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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 9
The journey back to the Sol system took Enterprise just under six days. On the afternoon of that sixth day the sleek NX ship slipped past the orbital path of Neptune at half impulse power. The ship had, barring short stops to cool the warp plasma and recalibrate the injectors, maintained a steady warp four the entire trip home. The engines could do with some TLC from the Jupiter Station crew, and within hours she was going to get just that.
Roughly eight hours, that is. They were close enough to home to feel the relief, the exultation, but far enough away to yet have fallen into the melee and furious activity that could surround a shore leave.
Trip stood at the mess hall view ports. The room was sparsely populated, most people tending to travel arrangements, and everyone present seemed to permit him a little private reflection. Which was exactly what Trip was doing... reflecting. He was going to blame it on T'Pol's influence; it seemed as good a scapegoat as any for a suddenly, uncharacteristically pensive Trip Tucker.
"Commander Tucker."
Trip turned without rush at his name, recognizing the familiar voice even as he saw Malcolm Reed walking slowly toward him with a small smile proffered as greeting.
"Hey, Malcolm."
Malcolm came up alongside the engineer and asked cheekily, "Where's Sub-commander T'Pol?"
Trip raised an incredulous eyebrow at the British officer. "Why would ya ask me?" He wasn't upset, or even embarrassed, just not about to let Malcolm ask such a loaded question without consequence.
Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest and answered casually, "Just that you and the sub-commander have been spending an awful lot of time together."
"The recall of the Enterprise really got me tensed up and pissed off... she's been helpin' me."
Malcolm smirked good-naturedly. "And we all have to thank her for that; you're much easier to live with now. I must say, you were very unpleasant right after the captain told us about the Ares and our being ordered back to Earth."
"I think it's wrong... I think we should be out there lookin' for the Xindi."
"I agree with you, for the most part. Although I can't say restocking our supplies isn't something this ship desperately needs. We were stretching ourselves pretty bloody thin out there."
Trip opened his mouth to say more but abruptly stopped himself short. It was useless to keep on the topic now because they were for all intents and purposes already home. Any argument would be belaboring a moot point. Trip took a resigned breath and looked out the window again. The stars were pinpricks of light in black, as they always were, but knowing these were the constellations of home somehow made them brighter, softer than in the expanse.
T'Pol would have told him he was being illogical... probably lift an eyebrow at him, too.
Trip smiled at the thought.
Malcolm caught the darting, untroubled smile, and frowned in curious confusion. He didn't know what was going on with Commander Tucker. And there most certainly was something. First, after the news about heading home, Trip had been down-right volatile, revealing a temper rarely seen in its ugly fullness, a fullness the Xindi had unearthed in the good-natured young man. Trip was practically a walking antimatter particle waiting to hit matter and go off. Then, like the snuffing of a candle, he was different. Still Trip and still displeased with the whole situation and yet calmer, quieter, happier. It made no sense. Malcolm had begun to side with those crewmen who thought Phlox was medicating him.
Trip was still smiling to himself, a self-satisfied, content smile, albeit small, that was completely out of place for the commander given their location, their predicament with the Enterprise's return to Earth, and Trip's unmasked feelings on the matter.
Malcolm suppressed his curiosity about as much as he could stand and then could almost hear his control snap.
"What's with you lately?" Malcolm asked bluntly. His tone was low, non-accusatory and unassuming, but direct nonetheless. Point-blank between friends.
Trip glanced toward Malcolm, his private smile fading. "Pardon?"
Malcolm, seeing that Trip had not thrown up a defensive barrier at the personal question, shuffled a half-step closer and lowered his voice to subdue their conversation even further. "You've been behaving rather... oddly."
"I didn't notice."
"Well, trust me, the rest of us have. There's a rumor that Doctor Phlox has been giving you sedatives."
Trip chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, no drugs, I haven't been to sickbay in a couple a weeks at least."
"Then what's going on? If you don't mind my saying, you were really angry when the captain told us we were heading back to Earth and then you just... weren't."
"Oh, trust me, I was mad, still am."
"That's the thing that boggles me. You don't SEEM mad, not near as mad as you were in the briefing room two weeks ago."
Trip shrugged. "Like I said, T'Pol's been helpin' me."
Malcolm softly huffed out a breath and shook his head. "That Vulcan neuropressure must be more fantastic than you've let on if it can temper the kind of attitude you showed all of us at the briefing."
A pregnant pause followed, thick, then Trip said meaningfully without taking his eyes from the vista of stars, "It's not all neuropressure."
Malcolm looked closely at Trip in confusion. His eyebrows drew together and his mouth pinched as he tried to decipher the cryptic expression on Trip's face. The chief engineer was staring, unblinking, out the window, as though waiting for Malcolm to figure it out.
It took Malcolm a while. It came first as a suspicion, one that narrowed the tactical officer's eyes.
Trip glanced again at Malcolm, not speaking but his expression all the verification the lieutenant needed, and Malcolm's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in shock.
"Don't tell me you and the sub-commander have been... that you're... you two aren't... involved, are you?"
One corner of Trip's mouth twitched upward, only a fraction, but it was telling enough.
Malcolm, bewildered, dropped his arms back to his sides and whispered harshly, "My god, Trip! I thought you said there was nothing going on between the two of you?"
Trip gave a half-shrug. "There wasn't til about two weeks ago."
Malcolm and Trip watched one another silently, a weaponless stand-off, one patiently waiting and the other assimilating information. Malcolm was flabbergasted, thoroughly derailed at the revelation. Over the months he'd given Trip enough good-humored grief about the commander's friendship with T'Pol, and Trip had deflected enough lewdly suggestive comments, that Malcolm had accepted the close and yet unentangled relationship between Trip and T'Pol. It had become normal in its own way... all that now was blown to bits.
Trip began to frown at Malcolm's gaping silence and pointed out, "It's not against regulations; she's not Starfleet."
"I wasn't thinking that."
Trip frowned a little harder, sighed, then turned his eyes back to the stars. Without looking toward Malcolm he spoke to him in a near-whisper, "It's not a secret but it's not something we're tryin' to advertise either if ya know what I mean."
"I understand. Don't worry; I won't say a word."
"Thanks."
Malcolm silently studied Trip a moment, mind working at warp seven, reviewing events and observations over the last two weeks to the best of his recollection. After a long moment in deep contemplation, reflection on Trip's behavior since first hearing about the Ares and the recall and where that ended with Trip before him now, the tactical officer stated earnestly, "Well, it looks like she's good for you."
Trip, at that, smiled again in such a way as to vindicate Malcolm's assessment. Malcolm meant it, too. There had been something about Trip lately, something subtle but there... a glint of peace with himself, with the universe, even if only in isolated pockets. He projected the image of a man with an anchor, possessed of a refined checks and balances system for life that had settled nameless, restless parts of him. T'Pol had brought something vaguely akin to a Vulcanesque calm to the engineer, no matter how faint and diluted that calmness was when impressed upon a human psyche.
"It's the damnedest thing. These past couple a weeks I've been some of the angriest I can ever remember bein' and the happiest all at the same time. It's a little confusin'."
"I can imagine. I just can't believe that you and T'Pol are..."
"Still feels surreal to me too sometimes." He snorted, "Little as three years ago if you told me I'd fall in love with a Vulcan I'd have called ya crazy."
"Whoa, hold on," Malcolm held up a hand to silence Trip. "You're in love with her?"
Trip seemed to consider the slip he'd made then decided against denying it. He offered only a nod in response, accompanied by a small shrug of surrender. To Malcolm, it looked like complete, utter and total surrender.
"Bloody..." Malcolm breathed as he lowered his hand and tried to stop his mind from reeling. "How serious is this?"
Trip's face became unreadable for all of five seconds, maddeningly expressionless, before he said cryptically, "That's... complicated."
Malcolm waited a long time for Trip to elaborate... until it became obvious he didn't intend to. It also became obvious from the closed look on Trip's face that, though the engineer had already confided a great deal to his friend, he had reached the limits of how much he wanted to divulge.
Malcolm had more questions than he could even begin to count, but for now they had to remained unanswered.
"You headin' home when we put into Jupiter Station?" Trip asked in a blatant change of topic.
Malcolm took a second to catch up... though he was not thrilled once he did. The tactical officer's expression hardened and he propped one forearm against the side of the view port frame as he answered, "No. I thought about it but... well, two days, hardly seemed worth it." Truth of the matter was, he didn't want to have to face his family. His family, specifically his father, had a way of putting him on edge, making him uneasy and unnerved, and aboard Enterprise, amid her crew, Malcolm had finally found a place where he felt welcome, comfortable. For all the tension hunting the Xindi he'd been the most at home that he'd felt in a long time. He didn't want to challenge that with a stressful visit home... the two days' worth of leave they were under orders to take away from the ship was just enough time to cause unnecessary tension in the Reed family that would stick with Malcolm for no less than a week.
Thankfully, Trip knew enough about Malcolm's family that he didn't press the British officer further when it seemed clear Malcolm was hedging the issue. "So, where ya goin' for the time we're all bein' exiled from Enterprise?"
Malcolm smirked. "I spoke with Travis this morning about his plans; he intends to head to San Francisco and revisit the academy, take in the city, contact some old classmates. He invited me to join him... I've been thinking I'd take him up on the offer."
"Spendin' shore leave at Starfleet Academy? You're a real piece of work, Malcolm." Trip said the last with a friendly chuckle.
Malcolm shrugged. "Well, I didn't see much of San Francisco when I was attending the academy, I was too busy with classes. Might be a good idea to find out what I missed, and Travis doesn't have any family on Earth so we'd both be spending shore leave alone anyway. Just as well two loners strike off for a little adventure, especially since Travis doesn't seem to have the same penchant for trouble that you do."
"Very funny. I didn't think about that, but I guess Travis wouldn't have anyone back on Earth to see, his family all being space-farers and all."
"I take your inquiry to mean you're heading home?"
Trip nodded. "I already talked to my parents. Ya know, I raised all kinds of hell with the captain about this shore leave order when he pitched it, but I'm startin' to think it was a good idea. It'll be nice to be home, even if it's just two days."
Malcolm nodded. "I know what you mean. I was nearly apoplectic when Captain Archer told me I couldn't oversee the ship's weapons' upgrades myself but I'm actually looking forward to spending some time back on Earth. A little fresh air, a meal that hasn't been in stasis for months... it certainly has its benefits."
"I imagine we're all rememberin' how much we missed home." Trip's eyes returned to their vigil of the stars, his repose not so profound as before, his stance more casual and relaxed than contemplative.
Malcolm gazed out the view port as well alongside Trip, marking the passage of space and time. For the short time being, none of the hovering concerns mattered. Not the Xindi, not the Enterprise refit, not Trip's intriguing if not intensely private relationship with Sub-commander T'Pol. All that was of substance at that moment, probably to half the crew, was the realization of just how close to home they really were... and how much they had missed that tiny white and blue marble of life.
*****
Sub-commander T'Pol, as soon as she heard her personal computer console sound, wasted no time in seating herself at the small work desk within her quarters. It was a communication coming in, the flashing data identifying the sender as the Earth Vulcan Consulate.
T'Pol gave no reaction to the discovery, instead reached forward and answered the call. Immediately the screen displaying the transmission data was filled by the stoic visage of Ambassador Soval.
"T'Pol," the unblinking Vulcan male said. The elder Vulcan did not move his hands to offer the proper Vulcan salute, nor did the traditional, formal greeting follow his verbal salutation. Neither was T'Pol addressed by her given rank of sub-commander.
"Ambassador," T'Pol returned. She matched Soval gesture for gesture, in kind neglecting to officially greet her colleague.
"Starfleet Command informed the Vulcan Consulate of Enterprise's imminent return to the Sol system."
"A short stay to upgrade the ship's systems and resupply before returning to our mission in the expanse." T'Pol's words, though delivered with casual inflection, were chosen with great care. Soval's brown eyes darkened the barest fraction at the deliberate words 'our mission'.
"So Starfleet Command has told us," Soval continued. "As it is such a short stay, and nothing of great consequence has transpired in your area of expertise at the Earth Consulate, it would be unnecessary and illogical for you to inconvenience yourself with coming to the Vulcan Consulate."
T'Pol maintained careful control of her facial expression and emotions. She replied after a second's pause, "Perhaps you are correct. Thank you for informing me of the futility in traveling to the consulate with the small amount of leave I have been granted."
"Of course, T'Pol. Farewell."
"Farewell, Ambassador."
Soval's image disappeared and T'Pol sat a long time in her seat, unmoved save for the drift of her gaze upward to the view port. Somewhere deep within her controlled veneer, there was a bud of disappointment and loneliness spawned by Soval's communique.
*****
Trip Tucker was all packed up and ready to head home for a couple of days of R and R. The ship was buzzing now, alive with that expectant energy that emanated from the crew at the prospect of being so close to Earth. They were no more than half an hour out from Jupiter Station. The calm of space outside their windows that had been their companion for hours had been replaced by the scene of sporadic space traffic as they neared the space station.
Trip was about to head down to engineering to oversee the cycling down of the warp core once Enterprise was docked, and to receive from the Jupiter Station engineering duty officer the information outlining exactly what the crew of the repair station intended to do to Enterprise's engines and system wiring. After that he would board a shuttle headed for Earth and two days with his parents in Florida.
As soon as they hit space dock it was liable to get hectic, and Trip wasn't sure he'd get a chance to see T'Pol before he left for home. So he was making time before he went down to engineering to say bye to her.
Trip reached T'Pol's quarters, pressed the summons button, then waited. The very idea of saying good-bye to T'Pol, even for two days, had been leaving a bad taste in his mouth. It was a response that he was trying to suppress. He imagined it had to be a human weakness, because he couldn't fathom a Vulcan getting so worked up over such an inconsequential separation.
The door before him opened and T'Pol looked back at him from within her quarters.
"Commander," she said, and didn't wait for him to ask to enter. She stepped aside and Trip passed through her doorway into her living quarters.
"Just wanted to stop by before things got too busy; I didn't want to miss saying bye before I left."
T'Pol closed her door and half-nodded. "I appreciate the gesture."
"So... what will you be doin' for shore leave? I imagine Vulcan's a little far for two days' leave, but are ya plannin' on headin' down to the consulate?" He assumed that would be where T'Pol would go. She had not been in the company of Vulcans, colleagues, in some time... not since anyone else on Enterprise had seen their families on Earth.
T'Pol hesitated for half a heartbeat before saying, "No." She was facing him but at her confession her eyes shifted elusively to the corner. It was a minuscule gesture, but it made Trip frown. So little and he knew something was wrong.
"What's wrong?"
T'Pol seemed to debate whether or not to tell him for all of two seconds before she intoned neutrally, "I am not welcome at the Vulcan Consulate."
"What?"
T'Pol returned her eyes to his. "It seems my 'defection' from the science directorate has earned me disfavor among my contemporaries." At Trip's still questioning, increasingly irate, look, T'Pol turned to her computer console and called up the recording of her previous conversation with Soval.
Trip watched it in silence and when it was finished he turned to T'Pol with open hands. "I don't get it. It just sounds to me like he was tryin' ta save ya the hassle of goin' all the way to San Francisco when ya didn't need to." He thought a beat. "Although I'm more apt to believe you than the entire planet Vulcan."
T'Pol's eyebrow arched at that. "Perhaps to a human the ambassador's comments seemed innocuous, but to a Vulcan his manner would be considered rude. The message he implied but did not outright convey cannot be misinterpreted."
Trip studied T'Pol a moment, brow furrowed in thought, then he muttered, "They see ya desertin' the science directorate as a shameful act."
T'Pol nodded.
"I'm sorry, T'Pol."
T'Pol looked at him mildly. "It is hardly your fault, Trip."
"Maybe it is... I was the one who said you should make your own decisions, to hell with Vulcan etiquette and traditions."
"Had I not followed your advice I would now be married to a man I did not desire. Besides, leaving the science directorate was unrelated to my decision not to marry Koss. I elicited a great deal of concern among the Vulcan Council for my association with Enterprise in the incident at P'Jem and my later refusal to leave Enterprise when I was ordered back by High Command, neither of which was in any way your doing.
"I do not regret my decision to resign my position with the science directorate."
Trip sensed she was telling the truth, the stubborn, Vulcan truth. It didn't temper his dissatisfaction with the reception T'Pol was getting from her fellow Vulcans, though.
"So... what are ya gonna do for shore leave?"
T'Pol took in a half breath. "I have decided to remain on Jupiter Station. I can review the work crews' repair orders and it will allow me ample time for meditation."
Trip glanced toward T'Pol's bed, upon which sat a small bag half-full of T'Pol's scant personal belongings. At that second he wanted to call off his trip to Florida to stay on Jupiter Station with her. He ached at the thought of her alone, unwanted by her own people just for having the nerve to stand up and make her own decisions and stick with the human vessel.
Abruptly, Trip looked back toward T'Pol. "Why don't ya come with me?"
T'Pol's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline.
"Come down ta Florida with me."
"If I'm not mistaken you were going home to visit your parents."
"Yeah, I am, but they won't mind ya comin'. Trust me."
T'Pol balked without uttering a word.
Trip wasn't finished working on her, not by far. In a heartbeat it became important for Trip to win over T'Pol. "Please, just consider it. I'd love for you to come. Hell, to be honest, I was gettin' cranky at the idea of not seein' ya for two days."
T'Pol's wary, reluctant expression froze and her eyes shot to his face in sharp scrutiny. Trip had no idea why that sappy, if not sincere, remark had caught her attention so sharply, but he hoped it was enough to sway her.
T'Pol stood unmoving for at least twenty seconds before she finally looked once to her packed things then back at Trip. "Very well."
Trip blinked in surprise, despite his active cajoling. "You'll come?"
T'Pol nodded.
Trip beamed. "Great! You'll have a good time, I promise.
"Well, I gotta get down ta engineerin' but I'll meet you at the station's east coast shuttle service terminal." Trip, practically elated, stepped closer to T'Pol and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead in the valley of her V shaped eyebrows. He looked down at her and caught the sparkle of light in her eyes that could positively melt him. Trip lifted his hand with the errant intention of brushing his fingers against her cheek when he stopped, froze, and withdrew his hand before he'd touched her. When he'd moved to touch her, to trace her cheekbone with his fingertips, something had flared in his thoughts and arrested his actions. The affectionate touch seemed dangerous somehow, in ways he didn't understand.
T'Pol was looking intently at him, aware of the contact he'd nearly made with her face. She looked a little rattled, as frightened as Trip had ever seen T'Pol, and Trip had no idea why.
Trip frowned and lowered his hand back to his side. Shaking off the strange sensation that had seized him, Trip bid farewell once more to T'Pol then left her quarters to report to engineering. All of a sudden, the impromptu vacation back to Florida was looking even better.
The spaceport was gargantuan, a colossal arachnid with fixed mechanical legs curled inward, forming a cavern into which the Enterprise easily and elegantly glided despite the evidence of wear and use on the NX vessel. Even for its immense scale, Jupiter Station maintenance and repair port was still dwarfed by the veritable giant of Jupiter thousands of miles away. The orange and red beast of a planet spun slowly, lazily, at a different speed than the artificial satellite, the man-made station's own rotation not geosynchronously matched with the uninhabited world's.
Captain Archer was at his command chair as his ship came to a stop within the possessive grip of the Jupiter Station grappling cables and docking clamps. The contact points of the station's restraints resounded eerily through the hull and Archer couldn't help but feel like a beautiful wild horse had been lassoed as soon as Enterprise came to a complete halt.
"We've got her, Captain," the Jupiter Station overseer's image on the main view screen reported, "you can begin shutting down major systems."
Archer, with a beat of reluctance, gave the order and the lively hum that was the Enterprise's distinct sound, truly her symphony, began to pitch lower as consoles and sensors powered down. The overseer's face blinked out of existence as the screen went black.
Archer bid his crewmen a pleasant shore leave as he met them in the corridors. Jupiter Station workers began to prowl the hallways and Archer swung by his quarters to pick up Porthos. While everyone else on the ship could expect a relaxing two-day getaway Archer himself would not be so lucky.
He had a few bones to pick with Starfleet Command, so his destination for the short vacation: Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, California.
Back to Chapter 8
Continue to Chapter 10
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