Drawing up Plans
Legatus Tavrus, who once was Major Talok, felt a sense of deja-vu. Not too long ago he had walked the same corridors on his way to a congregation with the Praetor. Thankfully the news were better this time. What remained to be seen was if, considering the news he had were not the best, the Praetor could resist the urge to shoot the messenger.
After the disasters at Betazed and Salem One the Imperial Fleet had finally achieved a victory and the fission weapons, a ridiculously barbaric concept, had worked, but such victories proved somewhat hollow. What was the point in subjugating colonies and planets, if the weapons used in the process made the annexed planets uninhabitable for hundreds of thousands of years.
Four weeks had passed since the Praetor had installed him as the Imperial Fleet's supervisor of the Tal'Shiar and this time had done nothing to increase his appreciation of this organization. From what he had witnessed during his time on Vulcan, organizations like the Vulcan V'Shar were much more effective and skilled in the shady world of underground operations. Their latest failure on Earth was testament to that fact.
The heavy doors opened and Tavrus performed the Imperial salute as soon as he had crossed the threshold. D'Deridex seemed to be in a good mood, Tavrus noticed. So there might be a way to survive this after all.
"Laegatus Tavrus," the Praetor acknowledged. "These are indeed good news I hear about the latest battle, but I do know that some have a penchant for exaggerating their deeds, while I have come to know you as a more reliable voice of reason. So let us know what the Tal'Shiar thinks of the latest developments."
"The Tal'Shiar agrees that it was a glorious victory Excellency, however it is our duty to look beyond the battle and not all is that good."
"Let us know then," Admiral Valdore demanded boldly. Tavrus had to force himself not to snort at the mans nerve. Not too long ago the Admiral was in acute danger of being taken outside by a firing squad, but a single victory seemed to have 'reinvigorated' his sense of superiority.
"Our last attempt at destabilizing the influence of the Terrhasu has failed miserably. The Coalition has been finalized and is now beyond the point where undermining tactics would prove effective. We are fighting against three races at once."
"Was the Coalition not made of 4 species?" the Praetor asked. "I have received four declarations of war."
"Only Vulcan, Andoria and Terra are in the battle fleets. The Tellarites are stationed around all major Coalition planets and Colonies. Such is their advantage in numbers that they can afford to surround each planet with a near impenetrable fleet of heavily armored cruisers."
"What can we do to bolster our numbers?" the Praetor demanded. "Valdore, where are all our ships?"
"A majority of our forces are bound at the Klingon border," Valdore admitted. "The Klingons lack the courage to attack more than one opponent, so when this Coalition was formed, they chose to attack us instead."
"Or they were just not stupid enough," Tavrus remarked drily.
"You think this is a stupid endeavor?" the Praetor asked with an offended look at Tavrus.
"With all due respect, Excellency, yes I think so."
"I hope you have something good to say for yourself," D'Deridex spoke in threatening voice. "You know how little effort it takes to summon a firing squad."
"You may have me shot and I will accept any judgment you deem fitting," Tavrus declared. "But may I remind you Excellency that we currently have only a fleet of 40 battleships against the Coalition, as all other forces are needed to save the Empire from the Klingon onslaught. Also, our first victory came at unacceptable cost. We annexed the Galorndon system, but in the process we rendered it uninhabitable for generations."
"Your words have merit," the Praetor conceded. "But what is your suggestion?"
"Instead of heading out, looking for small victories, we need to concentrate all possible resources on building new ships and solving the Klingon problem first. We will not be able to fight at two fronts at once."
"Ridiculous," Valdore protested. "We would be rendered idle for almost a year."
"That is about the time we should have taken to prepare, instead of rushing headlong into an attack with too few forces at our disposal," Tavrus spat angrily. He was now past the point of caring. Some people needed to hear a few truths. "With all due respect of course. I'm starting to believe that I spent all those years on that forsaken desert planet for nothing. All the data and conclusions I have brought back have been completely ignored. We have become so used to being the dominant force in the quadrant that we have forgotten that there are worthy foes out there, which we can't just force into surrender with a handful of warbirds."
"Calm down, Legatus!" the Praetor demanded. "We hear your words. They certainly have more merit than Valdore's, even if they are dangerously close to insubordination."
"I beg forgiveness," Tavrus said.
"Granted," the Praetor decreed with a wave of the hand. "Valdore! You have nine months, not a day longer and I want to see a fleet that can rival coalition numbers. Until then we concentrate on the Klingon problem and will limit the Terrhasu campaign to hit-and-run attacks with a small fleet. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly, Excellency."
One look at Valdore told Tavrus that he was in dangerous territory. The dirty looks of the Admiral made it perfectly clear that he wasn't pleased by the bigger influence he had with the Praetor. Not too many would have gotten away with what had just happened.
Now if the veruul would just learn to concentrate his energy on the war effort instead of sucking up to the authorities.
=/\=
"John, it's good to hear from you," Gardner said when Archer's face appeared on the screen. "I take it you've collected your ships?"
"We did. We are back at Salem One and have started doing repairs."
"Good," the Admiral said. "Lorian will arrive in a few days, We've stuffed tons of supplies in his ship. Distribute them as you see fit."
"What are our further orders?"
"None so far," Gardner said. "The V'Shar have reported that the Romulans have other problems right now. Looks like the Klingons are trying to use the war to help themselves to some Romulan space."
"First good news in a while," Archer said drily.
"The Vulcans and Andorians have ramped up production of Suurok and Kumari cruisers until Tucker has finished the Molotok prototype. The Tellarites have handed over two shipyards where we can pump out destroyers and frigates. As the ships arrive at Salem One assemble balanced fleets of 30 to 40 and send them out to patrol the sector, but keep at least a hundred ships around the station."
"You are not building any new NX classes?" Archer asked after acknowledging Gardners info with a nod.
"It would be a waste of resources. Both Vulcan and Andoria are building battle cruisers, but no frigates or destroyers. We would end up with an unbalanced fleet and we can pump out 5 smaller ships in the time the other build a single cruiser."
"Understood Admiral."
=/\=
Trip and Malcolm where on their way to docking port Alpha-3. The last of the requested old Intrepid class ship was on approach, so they would now have enough space for all the workforce and the accompanying entertainment venues. All five ships were 25 years and older and had already been slated for break-up so they were in need of a good refurbishing and the civilians, who were contracted to renovate and later run the ships were aboard this last ship.
As an exercise, a joined group of Buran and Enterprise Gamma-shift personnel had been sent to man the stations for the transfer from Neptun boneyard to Jupiter station. Hoshi had taken command.
"Seen that, Mal?" Trip said and handed him a PADD with a Vulcan news bulletin.
"Very funny, mate," Malcolm snorted. "Somehow my Vulcan is a bit rusty."
"Tap the picture," Trip instructed.
"Blimey!" Malcolm exclaimed. "That looks like three Suurok class battle ships being built at the same time."
"Exactly," Trip said with a satisfied grin as they reached the docking port, where the airlock was already pressurizing. Now the work would start in earnest.
He did a double-take when the door opened. There were a lot of civilians waiting to enter the station, but right at the front were two very familiar faces.
"Mom, Dad?" Trip asked in disbelief. "I'm happy to see you, but this isn't really the best time for a visit."
"Who says we're coming for a visit, boy," Charles said. "Have you forgotten that I was already an engineer, when you were still in your diapers?"
"Yeah, I know," Trip said, while behind them the other newcomers were herded out by Malcolm's security officers. "But you went into early retirement after you had to leave Florida."
"When I read that the government had inherited the AP shares and was planning to have them work exclusively for Starfleet, we applied for a job with them. There's just no way that our son and daughter-in-law are out here fighting a damn war and we sit on our butts at home waiting for what's coming."
"But mom is definitely not an engineer," Trip said.
"But a trained cook, you goof," his mother interrupted. "Somebody has to feed all those people. They even sent me to the Vulcan and Andorian Embassies to learn their cuisine. I can tell you, the Andorians have some interesting meat selections."
"So I take it you will be running the mess hall, Ma'am?" Malcolm joined in. "Captain Malcolm Reed," he added and shook the hands of both Tucker parents.
"One of the mess halls, young man," she replied. "I understand there will be three."
"Alright, everybody," Trip said and indicated them to follow. "Time to greet the masses."
=/\=
About 150 civilian workers were assembled in one of the big storage halls on the station. Trip stood on a crate in front of the crowd and waited for the idle chatter to die down.
"Alright, everybody," he spoke into his communicator, which was hooked up to a pair of loudspeakers on the ceiling. "My name is Fleet Captain Charles Tucker III. I'm the one running this joint, so welcome to Jupiter Station everybody."
A short applause interrupted his speech.
"You've all seen that the ship you arrived on looks a bit second hand and we have four more of them. The Bozeman and the Whitehorse are already being worked on by the permanent staff of the station, but Fairbanks, Galena and Anchorage will be your job. We won't interfere much with what you do with them, but keep in mind they will be your living place for many months, so don't be too miserly on the interior design."
Short laughter and a few 'suggestions' could be heard.
"For the first week you may decide whether you want to be shuttled back to earth or stay here, but after a week we expect that at least one ship is in a condition that allows you to stay here. From then on shuttle service will only be available on Friday evening and on Monday morning back here. Well then, let's go to work everybody."
Noisily the worker assembled around their assigned team leaders as those began to fill them in on the details.
"Your herd," Trip said to Malcolm and walked out of the hall.
=/\=
"Come!" Trip said.
Charles Tucker jr arrived with a stack of PADDs and Trip started wondering, just how many of the damn things were out there. He had handed out and received so many of them lately, he was starting to wonder if he would soon start dreaming of them.
"Raided the library, Dad?" he joked with with a nod at the devices.
"Funny, boy, really funny," Charles joked back and put them on Trip's desk. "Kimball has made me team lead for Galena and we've decided she'll become the 'entertainment ship', so to speak."
"Kimball's the civilian overseer, right?" Trip asked for clarification.
"That's him," his father confirmed. "We've got some ideas, but we'll have to knock out quite a few bulk heads."
"In section C is a storage area for scrap metal. We are reusing everything."
"Yeah, Kimball already told us. Wish they would have given us such comprehensive briefings in my time. It was always just 'do this. We don't care how'," Charles chuckled.
"So, if I read that correctly," Trip said, putting the PADD in a docking station that displayed the contents on the top of his table. "We have was looks like a bar, the mess hall... What's that?"
"So far only an open room, but Kimball said we need some meditation chamber for the Vulcans. But we don't know what to put in it. I thought, maybe T'Pol could help with that."
"We can do better," Trip said. "Malcolm's ship has a meditation chamber, so you can just look at that. Mal's office is just 3 doors down the corridor. You'll need to go through him as civilians aren't allowed on the military ships without being escorted."
"Fine with me," Charles said. "What do we need for the Andorians or the other one's... what are they called, the piggies?"
"They are called Tellarites, dad," Trip said and rolled his eyes. "Ask Malcolm about it, too. His ship has all necessary facilities for Andorians, Vulcans and Tellarites."
"Maybe he can just have someone give me a tour of the facilities," Charles suggested.
"I was coming to that," Trip said, poking away at a PADD.
"This is an permit for a ship's tour," Trip explained and handed over one of the many hand-held devices. "I've listed all relevant areas. Just meet up with Malcolm. He'll sign it off and get someone to give you a tour."
"Sounds good."
"What's these?" Trip asked and pointed to several rooms of different sizes.
"Well this one's a gym," Charles explained, pointing to different rooms. "That's a swimming pool, basket ball court and that one's a private pool, bubble bath and sauna."
"Private for whom?" Trip asked, starting to feel like his dad was proposing plans for a 5-star hotel.
"You," Charles replied drily. "Well not private as in for your use only, but you'll decide, who gets to use it and when. It's permanently locked by entrance code. You have more than a handful of married couples working aboard. It's only normal they might want some private time occasionally."
"And Starfleet signed off all of that?" Trip asked doubtfully.
"The big boss himself," Charles said and pointed at a signature that Trip immediately identified as Gardner's. "As I understood, he said, that hard workin' people should have some creature comforts."
"Well, they sure are going to get them," Trip said with a grin. Maybe a private bubble bath wasn't that bad an idea.
=/\=
"Oooph," Hoshi groaned as she struggled to press her thumbs into the contact points on T'Pol's back. "One thing is going to happen soon. I either end up with huge arms or I'll brake my thumbs."
"Maybe you wish to practice your technique on Trip, once I have taught you the basics."
"T'Pol!" Hoshi said scandalized.
"I do not understand," T'Pol said. "We have all seen each other without clothing more than once and while I have complete trust in Trip not to get 'fancy ideas' as he puts it, our bond makes any sexual connotation impossible in any case. And you would not struggle as much as human muscles aren't as hard to stimulate as those of a Vulcan."
"Still sort of doesn't feel right," Hoshi said. "Not sure what Malcolm would think of that idea."
"It would happen under my supervision anyway," T'Pol alleviated her doubts. "Trip has become quite proficient, but you have not yet, so I would need to supervise the process in any case."
"Well that's a different matter," Hoshi answered with a smile. "I may have an idea for that."
"You have?"
"I was giving a ship's tour to Trip's father today and he told me about all the goodies they are going to install on the staff accommodation ships. Did you know that they'll install a private bubble bath and a sauna? And Trip has the key to it."
"I was not aware of that. But I fail to make the connection to your neuropressure training," T'Pol answered and laid down to allow Hoshi access to the neural nodes in the lower back."
"Well, you would never go to the public swimming pool and neither would I as I don't plan to wear a swim suit. I wouldn't have a problem with that, but others probably would. Going to the Onsen in a swimsuit – people at home would ridicule me forever."
"I take it an Onsen is part of Japanese culture?
"It is. Japan has a lot of volcanic activity and there are thousands of hot springs all over the country. We have something called hadaka no tsukiai, meaning 'naked communication'. Groups of people go to an Onsen to get to know each other in a relaxed atmosphere and since everyone is naked there is no hierarchy, as everyone is the same – no clothing or symbols to categorize people."
"That explains your 'tendency to repel clothing', as Trip usually describes it."
"I literally grew up like that," Hoshi giggled. "My parents ran a little ryokan in the countryside and it had a hot spring. I spent hours every day in the bath until my skin became all shriveled. So I'm thinking about Trip reserving an hour or two for the three of us each day or every second day. And that will give me time to practice neuropressure on a softer target."
"Three?" T'Pol asked. "Would Malcolm not join us?"
"Malcolm and a bathtub?" Hoshi snorted. "He has a bad case of aquaphobia. Any body of water bigger than a filled-up sink would make him run screaming. And sometimes I think he even fears the sink."
"I too was afraid of big bodies of water before," T'Pol admitted. "But after Trip had taught me to swim I came to value it as a much invigorating experience, although like you I would prefer the absence of a swimsuit. I find the sensation of wet clothing on my skin extremely irritating."
"A rainy day must be bad for you then," Hoshi speculated.
"Indeed," T'Pol said. "When I worked for the Embassy before my posting on Enterprise, I once was surprised by an unexpected burst of heavy rain with out a protective cover. Getting back to the compound in soaked robes was supremely unpleasant."
"Sit up," Hoshi demanded and T'Pol complied, facing her.
"Let me check that wig," Hoshi continued and started to fumble with the artificial scalp. "Looks like your hair is growing back quite quickly. I think in a week you can ditch it. Does it itch?"
"A little," T'Pol explained while Hoshi applied fresh adhesive before reattaching the part of the wig she had just lifted. "Vulcans can suppress such small irritations by mental techniques though."
"Lucky you," Hoshi said and stood up to make tea, smiling mischievously. "By the way, you haven't told me how your experiment with the lingerie went."
"The result was most agreeable," T'Pol replied drily. "I had not expected that Trip's enthusiasm could be raised so substantially."
"Oooh", Hoshi whistled.
"Putting on the garment was a somewhat cumbersome process, but the effect on him justified the effort. I forwent the use of panties and brassiere, however, as in the case of a favorable outcome, both were not supposed to stay on for any considerable amount of time anyway."
Hoshi doubled over in laughter.
"I'm starting to wonder how Trip keeps up with you," she giggled.
=/\=
"Hey mate, how you're doing?" Malcolm asked as he walked into Trip's office on Jupiter station. The engineers had only recently put the finishing touches on Trip's office and there was still a faint whiff of welding in the air.
"Sifting through reports," Trip explained. "Seriously, I'm starting to develop an PADD allergy, I'm going through hundreds of the things each day."
"I know what you mean," Malcolm commiserated. "It's not so different for me. Which is why I brought some medicine."
"Let me guess: Made in Germany?" Trip speculated with a grin.
"Right on the money," Malcolm said and handed over a bottle from the container he'd brought. "I knew you'd be here while our dear wives have their 'topless girl talk session'."
Trip nearly ejected the beer through his nose. A chuckle and a swig of beer didn't mix well.
"Well, the earlier we get this project going..."
"I know," Malcolm agreed and slid a PADD across the table. "By the way, sorry to add to your allergy, but could you have a look at that?"
"Hm," Trip hummed, paging through Malcolm's writing. "continuously modulating shield frequency, not a bad idea. That could work quite well against disruptor fire, but the programming will be a job straight out of hell."
"But we both know someone with the patience to take on something like that," Malcolm hinted.
"Sure, give my wife something to do that will occupy her forever," Trip complained.
"Come one, if the pep talk she gave me in decon last week is anything to go by, she seems quite a veritable fountain of ideas to make the time after her shift rather pleasant and yours, too for that matter."
"You have no idea, Mal," Trip chuckled. "Ever since they started their neuropressure sessions, T'Pol has come up with quite some surprises. I wonder what sort of ideas Hoshi is giving her this time."
"As far as I know, none," Malcolm said. "I quizzed Hoshi about that tan-line stunt and she assured me that while apparently our after-duty performance is a predominant topic of their chats, she's never planting any ideas. She does provide T'Pol with plenty of reading material though."
"Oh dear," Trip groaned in mock exasperation. "No wonder they've declared your quarters off-limits for us. I'd probably spend half the time with a purple face."
"Have you seen the plans of your Dad?" Malcolm asked and replaced the empty bottles with new ones. "When I saw that they're building a heatable bathtub, I knew in an instance where I'll find Hoshi in her free time. She's been complaining how she misses the hot springs back home for ages. When it comes to that, I need you to cover my arse."
"I'm afraid you've lost me," Trip said and opened the bottles.
"She'll try to talk me into going in with her and I hate water."
"Malcolm," Trip snorted. "It's a bloody whirlpool. I can understand that you're afraid of the ocean, but a bath tub?"
Malcolm grew very silent and took a frighteningly big swig from his beer.
"K, spill it Mal," Trip said. "There's a story behind that."
"Indeed there is," Malcolm answered with a disgusted face expression. "My 'dear' father used to push me under water as a punishment when I was a lad, just short of drowning. Where other fathers grabbed the belt and went to town, mine just filled the sink and dunked me repeatedly."
"He fucking did what!?" Trip exclaimed in shock. "Never mind that spanking kids is fucked up to begin with, but that's just ridiculous."
"I know," Malcolm agreed, shivering slightly. "Ever since then I've been mortally afraid of any body of water big enough to contain my head. I've taken showers only all my life. The section never knew what sort of liability I was. They could torture me, beat the raw stuffing out of me, I said nothing. But had anyone of them gotten the idea to water-board me or just simply put me in a bath tub, I would have sung like a bloody bird."
"Hoshi doesn't know that, does she?" Trip asked warily and Malcolm shook his head.
"She knows I'm afraid of water. That much was clear when I wouldn't join her in the hot spring, when we visited her parents last year. But that's about it."
"Mal, you have to tell her. What if she tries to talk you into it and later learns why you have that problem. She couldn't live with herself."
"I know," Malcolm said.
"You better don't wait long," Trip said. "Knowing our girls, they probably can't wait until the thing is built and I must say, I'd like a good soak, too."
"I think, I'll try to broach the subject tonight," Malcolm sighed. "Man, I'm so fucked up."
"Stop it, Mal," Trip demanded.
=/\=
"How's it going, momma," Charles Tucker jr quipped as he walked into what would once become the civilian mess hall on the Galena.
"Men," Cathy huffed and threw her arms in the air. "There is tons of work around here and the first thing they do is sending some Germans, who install a brewery. I don't even have a working stove, but they install a brewery!"
"Good stuff needs time," Charles said and put a soothing arm around her. "Once they install a stove, you can whip up a minor miracle within hours, but good beer takes days, so they need to start early."
"Why am I not surprised," she said in mock protest. "You of course would defend them."
"Hey, we're hard working people again. That calls for a nice evening brew," he answered.
"Have you seen the kids?" she asked. "I've been cooped up all day trying to get things stocked up in the stasis unit."
"Met with Trip during the day, but no T'Pol in sight," Charles said. "I get the impression they don't see much of each other during the day. But I met the wife of his British friend, that Malcolm fella. Pretty nice Japanese girl, called Hoshi. She gave me a tour of their ship."
"Typical," Cathy harrumphed theatrically. "I get to freeze fish and cheese and you get to flirt with young girls."
Charles laughed out loud.
"You're happy as a clam that you're here, and you know it," he said. "You've always been happiest when you could show off your cooking skills and as an added bonus you get to be near the kids."
Cathy looked at him with a grin. She was indeed happy and Charles wouldn't have it any other way.