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"Captain Sato’s Enterprise"
by Lady Rainbow
Rating: PG-13 This fic will sound strange because of those changes, but please bear with me. Each chapter is told from the POV of a member of the “changed” crew. Reviews/comments are welcome, please:) Here’s T’Pol’s section and it includes her thoughts on Trip Tucker. Dinah: There’s a reason why Archer’s still a lieutenant despite his age. All is explained below :) Helm/Navigation Officer T’Pol Ensign T’Pol concentrated on the weight and the heft of the ahn-woon. It had been a few years since she had handled one of these, but she remembered the basics of the weapon. The heavy bells on one end of it chimed as she swung it over her head, then snapped it outward. Slowly, she went through a series of exercises, imagining the enemy in her mind's eye, seeing him going down in the onslaught of precise maneuvers. Then she made it into a loop and wrapped it around the enemy's neck until he moved no more. It was a lethal dance, one that Vulcans had done for millennia. When the Vulcans were a race of savages, they used a variety of weapons in their various wars. Now it was used in the koon-ut-kal-if-fee, the marriage or challenge. Despite herself, T'Pol edged away from the very thought. No Human had ever witnessed a Vulcan marriage; no Human could understand that one time in a Vulcan's life when logic was just not enough. No, that is not completely true, she corrected herself. Against her will, she remembered a conversation in the Armory, a year ago: “What do ya call these things again? Lirpas?” “That is correct, Lieutenant Commander.” “Nasty lookin’ things.” Trip Tucker gave the weapon an experimental swing, being careful about its weight on one end and the wicked blade on the other. “I can see why the Vulcans used this for thousands of years. One blow on your skull and that’s it for ya.” She had been surprised at the respectful tone of his voice. “Indeed. It takes an amount of manual dexterity to handle the lirpa, for it could be just as harmful to the wielder himself. So, shall we begin?” To her surprise, Trip not only became somewhat proficient in the lirpa, but he showed an interest in all things Vulcan. He asked insightful questions, and while he would always have an accent, his spoken Vulcan was adequate. She admitted that while he reminded her of an enthusiastic guard sehlat, he showed an uncanny sensitivity to cultural issues. Just like another man she knew. Jonathan Archer had worked with Ambassador Soval at the Vulcan Consulate in San Francisco, a respected diplomat and cultural liaison. T’Pol didn’t know what Captain Sato had said to convince Archer to leave such an esteemed position and join Starfleet so late in life. “Captain Sato has given me a logical argument for this,” Soval had told her, “and while I have a certain reluctance to allow Archer to join the Enterprise crew, I believe he will gain more experience among the stars than at the Consulate.” She had her doubts at the time. Archer, like the other Humans she had met, was simply too undisciplined, too unruly, too driven by emotion to go among the stars. Now she acknowledged Hoshi Sato’s valuable insight. Archer was a worthy addition to the crew and a worthy friend. “Ensign? Are you all right? What’s on your mind?” T’Pol turned to see Captain Sato standing there in workout clothes. How long had she been standing there, observing her dance? She decided to answer the captain’s question. “I am all right, Captain. I was pondering a few enigmas among the crew.” Sato smiled at the word “enigma”, although T’Pol couldn’t think of a reason why. “Which ones?” “Lieutenant Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Archer. Both men are Human, but are curious about Vulcan culture. It is not a common trait among Humans to be so accepting of customs not their own.” Sato’s smile was mysterious as she replied, “Trip and Jon are both explorers, T’Pol. Look at it from Trip’s point of view as an Armory Officer. Vulcans are our allies, and the more we can learn about your ways of war and defense, the better we can defend ourselves. And Jon—“ she shrugged, “—he hasn’t always been so open-minded. I think working with Soval has broadened his horizons.” T’Pol inclined her head. “I did not know that. If I may ask, how did you convince him to join Enterprise? I assumed he was content to stay at the Consulate.” “The lure of the unknown, the possibility of meeting new peoples and new cultures. He’s meant for the stars. As Trip said, ‘better late than never’.” She chuckled and lifted the ahn-woon in her hands. “This is a strange-looking whip, T'Pol, but my experience has told me that simple doesn't meen harmless." "Indeed. It is also used as a sling or a garrotte, if the situation warrants it." Sato shivered as she continued to examine the weapon, as if she was using her imagination on how it was done. "An efficient weapon." "Very much so. We are now a peaceful race built upon the tenets of logic, but long ago, we were emotional, uncontrolled..." T'Pol's mouth tightened slightly, though her voice remained steady. "That time is long past." The captain said nothing, though her eyes shone with curiosity about Vulcan's past. Sato's discretion was one of her strong points. "So, how do I handle this thing without killing myself?” T’Pol did not smile, but she raised an eyebrow. “Let me adjust your stance, Captain. Now, watch carefully...” She guided Sato through the simplest of exercises. To her surprise, the captain was soon snapping the ahn-woon with sharp, efficient wrist movements. Sato did have some natural ability, coming from her martial arts background, but mastering the ahn-woon still took years of practice. T’Pol felt another set of eyes on her as she demonstrated another technique to Sato. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trip Tucker watching her closely. Not her ahn-woon. Her. The Armory Officer sat on a cargo container near the practice area. She didn’t acknowledge his scrutiny, but watched him in turn under lowered lids. She had described Trip as an enigma, which was a contradiction in itself. T’Pol wondered just how many people knew what lay behind the Armory Officer’s good-natured, joking exterior. There was so much that was hidden, despite his seeming openness. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his presence: intense, protective, curious. It reminded her of a fiery sun in the coolness of space. And like any celestial body, its gravity attracted anything in its orbit. A new question formed in her mind: Why do I choose to stay within his orbit? He is Human, not Vulcan. He is a lieutenant commander, I am a mere ensign. Yet I find myself as curious about him as he is about me. Why is that? It is not logical. It does not make sense. Perhaps I need to gather more empirical evidence before I make my conclusions. All too soon, she had to bring the training session to an end. “That will be sufficient for now, Captain. I believe you have the foundations for further training, if you wish.” Sato nodded and flexed her aching hand. The ahn-woon was a strip of leather without a handle. Its edge had cut into her palm. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer, Ensign. Oh, do you have anything scheduled for tomorrow night?” T’Pol raised an eyebrow again at the curious question. “No, Captain.” “I’d like to invite you and Lieutenant Commander Tucker to dinner at the captain’s table. Chef’s put together a vegetarian menu. I’m curious to hear your view of Human/Vulcan relations. I'd like hear more about your planet's history.” She carefully hid her surprise, though she glanced briefly at Trip. Is this his idea? Captain Sato has never invited me to her table before this. Aloud she replied, “I would be honored, Captain.” “Good. Nineteen hundred hours?” “I will be there, Captain.” She busied herself with coiling her ahn-woon as she overheard Trip talking with Sato. “You oughta let Malcolm take a look at that cut before it gets infected, Hoshi. T’Pol wasn’t kiddin’ when she said the ahn-woon qualifies as a dangerous weapon.” “I’ll stop by Sickbay before turning in for the night. If I don’t and Malcolm sees this, he’ll lecture me about Optimus Prime and those nasty nanobots that got into my hand.” Trip winced. “Yeah, I remember. He has a reason to be paranoid after that.” “Good night, Trip. Good night, T’Pol. Thank you for the lesson.” “You’re welcome, Captain,” T’Pol said, remembering the human courtesy. She finished securing her weapon, expecting Trip to leave after the captain. He remained there, looking at her. “Lieutenant Commander?” “I was watchin’ you with the ahn-woon and I thought you handled it pretty gracefully. I guess it takes lots of practice to get good with it.” “It takes years, sir,” she replied. She didn’t want to look into his eyes, but something compelled her to do so. His eyes were the blue of a very hot flame. Quite unusual for a Human, though not uncommon. After all, Doctor Reed's eyes were blue-gray and Lieutenant Archer's were green. Yet Tucker's, for some reason, was...different. “I’m willin’ to learn. How about if we arrange a time where I can get a crack at it, so to speak?” His smile was genuine and warm and held no trace of sarcasm. T’Pol found it...intriguing. Being a Vulcan, she did not smile back, but she only replied, “Of course, Lieutenant Commander. Most of my evenings are free. We can start tomorrow night, if you wish.” |
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