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"Commander Tucker Has a Baby"
Rating: PG (for mild cussing)
Chapter Two He woke up in sick bay to the sounds of a baby crying. “He’s awake, doctor,” he heard someone say. “Ah, Commander,” Phlox said. “Congratulations – it’s a girl, as we expected. Quite healthy, as you can hear.” “What happened?” Trip felt groggy. “Apparently Xyrillian children deliver themselves by cutting their way out. There was a small, beak-like appendage involved that has since fallen off. No doubt the pregnant Xyrillian male is somehow equipped to cope with this without much trauma – probably not as vascular in that region of their anatomy as humans are. Fortunately, we got to you before you’d lost a great deal of blood.” “Here she is,” said a woman – Liz Cutler, he realized. She handed the squirming baby to Phlox, who held it up for Trip. “Your daughter, Commander.” Phlox grinned hugely. Trip’s eyes widened. His baby was … well, it was very small, and wriggling, and bawling, and covered with shiny dermal plating. As much as he’d tried to prepare himself for this moment, this creature was far more alien than he’d anticipated. Probably didn’t help that the little sucker had nearly killed him. “Here,” Phlox said, and lay the squirming infant belly-down on his naked chest. It felt warm and dry and tiny … and desperate. It rooted around and screamed even louder as Trip tentatively put his hands on it for the first time. Tiny white sparks arced between them. “She’s hungry,” Phlox said. “Let’s see if she can latch on, shall we?” “Latch on?” Trip said, half-panicked. “We have to assume those nipples grew for a reason. Come now, Commander, don’t be shy.” Trip scowled and raised his wrist to reveal the row of nipples that had developed there. “I don’t see what the heck she’s supposed to get out of these things. I’m pretty sure there aren’t any mammary glands in my arm.” “You’d be surprised what can develop when the right hormones are involved,” Phlox said. “But you have two perfectly good nipples on your chest, if you’d prefer to try those first.” “Can’t you just give her a bottle?” “Mother’s milk is infinitely superior to any formula I can come up with.” “I’m not its mother! I’m not even really its daddy. I’m just some kind of pod or something. If you think I’m breastfeeding this kid you’ve got another think coming!” Trip felt hysteria rising. “Perhaps you require some privacy,” Phlox said, clearly disapproving, and yanked the curtains shut around Trip, leaving him alone with a screaming baby. “I DON’T REQUIRE PRIVACY! WHAT I REQUIRE IS A BOTTLE!” If Phlox had any response, it was drowned out by the baby’s bloodcurdling screams. “Goddamn it!” Trip yelled. The baby was turning red with rage or who-knew-what. Probably it didn’t appreciate the screaming on top of its hunger. “Look,” Trip said, trying to calm both of them down. “I highly doubt you’re going to get anything, but if you want to try, go right ahead.” He started with his chest because the baby was already rooting around desperately as if it just knew there was something to be found. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, as he guided the little mouth towards one of his nipples, which had indeed become a bit dark and swollen in recent days. “Ow!” he said, as the baby latched on and began to suck. Then something miraculous happened. The baby stopped screaming and sucked instead. Its shiny surface gradually coalesced from red to tan. “Son of a bitch,” Trip muttered, amazed. The baby opened one pale green eye and gazed up at him. “Well look at you,” Trip said. And he was smitten. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx “What are you going to call her?” Jon asked. He couldn’t help watching in repulsed fascination as the little Xyrillian contentedly sucked at one of his chief engineer’s slightly engorged breasts. When they’d first walked in Trip had given him a dangerous look, as if he just dared him to say one word about it. “I don’t know,” Trip said. “Hoshi’s got me set up with a universal translator but we’re not really sure if she’s going to hear me in Xyrillian or Standard. We also don’t know anything about their naming conventions. Right now I’m pretty much just calling her Sweet Pea.” T’Pol frowned. “In what way does this child suggest a small legume to you?” “She’s small and she’s sweet,” Trip said. “Thus, Sweet Pea. It’s completely logical.” “We haven’t picked up any more traces,” Jon said. “We’re trying to track down their home world based on the name Thera, but it doesn’t show up in the Vulcan database, and who knows how far away it will be even if we can track it down. If I were you I’d go ahead and give her whatever name you want.” “I don’t know, Cap’n. If I name her I might want to keep her. And I’m pretty sure she’d be better off sneaking around the universe with other Xyrillians, even if that means she’s going to go up to strange guys and ask them if they want to stick their hands in some pebbles.” He caressed his daughter’s head and lowered his voice. “Isn’t that right, pumpkin?” T’Pol looked impatient. “I believe a pumpkin is a great deal larger than a pea.” “Still sweet, though,” Trip said. “Just like all the great baby nicknames … honey… sweet potato … sweetie pie … apple dumpling…” It seemed he was trying each one out in turn. The baby gazed steadily up at him as if she had some idea she was being addressed. “Does it not alarm you that all these names are food items?” T’Pol said. “Course not,” Trip said, “She’s so sweet I could just eat her up!” “It appears that the terminology of human parenting has a deep-seated linguistic relationship with cannibalism.” Trip laughed. Jon watched his friend and felt a pang. Trip was really different somehow. He was laughing at T’Pol instead of arguing with her, and obsessing about this alien child’s well-being. And he hadn’t asked even one question about his warp engines. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx When T’Pol stopped at the mess hall for dinner a week later she couldn’t help but notice a table in the corner was generating far more noise than usual. To her surprise, Commander Tucker was sitting there with the baby dozing in his arms despite the high volume of the proceedings. Most of the noise was coming from his other companions: Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Sato, and Ensign Mayweather. Everyone else in the mess appeared to be watching more or less surreptitiously as the senior bridge crew engaged in their excessively lively conversation. “Ah’choo!” Sato said, and they all laughed. “Ah’men?” said Mayweather. “How about Ah’ah’ah!” Reed said. “Like she wants to sneeze but she can’t…” “Ah’Bey’Cey,” Sato said, then explained, “It’s Spanish.” “Ah’Be Seeing You in All the Old Familiar Places,” sang Mayweather, which caused everyone else in the mess to stop and look at him in surprise. He had a surprisingly agreeable tenor. “Hey, since when do you sing?” Sato asked him. “None of your business,” Mayweather said. “Come on, guys, Commander Tucker needs our help. A good name that begins with Ah’…” “Ah’Shit!” Reed said. “Stop it!” Tucker said, laughing so hard he was practically crying. “I don’t want anymore of your help! You guys suck!” T’Pol decided he must be speaking ironically, since she had seldom seen the engineer look happier. She stood there with her tray and realized with an odd pang that if she approached their table the “fun” the humans were having would almost certainly evaporate. And while this was technically to be desired, especially since this display was hardly ideal in front of so many lower-ranking crew members, it would be unfortunate if the commander were to lose this opportunity for social interaction after the isolation he had been experiencing recently. Luckily, at that moment a group of crewmen left their table and she saw the opportunity to quietly creep across the room and sit down. “Ah’Bu Dhabi,” Sato suggested. “Ah’Baby I Love You I Really Do,” said Reed. Their energy level seemed to be fading. T’Pol hoped her presence didn’t have anything to do with it, but they didn’t seem to be aware of her. Instead they appeared to now be focused on Commander Tucker, who was intent on the baby. “Hey there, Sweet Pea,” she heard him say. “Decided to join the fun? Hungry?” Reed sounded a little horrified as he said, “You’re not going to actually…?” “No, Lieutenant, I’m not going to shock your delicate sensibilities with a display of male breastfeeding in the mess hall.” Commander Tucker stood up. “I’ll see y’all later.” He hoisted the now-whimpering baby to his shoulder and headed out. Every head in the place turned to watch them go, and it occurred to T’Pol that Tucker and his baby were now the subject of much more general curiosity than she was. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx “Ah’na.” “What?” Trip looked up, puzzled, from where he was trying to diagnose a problem with the sensors. He was still officially on medical leave, but technical mysteries had begun to come his way, especially from T’Pol, who considered it illogical to put up with malfunctioning sensors for six hours when she could come to him and get the problem fixed in less time. He’d agreed to help her as long as the baby slept. With the limited and disrupted sleep he was getting, he wasn’t feeling terribly sharp. Still, he was pleased that T’Pol had actually admitted to holding his skills in high regard, so he had pulled up sensor array diagnostics on his cabin monitor and set about looking for the problem. “You wanted suggestions for names,” T’Pol said. “Ah’na is a name that I believe might serve your purpose.” Trip stopped and stared at her. “You’ve been thinking of names too? Is the whole crew thinking of names?” “Possibly. There has been much discussion, not all of it helpful.” Trip snorted. “You can say that again.” Hoshi was still sending him every silly suggestion she heard, as well as some serious ones. “It has been two weeks since her birth. A child must have a name, Commander.” “Uh huh,” he said. It was kind of funny that even T’Pol wanted to get in on the action. “I think I see the problem. There’s a fault in the controller for the lateral array. That’s going to have to be fixed on site. I’ll explain the situation to Lieutenant Hess if you want, but it’s up to her to schedule the repair.” “Understood.” “Ah’na, huh? Lieutenant Hess would like that one.” “Ensign Sato checked the translation for me; it apparently has no literal meaning, so it should not pose a problem in Xryllian.” “Like it would if it meant, for example, ‘stinky butt’.” T’Pol just raised an eyebrow. Trip had already decided on a name, but he’d been enjoying the flow of suggestions so much he hadn’t told anybody yet. Clearly, however, it was time to start letting people know. “I was thinking of Ah’lane, actually. Laney for a nickname. My Great Aunt Delaney always claimed she’d been abducted by a UFO, so it seems appropriate.” “It is not an unpleasant-sounding name,” T’Pol said. “I assume it also doesn’t mean ‘Stinky Butt’ in Xyrillian.” Trip laughed. “No. Hoshi thinks a ‘lane’ may be some kind of food item, perhaps a melon.” “It may be an extremely appropriate name for your child, in that case.” The baby started to whimper in her little bassinet. “Speak of the devil,” Trip said, and went over to pick her up. “Well hello there, Laney Sweet Potato Stinky Butt!” He looked over at T’Pol. “Seriously, I am talking stinky butt here. Now would be a good time to make your escape.” “If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay,” T’Pol said, to his surprise. “I also wanted to get your opinion on a weapons system upgrade proposed by Lieutenant Reed.” “Oh. Okay. Well, first things first.” He set about changing the baby’s diaper, while she kicked and cooed. “Aren’t you a poopy little baby? How’d you manage to do all this when you’re so tiny, huh? You’re gonna overload the ship’s recyclers! There will be baby poop everywhere!” “That hardly seems likely,” T’Pol said. Trip just smiled and snapped baby back up into her little outfit. “Here,” he said, and handed her to T’Pol. “I need to wash my hands. Don’t forget to support her neck.” T’Pol looked surprised and a little discomfited, but took the baby. Trip went into the bathroom to wash up. Was it at all possible the science officer was thinking of excuses to hang out with him? Nah. Probably it was just like she said – she just wanted to find the fastest solution to her problems. He looked in the mirror and realized he hadn’t shaved in two days. For that matter, when was the last time he’d managed to get a shower? He was probably offending her sensitive Vulcan nose so badly a little baby poop didn’t seem any worse. Well, as long as he was doing favors for T’Pol, maybe she could do one for him. “T’Pol?” he asked, sticking his head out the bathroom door. “Yes?” she said. She had laid the baby down on her lap and seemed to be engaging in some sort of check of her muscular functions. Or possibly she was just intrigued by the sparking phenomenon. Laney didn’t seem to mind and was staring up at the first officer with interest. “Would you mind hanging out with her while I grab a quick shower? I promise I’ll be fast. It’s kind of hard for me to get one these days.” “You may proceed.” xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx No sooner had Tucker disappeared into the bathroom again than the baby began to squirm and fuss. T’Pol reasoned that as a grown, mature woman she should be capable of handling the problem. She stood up and walked around the cabin with the infant, who quieted and looked around with interest. “Your father is growing grass in his cabin for you,” T’Pol said. “I do not understand his compulsion to do so, but I believe you can take it as a mark of his affection.” The baby began to whimper. T’Pol took this as her cue and kept moving. “As you can see, we are currently at warp,” she said, taking the baby to the window. “Star Fleet has requested we stop at the site of a former human colony known as Terra Nova. Unfortunately, this has at least temporarily taken priority over finding your mother or her home planet.” She walked around the cabin, lifting up items to show the child. The first was a photograph of a man in scuba gear. “Your father’s planet has a great deal of water on it,” she said. “And apparently he feels compelled to enter it.” Another picture was of Commander Tucker and Captain Archer. “This is a picture of your father and the captain,” she said. “They have known each other for some time.” Next was a photograph of a young woman T’Pol decided was likely a girlfriend or a relative; her wide grin did have a certain Tucker quality to it. “I do not know who this person is,” she told the baby. “Perhaps when you are older he will tell you. If we cannot find your mother I imagine you will have many opportunities to find out.” Unfortunately, T’Pol reflected, this would probably also mean that Enterprise would lose a chief engineer whose talents in that area were significant enough to outweigh the deficits he possessed in other areas, like diplomacy and enunciation. She stopped at a large, metallic helmet that Tucker had on top of his locker. “This appears to be an antique of some kind,” T’Pol said. “I do not understand what purpose it serves other than decoration. Perhaps it carries some kind of familial totem importance.” But the baby did not look up, instead demonstrating a very specific interest in T’Pol’s breast. Her tiny hands attempted to grasp it as her little mouth rooted about, looking for access. “I do not believe you will find what you are looking for there,” she admonished the infant. Tucker’s bathroom door swished open and he came out, hair wet but neatly combed, face newly smooth. He was holding a towel tightly around his waist. “Forgot to take clean clothes in,” he said, his face flushing pink, and went to root in his locker. “I believe she is hungry,” T’Pol said, as the baby continued to gum at the uniform covering her breast and whimper. “You got that right,” he said, sounding amused. “She probably thinks she just landed in heaven. Just a minute, sweet bottom, Daddy needs to get his pants on.” T’Pol began to doubt the wisdom of having stayed. Clearly, Tucker’s parenting responsibilities were consuming a great deal of his time right now. Also, it seemed possible the engineer had interpreted it as an opportunity for a more casual relationship than was desirable between fellow officers. However, the man clearly did need to get his pants on. And at least his odor had significantly improved since his shower. He went into the bathroom again, then came out bare-chested and reached out for the baby. “I have to feed her, T’Pol. I’m sure you don’t want to have to witness that, so why don’t you leave Reed’s proposal with me and I’ll get back to you on it as soon as I can?” “I do not have any difficulty staying if you feel you can address his proposal at the same time.” Tucker squinted at her. “Vulcans are less squeamish than humans on this one, then. Let me get her settled and I’ll take a look.” He sat on his bunk, against a pile of pillows he’d stacked against the wall, and positioned the whimpering child to suck. She latched on and quieted immediately. “Okay. Whatcha got?” he said. She handed over the PADD. “I am most concerned about his request to reroute a percentage of power from gravity plating to the phase cannon assembly.” “Mm,” Tucker said, and started reading. “I think Malcolm would re-route life support to weapons if he could. Sure you don’t want me to just read this and get back to you?” “Mr. Reed can be quite persistent.” Tucker grunted again. “Why don’t you send Lieutenant Hess a repair request on that sensor problem, as long as you’re waiting? Tell her I said it’s an electrical fault in section 32B on the lateral array.” “A logical suggestion,” T’Pol said, and sat down at his desk to log into her mailbox. She worded a repair request and sent it out, then checked her other mail. As long as Tucker was reading she might as well handle her correspondence. She was surprised, as she worked her way down through her in-box, to encounter a transfer request from Ensign Masaro, one of Tucker’s junior officers. She turned to ask his opinion and found the engineer was snoring gently, the PADD lying screen-side down on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around the also-dozing infant. She should not have imposed on the man’s medical leave. Fatherhood was clearly absorbing far more of his energy than she had realized. She logged off Tucker’s station and quietly walked over to carefully retrieve the PADD. He didn’t stir. She walked to the door and dimmed the lights before she left. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx “I found them!” Hoshi said. Jon looked up from the report on the PADD in his hand. It had been an uneventful shift on the bridge; they were still on course for Terra Nova. “You’ve made contact with the Terra Novans?” Travis said, sounding excited. “No, I’ve found the Xyrillians!” “What? Are you serious?” Jon walked over to her station. He couldn’t believe it. “I’ve been scanning for any communications with their signature or even just using their language, and I’ve just detected a number of subspace exchanges. It’s definitely them!” “Can you fix a location?” Hoshi looked confused. “Yes, sir – but we can also hail them.” “Oh. Right. Kind of hard to believe it could be that easy after all this time. Great work, Hoshi!” He turned to T’Pol. “Do you see any signs of any Klingon battle cruisers in their vicinity?” “No, sir. I’m not reading any vessels. I would imagine they are still cloaked.” “I can’t believe we finally found them!” Jon felt jubilant. It looked like his chief engineer’s bizarre detour into parenthood might finally be coming to an end. “Open a channel!” xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx T’Pol listened to the captain cheerfully making arrangements to return Ah’Lane to the Xyrillians and experienced a growing sense of unease. She exchanged glances with Ensign Sato and the other bridge officers and noticed concern on their faces as well. “Great. I’m glad that’s settled!” Archer said. He smiled at T’Pol. “Shall we go give Trip the good news?” “Captain!” T’Pol said. “Yes, Subcommander?” He got that bland expression on his face that T’Pol knew meant he was expecting her to come up with some obscure Vulcan objection. “Have you considered that Commander Tucker may not consider this good news at all?” “What are you talking about?” Archer said. “He was upset when I told him we had to break off the search to head for Terra Nova.” “That was a couple of weeks ago, Captain,” Sato said. “I think he’s gotten pretty used to the idea that he’s a daddy now.” Archer scowled. “He knew this was temporary from the beginning.” “We’re all going to miss Laney,” Reed said, somewhat to T’Pol’s surprise. “She’s ... well, she’s very entertaining.” “Yeah, it’s been real nice having a baby around,” Mayweather said. Archer was clearly taken aback by their reactions. “Well, yes, I know, she’s cute as a button – but she’s still a Xyrillian. She deserves the opportunity to grow up among her own people.” Sato said, “We understand that, Captain. It’s just not going to be easy to say goodbye. Especially for Commander Tucker. And you’re not exactly giving him a lot of time to adjust. Three hours, sir?” Archer frowned. “Need I remind you that we’re on a mission, Ensign?” But T’Pol could tell he was beginning to realize he’d discounted a simple fact that everyone else seemed to understand – that their chief engineer had fallen head over heels in love with his alien baby. To be continued... |
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