Index Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: The Original Series Star Trek: The Next Generation Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Star Trek: Voyager Original Work

"Whips, Chains, and Plomeek Soup"
by Lady Rainbow

Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Pairings: for this story, R/S and TnT
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, don’t make money off ‘em.
Notes: This is an immediate sequel to my Switcheroo story, “Captain Sato’s Enterprise”. Read that fic first to understand what’s going on. Familiar crew in unfamiliar roles. On this Enterprise, people (and things) aren’t all they seem. T’Pol’s relationship with the Vulcan High Command is different...it’s not how it is in the “real” universe.

Things come to a head here. Get ready for a wild ride in the next couple of chapters!

A short explanation on naval terms: In the US Navy, a line officer is one in the chain of command and part of the captain's Flag Staff on a ship like an aircraft carrier (on this Enterprise, the line officers in order would be Hoshi, Travis, Phlox, Trip, Jon and T’Pol.) A staff officer is part of the CO’s Flag Staff, but is not in the line of command. This includes the Chief Medical Officer (Malcolm). If Hoshi had a personal Yeoman (like Kirk had Yeoman Rand) or a personal steward, they too would be considered part of the CO’s Flag Staff, even if they were enlisted and not officers. (I suppose Crewmen Cunningham and Daniels would’ve technically counted for Captain Archer). Keep that in mind in the next few chapters.

My father used to be a steward and a chef (and he had retired as a Chief), so I asked him about this. :)


Eight

The celebration at the High Chieftain’s fortress was in full swing. Warriors all around reclined on thick mats on the floor as servants came around with food and drink. Musicians pounded on drums with more enthusiasm than actual skill. The air rang with conversation, laughter and snatches of song. The thick scent of spicy musk hung heavily and clung to everything in the hall.

T’Pol was getting a headache from it all. Her sensitive sense of smell was assaulted by the aroma and her ears rang from the drums. She had been surprised at the choice of dishes from the High Chieftain’s kitchens, for there were plenty of vegetarian dishes with the meat platters, and fresh spring water to drink. The servants were most accommodating to her different needs.

They must have asked Jonathan Archer about her preferences. It was the logical reason.

“A bit much for you, darlin’?”

She winced, unsure of whether it was because of her surroundings or Trip’s obvious concern. “This celebration is...overly exciting, Lieutenant Commander.”

“We’re at a party, so call me Trip.” He stood up from his mat and added, “C’mon, I gotta stretch my legs. ‘Sides, the captain told us to mingle, so we might as well mingle.”

T’Pol glanced at his hand. “I do not think it’s advisable to—“

“T’Pol. Can’t disobey the captain’s direct order. Not to mention the fact that Old Mean and Ugly over there’s been eyein’ you somethin’ fierce. I know that bein’ my ‘mate’ is supposed to give you some kinda protection, but I don’t wanna take any chances.”

She looked behind her and saw a burly Luran reclining on his mat, his eyes glittering with purpose. The man’s thoughts were clear on his face; a sly smile passed over his lips. “I see the logic in your suggestion...Trip,” she said, and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet, then gently guided her through the chaos on the floor. She was aware of Trip’s left hand at the small of her back and tried to shore up her battered mental shields.

“Valhalla,” mused Trip. Although he was given a reprieve of wearing the cumbersome armor in the High Chieftain’s hall, he had kept the daggers in his belt. His right hand touched the hilt of one of the daggers.

“Excuse me?”

“This all reminds me of Valhalla.”

“I am not familiar with the term.”

A slight smile played on his lips. “It’s a place in Norse mythology on Earth. After warriors die on the battlefield, the Valkyries take them to a feasting hall where they party for all eternity. I thought this place kinda reminded me of Valhalla.”

“Ah, I see.” T’Pol replied. She glanced over the room with a sharp eye. All evening, she had felt a strange undercurrent in the air. It had taken her a long time to identify it: anticipation. For what? She hadn’t been the only one to feel it.

They circulated around the room several times, chatting with the warriors and sharing outrageous stories of their exploits. T’Pol resisted rolling her eyes at the slight embellishment of the details of his stories.

“He is quite the storyteller, isn’t he?” came Malcolm Reed’s quiet voice at his shoulder. “If he writes half of them down, he’d make a fortune.”

She frowned; how did he know what she was thinking? Trip chuckled and turned to face Malcolm. “Yeah, but words on a PADD don’t do it justice. You gotta actually see it bein’ told, Mal. The effect isn’t as great if you don’t.”

The doctor nodded as he gazed out at the festivities. “Indeed. I feel like I’ve been put in the middle of a real-life production of Beowulf.”

“You mean the part where the warriors party themselves senseless?”

“I was thinking more of what happens afterwards.”

T’Pol glanced sharply at him. She was familiar with the Beowulf saga. After the warriors had fallen into a deep slumber, the monster Grendel came into the hall, kidnapped one of them, killed him and had him for a meal. “You feel a sense of foreboding, Doctor?”

He met her glance and she saw something within his eyes. “Call it instinct, Ensign.”

Trip nodded in agreement and said, “I told you that you oughta transfer into the Armory, Mal.”

Something stirred in Reed’s eyes at the words and T’Pol held her breath. “Perhaps.”

Trip blinked at his reply. “You’re serious about a career change?”

He smirked and said, “Perhaps.”

“I’ll be damned. Maybe we can talk more ‘bout this later, if you’re actually interested.” And T’Pol heard the words he didn’t say aloud. Jeebus, I think he is serious. Wonder what brought that on. I can see him as an Armory officer, but I hadn’t thought he’d really do it.

She blinked and looked at him, but he was still talking with Malcolm. How was she hearing him again? He was Human; most Humans weren’t telepathic, much less able to communicate mind-to-mind. Trip didn’t seem to realize that she had overheard his thoughts.Her mind pondered the ramifications of her discovery.

What connection do I have with this man? Why can I hear his thoughts? A disturbing thought came to her: Why do I feel like I’ve known him before? In another time, another place? It is not logical. Her lips came together in a ghost of a smile. Of course, many things have their own sense of logic.

“I should go back to Hoshi. Jon’s watching her back, but I trust the High Chieftain about as much as I can throw him right now. He’s been given her some looks that I find disturbing.”

“Yeah, and you’re already on his crap list, Mal. After all, you’re the one who poked his wrist with a needle.”

“I was defending the captain, Trip,” he said stiffly. “I had to make do with whatever I had on hand at that moment.”

“See? You’re already soundin’ like an Armory officer.” Trip clapped him on the shoulder. “Go ahead, Mal. We’ll keep watch here.”

Malcolm headed back to Hoshi and Jon while Trip and T’Pol continued on their rounds. Trip found a cozy spot near the front of the hall. He leaned against the wall and T’Pol settled next to him, close enough to touch, but not touching him. They both watched the festivities in companionable silence.Malcolm sat on his mat, leaning casually on a bed of pillows, with Hoshi comfortably settled in the crook of his right arm. T’Pol noticed his hand resting on his medical pouch on his belt.

“Lucky guy.”

She glanced at Trip. “I assume you mean Doctor Reed.”

“Yeah, seems like he and the captain make a cozy couple.”

“Is that not allowed under Starfleet regulations?”

“It would be if they were in the same department or he's a line officer. Hoshi’s the commandin’ officer, but Malcolm’s the CMO. He's part of her staff, but he can’t take command of the ship.” Trip shook his head. “‘Sides, I think their relationship’s an open secret anyway.”

T’Pol nodded in comprehension. “He has some surprising abilities for a chief medical officer.”

“Like his uncanny aim with sharp objects? And how he ain’t too bad with a phase pistol and would probably do pretty well if he wore one? I tell you, T’Pol, I’d welcome him into the Armory in a heartbeat.” He frowned as if a sudden thought occurred to him. “‘Course, if Mal transferred into the Armory, he and Hoshi might have a problem with the no-frat rule then.”

His words stirred a sense of unease in her. She caught Malcolm gazing at her with those sharp blue-gray eyes, then the doctor gave her the slightest of nods. She pretended she hadn’t seen it.

A gong rang over the hall and she clapped her hands over her ears. Trip winced, and they saw Hoshi jump at the abrupt sound. High Chieftain Mu’harex stood over the crowd and raised his goblet towards Hoshi. “I propose a toast to our brave and gallant warrior and her party,” he boomed. “May we have a long and fruitful relationship between our peoples!” Mu’harex bowed to her and added, “Mu’ra sak he’wu!”

Hoshi repeated the toast and raised her goblet and together they drank to their friendship. She caught T’Pol’s eye and gave the Vulcan a smile, but T’Pol noticed that it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Somethin’s wrong,” Trip murmured.

“Yes,” T’Pol agreed. Her instincts screamed a warning, but she couldn’t see a visible threat. The air seemed to gather itself above them, like an approaching storm, threatening to crash over all of them.

The High Chieftain turned to Hoshi and bowed to her again. “Allow me to share a tale with you, Lady Warrior. Our people say that the first Lurans come from a Goddess and her Consort. She was stern and unmoving, He was sensitive and wise. One day, They came upon the Holy Ground that we stand on now, and the Consort wanted to make this Theirhome. She was unconvinced, until the Consort gave her a sign from the Universe.”

He whipped his formal cape around and a large crystal appeared in his hand. It glowed a dark maroon with golden highlights, its facets sparkling in the lights of the hall. It blinded T’Pol for a minute; she blinked and her second eyelid swept over her irises and she could see again. Hoshi was still trying to clear her vision and Malcolm rubbed his eyes. Jon wiped tears with the sleeve of his uniform.

The High Chieftain’s voice dropped to a growl. “He dropped to one knee and told Her that this Jewel had great power, the power to bring back the dead, the power to destroy Their enemies. The Universe had given their favor and a sign that They should defend Their people.”

The gathered warriors cheered at the top of their voices. T’Pol crept closer to the High Chieftain; he still faced Hoshi with the jewel in his hand. The Vulcan felt waves of discord coming from within the gemstone, rippling through the air around her, shifting and rearranging time and space. She was the only one in any position to stop whatever the High Chieftain had planned.

He didn’t seem to notice T’Pol’s approach as he continued his story. “And the Goddess asked Her Consort why She would need such power to destroy when She could Heal. He told Her, ‘Because We can. And that is reason enough.’ She drew away from Him in revulsion and tried to throw Him from the heights of the Universe.

“She failed, Lady Warrior, and do you know why? Because the Consort was stronger.” The High Chieftain’s eyes were touched with madness as he raised the jewel in front of Hoshi. “The Consort accepted this power. She did not and so She failed.”

T’Pol unhooked the ahn-woon from her belt, halting the chimes with her hand. It didn’t matter if they'd heard; the audience stared, enraptured, at the drama in front of them. She was almost there...almost there...she swung the ahn-woon above her head, aiming for his arm, planning to jerk the jewel out his grasp...

“And the Goddess Herself was overthrown and the Consort assumed His rightful place. He used His power to destroy His enemies and rearrange space for Himself. He sought out the ones who stood in His way and banished them as He had banished the Goddess.” The High Chieftain’s voice dropped again in tone. “As I will now banish you.”

And he raised the jewel just as T’Pol rushed forward and threw her ahn-woon. Hoshi finally regained her sight and realized the danger as the High Chieftain brought the jewel down, aiming for her head. T’Pol jerked her wrist and tried to wrap the whip around his arm, but it bounced off some invisible shield surrounding him. The Vulcan’s eyes widened as he turned and regarded her with a sneer.

A split second before he would have hit Hoshi with the jewel, a blur came between then. T’Pol saw Malcolm Reed, with a speed and agility she had never seen from the doctor, as he threw his body onto Hoshi’s and intercepted the blow. The jewel struck him in the back and light exploded as a shock wave slammed into T’Pol. Her arms windmilled as she was tossed off her feet like a rag doll. She heard Trip yell into his ear as her shoulder impacted his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as the wave bowled them over, head over heels.

What the hell just happened? I still can’t see anythin’!

She clung to him and reached for his mind. Whatever happens, don’t forget, Trip! Don’t forget! We can still change space and time! We can restore it!

What? I don’t understand you, T’Pol!

DON’T FORGET!

She held onto the connection as long as she could, feeling Trip’s warm strength through it, then it snapped, taking her consciousness with it.


Back to Part 7
Continue to Part 9

Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.

Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.