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"Commander Tucker Has a Baby"
Rating: PG (for mild cussing)
Chapter Three “How do you suggest we handle this?” Jon asked T’Pol in the turbolift. He was rattled and confused by the realization that even a Vulcan was apparently more attuned to his friend’s feelings than he was. “It might be a good idea to get the doctor involved,” T’Pol said. She looked uncomfortable. “Trip knew this day would come,” Jon said, but without conviction. The galaxy was huge, and it was entirely possible they would never have found the Xyrillians. “He may decide to go with them,” T’Pol said. “What?” “He may feel he needs to stay with his daughter, even if it means leaving the ship.” Jon felt his stomach drop. “You really think he’s that attached to her?” “Yes. He has also demonstrated a great deal of flexibility. I do not think he would rule out leaving his own people behind.” “We can’t have that,” Jon said. “It would be unfortunate,” T’Pol agreed. “Besides, I’m sure he would regret it eventually.” “We cannot know that. I believe Commander Tucker has an unusual capacity for adapting to new situations.” Jon frowned. T’Pol looked as detached as ever, but it was clear that significant respect for Trip had replaced what had once been barely-disguised disdain. She might be a Vulcan but she was still a woman, he reminded himself. And women always were suckers for a man and a baby. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx “You’ve found them?” Commander Tucker said. His arms tightened on Laney, who protested with a grunt and began to fuss. After consulting with Phlox, they had asked Tucker to bring the baby to sick bay, where there was ample room for three adults and a baby. His quarters were particularly tight these days, between the grass and the baby gear. Archer explained how Hoshi had found the Xyrillians. “After that it was a simple matter of making contact. We rendezvous with them in three hours.” Tucker blanched. The baby began to fuss. He began to pace back and forth, patting the baby soothingly. “Did you tell them about Laney?” “Yes, of course,” Archer said. “Ah’len was obviously surprised, but she seemed quite pleased. She’s very excited to meet her daughter.” “You could have asked me first.” Trip’s voice was tight. “It never occurred to me I needed to, Trip. You’ve agreed all along that it would be best to reunite this child with her people.” T’Pol exchanged a glance with Phlox. Archer seemed to have decided that if he had to bully his engineer into this, then that was what he was going to do. Tucker’s expression was stormy. “I’m not so sure about that anymore. She’s doing fine with me. Who knows if she’ll do as well over there? Besides, I’m on the only parent she’s ever known.” “Commander,” Phlox said. “I understand that this is very difficult for you. And normally I would agree with you. However, the reality is that we don’t even know for sure that she is doing fine.” “Of course we do! She’s gaining weight. She’s growing. You said it yourself, she’s a happy baby.” “She certainly appears to be, but we know nothing about Xyrillian growth and development. If Laney were falling behind developmentally, we might not even realize it. If she got sick, I’m not sure I’d know how to treat it. You know how different their environment is, their diet. We can’t be sure how long she’ll remain healthy in ours.” Phlox grimaced apologetically. “I haven’t shared these concerns with you before, Commander, because I didn’t want to worry you needlessly, but they are very real.” Tucker looked stricken. Laney began to whimper. “Beyond which, the fact remains that you can’t expect to raise a baby on a starship,” Archer said. “I know that!” Tucker said. “I’ve already been talking to Starfleet about making the switch to Research and Development.” “And just when the hell were you going to tell me that?” Archer demanded. This discussion was quickly growing irrational. “Commander Tucker,” T’Pol said softly. “Even assuming you could do so safely, if you were to raise Laney on Earth, she might never meet another Xyrillian for the rest of her life. She will be the only one of her kind, a constant object of curiosity. Is that what you want for her?” “No!” Tucker said. His eyes filled with tears, and Laney began to wail in earnest. “But how do I know she’ll be any better off with them?” Phlox clucked. “When you take Laney to her mother, you can decide that for yourself. I’m sure they’ll be happy to set your mind at ease.” “And just what’s the big rush, anyway!” Trip said. “Why can’t we have some time to get used to the idea? Not to mention all that stuff I need to pack. And how do you even know she can handle the decompression at her age?” Phlox was prepared for that question. “I’ve already been talking to their doctor. She assures me there will be no problem at all. We do agree it’s probably better not to administer any Mirazine to her at her age, so I’m afraid it will take the full six hours.” “So you’ve actually got more time to get used to the idea than you think,” Archer said. The look Tucker shot him verged on murderous. “We’re also going to send someone over with you,” Archer said. His own voice had turned steely. “Phlox has volunteered to keep you company.” “No!” Tucker said. He looked a little hysterical at the idea. “No offense, doc, but I don’t think I could handle your optimism for six hours straight in a small room right now. I’d rather be alone with her.” “That’s not an option, Trip,” Archer said. T’Pol and the captain had already discussed this and agreed they needed someone along to make sure the transfer went as smoothly as possible – and also to try to make sure Trip returned when his visit was over. “I’ll go with you if you’d like.” Archer smiled encouragingly, but T’Pol could tell he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of spending six hours in a small decompression chamber with an emotionally distraught engineer and a crying baby. Tucker just shook his head angrily. “Pick someone then,” Archer said. “I don’t care who, but someone. You’re not going over there alone. You’re too upset.” “T’Pol, then,” Tucker said. T’Pol blinked, surprised. “Why me?” she asked. “Laney likes you,” Tucker said. “And at least you won’t try to cheer me up.” xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Three hours. Trip couldn’t believe the captain expected him to pack up his daughter and ship her off to a ship full of aliens in just three hours. He checked his chronometer. Damn. More like two and a half hours. They’re not aliens, he reminded himself. Not to his daughter, anyway. And she wasn’t even really his daughter anyway, technically. Genetically. Bullshit. Of course she was. Calcium from his bones had formed her bones. He was the one who’d grown her from a tiny clump of cells, fed her, cared for her, loved her. He sure as hell was her father. And didn’t that give him any rights? What made Jon so damned sure it was the right thing to give Laney up to these sneaky, resource-siphoning, malfunction-causing, stranger-impregnating people anyway? The door chirped. He opened it. T’Pol stood there, looking a little awkward. “T’Pol,” he said. “What can I do for you?” “I thought perhaps you could use some assistance packing.” Trip stepped aside to let her in. “I guess I could. I don’t know even know what to pack. And she won’t let me put her down, which doesn’t make it very easy.” “She appears to be soundly sleeping at the moment,” T’Pol pointed out. “Okay, so maybe I just don’t want to put her down.” T’Pol stared at him for a moment, probably getting ready to tell him how irrational he was being. But instead she turned and surveyed his cabin. “Perhaps we could begin with her clothing.” Trip nodded. He had a surprisingly large supply, mostly in the same blue cotton that was used in Starfleet undergarments. The quartermaster had been excited at the opportunity to dress a baby. Laney even had her own little Starfleet uniform, complete with red engineering stripes. “Leave that one out,” Trip said. “I want her to wear that one.” He wanted the Xyrillians to see which crew she really belonged to. “Is there anything you wish to keep?” T’Pol asked. “To keep?” “I have observed that humans are fond of collecting mementos.” “I don’t give a damn about mementos. I just want her.” Once again, she refrained from arguing with him and merely started to organize piles of clothing on his bunk. Trip walked over to the window and stared out, trying to ignore what she was doing. It made it seem far too real. “Perhaps you’d like to take her to say goodbye to some of the crew,” she suggested. “Many of them have said that they are going to miss her.” “She’s going to wake up soon and then she’ll be hungry,” Trip said. “Maybe after that.” He sat down in his desk chair, feeling suddenly boneless. “Thank you for helping me.” “Do you have a case I can put these in?” “Bottom of my locker.” She went and pulled out a Starfleet duffel and started packing stuff away. He just watched her, conscious of Laney’s comforting weight against his chest. He felt oddly detached. That’s when it hit him: What if he stayed with Laney over there? They could use a good engineer. Of course, it would mean he’d probably never see his own family on earth again. Or his friends at home and on Enterprise. Or Natalie. He hadn’t even tried to tell her about Laney yet; he was pretty sure it wouldn’t go over well. He hadn’t told anyone back home about Laney. He still had no idea how to explain it. If he left now, maybe he’d never have to. Jon would get stuck with that job, which served him right. Trip was sure his family would understand eventually. This was his daughter, after all. And he knew Ah’len found him attractive. But did she really like him that much? Would the Xyrillians even want him there? He’d be the alien, instead of his daughter. But at least he’d be with her. And if he took some decent scans over with him, maybe they could replicate earth on that fancy holographic machine of theirs. He might even get to figure out how that fancy holographic machine of theirs worked. That cloaking device, too. And then maybe when Laney was older, he could find his way home. He didn’t have to decide right away. Still, if he were going, there were certain things he’d want to have with him. And he’d have to do it without tipping off T’Pol or Archer. He began to look around the room, deciding what was most important to him. He grabbed a PADD and started downloading his store of photographs into it. “What are you doing?” T’Pol asked. She zipped up the duffel and laid it next to the door. “Did you put any diapers in that thing?” he asked. “No.” “Six hours, T’Pol. Stuff as many in as you can. It’s not like we can use them here after she’s gone.” She complied. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “I thought she might want to have some pictures of my family,” he lied. “For when she’s older, in case she wants to know about me.” “Perhaps you could record a letter for her also,” T’Pol said. “Tell her about her early life with you.” “Mm,” Trip said, noncommittally. Really, given the limited time he had, it was his own family he should leave a letter for, just in case. She gave him an assessing look. “Are you planning to leave us, Commander?” He hoped his surprise didn’t show on his face. “No,” he said, probably not very convincingly. “If that is your choice, I will not attempt to stop you. But I know the captain and the rest of the crew would experience it as a great loss. No doubt your relations on Earth would as well.” They stared at each other for a moment. There was something about T’Pol’s straightforwardness that discouraged him from lying. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he admitted. T’Pol said, “Six hours is a long time for a lactating human to go without sustenance. I’ll go ask the chef to pack some provisions and also collect her medical records from the doctor.” And she left. Trip shook his head. Lactating human. That Vulcan straightforwardness could also be pretty rough on a man’s ego. On the other hand, Laney was beginning to stir, and he could already feel the milk ‘letting down’ in preparation for her next feeding. If he hadn’t felt the sensation himself, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have believed it. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Jon could hear the ruckus on the bridge from his ready room and knew what it had to be even before he opened the door. Hoshi had Laney in her arms. Trip had dressed the baby in that ridiculous miniature uniform the quartermaster had given him. “I’m going to miss you, sweetums,” Hoshi crooned. The baby stared back at her as if mesmerized. Trip looked pale and miserable. Jon was glad he’d made time to do the rounds anyway. He wasn’t sure he liked the look of him as he did it, though. Trip was studying his friends and the bridge like a man who wasn’t sure he’d ever see them again. Perhaps Hoshi had an instinct too; she hugged Trip just as hard as she hugged the baby. Travis took Laney with one of those sparkling smiles of his. Having grown up on a Boomer ship, he was obviously used to having children around. Malcolm didn’t reach out for Laney and Trip didn’t hand her over, but his armory officer did stick his finger in her hand until she’d closed her tiny fingers on it. “We’ll miss you, lovey,” he said, looking more upset than Jon would have expected. He patted Trip awkwardly on the shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. “Don’t forget to come back.” Trip just patted him back. Trip made the rounds with the crew back in the situation room, then stopped in front of his commanding officer. “I don’t think you’ve ever held her,” he said, his tone just short of accusatory. Jon suddenly realized he was right. “I never was good with kids.” “Try it now,” Trip said, and handed Laney over before Jon could protest. She was so light! She didn’t protest, just twisted to look up at him curiously, apparently quite content to be passed around from person to person. “Hey there, cutie,” Jon said, looking back down at her and bouncing her instinctively. “You know, maybe this wouldn’t be so easy for you if you’d done a little more of that,” Trip said. His voice was low and his eyes were full of the pain of betrayal. “Maybe that’s why I’ve avoided it,” Jon said. “I don’t know if I could be strong enough to do what you’re about to do.” He stared back at Trip as if he could somehow force him to understand – and will him to come back to them. “I’m really sorry, Trip.” He felt his own eyes fill, and handed Laney back. “Safe journey,” he added as his throat closed up. Suddenly he was quite certain his friend wasn’t coming back. Trip ducked his head. “I guess we’d better go,” he choked out, and left. To be continued... |
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