Jonathan Archer had never seen Denobula before. He supposed he'd always expected the planet itself to somehow look cheerful. It didn't. It spun grimly beneath them.
"How's it looking down there, Hoshi?"
Hoshi listened for a few minutes longer before answering him. "I'm picking up multiple news channels sir. Some of them are reporting civil unrest. Violent protests. Looting, even."
Archer grimaced. "Looting Denobulans?"
Hoshi shrugged helplessly. "Nothing near either of the landing sites, at least."
"All right, Hoshi. Get me a channel with the Denobulan Authorities and then with the Earth and Vulcan Embassies. In that order. There's no Andorian or Tellarite presence on Denobula, is there?"
"Not currently, sir, no. I'll put the calls through to your ready room."
"Thanks Lieutenant," Archer nodded, and then turned to T'Pol. "Commander, please ensure that you have working uplinks to all of Morello's equipment - I want your eyes on this. Then you can tell Commander Tucker to launch."
Even out of the corner of his eye, Archer saw T'Pol pale.
"Commander Tucker?"
"Well, I had to send someone senior, T'Pol, and since our borderline mutinous junior medical officer pulled your clearance, I went with the next best thing. Frankly, I assumed you..."
Archer broke off and stared in astonishment at his first officer darting from the bridge without so much as logging off her console. He took two steps to follow her when...
"I have the Prime Minister for you, Captain," Hoshi broke in, almost apologetically.
Archer's eyes around looking for the nearest superfluous officer and landed on Lieutenant Reed. "I'll take the call in my ready-room, Hoshi. Malcolm," he continued lowering his voice, "Would you go find out what that was about?"
Reed replied with the slow cypher of a nod which he saved for such occasions and walked quickly from the bridge,while Archer stalked to his ready room, steeling himself for another polite conversation with a Denobulan who clearly just wanted him to go away.
Not sure whether she was heading to the launch-bay, the staging area, or Engineering, T'Pol nevertheless found herself running through the ship. Perhaps some strange instinct guided her feet, because she encountered Trip faster than she should have by chance, hearing his raised voice before she saw him.
"What the hell is it about this situation that has you so unhinged, Alice?"
"Would you just trust me, and send someone else, for Pete's sake?" his equally animated interlocutor replied, just as T'Pol rounded the corner. "I wouldn't be making such a turnip of myself if it wasn't important, would I?"
"Trip, you mustn't go to Denobula!" The words fell out of T'Pol's mouth even as she skittered to a halt between them.
Trip gawped at her. "You too? What in the blue blazes is going on around here?"
"The Captain is quite curious about that as well," broke in Malcolm Reed, from behind T'Pol. "As am I, for that matter."
Uncomfortably aware that all eyes were upon her, T'Pol composed herself and addressed her lover directly. "I am happy to explain. Privately. An explanation is well past due. But you cannot go down to Denobula. Please."
Trip's eyes softened. "I...think I have to go. Someone has to..."
"I can go, if you like," Malcolm interrupted again, peering at them with a shrewdness that made T'Pol uncomfortable. "I might be a better choice, anyway. For one thing, Hoshi did say something about riots, and for another, I'm sure Trip remembers what happened with Feezel that time. So, shall I? If it's all right with you ladies, that is..."
While T'Pol nodded graciously, it was clear that Alice was not quite so pleased with this development. She did however, assent, adding "Don't forget your toothbrush, though. 'Cause there's no way I'll be letting you lot just wander back onto the ship, incubating all-sorts. Expect a long quarantine stay."
In reply, Malcolm smiled nastily. "There's no time to fetch my toothbrush, I'm afraid. I will just have to gamble that my tooth enamel will hold out longer than the Captain's patience for your biosecurity concerns."
"A gamble you will lose, my friend," Alice shot back, departing.
Trip had been shifting impatiently all throughout the preceding banter. After Malcolm, also, strode away muttering, he all but bailed T'Pol up against a wall.
"So. We're all alone. Now will you explain yourself? Please?"
T'Pol's stomach twisted unpleasantly. "You did not mention this morning that you had been assigned to the away-team."
"I didn't know I had to, T'Pol! You aren't my keeper, are you? Now what is this about, damn it?"
"It is not the sort of thing one blurts out in a hallway," T'Pol snapped back.
This was unpleasant.
This was not the moment.
"Unbelievable!" Trip hissed, before he too departed, leaving T'Pol distressingly close to tears.
This mission was a big moment for H.B. and the anxiety was interacting unpleasantly with his gut. It did not help that his girlfriend was piloting the shuttle, nor that there was an armed and surly MACO sitting behind him, nor that Commander Tucker had been replaced at the last minute by the considerably less amiable Lieutenant Reed.
"What does H.B. stand for?" Reed had asked by way of conversation after they dropped Phlox and Cutler off at a suburban - at least by Denobulan standards- area before proceeding to the capital. As they had taken off H.B. had caught a glimpse of the Denobulan doctor talking to a tall, decidedly uncomfortable-looking young man, while Cutler had stared off into the middle distance. Now, there was little to do but watch the horizon for the approaching spires of the capital, and ignore the worrying pillars of smoke stretching into the amber sky.
"Hubert, sir."
"And the 'B'?" Reed replied in a tone of limited patience.
"It's just Hubert, sir. I...don't have a middle name. And I didn't like Bert - or Bertie- so..."
"Right..."
"You'd understand about unfortunate names, wouldn't you, sir?" Fabrecia piped up, an edge in her voice.
H.B.'s liver all but collapsed into his pelvis, but amazingly Reed responded with good humour - "Well, ensign, we can't all have names that sound like brands of fabric softener, can we?" - and Fabrecia executed a sharp maneuver all but designed to aggravate Reed's motion sickness.
When they righted again, Reed turned back to H.B. more genially. "Are you ready, Ensign? This is going to be your show. I'm here purely for ass-covering purposes. And possibly to help spring you from quarantine before you reach your dotage."
"I'm ready, sir," H.B. answered with some actual buoying confidence, a feeling that lasted right through the rest of the trip...
and the landing...
...right up until he was faced with the delegation of approaching Denobulans.
Then, he remembered his landing permit.
"I've forgotten the landing permit! I left it in the shuttle!" he blurted in undignified horror.
Fabrecia's eyes widened but she didn't move, and the MACO- Cole, or something- only grunted.
"I suppose I'll get it, shall I?" Reed said overly-brightly, after a moment and he walked back toward the shuttle, shaking his head.
"Dr Morello?" the lead Denobulan asked, just then stepping forward.
"Yes," H.B. replied. "Sorry about the landing permit. Lieutenant Reed has just gone to get it. I've never been to Denobula before. You have a beautiful home." Just like his mother had taught him, he thought a little crazily.
"Oh, I'm not really Denobulan," the man replied, conversationally.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm Valakian," he continued, showing his teeth. "And this is for my people."
Then the world exploded, and H.B. ended.