Captain's Mess

Enterprise

9 April

18:00 UTC

Fork in hand, Trip wondered what T'Pol would think of his selecting the vegetarian meal. A human woman--Sato for instance who sat to his left--might analyze his motive. Was he trying to impress T'Pol? Or being considerate of her distaste for meat? Some human vegetarians found even the smell of meat unpleasant. The same might be true of Vulcans. Maybe he was unintentionally extending her a diplomatic courtesy. Sato had also selected the vegetarian dish, and Trip figured that was her reasoning. This left Archer the odd man out as the only meat-eater at tonight's dinner, but the captain, happily munching on his steak, seemed unfazed. Eyeing the steak, Trip sighed to himself. Only twelve hours until Saturday morning sausage and eggs.

Archer was setting down his fork. Time to amp up the conversation, or the captain would bring this meal to a close.

"So, Captain..." What the hell could Trip ask him? How's your dad? Too private.How about those nukes? Too classified. Have you seen the new alien doc? Quirky fellow, ain't he? Too racist. And in front of the only other non-Terran on board. Bad idea. At last, "Repairs are coming along nicely. All evidence of the Marines' little stunt should be gone by tomorrow morning."

Archer frowned. "There was damage?"

"Some. My people put up a fight. Took out fifteen plasma relays and were on the verge of destabilizing a couple of the warp coils when Hayes's men subdued them."

"You call that some damage."

"Sure," Trip said. "I staffed my department with the best--well, the best that the W-5 Complex was willing to part with, anyway. They took out exactly the right systems to expedite our repairs and stymie anyone else's. With the shortcuts I taught them...like I said, we'll have everything fixed by tomorrow morning, well before launch time."

Hoshi stifled a laugh.

Archer raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she said. "Tomorrow morning. Before launch time. It was funny."

"I'll take your word on that," Archer said. Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, he said, "It's getting late--"

"I'm curious, T'Pol..." Trip said, then paused unsure how to continue. His focus was off tonight.

"That trait seems to be common among your species," T'Pol said. Hastily, she amended, "It is an admirable trait when employed in moderation."

Archer grinned broadly. "I don't think Trip was finished, T'Pol."

"No problem," Trip said. "Good advice is worth being interrupted for. Not that you interrupted me, T'Pol. I paused. So, it's...my...fault." You're rambling. "As I was saying, I'm curious about Vulcan humor. I assume you have it."

T'Pol inclined her head. It was not exactly a nod. "Indeed. One does not need an emotional impetus to appreciate a clever phrase. Vulcan children create puns to aid development of their language skills."

Ignoring the fact that he had just been compared to a child, Trip seized upon the opportunity given him. "Do you have children, Consol?" He thought switching to her title would make the question seem less personal.

"I have none," she said.

Useful information. Could he press her further without seeming to pry? So, are you married? God in heaven! Dial down the libido. This dinner was about fostering good relations between their governments, not fueling his fantasy life.

"And you, Commander?" T'Pol said.

"Me? No, no kids. I'm not married. Haven't even had a decent relationship in...that is, no, no kids."

"Did you know, Consul," Sato said, "that puns are at the heart--I'm sorry, the core of Japanese humor?"

"You need not apologize, Lieutenant. Human languages are replete with emotional terminology." She spared a glance at Trip. "French, I am told, is called the language of love." She turned back to Sato. "Yet it also a language of science and education. Tell me more of your people's humor."

Trip heard the gentle whoosh of the door opening and looked up in time to catch Archer's exit. He sighed. The Captain had loosened up a bit. That was something.

Trip speared a cherry tomato with his fork and took a bite. Time to learn a thing or two about Japanese humor. When he turned his attention back to the ladies, he was unnerved to find them both looking at him in silence. They averted their eyes and resumed their conversation after a moment, and Trip chalked it up to one of those weird happenstances that befuddle the male mind. Still, he wondered if he had missed something. Minutes later, after deciding that his primary goal had been accomplished and that any attempt to further his secondary goal of learning more about T'Pol would make him look foolish, he excused himself.

A cup of coffee, a visit to the Engine Room, and then off to bed.

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"You know," Hoshi said, "I think he likes you."

"I did not know," T'Pol said, "though I suspected. It is not an unwelcome development."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, it will make working together more tolerable."

"Or complicate it immeasurably," Hoshi said with a hint of a grin. Interpersonal relationships had a language all their own. Not as precise as spoken language, but often far more honest. This could get very interesting. "Out of curiosity, T'Pol, have you married yet?"

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Bridge

18:20

Reed found himself wishing he'd attended mass with his parents like he'd promised. Had he, he might not feel guilty about praying again. Okay, he would still feel guilty since he was praying for his three senior officers to be temporarily incapacitated. Were he in command, he could legally order Major Hayes to sod off.

According to the brochures, UESPA was not the military. Yet it still utilized a traditional military rank structure, and according to that structure, Marine Majors outranked Agency Lieutenants. Though Reed was fourth in command of the ship, Hayes was the fourth highest ranking officer onboard. If he acquired shipboard certification, the next step was dual rank, and, after that, integration into the chain of command. Should any of the other six lieutenants on board receive a promotion for meritorious service and be advanced ahead of Reed, it would not match the blow to his ego of losing to his position to someone who already outranked him. Why?

Because the bastard punched you in the jaw.

Reed pressed the icepack to his face.

Another hour until his relief arrived, and then a good strong belt of liquor and the bottle of pain pills the doctor had prescribed awaited him in his quarters. He had resisted taking any while on duty.

When the door opened, Reed's hand moved to the wireless taser holstered at his side. His hand drifted away when he saw Captain Archer step off the lift. Reed stood and greeted the captain when he reached the command chair.

"Lieutenant, how's the jaw?"

"Fine, sir."

"Doesn't look it," Archer said. "Take the rest of the watch off. I'll take over here."

"Are you certain, sir?"

"Absolutely. I'm waiting on a transmission from earth."

With a nod and as much of a status report as the captain allowed him to offer with a swollen jaw, Reed took his leave. At the lift door, he turned back and watched Archer settle in. Captain's in his chair, he mused, all's right with the ship.

Magnetic constriction coils

I've always gravitated toward that era of history when the ideal of democracy was undiluted by the inherent failings of human government.

TBC