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"The Three Musketeers, Reunited"
Rating: G Hong Kong Park at Wikipedia: http (colon)(double backslash)en(dot)wikipedia(dot)com(backslash)wiki(backslash)Hong(underscore)Kong(underscore)Park. Language note: Xiao Leung is pronounced “shee-yow (rhymes with cow) lung” and lit. means “little dragon” in Mandarin Chinese. Gou Xun Zhao is pronounced “goh zhun zhow (rhymes with cow)” and lit. translates to “searching dog” i.e. a literal translation of “beagle”, since beagles aren’t that common in China and Hong Kong. In this chapter, TnT. You see Phlox in the next chapter. (And Glory1863, Malcolm most likely did visit the Monitor, but probably avoided Yorktown. After all, that’s where Cornwallis surrendered to Washington, ending the American Revolutionary War.) Two Aramis (aka Gou Xun Zhao) (Trip and T’Pol) Trip Tucker usually didn’t get up at the crack of dawn during his vacation. He figured it was his time to relax and not worry about schedules and work lists. This time, he was glad he’d done so, for this sight was just spectacular. The morning mist hung low over the lush greenery and cloaked the little stream in mystery. A heady perfume permeated the air: Jasmine, he thought, I can see why Hoshi loves coming here. She was right; this is the perfect place to get away from it all. In fact, this shore leave was definitely unique. He and T’Pol had met Hoshi, Malcolm and Travis at Kota Bharu, Malaysia, where Malcolm’s parents lived. After two days exploring that city, Hoshi suggested that he and T’Pol check out Hong Kong. He had never been here and it was a culture shock at first, for Hong Kong was an eclectic mix of the old and the new. Hong Kong Park was smack dab in the middle of a busy business district, but he could hardly tell. It was as if he was in the middle of a rain forest. “Captain Tucker?” asked a soft voice. Trip got up from the marble bench with a wide grin. “Ni hao ma, Xiao Leung?” “Hen hao, xiexie ni,” replied Xiao Leung. “I am doing fine, thank you. Your accent is improving.” “Lieutenant Sato-Reed’s been helping me,” Trip admitted. “You are doing quite well. Is your wife already here?” T’Pol stepped out of the mist with the dignity of a fairy queen revealing herself. Like Xiao Leung, she was dressed in loose-fitting clothes and soft-soled slippers. T’Pol’s shoulder-length hair was tied back in a simple braid. “I am here, Ambassador.” Xiao Leung chuckled and shook her head, brushing long silver strands from her eyes. “No need to address me so formally, T’Pol. I am no longer officially Earth’s ambassador to Vulcan. Even Soval calls me by name now, so you certainly may do so.” T’Pol nodded and said, “Very well.” “Shall we begin, then?” “Of course.” Xiao Leung gave Trip a humorous glance. “You are welcome to join us at any time, Captain Tucker.” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m content to just watch. And speakin’ of titles, I’m off duty, so call me Trip.” “Trip.” Her mouth twitched in suppressed laughter. “I will remember that.” She led T’Pol through a series of breathing and centering exercises, then the two women launched into their tai chi routine. Trip watched them, fascinated, at the slow, precise movements that still showed strength. T’Pol followed her old teacher’s unspoken instructions as if she had never spent the last eight years apart. Xiao Leung had been a good friend of both Soval and Admiral Maxwell Forrest and had also been injured during the Vulcan Embassy bombing. Those injuries had forced her to retire and now she taught tai chi. Trip’s gaze was riveted to his bondmate. Damn, she’s beautiful, he thought, when she’s doin’ some kind of meditation, which this is. Movin’ meditation, as she calls it— A rustling sound caught his attention and he glanced over to his left to see movement within the bushes. Silently, he got to his feet and moved in the direction of the noise. The source of it migrated away from the small garden, toward the well-manicured hedges. There, right next to the rose bushes...Trip blinked at the delicate purple butterfly that rested in a nearby shrub. At the base of the greenery sat a...dog? It gazed up at the butterfly and Trip swore the insect glared back at it. The dog jumped up and tried to use its paw to knock the butterfly off its perch, but it wasn’t successful. Instead, it hovered over the dog’s head, as if daring another attack. Trip saw the pooch in profile and his mouth dropped. The dog’s face was white and tan, with an unusual fringe of white around its head that reminded Trip of a monk’s tonsure. Its body was a deeper brown, with black at its ankles and at the base of the tail. Otherwise... My God, it’s a mirror image of Porthos. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was here, just painted differently! The beagle—for yes, it looked like a regular English beagle—jumped at the butterfly with more enthusiasm than skill. Trip chuckled at its exuberance, even if its success rate was nil. Then the beagle’s nose twitched in the air and swung its muzzle around to look at a caterpillar on a leaf. It gazed at the caterpillar, fascinated, for half a second, before the insect reared up and hit it on the nose. The dog scrabbled back with an dumbfounded expression, as if saying, I cannot believe you did that! Trip laughed and the dog whirled in a full one-eighty degree turn to face him. “Sorry, little guy,” Trip whispered. “You just remind me of someone else I know.” They gazed at each other, then the beagle slowly approached Trip, who sat in front of it and extended his hand. A slobbery tongue darted out to investigate the engineer, then a wet nose nudged Trip’s hand. For a timeless moment, the two just sat there in the middle of the garden, just enjoying each other’s company. “Where’s your owner?” Trip asked quietly. He noticed the beagle’s medallion around its neck, shining brilliantly in the morning sun. On one side was a set of comcode numbers; the other side was a series of Chinese characters drawn in red enamel paint. Below the characters was a line of romanized lettering: Gou Xun Zhao. Trip frowned and asked again, “Is that your name or is that your owner’s name?” The beagle only gazed up at him in response, barked once, then padded back into the bushes. Trip stood up and followed at a safe distance. Along the way, the dog paused to check out distractions in its path: a squirrel, a bird, a spider in the middle of its dewy web, and another group of tourists just getting off a wooden bridge. Trip had the impression that the dog knew exactly where it was going and that it had visited the park many times before. “There you are!” Xiao Leung called. “Come here!”The beagle raised its head and barked again in joy, then took off towards its mistress. Xiao Leung laughed and rubbed the dog in affectionate welcome. “I see that you’ve met our friend Trip, Little One.” “Wait a minute, he’s yours?” Trip repeated. He pointed at the medallion. “So that’s his name?” “Well, yes, in a matter of speaking.” Xiao Leung ran a finger over the characters. “It literally means ‘dog of searching’, which is what a beagle does. His kind is uncommon in this country, so I gave him a Chinese name, in addition to his English name.” T’Pol knelt gracefully and the beagle padded to her. To Trip’s amazement, T’Pol didn’t seem put out by the dog’s smell or joyous demeanor. “I do not remember your ever owning a dog, Xiao Leung.” “He was a gift from Admiral Forrest’s aide, one who died in the Embassy bombing,” Xiao Leung answered quietly. “The aide had acquired the dog from his sister, who worked at Starfleet Command. I take care of my little Gou Xun Zhao in his memory.” “So Forrest knew about him?” Trip asked. Again, he felt a pang of loss at Jonathan Archer’s mentor and friend. Starfleet Command had never been the same without Forrest. Xiao Leung nodded. “Yes. I always thought that the admiral knew something about little Gou that I didn’t. Every time I mentioned his English name, Admiral Forrest would laugh knowingly and shake his head. He would say, “Aramis, you live up to your namesake, boy. Sometimes, you are as quiet as a monk, and sometimes you are as impulsive as a warrior.’” T’Pol’s hand paused in mid-pat. “You say his name is Aramis?” “Yes. It is difficult to say in Chinese, so I rarely use it.” She glanced at Trip, who was exchanging stunned looks with his wife. “What is it?” “Aramis is the name of a character of a novel called ‘The Three Musketeers’, by a French author named Alexander Dumas,” Trip explained. “He was one of the King’s Guard, but he really wanted to be a priest. His fellow warriors were named Athos, Porthos and D’Artagnan.” T’Pol nodded and added, “And the name of Admiral Archer’s beagle is Porthos, one of those warriors.” Xiao Leung considered that and said in a hushed voice, “Ah, now that makes sense. That must have been the admiral’s private joke...I wish he would have told me before. I knew Archer had a dog, but I admit I never made the connection. Perhaps they are from the same litter, then.” “You know, Jon would be tickled pink to find out where Porthos’s sibling has been,” Trip commented, “especially considering Aramis here lived on Vulcan with Xiao Leung and knew Max Forrest.” The Vulcan nodded. “Indeed. It would be gratifying to Admiral Archer to know that a link to his mentor and friend exists.” “Yeah. It’s been a while, but I know Jon still misses Forrest’s presence at Command.” Trip grinned as an idea began to form. “You know, Jon said there were four pups. Porthos and Aramis are two, which means the others are D’Artagnan and Athos. I wonder if it’s possible to find the others.” “The logical way is to find the original owner of the pups’ mother,” T’Pol commented, “and ask to whom the others were sold.” Xiao Leung nodded. “And perhaps we can surprise Admiral Archer with a reunion.” “Sounds like a plan,” Trip said with a wide smile. “Let’s do it. I can’t wait to see Jon’s face when he’s inundated with not one beagle, but four! |
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