Title: Herculean Tasks - Chapter 5 - Court Ship

Rating: T

Pairings: Space Cases - Eventual Davenport/Goddard. "Goddenport" if you will.

Summary: After the events of "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Court," T.J. and Seth ponder the implications of sending a message backward through time and wonder what their transformation means for their friendship. Will they reach a verdict? Or is the jury still out?

Disclaimer: I don't own Space Cases.

Chapter 5: Court Ship

They had turned into Spung.

T.J. and Seth had turned into Spung.

She'd sought him out in the Command Post, vigorously scratching her neck, hands, and sides as she ranted about the kids pulling some sort of prank (likely alluding to the time they'd put itching powder in her uniform). Seth had been quite proud of his little quip, telling her to "Get a dictionary, and look up the word 'paranoid' and see if your picture's next to it." But soon after she departed, his skin began positively crawling to the point where the sensation could not be attributed to the power of suggestion, nor did Seth believe it was the result of a prank. Something was wrong. He made a mad dash to his quarters, intending to take a shower and wash off whatever irritant he'd been exposed to. Before he could even unzip his jacket, he moved to itch his cheek and scratched his face raw.

Literally.

The skin came up under his fingernails, and he stared down at his hand in horror. He immediately raced to the bathroom to look in the mirror, expecting to see a gaping bleeding wound and was even more disturbed to find green scales. The affected area didn't hurt, nor did it itch anymore, and there wasn't a drop of blood to be seen.

"What the hell?!" he growled. His fear gave way to an intense anger he hadn't been expecting, and his voice sounded deeper than usual as he seethed, "Fine. She was right to be concerned. T.J. was right."

T.J.

The shock returned. He needed to find her: to warn her that whatever was happening to him was happening to her, too. Maybe he'd be able to get them both to the Med Lab, at the very least to prevent the affliction—whatever it was—from spreading to the kids. And yet he feared he knew exactly what it was. Even more disturbing: there wasn't a cure for it.

Seth raced through the corridors, stumbling over himself as his equilibrium shifted and he became disoriented. As he tracked T.J. to the Galley somehow , following where his instincts led him, his worry dissipated and his motivations changed: something else that had been lingering in the back of his mind pushed its way to the forefront. Seth tried to repress those thoughts and lock them away with any related emotions. He'd done well with that up until this point: feelings versus survival, emotion versus logic. At least, that's what he told himself.

But Space was a liar, and all logic and reason had been flushed out the airlock as the transformation allowed Seth's primal side to take over. There was no doubt now: he was turning into a Spung. He should have been terrified, but he found he cared even less about changing back the moment T.J. submitted to the biochemical changes overtaking her as well.

Throughout the chaos that ensued—gaining T.J.'s affections, chasing after the kids, and scrambling through the jumptubes—Seth fought himself. And soon he found himself trapped in one of the tubes, struggling to crawl back up to the Command Post, with T.J. climbing over him.

The ship rocked, and he shuddered. He reached out to brace himself against the walls of the tight space, but inevitably clung to T.J. instead. Suddenly, it wasn't a female Spung looking at him anymore. It was T.J. And they were both holding onto each other in the small space.

"Teej?"

"Seth?" She looked around her in a panic. "Are we—?

"Back to normal? I think so. You look like you."

The relief was palpable when she confirmed, "You look like you too." But soon the panic was back. She took a gulping breath of air before asking, "Are we trapped in here now? I am not exactly comfortable in cramped quarters.

She needn't have worried. Seconds later, the system reactivated, and she and Seth were pulled through the jumptube network. Seth landed in the Command Post first, with a gasp. The kids watched as Thelma helped him up, wondering, "Are you alright, Commander?"

"I… I think so." Wait. "Miss Davenport," Seth realized aloud, automatically using T.J.'s title in front of the students. Where was she? She'd been right there with him. He called down the jumptubes for her in a panic, "Miss Davenport? Miss Davenport!"

She landed behind him seconds later, startling him and nearly knocking him off his feet. Her voice was strained, and she almost sounded near tears when she asked, "What happened?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. She remembered everything, but she didn't want to believe it. As the students recounted the events of the day—how they slipped into an alternate dimension and started changing into Spung, argued over what to do, saw all sides of the problem, and found a solution—there was no doubt in T.J.'s mind that the experience had definitely been real.

Harlan smiled as Cat scrunched her nose. "No big deal, really. We just used a little trial and error," the young Earther added, chuckling at his own joke.

T.J. was suddenly very aware of Seth's proximity to her: his one hand on the small of her back and the other ahold of her elbow as he helped steady her. The slithering sensation in the back of her throat was something she could have done without. The sight of her pulling a worm from her mouth was something he could have done without. The look of disgust on his face was the last thing she saw before her surroundings faded to black and she became deadweight in his arms.

After T.J. regained consciousness and the kids were done laughing at her expense, Rosie suggested she scan everyone in the Med Lab to ensure everyone was back to "normal." The adults were the last to be examined. Rosie wanted to run some extra tests on them "just to be on the safe side" considering they had been the only ones to undergo a complete transformation and were more susceptible to any lasting side effects. T.J. and Seth sat next to each other, fidgeting, with their gaze fixed firmly on the floor, as Rosie reviewed the results on her compupad.

"Good news! According to these readings, both of you are back to normal," the young physician chirped. "Not a trace of Spung DNA to be found."

T.J. let out the breath she was holding in a sigh of relief. "Brilliant."

Seth cleared his throat as he scrubbed his hands down his face and looked away. "Um, Rosie? If you could give us a moment, please?" He waited until the girl was out of earshot before asking, "You okay, Teej?"

"What the hell do you think?! Of course I am not okay!" T.J. snapped. She put her head in her hands. "My behavior was absolutely atrocious! Appalling!" Backtracking a moment, she asked him, "Do you remember anything?"

Seth rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his boots. He had the decency to look ashamed as he thought back to earlier in the day. "Uh. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. And my behavior was definitely worse. I'm sorry. Jeez. T.J., I… Can we just forget about it, please?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "You can, if you'd like."

He winced, realizing his mistake. "Oh God. I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean…"

"I know. But forgetting about the events of the day is obviously easier said than done." There was an awkward lull in conversation, and T.J. dared to think aloud, asking, "The things we said and did when we were… Where did that come from, I wonder?"

"We were turning into Spung: thinking and acting like Spung. That's it. We probably shouldn't read too much into it."

"Since you mention it," T.J. began hesitantly, "our encounter with Elmira and Warlord Shank did motivate me to research the Spung and their culture."

Seth feared he knew where the conversation was headed. Nervous and defeated, he requested, "T.J., please stop."

But she pressed on, trying to make a point, "In my reading, I recall very distinctly that—"

"I know!" he interrupted. "The food thing—the way you and I shared a meal—is part of a Spung courtship ritual. Let's please not get into this, and… Why are you staring at me?"

T.J. was staring at him: with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open. When she found her voice, she explained, "I was not previously aware of any Spung courtship rituals."

Well, shit. "Uh. Wait. What?"

"Before you interrupted, I was going to say that traditionally a female Spung would not be allowed to hunt alongside a male. And yet while we were looking for the students, you deferred to me. I found that particular point to be something of note."

"Oh." Seth gulped. "I should go. Do you want me to leave and give you some space? Yeah, I should just leave."

Her reflex was to rest her hand on his knee to prevent him from standing, surprising both of them. "No," she decided. "In spite of some of the things that occurred today when neither of us were in our right minds, you were not as much a buffoon as you may believe."

He disagreed, cringing as he remembered, "Teej, my behavior—"

"I liked it!" she interrupted. "At the time," she clarified as the look of shock registered on his face and a deep blush overtook hers. "I was going to send Thelma to warn you. We figured out what was happening right before you found us."

"And I was coming to warn you. My inhibitions were shot by the time I reached the Galley," he admitted. "I thought I could fight it. I tried to. I probably should've called for Thelma to confine me to my quarters or even to the airlock until we figured out how to fix it… If what happened could be fixed. I had no idea at the time."

It was a sobering thought. Neither had dared to believe there wasn't a way to fix what was happening to them. And had the transformation been permanent…

"What would we have done? If there hadn't been a way for us to change back? What would have happened?" T.J. whispered.

"Judging by what the kids said, they would have transformed as well, eventually. I guess we would've been a dysfunctional pseudo-family of Spung wandering around the galaxy and wreaking havoc," Seth deadpanned.

"I would not have wanted that," T.J. admitted. "I am aware that not all Spung are as ruthless as we believe. Elmira certainly proved that point: that our preconceived notions about the Spung as a whole are wrong. But as my own impulses started to change and my behavior started to change… If that is who I would have been… I would rather die than harm anyone."

Seth grasped her hand. "Teej…"

"I mean that. If I ever reach the point where I may endanger the lives of you and the children, or anyone else—under any circumstances—I need to know that you would stop me."

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't promise that: not if it meant taking extreme measures. Seth had promised James he'd protect his daughter. "What if we both needed someone to stop us, like today?"

She shook her head in reply. "Hopefully it will never come to that. Again."

"Teej, do you feel safe around me?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A relevant one. An important one. I need to protect you...and the crew. And I need to know that you feel safe under my leadership."

She caught his slip-up but chose not to acknowledge it. "This is the second time you have expressed doubts in this regard. Yes, I trust you. Certainly there have been a few mishaps for which no training could have possibly prepared us. But even so, my faith in your abilities as a commander and as a guardian to the children has not wavered."

"I just feel like I'm letting you down."

"I cannot think of anything that you, in your right mind, would do to let any one of us down. There are some things that are beyond our control. Granted, those are the things that terrify me the most. But I would never blame you for them."

"But—"

"You continue to speak as if you are in this alone," T.J. realized. "We already had this conversation. In fact, if today is proof of anything, it is that in any universe—any alternate reality—you and I are a team."

Seth stared at her in awe as she offered him a soft smile. The truth of her own words combined with the way he was looking at her caused her heart to skip a beat. Their bond defied the alternate universe's natural and physical laws: even as members of an aggressive species in a culture where the men were dominant, they'd still treated each other as equals.

"We did still fight a fair amount," Seth deflected. "But I guess being trapped in the jumptubes is enough to make anyone cranky."

"Even Spung suffer from claustrophobia, it would seem."

"You and I are okay, then?"

"Of course." Her cheeks flushed pink and she smiled demurely, adding, "It will take more than this to break a pinky promise."

"I don't know about that. After today, there should be an 'I Told You So' clause in there somewhere. You were right to worry, and I didn't listen. I'm sorry."

T.J. considered this, ultimately deciding, "I worry about so many things, and I do not gain satisfaction from being right about them. Quite the opposite, in fact. And even if we appear to be in some sort of imminent danger, I do appreciate your efforts to ease my mind. When you crack jokes at my expense, I confess I do find it rather comforting."

"Really?"

She rationalized, "If you are in the mood to tease me, I suppose the situation cannot be that dire." T.J. noticed Seth itching the back of his hand, and she rested her hand on top of his in an effort to get him to stop.

"Sorry, I just feel like I need to wash away the day or something. Rosie said we were back to normal, but I still feel…" He felt disgusted with himself, more than anything. "I know you trust me. And under normal circumstances… But what happened today was not normal and could have ended horribly. If you ever feel that I'm a danger to you…"

"Seth, no. I—"

"But you asked the same of me."

She shook her head and grew pale, racing to the sink. She barely made it in time before she heaved. Seth hurried to her side but stopped short, resisting the urge to rub soothing circles on her back as she leaned against the adjacent counter and caught her breath. He grimaced as bits of worm swirled down the drain.

"I'm fine," she insisted, once she was finally able to speak.

"You're not fine. And I'm sorry I was—"

"I will be fine. I just need time to process…" She gestured between them and then vaguely to the surrounding area before dropping her hand to her side.

"Things?" Seth offered.

"Indeed. And if we are being honest with each other, I imagine you require some time as well."

"Yeah." He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"Please understand I do not fault you for—"

"I know. But I do. I've never had to fight myself like that before."

"Thank you." T.J.'s lower lip trembled as tears welled in her eyes. "That is to say, thank you for being strong. For me."

"What do you mean?" Seth asked carefully.

"I cannot imagine I would fully understand the scope of what you felt earlier, and we do not need to discuss it if you do not wish to. Speaking for myself, walking around in someone else's skin while fighting against my own instincts was an intense experience. I would go as far to say it was the most difficult thing I have ever done. So thank you for fighting, for being strong, and for not acting on any, um," she paused, deciding to finish her thought with, "base impulses."

Seth could do little more than nod numbly and stare at the floor as T.J. quietly excused herself from the room. Between the two of them, he knew that he was the one to act on instinct and she was more likely to use logic. And he knew that she knew it, too. They had just begun to collaborate and find some sort of equilibrium, but his impulsive side could have destroyed all the trust they'd built. Seth could have used T.J.'s more measured, hesitant, and logical nature against her. And he'd known that. He could have taken advantage of—

Seth felt ill. He slammed his fist down on the countertop and hung his head. He was supposed to protect her. He'd promised.

Seth spent the rest of the evening in his quarters lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't distract himself from the events of the day. He suspected T.J. was having the same problem, but he didn't want to overstep, didn't want to intrude, didn't want to make her feel even more uncomfortable around him.

"She's stronger than she looks," he kept telling himself. And while that was true, it didn't mean that his presence or some words of comfort would be unwelcome…

He groaned and rolled over to face the far wall, realizing he was once again at war with himself. Under any other circumstances, he knew he wouldn't leave T.J. alone until he was sure she was okay. "I promised James," he said aloud, and yet he knew that couldn't be the only reason he was so protective of his second in command.

Suddenly, the overhead lights snapped on without warning, causing Seth to swear and bury his face in his pillow. "What the hell? Lights out!"

The ship did not comply.

He looked up at the ceiling. "Really? I can't control anything in the Command Post, and now you won't even let me control the lights in my own room?"

The lights brightened and dimmed, slightly pulsing, as if the ship was laughing at him.

Seth rolled his eyes. "Cute."

It was decidedly not cute when the doors to his rooms parted on their own accord. Seth trudged over to the access panel and tried wrestling with the orb so he could have some privacy, but the ship held firm. His door remained wide open.

Seth grumbled again, and was surprised to hear another voice do the same. "T.J.?" he wondered, peering into the corridor.

Sure enough, T.J. was fighting with the controls to her own door, only she appeared to be less frustrated and more distraught: she was either on the verge of tears or recovering from crying...or perhaps both. She sighed and leaned against the door jamb, defeated, finally addressing Seth with a shaky, "I take it the Christa is misbehaving for you as well?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Seems like she wants to tell us something."

"I wish she wouldn't meddle."

"Space hates meddling," Seth agreed, glad to see the beginnings of a demure smile pull at T.J.'s lips. "But in this case, she might know best. She seems to think we have some unfinished business to take care of before the day is over."

"Never go to bed angry," T.J. whispered to herself, but not quietly enough. Seth quirked an eyebrow and she backpedaled, explaining "It is simply an expression. I am not angry, just overwhelmed. I was going to brew some chamomile tea in the Galley. Would you care to join me?"

He nodded, and they walked side-by-side as they made their way to the Galley, mostly staring at the floor with one occasionally sparing an awkward glance toward the other. Once they reached their destination, T.J. headed for the beverage dispensary while Seth paused in front of the food wheel, considering the device in front of him.

"We'll have to use this blasted thing again at some point," he decided aloud.

T.J.'s eyes widened. "Yes but...so soon? Is that wise?" The vivid memories of the worms were still fresh in her mind, and her anxieties were pushing them to the forefront.

"We can't starve ourselves, Teej." With a sigh he mused, "What do you think about facing our fear together?"

T.J.'s first instinct was a resounding "no" but she bit her tongue, held back her pessimistic thoughts, and made a valiant effort to swallow down her anxieties.

"Worst case scenario: the ship is feeling spiteful, and we use a bit of percussive maintenance on the food wheel," Seth decided, attempting to be lighthearted. "But if it's still upsetting you—"

"Alright," T.J. blurted out.

Seth raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You sure? The last thing I want to do is pressure you—"

"Quite sure," T.J. declared, abandoning her mug and approaching Seth at the food wheel. She placed a trembling hand on the center mechanism. "It is like some sort of upsetting culinary roulette," she muttered.

"Everyday a new adventure," Seth added wryly. "Do it together, then?"

"Alright."

Seth placed his hand over hers. "Ready?"

T.J. nodded. They spun the wheel, giving the appliance their undivided attention until the dial stopped. Normally, it would highlight one tube on one spin, but the lights branched out and selected two tubes: one for each of them.

"Which one is meant for me, and which for you?" T.J. wondered aloud.

"Only one way to find out." They selected their canisters, and Seth found two clean plates but frowned when he opened the cutlery drawer. "No forks," he said with a shrug.

"That does not sound promising."

He set the table with only plates and napkins before taking his seat. T.J. procured the rehydrating solution and placed it between them.

"Open the tubes on three?" Seth suggested.

T.J. took a deep breath. "Let us just get it over with."

They both poured the powdered contents onto their plates. Nothing unusual so far.

"Do you want me to go first?" Seth offered.

"To hell with it," T.J. muttered. Somehow this and not the "snack" she shared with Seth earlier was the most awkward meal she'd ever had. She reached for the eyedropper, filled it with the rehydrator, and squeezed the bulb, watching the contents of her plate morph into a slice of chocolate cake. She blinked back her surprise and a fresh batch of tears.

"Why do I have waffles and strawberries?" Seth wondered, staring at the rehydrated food on his own plate.

T.J. managed to recover quickly. "That is my favorite. It would appear the ship is attempting to apologize."

Seth stared at T.J.'s plate and came to the same realization she had moments before, "Didn't you say that when Ninestein was on the ship…?"

"You did not use silverware then either. Although I believe that was a deliberate decision on your part and not due to any inconvenience." She handed him the cake and then an extra napkin with a cheeky, "Something tells me you will be needing more than one of these."

He gave her a genuine smile along with the plate of waffles. "Sounds about right."

The tension seemed to dissipate as they dined, with T.J. making more playful comments about Seth's sloppy eating habits. He volleyed some back in her direction when she sneezed and accidentally blew powdered sugar halfway across the table. She looked mortified until Seth scooped up a dollop of chocolate frosting with his finger and offered, "Brownie point?"

"You are incorrigible," she said, and her smile reached her eyes.

Seth grinned in return. "I hear that a lot."

T.J.'s smile faded into a thoughtful frown. After a few minutes of contemplative silence, she offered her concerns freely, "We spent much of the day attempting to piece together that transmission, and yet the bigger mystery relates to its origin. We slipped into an alternate universe. Our future selves—the students' future selves—sent a message back in time to warn us, but where was Harlan in that future? Where were we?"

"I dunno. Maybe Harlan was the one recording?" Seth offered lamely.

T.J. glared at him before stating, "I suppose I must remind the students to create that recording at some point."

"And send it back how?"

She shrugged. "Once I figure out the ship's xenowarp capabilities, I will be able to provide an answer to that question. Although when that happens, we might also be able to arrive home sooner than we anticipated."

Seth locked eyes with her in alarm. "You've been attempting to figure out time travel?!"

She shrugged again.

"You're serious?"

"You did not expect me to ignore the resources we have at our fingertips, did you?"

"No, but… I… You can't just…"

"While I am well-versed in hyperspace physics, the application remains theoretical. The Christa herself refuses to grant either of us access to the controls."

"But…" Seth rested his head in his hands in defeat. "Even Cat and Harlan don't know how they managed to trigger a xenowarp. They said they moved the crystals around at random."

"I would be far more methodical," T.J. countered. "Heavens, you were excited about the prospect of using this newfound technology a few weeks ago. What changed? Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. I just don't trust circumstances." Off T.J.'s quizzical glance, he clarified, "You remember when Harlan went missing, and it turned out he was thrown into some sort of hyperspace field. He joked that the ship was out to get him, and I rolled my eyes at the time, but maybe...maybe he was onto something. We don't really know what the Christa is capable of."

T.J. concealed a smile, realizing, "You are beginning to sound like me."

"But how many times has the ship tried to meddle? How many times have the doors locked you in or out of rooms? How many times have the jumptubes sent you to the wrong location?"

T.J. thought back to earlier when the ship jammed both of their doors open. She stared down at her plate and reasoned, "I suppose the Christa means to help. Did she not just offer an apology in her own way?"

"I suppose. Although…" Seth cut himself off, not wishing to embarrass himself any further. He found an encouraging nod from T.J. was all it took for him to continue, "What is her agenda, really?"

"That is something worth contemplating."

"She set this up. This…" Seth cleared his throat. "Sharing a meal is a courtship ritual in many cultures."

T.J. sputtered for a moment before deciding, "I am sure the ship was merely apologizing for the nonsense with the food wheel earlier."

"Yeah, of course," he agreed with a shrug, though he wasn't so sure. Judging by the awkward silence that followed, she didn't seem so certain either.

T.J. felt the familiar sense of déjà vu as the image of a young Seth flashed before her: gone were the worry lines on his forehead and the grey streaks at his temples. He had his plate of cake in his lap and frosting on his face, and he spoke with a hint of a lisp:

"You'd stick up for me?"

"Of course. Although I've never had a friend my own age before, nor have I ever been this far from home. It will take some time for me to adjust to...everything."

"Well if you need any help, I'm here for you."

"And why is that? You are not obligated to be."

"I dunno." He gave her an overly casual shrug. "Because I wanna help, is all."

"Really? Do you promise?"

T.J. pulled herself back to the present, and Seth was in front of her with his worry lines and grey streaks returned, but with chocolate still on his face. His lopsided smile melted into a concerned frown. "Hey. You with me?"

"Yes," she answered, still momentarily disoriented. She gestured vaguely to his face. "You have a little something. Just there..." she told him, hearing her own voice echo in her mind.

Seth attempted to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, but T.J. anticipated the move and caught his hand in hers. He playfully rolled his eyes at her, grinning. "What?"

T.J. shook her head and used her free hand to grab a napkin and blot the chocolate off his chin and the corner of his mouth. Suddenly flustered, she pulled away from him and cleared her throat as she tried to collect herself.

"Teej?"

Her heart began pounding again. "You are my best friend," she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper.

Seth waited for her to continue with an "and" or a "but" or some other qualifier. When there wasn't one, he hung his head. "I'll try to be worthy of that title, then. You're my best friend too. But I still can't understand why you want to spend time with me, much less call me a friend, if it wasn't for the fact that you don't have a choice."

"But I do have a choice," she insisted. "I choose to think of you as a friend and to treat you as such. I also have the option to completely ignore you," she teased, "but I would never."

"I'm not a good person. Being labeled a 'war hero' and then a disgrace, how could I be? And then today, I… Betraying your trust—"

"You have done nothing of the sort," she interrupted.

"But you don't understand what—"

"You are a role model to the children under our care. I still maintain they could learn a great deal from you, and I do believe they have done and will continue to do so. All for the better, I might add. You constantly put others before yourself and fight any instinct to the contrary, even if it is to your detriment. It is a part of who you are. It must be. Even from a young age, you…" T.J. faltered. "You may not remember it, but I do: when you had the choice to ignore me or to be cruel, and instead you—"

"Offered to help," he finished, extending his hand with his pinky up. "It's a standing offer. Promises mean something to me, you know."

He had also promised he would explain his behavior the day they'd left home, but he had yet to acknowledge it, and T.J. hadn't forgotten. Or maybe he'd tried and hadn't been able to. He never did say when "later" would be. Suddenly, T.J. found herself hoping he wouldn't tell her; she didn't want to see him as anything other than the noble, selfless person she'd always believed him to be. What secrets could be so terrible that he still felt the need to keep them from her?

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." She linked her little finger with his, feeling rather emotional as she nodded. "Yes, I know."