precisely, Commander."

"Hmmm," said Trip. "I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I trust T'Pol."

"And she trusts you, Commander. As a matter of fact, she has been making a nuisance of herself in my Sick Bay, personally monitoring your progress a dozen times a day. I have come close to posting a guard at the door, but I understand her concern. That was a noble thing you and your fellow crew members did for the sake of Vulcan. I extend you my personal gratitude."

"I am a StarFleet officer, born to serve," said Trip, using the Vulcans own line at them—I am a Vulcan, born to serve—and chuckled at his witticism, though it pained him.

"I see T'Pol has had a positive influence on you," said the Doctor with a slight smile, "and speaking of the SubCommander…"

Trip turned to see T'Pol approaching the alcove and though her face was composed, he could have sworn he'd seen a brief flash of excitement when she realized he'd regained consciousness.

"Commander," said T'Pol.

"It's good to see you, Polly. I thought I was a dead man on that roof."

"We are no longer in Syndicate space, Commander Tucker. Call me Polly once more and you will indeed be a dead man."

Trip laughed, shifted his weight to move to the right and tapped the bed, and after a moment's hesitation T'Pol seated herself on the Commander's bed.

"How would you do it, SubCommander?"

"Strangulation," said T'Pol, raising her hands and wiggling her fingers towards the Commander.

"And Surak would not object to my cold blooded murder?"

"I believe Surak would forgive me. He is reputed to have been quite understanding, and you are being deliberately provocative."

"Ok, you've scared me straight, T'Pol. I'll not speak that name again… at least until I can defend myself."

Doctor Velak monitored the interaction between the two shipmates with a quiet interest as he fiddled around with Trip's bedside health monitor. He'd noticed the brief flash of emotion on the SubCommander's face as well, which he attributed to the danger these two had faced together recently, but the conversation between this human and T'Pol had a playful quality about it, something not typically Vulcan, save perhaps between long mated couples, yet he knew that T'Pol had only served aboard the Enterprise for a matter of months and he doubted the two were mated. Still, it was fascinating.

"I will leave you now, Commander Tucker. If you need anything, press that button," said Velak, motioning towards a red button built into the frame of his bed. "SubCommander, stay as long as you like. I get the feeling that this patient is the restless type. It will do him good to have some company."

"Thanks, Doc," said Trip.

Velak nodded and walked away after drawing closed a heavy curtain which effectively shut out the light and noise from the rest of the Sick Bay, leaving Trip and T'Pol alone, each looking at the other in the dim light coming from his bedside lamp.

"Malcolm got out ok?"

"He is fine, Commander. We have all earned a commendation on our records for this action, but I pressed both Soval and Captain Archer to see that Lieutenant Reed is awarded a medal for his bravery on the roof."

"I was kind of out of it, T'Pol. Explain."

"Lieutenant Reed deliberately drew the attention and the fire of the majority of our adversaries in the hope that it would buy you and I a few moments more, enough for Ensign Sato to beam us off that roof. His bravery bordered on the suicidal."

"Oh," said Trip. "I'll have to buy him a drink and thank him personally when he comes down here."

"They have all gone back to the Enterprise, Commander. I will be here with you while you heal, and then we have been given another ten days leave on Vulcan, so that you may recuperate fully."

"Doctor's orders?"

"Precisely. Although I suggested the idea to Doctor Velak. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh? You want to keep me a prisoner on Vulcan? I sense foul play, T'Pol."

"Nothing as sinister as that. You joined StarFleet in order to see new worlds and new civilizations. I thought you might enjoy getting to know my planet."

"Oh… I'd love that, T'Pol," said Trip. "You know, back there on that roof, when you covered me from the blast, I could have sworn your lips brushed mine."

"You are mistaken, Commander."

"You're sure, T'Pol? It seemed so real."

"I am positive, Commander," said T'Pol, as cool as a cucumber perched atop a mound of shaved ice.

"Ok," said Trip, then something caught his eye. "Hey, turn your head."

T'Pol did as asked and Trip saw that the neural whip was still attached.

"What's with the whip? Did Velak have trouble removing it?"

"No," said T'Pol, after a moment's hesitation. "The High Command wants it, in case they run another operation into Syndicate space, but I have been putting Doctor Velak off. I told him the High Command might wish us to conduct one last experiment before my neural whip is removed."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Commander. We never finished our last experiment."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, old girl?"

T'Pol raised a brow, and said, "Old girl?"

"Well, we can take it for granted that you're a hundred and twenty to a hundred and fifty years older than me," said Trip with a wicked smile, "so I thought old girl sounded most appro—"

"I am nowhere close to that old, Commander."

"So how old are you, T'Pol?

"Do you really want to know my age," said T'Pol, drawing the base unit from her pocket, "or would your rather experiment with the neural whip one last time before they remove it?"

"Give it to me, T'Pol!"

T'Pol was gratified by the Commander's eagerness. She'd been afraid that he considered that episode a trivial matter and had steeled herself to betray no disappointment if he declined to take her up on her offer. Still, to tease the Commander a bit…

"I take it that you are talking about the base unit, Commander?"

"Am I? It's cute that you think that, SubCommander," said Trip, as he slipped on his base unit.

T'Pol blinked once, twice, then three more times in rapid succession, as she'd done not long ago. How did this man fluster her so easily? The answer to that question would have to come at another time, for as T'Pol felt the Commander's lips on her neck, and his hands on her breasts, all logic escaped her.

"Oh, Surak," was T'Pol's last coherent thought as she felt herself pushed against a wall now and her lips devoured by the Commander's lips, all while the man shamelessly caressed her ears with a touch that was both fierce and gentle, only to then slide his hands down to the small of her back and then lower still, "this man could teach an octopus to multi-task its tentacles, so, surely it is logical that I am attracted to him, if only in the slightest."