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"Calm Before the Storm" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 And how will Trip, Nate and Company keep the wedding couple from finding out the surprise? And thanks, Bineshii, for the idea of the sehlat. :) Pairings: Hayes/Sato and TnT Thanks, Pesterfield! :) Eight John Frederick Paxton nodded absently as his secretary went over the next day’s schedule. He made note of the charity auction in Toronto, the gallery opening in London...something she said caught his attention. “Wait a moment. Whom did you say was in charge of that particular gallery?” “Miss Madeline Reed. She’s one of the curators of the Tate museum,” the secretary repeated. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it, Taralee.” Taralee smiled and rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand while holding her PADD with the other. “Her brother is the famous Doctor Malcolm Reed of the Enterprise, formerly of...” “...the Vulcan Science Academy. Ah, yes, I remember now.” Paxton chuckled. “Will you request a meeting with Miss Reed, say, an hour before the opening? I’d like to speak to her privately.” Taralee nodded and noted it on the PADD. “I can see if she’s available at that time.” She went on with the schedule and his attention drifted again. Yes, what a remarkable coincidence that Malcolm Reed’s sister was the chairwoman of that particular festive gala. He’d have to do a bit more research on her, find out how close she was to her brother, and what she thought of Malcolm’s association with the Vulcans. After Taralee finished, he nodded again at her and said, “That sounds good. Thank you.” “No problem, Mister Paxton. Shall I attend to my other duties now?” “Of course...oh, can you make sure I’m on time for dinner with my special guests? I really don’t want to be late...they have a new project that I’m highly interested in.” “Yes, Mister Paxton. I’ll give you a twenty-minute warning.” “That’ll do, Taralee.” He held the smile until she went out the door, then it faded. Paxton turned in his office chair and gazed out of his window at the New York skyline. The headache pounded at his temples; he had analgesics in his desk drawer, but decided to let it be for the moment. The pain gave him strength...it was a reminder of what had been done to him, all those years before. Harris is still up for the game and he nearly beat me. Good that I have Kenjiro to cover all the possibilities, and he predicted Harris would try to save Sato. At first, he was disappointed that Sato and T’Pol were both still alive, then he reconsidered: both were injured enough to distract the crews of Enterprise and Columbia. And with Columbia’s captain distracted... “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” he said softly. “You have no idea just how cold Hell can be, Matthew Hayes.” Paxton got out of his chair and went into the adjoining office. He punched in a security code and a second door opened in the far wall. Carefully, he slipped inside and made his way down a spiral staircase. The lower chamber housed a bank of computers against the far wall, cabinets filled with mementoes and trinkets, a surgical table, and a padded chair in the corner. He ignored everything else and headed straight for the chair. At first glance, it looked like an elaborate leather recliner, but the steel straps hung from the arms and the legs of the chair. Pads and gelpacks rested on a control table, and a visored helmet lay in the seat. He picked up the helmet and turned it round in his hands. Fifteen years ago, he’d worn something similar to this, and with a flick of a switch, lost half of his life. Of course, the memories had trickled back, over the years, but there were gaps, permanent gaps that time couldn’t heal. Paxton had fought to keep his sanity while embarking on his new life of noble service. Schools on Luna bore his name, a major medical center in Romania made discoveries using his funds, and Humanity had taken its first steps into space, thanks to him. But the need for revenge never died. In fact, it had grown over the years. Paxton built his contacts within the fledgling Starfleet; ironic, for Starfleet personnel had ruined his life...no, they'd operated outside Starfleet and its rules. Article Fourteen, Section Thirty-One. He’d kept an eye on those operatives’ careers. Harris. Nechayev. Tucker. Hayes. When Hayes was made captain of the Columbia, he had to admire the man’s political contacts. If Starfleet Command knew half of what Hayes had done in his career, they’d strip him of command and throw him in a prison facility so fast... Paxton chuckled to himself. No, it wouldn’t do to see the man dead, no matter how tempting it was. Better for Hayes to suffer as Paxton himself had suffered. There were many ways to do it: Hayes’s crew. His friends. His woman. Captain Hoshi Sato. I must admit, the man has taste. And once Hayes was taken care of, there were the others to consider. “One day, soon, you’ll be where I was, and I’ll pull down the switch.” He replaced the helmet, lovingly, back in its place in the seat. “Wait and see.” His communicator went off, jolting him out of his daze. Paxton grabbed it and said, “Paxton.” “Your dinner guest is on the line, sir,” came Taralee’s voice. “Shall I put him through?” “Go ahead.” There was a click, then a familiar voice greeted him. Paxton smiled; his headache was gone and he felt a sense of relief. “Ah...Henry! Yes, I’m still coming. I’ve heard that place has the best seafood in the city...I received your preliminary plans for your new project and I’m eager to discuss it with you...” “I take it that Trip has briefed you on my situation,” T’Pol said. She sat in the padded chair next to Hoshi’s bed. Trip Tucker perched himself on the chair’s arm, while Nate Kemper was next to Liz Cutler on the sofa. Matt Hayes was sitting next to Hoshi on the bed. Hoshi nodded and replied, “Yes, he has, and I don’t have any problem with your plan, as long as it’s strictly on a ‘need-to-know’ basis.” Her eyes reflected her sympathy with T’Pol’s dilemma. “Your betrothed shouldn’t have put you in this position.” “Damn straight,” Trip agreed heatedly. “What a snake in the grass!” T’Pol didn’t object, but she sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Koss fancies himself a patriot, a defender of Vulcan values and traditions. Yet his family follows forms and words, not the spirit. I believe my mother may have realized that now.” At the mention of T’Les, Nate and Trip traded glances. Hoshi didn’t notice, but Matt did, and Nate only shook his head. Nate sighed and said, “That’s a pity, T’Pol. When will you and this guy—“ Her mouth twitched imperceptibly, but she answered, “Unknown, Major. He wishes to wait until this current ‘Romulan crisis’ is over. When that will be, we do not know.” “No offense, Ensign, but you sound rather relieved.” T’Pol raised her eyebrow at Nate. “Indeed. You are quite...perceptive, Major. Your countenance reminds me of S’hemak—“ “Who’s S’hemak?” Hoshi asked. “My childhood sehlat. My friend and protector.” Hoshi grinned and Trip rolled his eyes. “You had a sehlat? And Nate reminds you of your pet?” “Hey!” Nate groused. “I’m cuter than a sehlat. They look like a cross between a bear cub and a vampire. Have you ever seen those fangs?” Liz smiled and said, “I smell a story, T’Pol. C’mon, tell us about S’hemak. Was he cute and cuddly or a vicious little guy?” So they settled into a night of storytelling and joking. T’Pol told them about S’hemak, and how the Nate’s calm demeanor reminded her of her sehlat. Then she segued into her experiences with her mother’s archaeological expeditions, and how her father had designed some of Vulcan’s transports and had taught her to fly. Trip took up the thread with a recount of an unfortunate dinner on Tellar, after which he was dragged to an infirmary by Ensign Bernhard Mueller, and how a Tellarite nurse had tried to bring him home with her that night. Hoshi shrieked with laughter as Trip demonstrated how he’d tried to remain a gentleman while fending off said Tellarite woman’s advances. “Might’ve been an interesting experience, Trip,” Matt quipped. “She was nice, but not my type. Not to mention she wasn’t exactly, um...subtle.” “And you are?” “With dealings with the fair maidens? C’mon, Matt. I can be subtle.” Hoshi glanced at T’Pol, and she would have sworn the Vulcan smirked at Trip’s comment. Then Nate contributed his story about working a fishing boat in Cape Cod, and sailing from Ireland to Boston, like his ancestors did. Matt talked about sneaking into the family house after curfew...and finding out his mother had changed all the locks and had rigged the security alarm to shock him if he tried an alternate way to get inside. “Yeah, sounds like your mom,” Trip muttered. “The problem was, my dad arrived from Jupiter Station that same night and didn’t know what was going on. So we both ended up camping out on the front porch in the cold Colorado night. I had to explain what the hell I was doing out, so I got the first degree from Dad...then Mom grilled me the morning after.” Matt winced. “I’m lucky they didn’t ground me until I left for San Francisco.” “Oh, man. Ouch.” Nate agreed. Hoshi talked about her father’s saké distillery in Tokyo and her crazy extended family. T’Pol gave her a look of pure sympathy, even as the others laughed. The sense of camraderie seemed to brighten the invalid’s spirits; more than once, Trip flashed T’Pol a grateful look for starting the entire thing. Finally, Liz began yawning and Nate rubbed his eyes. T’Pol decided to bring the evening to a close. “It is late. I believe both you and I have medical tests in the morning, Hoshi, and Liz needs her rest. It is easy to forget that we all still need to heal.” “Yeah, she’s right.” Trip got up and nodded at T’Pol. “C’mon, I’ll walk ya to your room. Matt, kiss your gal good night and let’s get goin’ to the hotel.” “I’ll be there in a minute,” Matt promised. As the others headed back to Liz and T’Pol’s hospital rooms, Nate whispered, “How’re we gonna keep Matt busy while Hoshi’s undergoing those tests? He’s gonna go absolutely nuts.” Trip sighed. “I’ll think of something.” It turned out that Trip didn’t have to. When Matt didn't answer his door the next morning, Trip became worried. When he and Nate finally managed to get into Matt’s hotel room, they saw a handwritten note on Matt’s bed. “Oh, damn,” Trip whispered. The note read: Meeting Mark in NYC for the day. Tell Hoshi I love her and that I’ll be back this evening. MATT |
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