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"Whips, Chains, and Plomeek Soup"
Rating: PG-13 The plot thickens. Five “Hoshi! Hoshi! Can you hear me?” Ensign T’Pol watched as the captain’s eyes fluttered open. The Vulcan’s breath hung suspended as sense came into the almond-shaped brown eyes. Sato blinked, blinked again in confusion. Then her head turned towards the sound of the voice. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, her hand on Malcolm Reed’s arm, her face wild with urgency. “You wanted her to wake up,” Trip Tucker said mildly. His face belied his dry remark. “Malcolm! You’re all right!” she burst out. “You aren’t hurt!” A puzzled look came over Reed’s face. T’Pol thought, Of course he wouldn’t know what transpired between Sato and me on the Bridge, and it will stay that way. She closed her eyes, as if in relief, but inside she was in turmoil. What exactly had happened to Sato? How did perceive the Other so easily? Who had sent her the Vision? She must consult with Soval or T’Pau or T’Les. This affair had taken a drastic and dangerous turn. T’Pol opened her eyes again as Reed replied, “I’m fine, Hoshi. Are you all right?” “I—“ she paused and shook her head. “Never mind. What happened?” “You passed out in the lift on your way to the Bridge. Don’t you remember?” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “I remember talking to El-Sadr, posting guards on him, thinking about the speech for the Lurans, getting into the lift, then—“ T’Pol held her breath again as Sato fell silent. “Then nothing.” Malcolm’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Your blood sugar dipped to a dangerous level, Hoshi. That’s why you passed out. I warned you that your meager breakfasts weren’t enough to tide you over until lunchtime.” “But...I felt like my chest was going to explode, like—There’s nothing wrong with my heart, is there?” Malcolm caught Trip’s concerned look. T’Pol forced herself to remain impassive, as a Vulcan should, but there was a painful lump within her throat. Had she not been successful after all? “I can run an EKG if you want, Hoshi, but no, there wasn’t anything wrong with your heart.” Malcolm passed his scanner over her and read the results. “You’re fine, Hoshi. I want you to take the rest of the day off, just in case, and I want you to get something substantial to eat.” Before she could object, Trip piped up, “T’Pol and I can take her to the Mess Hall, Malcolm. We’ll make sure she eats a feast and then some. Right, T’Pol?” “Certainly,” she replied. She met Sato’s stare evenly; the captain looked as if she had just realized T’Pol was there. “I believe that the captain had scheduled a dinner meeting tonight with myself and Lieutenant Commander Tucker.” “See, at least we can still have it, even though it’ll be a bit earlier than we expected,” Trip said cheerfully. “As long as we have no objections from the good doctor.” “None at all.” Malcolm put a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder. “I’d like to give you a monitoring device, just in case, but after that, I’ll leave you in Lieutenant Commander Tucker’s and Ensign T’Pol’s capable hands.” Sato sighed and relented. “All right, Malcolm. Just in case.” Trip helped the captain down from the biobed and the three of them walked to the Mess Hall. T’Pol watched Sato as she asked Trip what had happened on the ship while she’d been unconscious. Sato’s hand rubbed a spot under her breastbone, as if it still pained her. “So, what would ya like, Cap’n?” Trip asked as they got into the mess hall line. “I know I should eat, but I’m not particularly hungry.” Sato gave the selection a dubious eye. “Maybe soup to start with. Let’s see...lentil, New England clam chowder, plomeek.” “Plomeek sounds good.” She added a small salad, a plate of broiled chicken and corn, and chocolate cheesecake for dessert. T’Pol also chose a salad and a glass of saya juice. Trip selected a stew of some sort, with a side helping of mashed potatoes and greens. Crewmen called out to Captain Sato as they made their way to the Captain’s Mess. She paused to reassure them she was all right and there was no permanent damage. “Curious,” T’Pol murmured. “What?” Trip asked. “That the news of the captain’s ‘incident’ has spread as quickly as it has.” “Never underestimate the speed of the ship’s grapevine,” he told her. “They say gossip spreads faster than warp speed. It’s amazin’ what you can hear if you just listen to what’s goin’ on around you.” T’Pol gave him a sage nod. “Vulcans do not gossip.” He gave her a "You-gotta-be-kiddin'-me' look. “Sure they don’t. Rational and logical and all that, right?” “Gossip is an unproductive waste of valuable time and energy that can be directed to other pursuits, Lieutenant Commander.” Trip shrugged. “Think of it like intelligence gatherin’, then. Humans got a sayin’, ‘Loose lips sink ships’. Trust me, sometimes it works to use your ears.” He grinned. “Rounded or pointy-like ones, shape doesn’t matter.” She raised an eyebrow at his comment, but refrained from replying. Soon, the three of them were seated at the Captain’s Table, discussing the food from various cultures. Sato asked T’Pol about certain items of Vulcan cuisine, such as gespar, a Vulcan vegetable; and pok tar, a dish normally served at evening meal. From there, T’Pol went into other Vulcan customs, such as the kahs-wan, the Rite of Passage. “Kinda like a marathon through the desert,” Trip said. “It is a test of a Vulcan’s adaptive abilities,” T’Pol corrected him. “Without the ability to find water or seek shelter, one cannot survive long in the desert. Those who pass the kahs-wan are accorded every right as a Vulcan adult.” Hoshi finished her plomeek soup and set it aside. “There are those who don’t pass, aren’t there?” T’Pol nodded solemnly. “Yes. Some are claimed by the desert. Others must make multiple attempts to pass the test, but they eventually succeed.” “Reminds me of survival training in the Australian Outback. You don’t mess around out there, either,” Trip commented. The early dinner passed in pleasant conversation. For their part, Trip and Hoshi described some Human customs that T’Pol was curious about. She was grateful for the explanations, for she was truly confused by some Human behavior. Although Chief Engineer Phlox had been studying Human culture himself, there were times when the Denobulan was as puzzled as she was. At first, T’Pol asked general questions, then narrowed her focus. She asked about various Earth martial arts styles and their applications. Trip Tucker was proficient in several styles and Hoshi had concentrated mostly on aikido and tae kwon do. T’Pol used her hands to demonstrate other techniques for the ahn-woon. The entire time, she was well aware of Tucker’s gaze on her. It unnerved her more than she was willing to admit to herself. Highly skilled and highly emotional. A dangerous combination. Soval’s warning was uppermost in her mind, but she reassured herself that she was more than an equal match for the Armory Officer. Soon, the conversation turned to Vulcan exploration of the stars. Sato put aside her empty tray and listened to T’Pol as she outlined the early history of her people’s ship design. This was her passion, the ship navigational and helm systems that allowed her people into the stars. “I’m curious, why didn’t you formally go into engineering, then? You sound like you enjoy building ship systems,” Sato commented. She inclined her head. “I enjoy new permutations of existing equipment, integrating new technologies to improve their performance, Captain. The Vulcan Engineering Academy teaches its students the basic concepts and what has performed well for millennia.” Trip rolled his eyes. “In other words, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” At her questioning look, he clarified, “They stick with efficiency and what works right now. Why mess with success?” “Indeed. Their thinking has been...orthodox. Any new developments must be thoroughly tested and proved before its use is accepted by the general population.” Yes, that was true, but she couldn’t totally repress a stab of bitterness. He raised his eyebrows. “I guess your ideas haven’t met with much approval from your people, then.” She just looked at him. “Several of my proposals have been taken under consideration by the Vulcan Ship Operations Ministry, Lieutenant Commander, but haven’t been implemented yet. I have confidence they will be approved in due time.” “Has this had any effect on your career, Ensign?” Sato asked, her voice full of curiosity. “With your experience, you should be at a higher rank than you are.” T’Pol turned to address her, her face serene, even as her heart twisted in her gut. “I was not originally geared towards serving on an Earth ship, Captain, and thus hadn’t joined the Vulcan military per se. This is considered a...secondary career for me, and as such, your Starfleet has taken that under consideration. I believe Jonathan Archer is in a similar situation, despite his years as a diplomat under Ambassador Soval’s tutelage.” “So you were also a civilian who joined military service, like Jon.” “Lieutenant Archer and I have many things in common, Captain.” T’Pol noticed that Trip shifted uncomfortably in his seat at that particular remark. Fascinating, she thought. “I see.” Sato nodded to herself, as if confirming something . “I appreciate your willingness to talk about your people and your culture with us, Ensign. I hope you won’t object if we do this more often.” “Of course not, Captain. I find it as intellectually stimulating to discuss the similarities and differences between us.” She heard the implicit dismissal in Sato’s tone and she got up from her seat. “With the Captain’s permission, I will finish the rest of my shift on the Bridge.” “Go ahead, Ensign. And thank you...for helping me when I collapsed.” T’Pol gazed into the captain’s dark eyes, but they gave nothing away. She only bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I am gratified to see you well, Captain. Have a pleasant evening, Captain, Lieutenant Commander Tucker.” She turned and left the Captain’s Mess, but she couldn’t help but wonder, She shouldn’t remember anything. Just how much does Captain Sato remember? Later, she sat in front of her communications terminal and checked her messages. To her surprise, there was a note from her mother, T’Les, the head of the Vulcan Science Ministry. T’Pol read the terse words on the screen, then swiftly made her decision. She hailed the bridge. “Ensign Marshalls.” “Ensign, I request an immediate channel to the Vulcan Science Ministry in Shi’Kahr, specifically to my mother’s office. She is Doctor T’Les. It is a...family matter.” Marshall’s voice became conciliatory. “Of course, Ensign. One moment...I’ll connect you with Vulcan control.” “My gratitude, Ensign.” If she were Human, she would have drummed her fingers on her table top in pure impatience. Being Vulcan, she ran through a series of mental exercises to calm her sudden anxiety. Her screen lightened again, but instead of T’Les, the imposing figure of Minister V’Lar appeared. “Ensign T’Pol,” V’Lar said. T’Pol’s heart nosedived at the cold, formal tone of her godmother’s voice. V’Lar was a close friend of T’Les and the family; T’Pol considered her a role model. The older woman had a warmth unnatural to most “normal” Vulcans, but that warmth was absent now. “How is my mother?” She didn't bother hiding the concern in her voice. “She was not seriously injured, T’Pol, and we are trying to track down the assassin. We believe it may have been someone at the Science Academy; Security Minister T’Pau is questioning witnesses and gathering evidence as we speak.” “T’Pau has always been the model of efficiency,” T’Pol remarked. “Indeed.” The brief flare of humor was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Your mother and I agreed that you should remain on Enterprise for the time being. Your mission objectives remain unchanged. Make sure you are included on the Away team to Luran and that Sato, Tucker and Reed survive the encounter.” “What if he remembers?” V’Lar’s eyebrow went up and her tone became as warm as T’Pol remembered. There was a strange twinkle in her eye as she replied, “Then he should be helpful to us, wouldn’t you agree?” |
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