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"Cry Havoc"
By MissAnnThropic
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: None of its mine. I’m just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching taped episodes of my favorite shows. :(
Description: The evolution of Trip and T’Pol’s relationship following the events in ‘Harbinger’.
Chapter 3
T'Pol sat passively in the briefing room as she waited for the captain to explain the reason for calling this early, last-minute meeting. She watched those already present for lack of anything else to do in the interim. They wore their curiosity and confusion in their expressions, everything T'Pol also shared but saw no reason to outwardly display. Captain Archer was standing patiently, alternately looking at his gathered officers or out the windows toward the stars. Doctor Phlox was seated across from T'Pol, his hands folded and fingers intertwined as he shifted restlessly. For a professional Phlox had a great deal of energy and unbridled enthusiasm that, had the doctor not been so good at his job, might have been a point of contention with the Vulcan. As it stood, it demonstrated merely a cultural species difference that Denobulans were far more furtive and active that even humans. Major Hayes was on his feet, hands clasped behind his back as he slowly walked one end of the room to the other. It was just slow enough a speed to not technically constitute 'pacing' to humans, however to a Vulcan it was a distracting and noticeable habit. Hayes repeatedly turned his eyes toward Archer but occasionally at T'Pol as well, obviously taking her unruffled exterior to imply she was already aware of what the captain intended to say.
T'Pol happened to glance toward the doctor and the Denobulan caught her eye and offered a smile.
T'Pol turned her eyes to the captain instead, who was too preoccupied to interact needlessly with her.
Finally the door to the room swished open and the last two members of the senior staff walked inside.
"Sorry we're late," Trip said when he noticed the congregation already present. Reed shouldered in past him to take a prompt seat at the table.
Archer nodded toward Reed and Trip. "No problem, but now that we're all here let's get started. Please," he gestured Trip and Hayes toward the table.
Hayes, with a little more respect in his eyes since last night, gave a nod of greeting to the engineer as he moved to sit. Doctor Phlox gave one of his winning smiles. T'Pol did not look in Trip's direction, instead she kept her eyes trained on the table or her hands, anywhere that prohibited her from looking directly at Trip.
T'Pol, outwardly, was a perfect picture of collected repose, but inside she was troubled. She had known of Trip's arrival seconds before either officer had commanded the door open, and it had not been because of her supreme Vulcan hearing.
T'Pol continued to avoid, at any point in the briefing, any eye contact with Trip as Captain Archer began to detail the very interesting conversation he'd had that morning with Admiral Forrest.
T'Pol listened to everything with a clinical detachment, attending only to the task of initially absorbing facts and information, but hers was not the only reaction with which she found herself contending. As the captain drew to the end of his announcement T'Pol became increasingly aware of displeasure and fury on the part of the stolidly sitting chief engineer. When the captain was finished, quiet to observe his crew, Trip was a tight-jawed, speechless figure but T'Pol was almost overwhelmed by his outright rage. She looked down at her hands as she mentally fortified her thoughts to reach that meditative calm she held so fundamental.
Archer, after a moment without speaking, finally continued, "I can imagine how each of you feel about this," his eyes cut tactfully toward Trip then moved quickly away, "believe me, I had a few issues with these orders, but they still stand."
Hayes was the first to venture an opinion. "Starfleet has a point, Captain. A starship specifically designed with combat in mind would be far more equipped to handle the Xindi than a science vessel is."
Trip's jaw ground but he still said nothing. His clasped hands atop the desk clenched tighter around one another.
Archer frowned. He'd expected nothing less than full support from the MACO contingency on Starfleet's surprise.
Reed, however, was not as pleased. "Sir, surely we've proven ourselves to Starfleet that we can handle whatever the Xindi try to throw at us. There's no reason to recall us."
Archer nodded. "I argued that point with Forrest, but it appears Starfleet isn't willing to budge. This has no doubt been through committee after committee. And, no doubt to them, to people who haven't been living this mission for the past several months, it seemed like a wonderful idea. Unfortunately, we're left with no option but to obey. This is hardly a reason to go renegade when we don't know they aren't right. Enterprise has taken quite a beating and we all know she could take more, but I've been mulling this over all morning and maybe there is some merit to the idea of standing aside to let a heavier-armored ship step in."
Finally Trip broke his silence, and his voice was cutting and ice-cold, "If this is already a done deal then what exactly are we meetin' for?"
Archer considered Trip closely before answering, "As heads of your prospective departments you'll be the ones the crew goes to with questions when I announced this ship-wide; I wanted you to be as fully informed as possible. Also, since we're going to be giving the Ares a crash-course in Xindi-hunting and traveling in the expanse when they get here I want each of you to begin thorough reviews and summaries of everything you've done on Enterprise the last few months that might be of use to them. We won't have much time for this so I want you to make this assignment a priority... the sooner we pass off this data and get back to Sol the sooner we can refit and restock the Enterprise and get back out here in the front lines where we belong."
For a human, Trip might have appeared to display control to make a Vulcan proud, but T'Pol was holding tenuously to her facade of impassivity. She felt like she was in the middle of a fire storm of rage, forced to pretend to those sitting ignorantly around her that she sensed nothing, that she was not at that very moment in the center of a furious pyre.
Archer turned next to Phlox.
"Well, doubtless there will be a number of crew members who feel this course of action will deny them the victory and battle they've sought and craved for so long, but frankly, Captain, I believe some time to recuperate will do all of us a world of good. Even if only for a few days. The crew is tired, exhausted, they need rest."
Archer, on principle, straightened his back and tried to vanquish the traces of wearied fatigue from his features. The doctor was right, though. The Enterprise crew was running on fumes, but it didn't change the fact they weren't ready to stop.
The captain studied each of his gathered crewmen in turn in an effort to gauge their responses. Doctor Phlox looked tired, as though he'd only then relented to the idea that he too had been working furiously since the beginning of the Xindi mission, perhaps to the edge of his endurance. T'Pol was sitting perfectly still, in an odd turn of events staring at her hands clasped in her lap rather than meeting his gaze. He did not imagine Starfleet's decision would be so difficult on her of all people. Hayes was in some measure rejuvenated at the news; he was charged at the idea of a warship to take over the job that he had always lamented was not a task for which Enterprise was adequately prepared. Archer was miffed, a little offended, but he could not fault Hayes, the man was merely dead-set on doing absolutely everything in his power to save Earth. Reed was tight-lipped in disapproval but his captain had spoken and, unhappy as he might have been, he was not going to argue direct orders.
Archer came to Trip last of all and inwardly winced. He'd known Commander Tucker a long time, enough to read him and discern that right now Trip was about as furious as Archer had ever seen his friend. It was filled with the new definition of Tucker-fury that Trip had invented specially for the Xindi. The engineer's face was stony, his jaw muscles bunched and his hands clasped together so fiercely that Archer wondered if the younger man was trying to hold himself back from going into a physical tirade.
Archer took a short breath. He knew an explosion coming when he saw it, and dread its repercussions though he might he wanted to hear everyone's honest opinions. It was the reason he held these briefings. If Trip didn't say what was on his mind he looked like he might well snap from the tension.
So Archer gathered his wits and prodded the dragon.
"Trip..."
It was all Trip needed, everything necessary contained in Archer's tone, and the chief engineer mechanically cycled through stages. His face grew stormy, his hands flexed, he took a deep breath, then he let loose.
"This is absolutely ridiculous, Cap'n. We've been out here for months, MONTHS, doing NOTHING but trackin' these Xindi. No one knows more about fightin' them than this crew, and no one wants to beat their alien asses more than us." His voice rose to a yell. "WE should be out here, damnit, not limpin' back to Earth. It's too god damn important! Doesn't Starfleet realize that? What logic is there in pullin' their best team off a mission this big?"
Everyone averted their eyes, meek from being caught in the crossfire of Trip's impassioned fury. Archer alone faced his crewman, witnessing the hellfire that engulfed Trip's presence as he raged. Archer understood all too well. Trip felt like revenge for his sister's death was being stolen from him. A lot of other people on the crew would share his sentiments.
Archer nodded. "I understand how you feel, Trip, but the decision's been made. There's nothing we can do but carry out our orders. With any luck we'll be back under way and back on the trail of these bastards before the Ares can finish what we've started.
"In the meantime, I suspect that you will have more work than any other department preparing reports for the Ares. You've done a lot to this girl to carry her through everything we've encountered and the Ares crew is going to need it all."
Trip was almost trembling with rage but did not offer further argument. Archer had half-expected more cursing and yelling but if Trip was going to buck up and swallow his anger then all the better for it. If nothing else, on this mission against the Xindi people aboard Enterprise had learned well the concept of 'not enough time to spare'. People around the table, all but T'Pol, finally risked to lift their eyes and dared glances at the provoked engineer.
"If no one else has anything to add, you're all dismissed."
Hayes, full of oats at the recently learned news, fairly jumped from his seat to rush off and tell his fellow MACOs about the briefing. Reed was not far behind him, begrudgingly but determined to carry out his duty, detestable though he might currently find it. T'Pol had risen and was attempting a calm, cool escape when her eyes, nearly of their own volition, cut over to Trip. What she saw only corroborated what she sensed like a swirling storm pressing at her private thoughts. Trip had not yet moved to stand, a most unhappy facsimile of a human statue. He was too consumed to bother glancing at T'Pol when she obviously paused to consider him; his eyes were cast down, slightly off-center to stare at the table top beside his clasped hands.
Doctor Phlox, a worried expression on his friendly face, was watching the commander in silent concern as the Denobulan slowly stood, reluctant to leave in light of what he saw. His desire to aide the commander was nearly palpable and a couple of times he visibly restrained himself from heading toward the young human man.
Trip finally moved to stand, slow and deliberate, and Archer spoke. "Trip..." his voice was gentle, the friend once again instead of the captain. "I'm sorry, I know how you... I know you don't like this, trust me, I don't like it either, but there's not much we can do."
Trip took long, deep breaths, refused eye contact with Archer for a moment, then at last turned his blazing eyes to the captain and spat tightly, "You could tell those ignorant sons a bitches at Starfleet that it's nothin' but stupid to pull from the mission the only people who know ANYTHING about fightin' the Xindi." He glowered furiously as his hands closed into fists at his side. "And this thing with the Ares is bullshit! Passin' off a few helpful tips and a stack of upgrade schematics isn't gonna do a damn bit a good when they get out there. Ya can't hand-off that kind of experience and you damn well know that. All this will do is give the Xindi two or three weeks' advantage over us, and the last thing any of us should be doin' is givin' an inch to those Xindi bastards!"
"Trip..."
"It should be US! We started this and we should be the ones to finish it. Starfleet's got no business takin' that from us. NONE."
T'Pol took an unconscious half-step back from Trip and lowered her eyes pointedly to the floor. Her face still expressed placid calm, a convincing deception in contrast to the inner turmoil she struggled to contain. She could see from the corner of her eye Captain Archer glance toward her. She knew what he sought; it was a choreographed dance by now. He expected her to make some calm, logical comment about the practicality of the captain's orders that tended to at first incite further dissension in the engineer that later simmered into displeased acceptance. At what point she had become the one designated as the handler of an out-of-control Trip Tucker she could not specify, but at that moment she knew it was truth. Archer waited for her role but T'Pol said nothing.
Archer shed the friend shell and stepped with effortless ease back into the role of captain. "Whether we like it or not we have a job to do and I expect you to have those summaries complete by the time we rendezvous with the Ares."
Trip's lips pinched tightly and his jaw muscles clenched but the engineer did not allow himself to come unglued for a third time. Instead he gave a curt nod, "Yes, sir," and turned and strode out of the room.
T'Pol took measured breaths and counted the seconds, the steps he took down the corridor, until at last she was confident enough to lift her head and return the captain's attention.
Archer was too consumed with his own concerns about the crew to say anything to T'Pol about her quiet behavior and refusal to intercede when Trip was on the war path.
"I'm sure he'll calm down once he's had an hour or two to accept the news," Phlox tried to offer helpfully.
Archer sighed. "I hope so, but I don't think it will be quite that easy... for Trip but also for a lot of other people on the crew."
T'Pol decided she was not needed for the small talk between the doctor and captain and without drawing undue attention to herself stepped out of the briefing room to contact the rest of the Enterprise's science team about the Ares's imminent arrival.
*****
For two days Enterprise bore a frightening resemblance to Starfleet Academy the week of finals. Everyone was hard at work, reviewing all they'd done in recent months and working laboriously to distill the copious amount of information and detail into concise, easy-to-use summaries. The ship itself had come to a near stand-still, adopting a holding pattern in open space as it waited for the Ares to arrive.
Sub-commander T'Pol moved through the noticeably quiet corridors, ears forced to strain to pick up bare whispers of a human voice more often than not. When she'd first come aboard Enterprise the din of unnecessary, communal human chatter and noise constantly buzzing on the ship had disquieted her, accustomed as she was to Vulcan silence. Now, what seemed so many years entrenched in the human vessel, the utter silence made her uneasy. The crew was busy, a perfectly good reason for their reticence as of late, but it was not the only reason by far. Everyone was tired and disappointed, worn and unhappy. It made for a tense work environment and everyone was showing the effects of their surroundings. Everyone but T'Pol, but even she had privately noticed the shift in attitude. She had been forced to lengthen her nightly mediation to combat the rising tide of emotional volatility emanating from the crew.
T'Pol dispelled the thoughts when she reached her destination... sick bay.
Stepping inside she at once saw Doctor Phlox tending to one of his caged animals.
"Doctor, you wished to see me?"
Phlox turned at her voice. His smile was tight and his actions less animated than usual; even the good doctor was feeling the mood rampant aboard the ship.
"Yes, thank you for coming so promptly," Phlox answered then cast searching eyes over the whole of sick bay. T'Pol lifted an eyebrow speculatively at his behavior.
"I assumed what you wished to discuss was important."
Phlox, apparently satisfied with his search of the empty medical bay, nodded. "It is, please," he beckoned the Vulcan closer.
T'Pol would prefer to stand at the distance she held now but wordlessly moved nearer the Denobulan.
When she was only a foot from him Phlox said, "I'm concerned about Commander Tucker."
T'Pol jerked to a halt, hands clasped strongly behind her back as her eyes no doubt jumped and locked on the doctor's face. She quickly recovered, soon the image of perfect calm, and she ventured with care, "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Phlox sighed. "I debated discussing this with you because I thought it might violate Mister Tucker's right to doctor/patient confidentiality..."
"Then perhaps we should refrain."
Phlox sighed again. "Were you anyone else I would agree, however I feel that because of the help you've been providing Commander Tucker by performing neuropressure you could in some way be considered a part of his health care regiment."
T'Pol didn't answer immediately, and when she did it was measured, "In that case, what did you wish to discuss with me?"
"I wanted to ask you if you've noticed anything different about Commander Tucker these last few days during your neuropressure sessions."
T'Pol lifted her chin barely. "Commander Tucker and I have not met for neuropressure in almost four days."
Phlox blinked, restocked his questions and thoughts, then mused aloud, "I see... well, perhaps that explains a great deal."
"Doctor?"
"The fact of the matter is, myself and a number of other crewmen have noted an almost acute agitation in the commander lately."
"Many among the crew have been 'agitated' considering recent events."
"Yes, that's true, and maybe that is all that is bothering Commander Tucker. However, I have to consider the possibility that this is something more than we might be led to believe if we were to merely take the path of least resistance. In only a few days the commander has come to me for treatment of a plasma conduit burn that he should have been well able to prevent, a broad-spectrum pain medication and muscle relaxer, and we must not forget his... verbal objections in the briefing room to the announcement about the Ares."
T'Pol had to steel herself against restless shifting. "Commander Tucker is very invested in the mission to stop the Xindi."
"Yes... and it's beginning to take its toll. Another matter I intended to discuss which I suspect you've already answered... it is my suspicion that Commander Tucker's sleep troubles have returned. I was walking the ship last night, or rather very early this morning, and Mister Tucker was ensconced in engineering with enough work around him to drown a targ and he looked far worse than such a foul creature."
T'Pol would not be concerned. She would not allow it. "I still fail to see why this requires my consultation."
Phlox's expression turned gentle. "T'Pol... I don't know how much appreciation Commander Tucker has expressed to you for the neuropressure you perform on him, but he should be counting his blessings for your generosity because frankly you've done more for him in only a few months than I've managed with medicine in twice the time. His insomnia all but gone, his stress endorphines drastically reduced even in times of high anxiety, even body functions I never predicted responding to Vulcan neuropressure have shown remarkable improvement.
"For whatever reason the two of you have abstained from neuropressure sessions these last few days I appeal to you to resolve them so you may resume the neuropressure treatment. Commander Tucker is under immense stress, emotionally and professionally; he can't afford to be distracted."
Of course, the doctor was right. As chief engineer Commander Tucker could be allotted so little margin for error. T'Pol weighed the doctor's plea, considered the options, then faintly sighed. "I was unaware of the severity of Commander Tucker's condition; I apologize for my negligence, I have been preoccupied myself with preparations for the Ares."
"I understand, and I hate to bother you when everyone is so busy, but if my understanding is correct that Vulcan neuropressure consumes only an hour of each day..."
"It is."
"Then I think it would be exponentially beneficial to spare the little time it requires."
T'Pol's hands, hidden behind her back, were locked tightly together. "You are right, Doctor. I will arrange to meet with the commander tonight after our shifts are over to resume his neuropressure treatment."
"Thank you, T'Pol."
*****
T'Pol did something she had not done since she was very young... she procrastinated. She fully intended to speak with Commander Tucker, as she had assured the doctor she would, but it was not a meeting to which she looked forward.
Trip had lately been an unprecedented distraction for the science officer; it had been far too easy for T'Pol to simply avoid the commander entirely. If his conspicuous absence from her company as of late was any indication he was just as eager to oblige. They were all intent upon their own duties so it had been easy to do; science and engineering did not have reason to meet that often.
T'Pol was more hesitant to confront Trip than she should have been. The moment to collect her calm and poise before heading down to engineering was more of an effort than it should ever have been for her and that fact troubled her greatly.
T'Pol entered engineering to find a tense, nervous staff of Enterprise crewmen abound. She stood a moment in the doorway with her hands still at her sides as she looked around, hoping to spot the chief engineer. Instead all she saw were tired faces with what humans called 'hang-dog' expressions.
"Sub-commander, can I help you with something?"
T'Pol turned to the male voice and saw one of Trip's junior engineers looking at her. In his hands was a PADD that he fingered unknowingly.
"Where can I find Commander Tucker?" T'Pol asked.
A fleeting look of sympathy and pity flickered across the young man's face as he answered, "Down there, ma'am."
"Thank you, Ensign." T'Pol gave a faint nod and moved toward the control platform for the warp engines. She found Commander Tucker sitting at the small desk affixed to the far wall. He had a scattered collection of diagrams and PADDs around him, none of which were currently holding his undivided attention. That honor fell to an unfortunate engineer.
"... have to do it again, and this time I want it broken down by system and not reaction cycle, understand? How the hell is the Ares engineerin' team supposed to know what all those figures mean without a system breakdown?"
"I'm sorry, Commander."
Trip caught himself, sighed, then said in a slightly gentler voice, "It's all right, I should have specified earlier. I know we run diagnostics by reaction cycle so I should have explained what I wanted, but now that I have I'd like those specs as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir." Dallying no longer, the flight-footed ensign disappeared.
Trip closed his eyes and ruffled a calloused hand through his hair. He dropped his hand and turned to look directly at T'Pol. He did not look pleased to see her.
"Something ya need, Sub-commander?"
T'Pol stepped closer, despite her hesitancy to do so, in order to lower the volume of their conversation. "I have come to schedule a time for you to undergo neuropressure tonight."
Trip looked down at his work and shuffled a few PADDs. "This really isn't a good time, T'Pol, I'm busier than I even have time to tell ya right now, so thanks but I think I'll have to bow out."
T'Pol wanted to accept his dismissal but forced herself to stay and press her case. "I'm afraid I must insist. Doctor Phlox spoke with me; he is concerned that you are suffering under the recent pressure placed upon the crew."
Trip's eyes snapped up to her. She was not prepared for the venom in his glare.
"Pressure? We're sittin' here doin' systems' diagnostics and book reports while we wait around for the Ares to show up. I've been under more 'pressure' at the academy; I survived it then and I'll survive it now."
"Perhaps I misspoke, but it does not change the fact the doctor is concerned for you and now that I am here I see his concern is not unwarranted."
"Oh, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
T'Pol felt like taking a step backward but instead braced her stance. "You are clearly behaving more irrationally than usual. You are irritable, you spoke harshly toward Ensign Tanners unjustly..."
Trip roughly stood and said as he gathered a few choice PADDs, "Damnit, ya heard me apologize for snappin' like I did, and it's not like I'm the only one a little short-tempered lately."
"I am not arguing the truth of that, I am merely saying that you may benefit from continuation of our neuropressure sessions."
Trip stood to face her, a collection of PADDs now tucked under his arm, and he said, "Look, I appreciate your concern or whatever it is, but I don't have the time and I don't need your help." Trip immediately stopped, his expression softened, then he said more gently, "I didn't mean it like that... I just, I've got a lot on my mind right now and you're just gonna have to trust me when I say that I really don't think neuropressure's gonna help."
T'Pol began to just barely frown but before she could say anything more Trip moved past her.
"If you'll excuse me, Sub-commander, I need to cross-check the warp plasma injectors and the technical procedure we've whipped up for adjusting them to compensate for spatial distortions."
T'Pol stood and watched the commander leave, uncertain now what she should do. She had been taken aback by his outward manner toward her, but also by the other cues she'd read from Trip. Flustered, exhausted, angry, on the edge of something from which T'Pol had wanted to physically step back.
Her customary persistence had been thrown by that unknown abyss, that unnamed precipice, and in her hesitation Trip succeeded in brusquely declining her suggestion to hold a neuropressure session, and before T'Pol could argue her position the commander was gone, burrowed into his work beyond retrieval.
T'Pol glanced around her and watched with acute attention the engineering team working around her. T'Pol was by no means a great authority of judging human behavior, but even she could not miss this level of discomfort and tension. She was certain not all of that unease was due to the rushed nature of their work. Trip's strange disposition effected not only his work and morale but that of the rest of the engineering team as well.
T'Pol was obligated, duty-bound, to make certain Commander Tucker found the relaxation and rest he needed. It went beyond her own marked disquiet around Trip and even beyond his readiness to be anywhere but in her presence.
T'Pol turned and left engineering, accepting that Trip would not be swayed to change his mind at the moment, but she was far from giving up.
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