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"Commander Tucker Proposes" Rating: R for sexual themes and bad language. Chapter 3 Enterprise had calibrated her clocks to Pacific Standard Time, which may have been part of the reason Trip lay in bed that night feeling restless and wishing he had more of that hypospray Phlox had given him. Of course, who knew what that would do to T’Pol over in the Vulcan Compound. She couldn’t just come crawl into the big queen-sized guest bed here. He couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to share it with her, assuming he’d had the nerve to introduce her as his girlfriend or lover or whatever the hell she was. Or had been. He finally gave up on sleeping and crept down the hall into the family room as quietly as he could. He slipped down in front of the monitor and logged into his Starfleet account. There were eight messages, two of which were from Jupiter Station, notifying him of maintenance and repairs performed in his absence. One was official notice from HR: Kelby had decided to stay. And a separate message from Archer: Kelby decided to stay. Hope that’s good news. Your Southern charm has won the day again. Yeah, it’s good news, Trip answered back, hoping he wouldn’t regret it. Thanks. Also from HR, Ensign Massaro had requested a transfer at the end of his current tour, in two months. Did Trip have any opinion on that? Trip was a little taken aback, but not unwilling to see the young man go. He wasn’t one of the more gifted members of his staff and he sometimes took a maddeningly passive approach to his job. Archer had also chimed in: Any problem with this? Nope, Trip wrote back. It’s fine with me. I wish him well. Malcolm had sent him: Hawaii? Parents already making me insane. Trip snorted. Not this time, Mal. Aloha. P.S. Avoid cellars. Anna Hess had sent him a message. Hey, boss. Come visit us in SF if you get a chance and I’ll try not to barf on you. (Yes, we have happy news!) And you HAVE to see the new wing in the R&D complex. That’s great news, Anna, Trip wrote back, feeling wistful. I’ll definitely try to stop by. I’ll let you know when I’m in town. As he sat there another message popped up. He breathed in sharply – it was from T’Pol. Then he realized it was probably just a typical XO message about the personnel changes. Trip, I hope you are enjoying your stay with your family. The priest has agreed to speak to me tomorrow afternoon. I will let you know what he says. Please know that you are always uppermost in my thoughts. His heart swelled. Uppermost in her thoughts. That was practically a declaration of love, wasn’t it, by Vulcan standards? He typed: I love you too. But then he thought better of it. He erased it, wrote: And you in mine. He hovered over the “send” command for a moment, then sat back and stared at what he had written. He read her message again a few times. She was going to see the priest the next day. And if that priest said the bond could be broken… Finally, he erased again and wrote: I’ll wait to hear. And sent it. She opened it almost immediately. He knew it because he could feel it in his stomach, hitting hard and low, like a blow. He went out into the screened-in back porch, sat in the rocking swing and listened to the cicadas and the frogs and the mysterious night-rustlings. He cried for a little bit and then he just sat there. It felt like maybe in his own way he was keeping vigil – sitting a death watch for something that had been doomed before it started.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” his father demanded. Trip shuddered awake. His face was practically glued to the waterproof cushion of the rocking swing, where he’d curled up ineffectively under an old afghan that smelled of mildew. He sat up creakily. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. His father shook his head. “You always were a crazy child,” he said. “Come get some coffee.” Trip followed him in. His mother and grandmother both stared at him from their seats at the kitchen table. “Well, lookee what the cat dragged in,” Grandma said. “I’m gonna take a hot shower,” he said. He was chilled to the bone. “Use soap,” Grandma said, and cackled. In the shower he cast his thoughts toward T’Pol, but as often happened he got no impressions at all. Just a chilly blankness that made him think this whole bond thing had been some crazy hallucination to begin with. Which it might as well have been, he told himself, trying to relax under the hot stream of water, so much more powerful than anything on Enterprise. He had no doubt that the Vulcan priest would be eager to help T’Pol extricate herself from her indelicate situation. Today is the first day of the rest of your life, he tried telling himself. When this is over you’ll be free. No more fucked-up Vulcan bullshit to work around. You’ll be able to just focus on your job. Eventually, he gave up and shut off the water. He just couldn’t get warm.
“It’s too cold for swimming today,” his mom said, when he finally came downstairs. “But it’s not a bad day for a sail. What do you say?” “Sounds good,” Trip said, relieved they’d come up with something instead of asking him to set the agenda. He saw his parents look at each other. “Great,” his mom said. “I’ll get the hamper packed, you help your daddy with the gear. And get yourself something warm to wear on the water.” At the marina, he breathed in the salt air and thought, yes, this would do. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and he was soothed by the old familiar sounds: the dinging of lanyards against metal masts, the gulls screaming, the waves softly lapping against hulls, the humming motors of boats coming and going. He let his parents get the boat launched, merely following their instructions. They had their own routine and he didn’t know these waters anyway. The wind was steady but not fierce enough to heel them over. Once they were well out in the bay he sprawled across the bow under the shadow of the jib and fell asleep. He woke when his mother called. “Have some lunch, honey,” she said, so he crawled back to the well and sat with his parents, drinking hot coffee and eating sandwiches. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m still adjusting to Mississippi time.” “Well, don’t get too adjusted,” Mom said. “We’re off to Ireland in two days. I always get a terrible lag on that one.” His father eventually said, “You know, that nap you were taking up there looked awfully appealing. I think I might just give it a try.” He headed up to the bow. Trip squinted after him. His daddy was tall and a bit knock-kneed and had never been one for clambering around the boat. He liked to sit in the back and hold the tiller, much as he held on to the remote when he sat on the sofa to watch the video feed. “So what’s the matter, Trip?” his mom asked. He scowled. They had planned this, hadn’t they? “I’m fine, Mom,” he said. “Really.” “You’re pining about something. Or someone. And I’m guessing it’s not just Lizzie, so spill it.” “I’m just tired,” he said. “I think maybe I’m a little burned out, that’s all.” “Last time it was that Vulcan woman. Maybe it still is?” Trip stared at her, surprised his mom had been able to figure that out. They’d seemed so overwhelmed by their own losses. “Well,” he said, looking away, “if it is, the more fool me.” “I’d like to meet this woman,” his mom said. “She must be something else to have you so tied up in knots. Maybe I could knock her upside the head for ya.” Trip laughed despite himself. “I wouldn’t recommend that. I’ve seen her kick a great big Klingon’s ass.” His mother made a course correction, trimmed the mains’l accordingly, then turned to eye him thoughtfully. “You gonna be all right?” Trip nodded. “Yeah, Mom, don’t worry. Give me a decade or two, maybe a lobotomy, I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “You always did take these things to heart. You and your dad are alike that way. I can’t help but worry about you.” “He seems a lot better,” Trip said. “Yes,” his mother said. “Damned good thing, too. I was about ready to kill the bastard.”
They bought shrimp po-boys at the dock for dinner, had an extra one wrapped up for Grandma, and headed home. “There was a lady called for you,” Grandma said. “Commander DePaul or something like that. Wouldn’t give me her first name. She asked if you could call her back.” “Guess I’d better call her back then,” he said, with a glance at his mother, and went down the hall to find his communicator. He sat down and willed his heart to stop thudding in his chest. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what to expect. “Tucker to T’Pol,” he said. “T’Pol.” “You called earlier?” “Yes. I spoke to the priest.” Trip waited, but she didn’t continue. “And?” he said, sharply. “He said he doesn’t know.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Silence on the other end. Trip sighed. “Did he know who would know?” “He said nobody would know. He said we could try to attempt to let it fade away with time, but there’s no guarantee that would work. He also agreed that in our case there may be complicating issues.” “Namely?” “I’d rather not talk about them over this channel.” Trip rolled his eyes. Of course not. She would rather not talk about them at all. She surprised him by saying, “I could come meet you if you wish. I would be willing to travel to your location.” Trip sighed. “Is there any chance that conversation is going to end with you agreeing to marry me before I die of old age?” Silence. He’d had enough of this. “You know, I’m with my family right now, and I really don’t want to get them involved in something that probably isn’t going anywhere. We can get together when I get there for the conference, okay? I’ll give you a call when I’m in town.” He ended the call.
Things were a little tense in the little house known as Journey’s End in Kenmare, County Kerry. Patrick greeted Trip at the shuttle from Cork with an earnest handshake and a clap on the back, then dropped them at the house and said he was awfully sorry, but he had to get back to work. Hannah scowled as he drove off. “We might not see him again until the pubs close,” she muttered. “Tell us how you’ve been, dear,” his mother said. “No, Trip has to tell me how he’s been,” Hannah said, grabbing her brother in a big bear hug. “I haven’t seen you since – oh, such a long time!” She backed up and eyed him critically. “You know, I think you’re finally looking old enough to be a big famous Starfleet Commander.” “Why thanks, sis,” Trip said. “Is that a little grey I see in your hair?” “No doubt,” she said. “Patrick’s making me old before my time.” “Oh boy,” their dad said. “Maybe we should all head to the pub.” “No, no, I already have a lovely tea set up. Let’s do the Irish thing while we still can.” Trip watched his parents exchange worried glances. “Where’s Liam?” he asked. “School,” Hannah said. “He’ll be home in a bit. They’re all very excited that you’ve agreed to go in and talk to them tomorrow.” “I’m looking forward to it,” Trip said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
The next afternoon, Liam’s classmates were disappointed that Trip wasn’t able to give them an eyewitness account of the Xindi weapon being destroyed. Trip began to wish he’d come armed with some Starfleet video of things blowing up. He’d already talked about how phase cannons and photonic torpedoes worked, and explained that they didn’t actually walk around the ship armed with phase pistols on a regular basis. “How many Xindi Reptilians did you see in the Expanse?” a boy demanded. “More than I wanted to,” Trip said. “Did you kill any?” “No, not personally.” “Have you killed anybody?” “I’m the chief engineer,” Trip said, happy to dodge the question. “I help us win by keeping the ship running. And while Captain Archer was destroying the weapon, Commander T’Pol and I were on Enterprise, destroying the system of spheres that was responsible for forming the Expanse. That’s how we got the Xindi Aquatics to help us against the Reptilians and the Insectoids. We couldn’t have won without that.” Silence. “Do you have a girlfriend?” a girl asked. Trip stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek and glanced at the teacher, who gave him a sickly smile. “You know, I think that’s a little more personal than I want to go. Would anyone like to know how you get a ship to go warp 5?” Dead silence. “Do you think aliens ought to be allowed to live on our planet and use our resources?” another girl asked. “What?” Trip said, taken aback. “Do you think…” “I heard ya. Yeah, I think aliens should be allowed to live on our planet, if they want to. I think you’ll find most of them prefer to live on their own planets. I know Commander T’Pol thinks earth is too cold and too humid. I think you’ll find that most of the aliens who live here are basically here because they’re trying to help us out.” “Do you think it’s wise to let aliens serve on our ships?” a boy asked, clearly skeptical. Trip blinked. “Wise? Look, I can tell you this. If we hadn’t had Commander T’Pol from Vulcan and Dr. Phlox from Denobula on our ship, Earth would be a big cloud of cosmic debris right now. Everyone on this planet would be dead. Those aliens were extremely important to the success of our mission. And neither of them had to go out there with us. Their planets weren’t at risk. They volunteered. Not to mention that if General Shran from Andoria hadn’t showed up with his warship to help when he did, you wouldn’t be here right now either. And frankly, you’re crazy if you think it makes sense to try to exist in a universe as dangerous as this one without any alien allies!” The kids stared back at him with big eyes. Liam’s were as big as anyone’s. In the back of the classroom, even his sister’s mouth was hanging open. The teacher cleared her throat. “Thank you so much, Commander Tucker, for coming in to see us today,” she said. “I know we all appreciate your heroic service. Children, thank Commander Tucker.” A chorus of subdued thank you’s ensued. “It was my pleasure,” Trip said meekly, and walked out. Hannah followed him out into the hall and patted him on the back. “You okay?” “Yeah, I’ll be all right. Sorry about that. I just couldn’t believe the question.” “Eh, don’t worry, the little brats needed to hear it. Alien-bashing is getting out of hand. The Xindi attack caused a lot of paranoia, and some of the politicians have decided to milk that for all it’s worth. I’m a little surprised to hear it coming from these kids, though.” “So am I,” Trip said. They signed out of the school and walked out onto the street. Apart from the modern ground cars parked up and down the road, quaint Kenmare looked as if it hadn’t changed much in 400 years. “Have these kids even met an alien in person before?” “Of course they have. On field trips. But you could invite your Vulcan friend to come talk to them, if you want. What’s her name again? T’Pol?” “I’d be a little worried about what they might say to her right now.” “Well, at least with Vulcans you don’t have to worry about hurting their feelings.” Trip grimaced. “Just because they don’t show their feelings doesn’t mean they don’t have them.” Hannah cocked her head. “And you would know this how?” Trip gave his sister a sour look. “So what’s up with you and Patrick?” Hannah punched him in the arm. “You’re changing the subject.” “Damn straight.” Hannah laughed, then sobered. “Patrick is bored stupid with the whole being married thing. And frankly, I’ve had enough of it too. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life tethered to a man who finds me so uninteresting.” “He said he wants out?” “He’s never home long enough to tell me he wants out.” “You ever go out with him?” Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’ve tried. Hanging around the same pub every night bores me stupid.” “Well, have you two seriously tried to work it out at all? Have you seen a counselor?” Hannah scowled. Trip sighed. He knew he was in no position to give advice, but he also knew his sister could be as stubborn as they come. “Seems kinda sad to let a marriage just peter out without trying your best to save it.” “So says the bachelor.” “Yeah, I know,” Trip said. “Do you know what time it is in California?” Hannah looked at her watch. “Six in the morning. Have you got someone to call?” She smiled a little too innocently. “After what I heard in there, I just want to check on a few things.”
“Did I wake you?” He had waited until 8am her time, but it had taken her awhile to answer his hail. He’d gone out into the back garden for privacy, into the chilly dusk. He paced across the spongy lawn, trying to keep warm. “I was meditating.” “Oh. Sorry. T’Pol, have you been outside the Vulcan Compound at all?” “I’m not staying at the Vulcan Compound. I’m in Starfleet quarters.” “But I thought you said…” “There were no rooms available at the Vulcan Compound. They are currently experiencing significant overcrowding.” “Because of the political climate?” “Yes. A number of Vulcans who had been living outside have moved back into the compound at the recommendation of the Consulate.” “I was just talking to some kids at my nephew’s school today. I hadn’t realized how widespread this thing has become. I don’t understand it.” “It is somewhat puzzling to me as well.” He watched through the yellow-lit window as his father went up behind his mother and put his hands on her shoulders. His mother leaned back into that embrace. “You’re taking precautions, right?” he said. “I do not feel that any are necessary here on the grounds of Starfleet.” “I take it you’re helping to set up the conference?” There was the slightest element of irritation in her voice as she said, “Yes.” Trip felt a pang of guilt. “I’ll be there Tuesday. We’ll talk then, okay? Tuesday afternoon?” “That is acceptable.” He thought about saying, “I miss you,” but decided against it. “Take care, then,” he said, instead. “And you. T’Pol out.” She closed the channel. He heard his mother laugh at something someone had said, saw his father smile in appreciation of his mother’s laugh. How long had they been married now? Forty-two, forty-three years? Was it perhaps the laughing that made that possible? He shivered. Best to go in.
After dinner that night, Patrick stood up and rubbed his hands on his trousers. “That was delicious. Well, I’m off. Who’s with me?” No one responded. Hannah angrily got up and took dishes to the kitchen, where she could be heard slamming crockery and cutlery around. “I’ll go with you,” Trip said. They walked into town, into a cozy old bar called O'Donnábhains. Patrick said hi to everyone there and introduced his brother-in-law around. Trip got the impression he’d been bragged about before, since the locals seemed to know all about Enterprise’s adventures. They cheerfully ragged him about how them in Starfleet had managed to avoid saving the planet until the last possible second, no doubt trying to get a good pay rise out of it. Trip took it with good humor, just thankful that nobody was complaining to him about aliens. Eventually, they were left to themselves and Trip said, “Are you planning to divorce my sister?” Patrick spit a mouthful of amber beer back into his pint glass. “Come again?” “She says you no longer have any interest in her.” Patrick made a face. “That’s daft. God knows she has a bit of a mouth on her, but I still like her well enough. Is this about her birthday?” “I don’t know anything about that. But I think do she may be about ready to throw in the towel. And you know Hannah. You don’t want to get in her way once she’s made up her mind about something.” Patrick stared at him open-mouthed. Then he closed his mouth and frowned. “You’d think she might have dropped a hint.” Trip wondered how Patrick had managed to overlook Hannah’s obvious fit of rage after dinner, or all the cutting remarks she’d been dropping. “Maybe you should try talking to her.” Patrick shuddered. “Oh, God help me. When that one gets going…” “Go off somewhere without Liam and have it out,” Trip said. “Or, better yet, we’ll take him off your hands, and you talk to her. Tomorrow. We want to go up and see the Giant’s Causeway anyway. How’s that sound?” “I was hoping to show you and your da some good fishing tomorrow.” Trip stared him down. Patrick sighed and signaled for another pint. “I’d better fortify myself.”
Two days later, Trip stood outside the shuttle port at the Presidio and looked out over the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. He’d seen an awful lot of beautiful coastline over the last week and a half. Vast bodies of water were a balm to his soul. He wondered how they seemed to a woman who’d grown up on a desert planet. Did she find them beautiful, too – or bleak and intimidating, the way he found Vulcan’s brutal deserts? Hell, he didn’t even like Earth’s deserts. When they’d gotten back to Journey’s End Sunday evening, Hannah and Patrick had looked as if they’d survived a tempest. They were practically limp, but at least the tension had broken, and Hannah looked a lot happier. There were flowers on the table. They were touching each other again. Trip was both relieved and depressed. He wished it could be as simple as that for him. He dropped in on Anna Hess at R&D. The facilities were indeed impressive, and so was Anna’s belly. “Look at you,” Trip said, grinning. “Low tech and high tech,” Anna said, gesturing between her swollen abdomen and the hulking mass of a new engine prototype. “Want the tour?” “Of course,” Trip said. “But, honestly now. How can you stand having such a normal life?” She laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”
He ate lunch with Anna, then went to the hall where they were setting up for the conference. Jon was intently discussing something with a tall man Trip recognized as Nathan Samuels, UE’s Galactic Relations Minister. He spied T’Pol huddled with Hoshi over a heap of translation devices and walked over. “Hello, ladies,” he said. Hoshi grinned up at him. “Commander. I see you got some sun.” “That I did.” T’Pol stood up straight and gave him her attention. “Was your visit with your family satisfactory?” she asked. “It was, thank you,” he said. “Have you two spent the whole time working?” “I just got here yesterday,” Hoshi said. She made a face. “Though I probably should have done it the day before. They keep adding participants. We’ve been reprogramming these things for hours.” “Ensign Sato has been extremely helpful,” T’Pol said. “Starfleet’s original translation program was problematic to say the least.” Trip smiled stiffly and looked expectantly at T’Pol. Nerves fluttered in his stomach, though whether they were hers or his he wasn’t sure. T’Pol looked over and saw that Archer was deep in discussion. “Ensign, would you please tell Captain Archer that I will see him tomorrow morning?” “Sure,” Hoshi said, looking extremely curious. “Same for you, Commander?” “Yes,” Trip said. “Thanks.” “Is everything okay?” Hoshi asked. Probably not, he thought, but instead he said, “Everything’s fine.” At least he was about to find out, one way or the other. |
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