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"The Logic of Emotion" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Trip meets Jonathan Archer for the first time in this chapter. If the name of Carlos Ramirez sounds familiar, he was the captain of the Intrepid in the “real universe” and helped Archer and Company in the episode “Home”. Malcolm Reed would have taken over command of Intrepid in the “Twilight” universe from him if Malcolm had survived the Xindi attack. Thanks, as usual, to Pesterfield :) Two Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, March 11, 2145 Ensign Charles Tucker the Third sighed as he approached the security gate of the Vulcan Consulate. The unsmiling guard on duty looked down on him with an impassive expression. Although Trip Tucker was tall for a Human, this Vulcan topped him by at least seven inches and fifty pounds. I wouldn’t want to run into this guy in a dark alley, he thought. “Ensign Tucker?” the Vulcan asked. He extended an open hand; Trip moved to shake it, then remembered in time that Vulcans didn’t like to be touched. Instead, he handed the guard his PADD with his orders on it. “You are to be one of the security detail here at the Consulate?” Trip nodded soberly. “That’s correct, sir.” The guard’s mouth twitched as he read the orders. “You do not need to call me ‘sir’. I am Third Officer Somek, and as Third Officer, I believe your rank supercedes mine.” “Ah—“ Trip felt the color rise in his cheeks. “I didn’t know that.” “That is understandable.” Somek handed the PADD back to him. “The Ambassador’s assistant is expecting you. Go through those doors and wait for him.” “Thank you, Third Officer.” Trip nodded and set off in the direction Somek had indicated. Really great, Trip. The first thing you do is embarrass yourself in front of a junior Vulcan officer. There’s something about that kid, though, something endearing behind that stiff exterior. He chuckled under his breath. Yeah, that’s real good. You don’t need to go corruptin’ Vulcan kids. The foyer of the Consulate was a large, airy room, well lit by skylights in the ceiling and huge windows. The honey-colored walls reflected the sunlight, a marble fountain gurgled in the corner, and the sweet smell of Vulcan flowers wafted through the air. Trip felt his tension melt away, but he automatically surveyed the room anyway, noting the possible exits. He noticed the security cameras placed high in the corners, the silent scanners built into the walls. It was an ingrained habit; after all he was a security officer. Soft voices echoed off the walls. Two voices: one quiet and subdued, the other harsh and strident. Trip frowned and turned towards the spiral staircase set in one corner of the room. He recognized a handful of words...unnecessary, emotional, difficult, but most of the argument was muffled and distorted. Were they discussing him? He took a deep breath and went through some mental exercises to calm himself. The last thing he wanted to do was fly off the handle and make himself an ass in front of the Vulcans. He’d rated highly on weaponry certifications and unarmed combat, and had even began studying some Vulcan martial arts. If the Vulcans didn’t want him here, he could always go back to the Weapons Development Division at Cape Canaveral... A Vulcan in a military uniform made her way down the staircase, her boots ringing off the marble. Her gray tunic had no decoration, but the insignia marked the woman as Head of Consulate Security, with the rank of Major. Trip immediately snapped to attention as she approached. She was much shorter than he was, with glossy black hair in a tight twist on the back of her head. Her eyes were orbs of brown ice. She said nothing for several moments, but just looked up at him. The officer radiated a sense of cold, no-nonsense efficiency that Trip identified almost immediately, but it was mixed with a dangerous aura. This woman was used to being obeyed. Uh-oh, this gal is bad news, he thought. “Ensign Charles Tucker, I presume?” The cool tone had a touch of haughtiness. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “My name is Major T’Lydya, Ensign, and I expect to be addressed as such. Am I clear?” He stifled a wave of irritation and said, “Yes, Major T’Lydya.” “Good.” She walked around him once, as if assessing him. “You are assigned to the security detail protecting Ambassador Soval’s new assistant. Your Human commanding officer is Captain Carlos Ramirez. You will report to him from now on, is that understood?” Trip stifled a wave of relief. He knew it was unprofessional, but he dreaded having to deal with the hostile T’Lydya. “Yes, Major T’Lydya.” “Soval’s assistant is well-regarded in diplomatic circles, but he has the tendency to find himself in rather...tense situations. His casual acceptance of the most basic of security measures is quite unacceptable. It is hoped that he would respond more positively to a uniquely Human approach.” The dry irony struck a chord within Trip. He’d had to do bodyguard detail on high officials who hadn’t the faintest clue of how difficult it was to protect them. Was Soval’s assistant one of them? Trip suddenly thought, Was the major talking about Soval’s assistant when she was upstairs and not me? If the man was as casual about protocols as T’Lydya implied, then he understood why Captain Ramirez needed an extra security man on the premises. “I’ll do my best to impress upon him the necessity of security protocols, Major T’Lydya.” She didn’t smile, but Trip felt her humor all the same. He also got the feeling that the major was relieved she didn’t have to deal with Soval’s assistant. Trip had the mental image of an elderly, crotchety man with an attitude problem. Great, what have I gotten myself into? The rest of the morning passed in a whirlwind of activity. Although T’Lydya ran a tight unit, she also insisted in following some enjoyable traditions. One of them was a formal banquet for their newest officer. Trip met some of the enlisted men and women who would be under his direct command. To his surprise, none of the Vulcans seemed upset at having a Human commander. On the contrary, they asked him questions about Human customs where he came from. “They know you’re from a different area of the planet,” explained Captain Ramirez. The Head of the Terran Security detachment chuckled and added, “You should’ve seen them when I arrived, Ensign. I had to explain the Mexican holiday of Cinco de Mayo and they wanted to hear every detail.” Trip grinned and took another sip of his Vulcan tea. “Well, curiosity is a Vulcan trait.” “Most of them are very dedicated to their job, Ensign. I don’t think you’ll run into any problems. If you do, just let me or Diplomat Archer know.” “Archer?” Trip repeated. He frowned in confusion. “I thought Henry Archer was the head of Starfleet’s Engineering Research and Development. He’s supposed to be workin’ on a faster-than-light engine, last I read.” Ramirez inclined his head. “You an engineer, too?” He shook his head in a rueful negative. “Nope, not formally, but I got some interest in that kinda stuff. I took some courses at the University of Florida; one of ‘em just happened to be a design lab and I got into weaponry there.” He chuckled. “Got into security protocols and tactics and here I am.” “I went to Florida State.” Ramirez grinned and added, “Football season is another holiday over here. The Vulcans don’t understand it, but a few appreciate the...statistics.” Trip choked on his tea. “Aw, the statistics. Yeah, right.” He glanced casually around the room and noticed a tall, brown-haired man in a Vulcan-style tunic. The man chatted with Major T’Lydya, who seemed to only tolerate him. Despite her standoffishness, he still treated her with respect due her rank. The man bowed to her and she returned it, albeit grudgingly. Then he turned and spotted Trip. The man’s eyes sparkled with humor, his mouth stretched in a genuine smile. The aura of eagerness reminded Trip of a friendly dog...Pomeranian? Naaah, beagle, maybe. The man hurried over to Trip’s side. “Ensign Tucker? I’m Jonathan Archer.” Archer extended his hand and this time, Trip allowed himself to shake his hand. “Major T’Lydya just told me you’ve arrived.” “Just stepped off the transport this mornin’,” Trip answered. So, this was the new assistant to Ambassador Soval. Archer had his father’s look around the eyes, the same benign face Henry had, as if he was sympathetic to your cause. Trip understood that skill would be invaluable in Archer’s line of work. “You sound like you’re from...Missouri? Arkansas?” Trip chuckled and shrugged. “The panhandle of Florida, actually, but I have relatives in Mizoorah and Ar-kan-saw,” he replied, laying on the Southern accent a little thicker as usual. “Glad to finally meet you. T’Lydya was concerned that we might have some kind of personality conflict, but I’m willing to work with you on whatever protocol you deem necessary.” Archer smiled and glanced at Ramirez. “And a good afternoon to you too, Carlos. How’s your wife doing?” Ramirez chuckled. “She’s more than ready for our daughter’s appearance, Jon. Doctor Reed says it should be any day now.” “Well, I have confidence in the good doctor’s skills.” Archer’s admiration for this particular doctor’s skills sounded genuine, and Trip made a mental note of it. “Well, since you’re officially off-duty, what should I call you, Mister Tucker?” “I go by Trip, sir.” “Jon. I’m not on duty, either.” Archer gave him a quizzical look. “‘Trip’? Isn’t that a strange name for a security officer?” Trip sighed and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t refer to my sense of balance, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s a nickname.” “I’m sure that’s quite a story,” Jon commented. “Mind sharing it?” Trip grinned at the curiosity in his voice. “Sure. Sit back and I’ll tell ya all about it.” |
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