[JulesLuvsShinzon]

I wrote this tongue-in-cheek story for saveenterprise.com last Christmas. It's a kind of "Enterprise Christmas Special" for the holiday season. I hope you enjoy . [/size]

The Enterprise NX01 - A Very Long Way From Home.

December 23rd -The Armoury - 09.00hrs

“If you want my opinion, Christmas is rather like the Delphic Expanse - something definitely to be avoided.” Malcolm Reed’s clipped tones echoed through the Armoury and caused Trip Tucker’s boyishly handsome features to collapse into a crestfallen expression. Reed took no account of the effect his words were having on the young engineer and he continued to prod buttons on the console in front of him, as though Trip had already accepted his terse verdict and taken his leave.

“But surely you had a good time at Christmas when you were a kid?” Trip pressed and watched as Reed gave a disgusted snort and favoured him with a beady stare.

“No, never!” Reed replied with conviction. “Every year I was dragged away from school and had to suffer a fortnight at my parents’ country home, which was always packed to the gunnels with assorted awful relatives, you know the sort of thing, lecherous uncles, drunken aunties and family rows on a daily basis……rich food, and indigestion. The very thought of it makes me bilious, even now.” Reed took up a padd and studied its readout. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me heart-warming tales of cosy Christmas’s and pumpkin pie. Well jolly good for you, but I haven’t time to hear them right now - work to do and all that.” With that, Reed began to climb down the ladder which would bring him onto the same deck level as Trip. What he didn’t fully appreciate was that Trip was a man with a mission and he wasn’t about to be allow himself to be so easily deflected.

“Hey, c’mon, y’know I was just asking! I logged on in Engineering this morning and saw it was December 23rd - in two days it’ll be Christmas and I didn’t even know it! Y’know, we really use a li’l Christmas spirit around here, things have been so heavy lately…….”

“Damn inconsiderate of the Xindi, but I guess they don’t know it’s the festive season.” Reed snapped as he tried to dodge around the expansive Trip. However Trip, the one-time High School jock, bested him easily and once again blocked his way.

“Y’know, it wouldn’t hurt you to lighten up a little and I don’t need to be reminded about the Xindi. Trust me, nobody wants to kick Xindi butt more than I do after what they did to Earth and my home and my li’l sister, but we all need to take a li’l time out and …….chill.”

“Fine.” Snorted Reed, unabashed, as he side-stepped Trip. “You ‘chill’ and I’ll go and service my Photonic torpedoes. Good day.”

“Well, whatever turns you on……” Sighed Trip towards Reed’s stiff back as it retreated into the distance.

I might have known starting with Malcolm woulda been a mistake. ‘Enjoyment’ just doesn’t feature in the guy’s life Trip reflected. On the other hand, Travis might have a few ideas how to celebrate the holidays in space, since he spent most of his life on a freighter……

09.45hrs

Trip felt the lack of gravity start to make his internal organs rise up inside him as his feet left the ground, and he floated upwards to join Travis Mayweather who was enjoying an idle few moments in the ‘Sweet Spot’. Every starship had one, a place where the artificial gravity failed to reach; a place popular for taking a little ‘R and R’ when on duty, and senior officers never thought to look up at the ceiling while doing their rounds of the ship.

“Mind if I join you?” Trip asked as he floated upwards to draw level with Mayweather.

“Not at all.” Replied the mild-mannered Travis. “I was just taking a little Time Out in my favourite place.”

“Hey, Travis, did you know it was two days ‘til Christmas?” Trip asked.

“Is that so? Hey, no I didn’t. We should do something about that, maybe get the Captain’s permission to have a party in the Mess Hall, what d’you think?”

“Absolutely!” Nodded Trip, pleased that he had sought out Mayweather after his discouraging encounter with the ship’s Armoury Officer.

“Trouble is though,” Mayweather frowned “whose gonna fetch the permission?” The two men shared a moment of complete understanding and slumped as well as any two people might manage in Zero G. Captain Archer had already banned ‘Film Night’ as ‘inappropriate under the circumstances we now find ourselves in with the Xindi’ and Trip’s attempts to get it re-instated had been in vain. Archer had grown edgy and morose after the terrible attack on Earth, and his focus and mood had permeated throughout the rest of the Enterprise crew. Trip himself had to deal with an almost overwhelming desire for revenge; he was still in mourning for his sister, but he was beginning to understand what people meant when they said ‘Life Goes On’. Even in the face of danger and grief, he knew that the hard-working crew of the NX01 needed a tonic, and a shot of Yuletide was what they needed just now. Trip hardened his resolve.

“You can leave that li’l problem to me. I just need some ideas from you on how we make a party out of ship’s rations. I mean we missed Thanksgiving, so do we have a turkey in the stores? That kinda thing. Anybody stashed away a little illicit alcohol? Can you go do some detective work, maybe have a quiet word with the Galley staff?”

“Sure I can do that - I don’t exactly have a lot else to do! On the ship I grew up on, we always laid in stores to celebrate Christmas - we even had an artificial tree - I reckon what I can’t find, we can improvise. I’ll get right on it……maybe you can sweet-talk Doctor Phlox into playing Santa Claus!”

With that, Mayweather began to drop downwards. A considerably cheered-up Trip followed him down to deck level. Once back inside the ships artificial gravity envelope, the two men felt their internal organs settle down and their boots firmly on the deck plates. With a nod, they parted company; Mayweather heading for the Galley and Trip marching off towards Sickbay.

10.00hrs

Trip entered sickbay and found Dr Phlox perched on the edge of one of the bio-beds taking off one of his socks. As cheerful as ever, the laid-back physician seemed completely unconcerned that he had been discovered by a crewmember as he was about to embark on one of his infamous personal grooming habits.

“Ah Mister Trip! What can I do for you?” Phlox greeted the young engineers, dropping his sock on the floor and hobbling over to fetch his medical tricorder.

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Trip exclaimed, perhaps a little hastily. “I just stopped by to have a li’l chat about an old Earth tradition we call ‘Christmas’, and whether you’d be interested in helping us to celebrate.” Then Trip frowned, he felt a headache beginning to form. “That’s if I can get Captain Archer’s permission for a party.”

“A party! That sounds like a good idea. I’ve been thinking to myself these past few days that things have got rather ‘intense’ around here. I know we’ve got the Xindi to contend with - but as you Earthmen say ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’. We do need a little relaxation, constant stress isn’t good physically for anybody. What sort of party do you have in mind?”

“I’m hoping for a big one - in the Mess Hall. All the crew will be invited and I guess I’ll need your advice on approaching Sub commander T’Pol, I guess a Vulcan would find our Christmas traditions ‘illogical’, but it would be rude to leave her out.” Trip, a Southern boy, had been raised to be polite.

“Maybe you could bring the subject up during one of your neural pressure sessions with T’Pol.” Suggested Phlox and then watched as the young man’s expression changed. “You are still having those neural pressure sessions I take it?” He pressed.

Trip swallowed, hard, and then felt sweat break out across his forehead. He felt himself growing red in the face, something that sharp, voluble Doctor would be bound not to miss. The truth was that, while he found the sessions with T’Pol had been effective in that he did now sleep very well at nights, the dreams he had been having had been - unsettling - to say the least. While he found that taking a cold shower first thing staved off the horniness - for a short time - he was still a red-blooded male when all was said and done, and the mental pictures of T’Pol in her unnecessarily tight sleepwear that his mind insisted on presenting him with - if he didn’t stay absolutely focussed on the job - just fuelled his night-time forays into her candle-lit quarters.

“Yeah, they’ve really helped - a lot.” Trip lied and changed the subject back to the matter in hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll think about selling the idea of Christmas to her.”

“That really oughtn’t to be too hard. Most races I’ve come across have one big festival during their year. I’m sure the Vulcans - for all their apparent liking for austerity - are no different.” Phlox nodded as he settled himself against a bio-bed and lifted his large, hairy foot off the floor and, oblivious to the fact that Trip was still in Sickbay, commenced a rather intense inspection. Once that was complete, he lifted his large, imposing head and continued to address the young engineer. “On Denobula, we have a huge celebration when our hours of daylight are at their shortest. Families gather together - and that’s quite a gathering under my roof, what with all my wives and their other husbands and all the children - and then we eat and drink ourselves into quite an unhealthy condition. It’s all most enjoyable, even if it’s not the best example for a doctor to be setting. However, if you will excuse me, I need to shave my corns. My Megadonian bat needs his protein if he‘s going to mate successfully. I seem to be having some trouble getting him in the mood for romance.” Trip did his best to hide his revulsion.

“Oh well, you already get the idea of Christmas.” Trip grinned wanly. “So if you’ve any ideas on how we can make the Enterprise party go with a swing, I’ll be happy to hear them.”

“Of course, when I have a little time, I’ll give some thought as to how I can imbue your ‘Christmas’ with a little Denobulan spirit.” Then Phlox startled Trip with one of his alarming grins which made Trip glanced nervously around Sickbay, his gaze taking in the menagerie that Phlox used to create his homespun cures, the discarded sock lying on the floor and a large tank which contained an undulating eel-like creature that appeared to have no discernable features other than large sphincters at each end of its body, and had sudden misgivings that maybe involving the Doctor hadn’t been such a great idea after all…….

10.30hrs

If Trip had yet to figure out T’Pol, he felt he knew even less about Ensign Hoshi Sato, the ship’s linguist. Having left Sickbay, he was now en route to the Bridge to sound her out on the matter of a Mess Hall Christmas party; although this was something of high-risk strategy since Captain Archer might well be at large, and he was not ready to frame his request to the Captain - at least not until he knew that most of the crew were up for it.

When he arrived on the Bridge, Trip was relieved to see that Captain Archer was not occupying the centre seat and Hoshi Sato was sitting at her work station intently folding a piece of paper. Trip sidled up to her.

“Hello Ensign Sato, are you busy?” Hoshi raised her large, dark eyes to him and a rather hard to read expression settled on her beautiful oriental features, there was a long pause and then she said

“Busy?………..No, not exactly.” She gestured to the origami bird she had finished creating and had placed on the work station in front of her. “Not exactly rushed off my feet.” She gave a deep sigh and asked “Are you?”

“Work is never finished for the wicked.” He winked at her and she blinked back at him. Then she settled her slender, delicate hands in her lap and waited for him to speak again. Trip found himself suddenly tongue-tied, there was another long pause and then Hoshi sighed again.

“Did you want anything? Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked him. Trip pulled himself together and found his voice.

“There is. I wondered what you thought about a Christmas party in the Mess Hall - if I got permission from Captain Archer?”

“Actually I don’t celebrate Christmas.” Hoshi replied a little too quickly and a little too sharply and saw Trip react as though she had slapped him. Trip hadn’t really expected this. He had anticipated some difficulty with the alien crewmembers, but he hadn’t given any thought to the possibility of cultural differences between the Humans. For her part, Hoshi regretted her abruptness and she softened her expression and continued “……but any kind of party sounds like a great idea to me.” Then she completed making amends with a dazzling smile that made Trip feel a lot better.

“Well, I thought that we needed a little celebration to cheer things up a little around here, so I’m just canvassing opinions before I go to the Captain.”

“Well you can count me in for a party, and since I don’t have a lot to do, I can help you with the preparations…..if Captain Archer agrees to having a party.” She arched an eyebrow at Trip that gave him the firm impression that she too had been finding Captain Archer’s intensity in tracking the Xindi rather trying.

And that’s one big ‘If’! Trip thought as he left the Bridge.

As he passed down the corridor towards the new Command Centre, Trip realised that he was feeling quite nervous about approaching T’Pol. The Vulcan woman was bound to find the whole idea of Christmas unappealing, but he knew he needed her to be on side - as the ship’s Executive Officer - if he were to have any chance in getting the Captain to agree to any sort of festivity.

11.00hrs

Sub Commander T’Pol stood before the main viewer in the Command Centre and frowned. She was analysing the telemetry they had received from the Enterprise’s long-range sensor sweeps of the Delphic Expanse and attempting to cross-reference them with the scant information contained within the Vulcan database. Things were not adding up and she was less than happy to see Trip walk into the room, grinning at her. She knew at once that he was not there on official business.

“Good morning Sub Commander!” Trip announced his arrival with more gusto than the Vulcan thought necessary. T’Pol turned stiffly towards him and pouted her displeasure at his interruption.

“Is it?” She responded stonily and turned back to her work and Trip knew he had his work cut out.

“Just a figure of speech. Look, I can see you’re busy…………….”

“But you will interrupt me anyway.” She stated flatly as she moved her hands across the computer terminal.

“I just need a few minutes of your time. What’s the problem?” Trip moved to her side and regarded the star chart that T’Pol was working on.

“Are you really interested in data anomalies, or are you merely trying to make conversation?” T’Pol asked. “If it is the former, then you can perhaps assist me in making some recalibrations to the main sensor array. If it is the latter, then I am certain that there are tasks in your own department that would benefit from your attending to them.”

“Data anomalies?”

“Yes.” T’Pol picked up a padd and began inputting data. “The telemetry we have most recently received does not match data gathered by previous Vulcan expeditions into the Delphic Expanse.”

“Your database is wrong?” Trip grinned playfully, aware that T’Pol would not be impressed with his snap judgement on her current conundrum and his implied criticism of Vulcan science. As a response, T’Pol gave him one of her thousand-yard stares.

“It is more likely our sensor array that is being negatively effected by the conditions inside the Expanse.” She snapped. In spite of his own personal mission, Trip found he couldn’t resist pressing the Vulcan a little harder.

“And it’s not possible that the Vulcan technology on the ship that mapped the original data was also out of whack?” He smirked. T’Pol just…………stared back at him.

“No.” She said simply. “I ask you again, are you here to help, or here for some other ‘amusing’ diversion as a form of procrastination?” Trip grinned at her again, in a manner that - were T’Pol Human - she would have found infuriating.

“Actually I am here to ask you something. In two days time it will be something we Humans call ‘Christmas’.” Trip announced. T’Pol raised a brow.

“Christmas?” She repeated dubiously. “What is ‘Christmas’?” She said the word in much the same way she had referred to ‘odours’ when she had first been appointed to Enterprise.

“It’s a………..celebration.” He replied with some hesitation. “It’s an old story, but it’s a time of year when families gather together; we eat, drink and exchange gifts. I’m kinda hoping that Captain Archer will agree to us holding a little….party in the Mess Hall where we can all enjoy a li’l Yuletide spirit.”

“I thought you just said it was called ‘Christmas’.”

“’Christmas‘….‘Yuletide‘…..‘The Holiday Season’…..it’s got lots of different names, but Humans have been celebrating it for hundreds of years….” Trip responded expansively.

“Vulcan ceremonies have been observed for thousands of years. However, I would not expect any non-Vulcan crewmember to take part in rituals that were not a normal part of their cultural practice. And if you are hoping that I will put your case to the Captain for allowing you to indulge in pointless activity in the Mess Hall, then you are mistaken.” T’Pol countered and eyeing Trip, moved further away from him in order to scrutinise the readouts on a different monitor. “That is why you are here, is it not?”

Touché! Trip thought She’s not going to go for it. He came up behind her again and threw open his arms in a gesture of defeat.

“Okay, you got me bang to rights, I was kinda hoping that you might support the idea as a morale-boosting exercise - hey - you could consider it part of my treatment along with the neural pressure. Something to lift my spirits! It would be good for the rest of the crew - a change of pace to help us regain our focus.” T’Pol turned to face him, in spite of her being a Vulcan and therefore not given to feeling - let alone conveying - any emotion, the expression on her face gave Trip the distinct impression that she was trying to ingest a pork weener.

“Perhaps” she replied archly “if you exercised more control over your emotions, you would not need to have your ‘morale’ lifted. Whatever that is. Some of us have no difficulty in maintaining focus. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do. Consider yourself dismissed.” And with that she turned her back on him and began tapping away at the computer terminal in front of her. Suddenly T’Pol almost made an exclamation. “That is not logical.”

“What’s not logical? Another data anomaly Sub Commander?” Trip asked, momentarily shelving Christmas as a response to T’Pol’s new discovery.

“Did I not just ask you to leave?” T’Pol paused and then appeared - almost - to frown. “It is more than an ‘anomaly’, I have apparently found a planet where none should be.”

“What you mean is, you just found a planet which previous - Vulcan - expeditions have failed to notice and map.”

“Whatever. I have no wish to enter into a comparison between Human and Vulcan technologies, since it remains a fact that there is a class M planet here, within one day’s reach of our current position. It is highly likely that this planet supports life and I would extrapolate a pre-warp civilisation. Since we are getting short of supplies, there may be an opportunity for trade.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably crawling with Xindi.” Trip replied, wondering why he wasn’t feeling a little more excited at this unexpected event.

“I must inform the Captain immediately.” And with that, T’Pol stepped smartly out of the Command Centre, leaving Trip gazing at the image of the new M class planet on the viewscreen.

11.21hrs

In the corridor outside the Command Centre, Trip almost collided with Travis Mayweather who was on his way to report about his spectacular lack of success in hunting down traditional Christmas fayre in the Ship’s galley.

“Zilch-O.” Travis announced and to emphasise the result, he made a circle with his thumb and index finger. “Not a thing. It seems we only took on basic subsistence rations before we left Earth the last time. It seems that Command didn’t think we’d have time for Thanksgiving or anything else.”

“Well they got that right!” Muttered Trip. “Damn! And to make matters worse, I just got through speaking with T’Pol and she ain’t gonna be any help whatsoever. She just found an anomaly in the Delphic Expanse and is on her way to inform the Captain, and he’s bound to wanna go check it out.”

“What kind of an anomaly?” Mayweather asked.

“Oh she found an entire planet her late Vulcan colleagues missed mapping on their wonderful Vulcan database.”

Mayweather gave a low chuckle.

“What? The database was wrong? What kind of a planet?” He asked.

“Class M, no less, she thinks it supports a pre-warp culture and we might have an opportunity to trade for some extra supplies, and knowing her, stuff which might help us through this crazy stuff that keeps happening in the Expanse.”

“I thought that had settled down somewhat. The luggage hasn’t flown in the hold for more than a week and the deck plates haven’t boogied in a longer while.”

“Yeah, things have quietened down. So, Travis, what’s the likelihood of this new Class M planet having any turkeys, or Christmas trees?” Trip asked his fellow conspirator.

“I would say pretty minimal. It’s an unknown planet in the middle of the Delphic Expanse - not ‘Wal-Mart’!” Mayweather chuckled again.

“Hey!” exclaimed Trip “Don’t diss ‘Wal-Mart’…..wasn’t there a guy who traded stuff out of a branch of ‘Wal-Mart’ all the way through World War Three. In fact I think I recall my old Grade School teacher telling me that Zephram Cochrane himself, got stuff for the Pheonix from a deserted ‘Wal-Mart’.”

“Yeah, yeah” Travis snorted “and there’ll be a ‘MacDonald’s’ and a ‘Pizza Hut’ too. Say, I haven’t had a B.L.T. in like ages!” Clearly enjoying the kind of light-hearted exchange he hadn’t had in ages, Trip replied.

“Careful Travis, you’re slipping dangerously close to insubordination, I may have to put you on report!”

“Ok, Sir, can I have that with a side-salad and an extra portion of fries?”

“Oh you are that close to getting up close and personal with the our Captain Archer and counting the fibres in his carpet!” Both men laughed, it sounded loud and unnatural in the close quiet of the corridor, but to Trip Tucker it felt very good indeed. I so need this he thought and if even talking about Christmas gets the guys laughing, then I have to pull this off!

Trip and Travis took their leave of each other and they walked in opposite directions still shaking their heads and still laughing.

14.00hrs

“The Captain has given orders that we are to lay in a new course for the Class M planet.” Sub Commander T’Pol announced to the crewmembers on the Bridge as she arrived there suddenly and without warning. Travis Mayweather plotted the new course, while Hoshi Sato tried to stuff, what was by now, an entire origami zoo under her work station and out of sight of the sharp-eyed Vulcan.

Great she thought this is bound to turn out to be another occasion for me not to engage in translating a new, foreign language. She slumped and moodily prodded buttons on her workstation terminal in an attempt to look busy.

At that moment, Trip Tucker came bounding onto the Bridge with a bundle of spanners and a padd. He winked at Mayweather and Hoshi, and then stopped short when he saw that T’Pol was sitting in the centre seat wearing her usual expression of carefully composed distaste.

“Commander Tucker, I have spoken to the Captain and he has refused you leave to organise any form of celebration on the Mess Deck, or…” she raised an eyebrow “…anywhere else. Our orders are to proceed to the anomalous planet and explore the possibilities of transacting with the native population.” If T’Pol’s monotone grated on him under normal circumstances, now it moved him to a display of temper that was inappropriate for him to use to his superior on the Bridge.

“What? You asked him already?” He stormed, causing T’Pol to quirk another eyebrow and Hoshi and Travis to stare at him in amazement. For her part, the Vulcan Executive Officer remained unmoved by Trip’s outburst.

“If my understanding was correct, that was what you wanted me to do. I have raised it with Captain Archer and he has refused you permission. He sights the lack of shipboard provision for such - inappropriate causes - and has asked me to remind you that our prime mission is to locate the Xindi Homeworld. If you have anything you want to say in response, the you can address it to Captain Archer in person, in his quarters where he is currently surveying my report on the new planet.” T’Pol’s tone brooked no opposition and Trip stomped to Lt. Reeds station and almost wrenched off a panel.

“What would be the point?” He muttered into the tangled mass of intricate circuitry. Talk about the ‘Grinch Who Stole Christmas’! He fumed in silence.

17.19hrs

Trip found himself answering a summons to Captain Archer’s quarters. The Captain was seated at his desk, his long face pulled even further into the frown he had been wearing ever since the Xindi sphere had attacked Earth. Next to him and oblivious to everything, his dog, Porthos, slumbered in a blissful, drooly sleep in his basket.

Archer didn’t beat about the bush.

“It has come to my notice that I have a new nickname, ‘Captain Ebenezer’, would you care to tell me what that’s all about?”

17.32hrs

“I should have thought that you of all people on board this ship would have realised the importance of remaining focussed on our task of finding the Xindi Homeworld.” Archer poured himself another coffee. Seated on the other side of his desk, Trip Tucker nursed his own steaming mug and cleared his throat.

“Sure, no one - no one - wants to fetch up on the Xindi’s doorstep and black their eyes more than I do. You know that Sir. but we all need a little Rest and recuperation at some point, and if you’ll give me permission to speak freely………..” Trip shot a questioning glance at his Commanding Officer. Archer threw out an arm as is to say Do your worst. “The crew passed that point a long time ago.” Archer returned to his seat and frowned.

“That would be your assessment.”

“Not entirely. Others I have sp…………..”

“Enough already!” Snapped Archer. “Since when did things get so slack around Engineering that you have the time to canvass the opinions of people on board my ship?”

“In two days time it’s gonna be Christmas.” Trip stated hotly. “My Li’l Sis used to love this time of year, she would not want to think that I let the season go unmarked. It was always a big deal in my family, and I guess I’m not the only one feeling that right now we are a long way from home.”

Archer blew out a long breath and his already rumpled features creased into an even deeper frown. He felt that Trip bringing up the subject of his dead sister in this context was a little below the belt - that was surely his intention - but it didn’t alter the fact that Trip had a point.

“That we are.” He said finally. “Okay. I’m done with this discussion. I’m going to cut you a deal and it goes like this…..you can have your party in the Mess Hall on….two conditions….” Archer could see that Trip was about to jump in and he held up his hand to silence him. “One, it will be after we have completed our exploration of Sub Commander T’Pol’s planet, and if it goes past December 25th …well that is tough, and two, your party does not deplete our current supplies more than is absolutely necessary, am I making myself clear?”

“Yes Sir, more than clear.”

“Good. Oh and I just thought of a third condition; any crewman who becomes intoxicated and or fails to make his shift on time the following day will go on report and I will hold you personally responsible for seeing that this doesn’t happen. Is that also clear?”

“As Crystal, Sir.”

“Good. Dismissed. Hold it! Mark my words Trip, I don’t want to hear another Dickensian reference out in the corridors…..now you’re dismissed.”

December 24th - In Geo-stationary Orbit - 07.00 hrs

“……..And the word is…………given! Mister Travis, we are go for Christmas!” As the landing shuttle powered away from the Enterprise with Ensign Mayweather at the controls, Trip and Travis slapped each other a High Five under the watchful glare of Sub Commander T’Pol.

“It might be timely to remind you, Commander Tucker, that there will be no - organised fraternisation -until after we have completed a thorough survey of this planet.” T’Pol, dressed in her Away Team attire, favoured the two men with another of her speciality thousand-yard stares that clearly demonstrated to both of them that she did not approve of Archer’s apparent policy U-turn.

In the rear of the shuttle, Ensign Hoshi Sato fiddled with her restraining straps and tried to ignore the way the powerful shuttle engines sent vibrations through her jaw. Being unused to going on Away missions, she had been shocked when Captain Archer had ordered that she join the team for this planetary survey. Who knows…maybe I’ll actually get to translate something she thought, as the shuttle gave a sudden lurch and she had to grab the sides of her seat, while suppressing the sudden urge to start whimpering.



The shuttle descended through dense cloud cover and then suddenly they were skimming over dense coniferous forestation at a tremendous speed.

“Our landing point is somewhere beyond the edge of this forest.” T’Pol intoned as though Travis hadn’t a clue about where the co-ordinates of their pre-arranged drop site were. He fought down his resentment and wondered why she just couldn’t lighten up and trust that he knew what he was doing. “About here.” She stated as Travis was already deploying braking thrusters and steeply banking the craft down towards a clear patch of ground.

They landed with a slight bump that caused Hoshi to grasp the armrests of her seat in a nervous fashion. Almost immediately, Travis cut the engines and the vibrations ceased. The cramped passenger section became filled with the metallic chinking of the Away Team unfastening their restraining harnesses and a sudden Whoooossshhh! announced that Trip had activated the shuttle doors.

T’Pol was the first to step out onto the uncharted planet and she immediately pulled out her Vulcan tricorder in order to begin scanning for life forms. Trip and Travis vacated the landing craft a little more casually and Hoshi was the last to - a little reluctantly - emerge from its open doorway.

Trip and Travis turned around and looked at the thick forest they had just flown over. Trip said out of the side of his mouth “Does that look like a whole lotta Christmas trees to you?”

“Hell, yes!” Travis exclaimed. “Did we bring an axe with us?”

“Nope, but a phase pistol will make short work of one of those tree trunks.” He smirked and then belatedly realised that he had become the focus of one of T’Pol’s long, hard stares.

“When you’ve both finished.” She pouted, “I am reading multiple life signs in that direction.” She pointed a long, slender finger. “It could be a settlement.” With that she started marching off in the direction she had pointed, she did not bother to check whether the others were following, she took that as read.

The Away Team skirted the edge of the forest. T’Pol continued to take readings with her tricorder while Trip and Travis trudged on behind her. Hoshi brought up the rear, glancing nervously about her. The close proximity of the thick forest made her anxious with the thought that alien life forms could well be nearer at hand than T’Pol’s tricorder had indicated. Behind any one of those trees, for example! She thought, her dark eyes darting to and fro.

Suddenly T’Pol took a rapid turn into the forest, her eyes intent upon the tricorder. Once again, she didn’t bother to check that the others were following, and so quickly did she divert from their current trajectory, that Trip and Travis - who had been walking side by side - almost ran into each other.

Hoshi was even more alarmed at the prospect of walking through the forest, and she quickly caught up with the two men.

“It’s dark in here.” She said as she marched at Trip’s shoulder.

“Hmm. T’Pol’s like a friggin’ bloodhound.” He muttered.

Inside the forest, the ground became more difficult to walk upon. Thick tree roots snaked treacherously under a thick carpet of rotting pine needles and strange vegetation. Hoshi stumbled several times, and every time she did it, she grabbed Trip’s sleeve.

“Hey! Do I look like a Zimmer frame?” He exclaimed. “Leave off pullin’ at my sleeve like that!” He rudely brushed her off; if the truth be known, the decreasing light under the leaf canopy was making him feel a little nervous too. He was beginning to imagine that he could see shapes moving through the thicket of tree trunks ahead of them, although he knew that T’Pol’s tricorder would have logged them first.

All of a sudden the Away team found themselves confronted by a sheer cliff face that thrust vertically up from the ground and soared away, up past the leaf canopy.

“Journey’s end.” Muttered Travis. “So what happened to the life signs?”

Trip’s eyes scoured the sheer wall of rock in front of him. To his right, about fifty metres along the line of trees, he saw a large opening.

“Looks like a cave.” He said in a near whisper, and then he realised he was whispering and repeated himself, in a louder, more confident tone of voice. “Looks like a cave.!”

“That is where the life signs are.” T’Pol responded. “Come on.” She marched along the cliff face to the mouth of the cave.

“Looks like it goes back a long way.” Travis said as he peered into the gloom, his voice echoing around the rock maw. T’Pol gave him a once-over glance and then switched on her torch, it emitted a powerful, narrow beam that stabbed like a needle into the darkness. The torch revealed a tunnel that drove far back into the cliff.

“This way.” T’Pol said.

With mounting reluctance her colleagues found and switched on their own torches. Soon bright needles of light were criss-crossing in the stygian gloom, as the Away Team made their slow, steady way into the cave.

“Is that your teeth I can hear chattering Travis?” Asked Trip as he picked his way over what looked - and smelt - suspiciously like a thousand-year accumulation of bat guano, while behind him, Hoshi wrinkled her nose and coughed.

“No, it must be yours.” Travis replied prodding his torch beam deeper into the dark.

“I think it’s mine you can hear.” Said Hoshi, her voice quavering.

“I thought this was what we all joined the service for…..adventure.” Trip said, dropping Hoshi a wink that she couldn’t see.

“Speak for yourself.” She responded.

“Quiet back there.” T’Pol scolded.

“Yes Sir!” Trip snapped out a salute to T’Pol’s back as it receded into the gloom ahead. The Away Team walked on in silence for some distance until Travis said

“Is it me, or is it actually getting lighter in here?” T’Pol, still consulting her tricorder readouts replied “I am reading an energy force up ahead, in the same location as the life signs.”

“It is …………..getting lighter in here…... And I think, warmer.” Whispered Hoshi. “Maybe the light is coming from the energy source.”

At that point, the corridor took an unexpected sharp turn to the right, and as the Away Team rounded the corner, they were almost blinded by the intense light that illuminated the vast chamber before them. T’Pol quickly halted, causing her three colleagues almost to run into her from behind. She held up a hand to indicate that she wanted them to neither move nor speak, as she thumbed her tricorder and took yet more readings.

To Travis, the scene that confronted him reminded him of the illustrations of life in European medieval castles he has seen in history books. Leaning up against the rock walls of the huge, natural cavern were small, primitive dwellings made out of tree trunks and foliage. In the middle of the cavern floor a huge fire blazed and sent acrid wisps of smoke up towards the ceiling where a pulsating, bright crystalline mass - which had to be T’Pol’s energy source - hung in a rustic net-like affair. However, Travis saved his amazement for the life forms which occupied the chamber; they were humanoid and only a metre tall.

“Oh Lord, it’s the Oompah Loompahs in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory!” Travis heard Trip whisper in his ear. Certainly, the tiny humanoids were rather round and jolly-looking and with their relatively large heads, they did resemble dwarf-like creatures.

For her part, Hoshi thought the scene reminiscent of the books by Tolkien she had read when she was a young girl; to her the little people looked like hobbits.

“It’s just like Middle Earth.” She said to no one in particular and caused a very un-Vulcan -like look of displeasure to pass across T’Pol’s normally dead-pan features.

The creatures seemed content to go about their business with the strangers in their midst, and paid them no heed at all.

T’Pol put away her tricorder and addressed the Away Team. “It would appear that we have found our life forms and our energy force.”

“What does your tricorder tell you about the energy source?” Trip asked her.

“Only that it is a naturally occurring crystalline substance. There are many crystalline seams running through the rock strata, the light is produced by thermo-chemical reactions within the crystalline structure. Obviously the indigenous population have learned to exploit it as a - seemingly - sustainable energy source. I would like to obtain a sample of these crystals and run a thorough analysis back on board the Enterprise; it is possible that we too could exploit the properties of this crystal either as a defence against the anomalies caused by the Delphic Expanse, or else as an alternative, renewable energy source.”

“Well we can just find a seam and excavate ourselves a li’l sample, or else we could trade……………look.” He pointed a finger; whilst T’Pol was speaking, Trip had seen something that had made him rather excited and to Travis he said “are my eyes deceiving me, or does that look kinda like poultry to you?” Travis looked to where Trip pointed and saw what he meant; scurrying around the floor of the cavern were large - and Travis imagined flightless - birds that squawked and pecked at the ground.

“Well apart from the fact that they have two heads, they look pretty much like space turkeys to me! What d’you reckon?”

“I reckon we should take a closer look!” Said Trip as he started to move further into the chamber.

“Not so fast.” T’Pol said and she keyed her communicator. “Sub Commander T’Pol to Enterprise……”

“Archer here…..go ahead, report…..”

“Captain, we have located life forms and a settlement within an extensive cave system. They are physically small, but humanoid in appearance. They do not appear to be hostile, in fact I have observed that they are incurious - almost oblivious to our presence.”

“What else have you been able to observe?”

“They seem to rely upon a naturally occurring mineral that is to be found in abundance in the rock strata. It produces an energy source that I find interesting and would merit further research as it may have implications for Enterprise. Do I have your permission to obtain a sample from these people, or would you rather that we obtained a sample by ourselves?”

“Well Sub Commander, I think you should get Ensign Sato to attempt communication with these people, we’re out here to explore as well as hunt down Xindi, it would be a shame to waste the opportunity to expand our knowledge. They may even have knowledge of the Xindi themselves. I’d say ‘go for it’! Archer out.”

Raising an eyebrow at Archer’s use of yet another Human colloquialism, she turned to Hoshi.

“Ensign Sato, it would appear that you have a job to do.” Hoshi lifted the flat of her palm to her chest as if to say You mean me?

Hoshi knew that effective communication was more than just a matter of linguistics, and that language was more than just a matter of syllabic nuclei and algorithms; it was also about awareness of facial expression, gestures and openness - her own and those of the alien life form she was trying to communicate with. It was not only her natural genius for mathematics that had led her to become one of Earth’s foremost linguistic specialists, but her innate ability to empathise with others - both Human and aliens. For example, Hoshi knew that to the little aliens that she could see, her relative height could be intimidating and therefore a block to effective communication, and so, crouching down, she slowly approached the nearest of the hobbit-people - a young-looking female.

Hoshi had already taken into account the fact that the aliens were not unduly concerned at the presence of the Enterprise Away team in their village; she had seen the odd one take a momentary glance at them, but apparently, their appearance did nothing to excite their further interest. To Hoshi, this held some significance; it was almost certainly an indicator that these aliens were not unused to being visited by unusual life forms and that they did not find a Human appearance too unsettling. Compared with what? The young woman thought as she drew closer to the young female, the Xindi? The Xindi were composed of no less than five quite separate species, and any one of those were considerably more alarming in appearance - to Hoshi’s Human eyes at least - than she was.

Eventually the young female alien noticed Hoshi’s approach. She had huge green eyes set in a large round face, and these grew wider when she realised that the crouching Human was headed her way. Hoshi saw this and slowed down a little to allow the alien to see that she meant no harm. Even so the alien backed away from her, and so Hoshi stopped moving forward. At the same time, Hoshi became aware of the fact that every other being in the cave-village had stopped what they were doing and had turned towards them.

Hoshi realised that this was extremely significant; to her sharp ears, the alien had made no sound of alarm and this could be down to one of two quite important things; one, that these people communicated on a sound frequency that was outside the normal range of human hearing or two, that they did not communicate using sound at all. Hoshi, who had been watching the young creature’s face intently, saw that the she had not moved her mouth to make a sound. Telepathy! The young ensign thought. That’s going to make my life very difficult indeed! She was aware of that the eyes of the Away Team were on her back, and she didn’t want to fail in front of the Vulcan Sub Commander - a woman she had tried hard to find a rapport with. Typical she thought I finally get a chance to show T’Pol just what I can do and I get stuck with a species whose language I don’t have a chance to analyse!

‘Plan B’ for Hoshi involved appealing to the one instinct that all the species she had met so far had in common - survival - and food! Very carefully Hoshi slipped a hand into the pocket of her Away Team jacket and very slowly she pulled out a bar of chocolate that she had been saving in case she got hungry. The chocolate bar was part of an illicit stash of extra provisions that the marines had brought aboard the Enterprise, and one of the young men who had taken rather a fancy to her had been slipping her the odd one as a treat. Under the ever widening gaze of the young alien woman, Hoshi carefully removed the wrapper and held the chocolate under her nose.

“Mmmmmmmm!” She exclaimed, giving the alien a chance to see that the bar smelt pleasant, and might be pleasant to eat. “Nice!” she said and took a small bite, making a great show of savouring its taste. Hoshi then held the bar out for the alien’s inspection and as she might have expected, the alien female eyed her with great suspicion.

“Tasty……..” Hoshi said in a soft voice and offered the chocolate again. This time the alien reached out a tiny, grimy hand and took the bar. Still eyeing Hoshi intently, she placed it under her nose and noisily inhaled its chocolaty scent. There was a very pregnant pause and then the alien placed the bar against her lips and attentively nibbled at one edge of it. All at once, and to the enormous relief of Hoshi and the rest of the Away Team, the alien female’s face lit up with a huge, bright smile.

“Voooooooool wugger!” Burbled the alien.

“Vooooooooool erm Wugger?” Hoshi repeated and thought oh happy, happy days, they can talk!

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm????” The alien repeated and then broke off a piece of the chocolate which she offered back to Hoshi.

“Voooooooooooooooool wugger!” Hoshi happily concurred.

The Enterprise Hangar Deck - 13.42hrs

Commander Trip Tucker doubted that he had ever known his captain so mad. The Away Team - bloodied and bowed - were now lined-up in the shuttle bay having left the new planet in an unseemly hurry. Beside Trip, Sub Commander T’Pol stood stiffly to attention in her characteristic pose with both hands tucked behind her back. The expression she wore on her face indicated her extreme displeasure at being in this situation, whilst beside Trip, Ensign Hoshi Sato stared fixedly at the floor. Fortunately for Ensign Travis Mayweather, he had been abruptly despatched to Sickbay with a struggling two-headed bird tucked under his arm and instructions to allow Doctor Phlox to assess whether the bird was ‘actually edible, not poisonous given that the godamn thing doesn’t even appear to have an Phlox……..’ and therefore stood to miss out on the full force of Archer’s wrath.

“Well,” Archer intoned as he glared at the large fir tree which lay on the floor of the shuttle bay, “if you have an explananation for your - somewhat less than outstanding -performance on this Away Mission, I look forward to hearing it.” Trip saw T’Pol stiffen further and her full lips compress into a pout; it was painfully obvious to Trip that she expected him to provide the explanation. Trip felt utterly wretched.

“Well?” Demanded Archer. “Sub Commander?” he pressed, and when T’Pol didn’t immediately respond, he turned towards Trip who felt a slow flush rise above the collar of his uniform boiler suit and he coughed. “I’m waiting……and I’m warning you, it had better be good.”

Trip coughed again and shifted his weight onto his other foot. “Cat got your tongue? Okay. Let’s start with the basics. Would you, Commander, care to tell me why you have returned from your mission prematurely and why all of you appear to have been dragged through a hedge backwards?”

“Not really.” Trip squirmed in his distinctive Southern drawl and then he remembered -just in time - to add “Sir.”

“Okay, Trip…..” Archer cocked his long face to one side and favoured his third-in-command with a gimlet-eyed stare “……….I’m not asking for an explanation………..I’m want an explanation….right now….and that’s an order!”

Trip coughed for a third time and prepared to deliver the bad news, when all of a sudden, Hoshi spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“It may have been my fault.”

“Could you speak up Ensign?“ Archer stepped over towards the young woman. Trip started and stared at her in disbelief, for in no way that he could see, should the blame be laid at Hoshi’s feet and he made to protest. T’Pol opened her mouth to say something and was quickly cut off when Archer raised his hand in frustration.

“One at a time!” Roared Archer. “I can’t get anyone to tell me a damn thing and then you’re all speaking at once!”

“It is not the fault of Ensign Sato.” T’Pol said, favouring her with only the briefest of glances. “She acquitted herself well during this mission. If anyone is to carry the blame, it should be me……..for failing to curb the -enthusiasm - of Commander Tucker for procuring certain items for his fraternisation in the Mess Hall.” On hearing actual - praise - from the Vulcan Sub Commander, a thoroughly surprised Hoshi shot her a grateful glance and then quickly returned her gaze to the deck plates.

“Oh yes?” Inquired Archer.

“Now, look here………….!” Interrupted Trip.

“At ease Commander!” Snapped Archer and turned he turned to T‘Pol. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“It would appear that we managed to offend the natives.” She said with a purely involuntary quirk of one of her arch-less brows.

“Oh you don’t say………!” Archer responded with the expected amount of sarcasm. “Perhaps that would explain your sudden exodus………..your dishevelled state and the fact that our shuttle now has some interesting new dents in the hull plating.” He threw up his arms in exasperation and sent a look that managed to encompass them all in his total incomprehension at their ineptitude. “How?” he demanded “Was it the - the - bird???”

“No.” T’Pol responded as though that should have been obvious. “It was the tree that Ensign Mayweather and Commander Tucker removed from their sacred forest. That tree.” She pointed to the mangled specimen that, by now, had anointed the shuttle bay floor with a veritable pile of sharp green needles. Exhibit B, the incontrovertible evidence of Trip’s folly.

“Tree.” Stated Archer. “A sacred tree! Just what the hell were you thinking Trip?”

“Aw hell, Captain, there were thousands of them, we didn’t think taking just the one would cause any offence. We didn’t know the godamn forest was a holy ground!” Trip protested. “After Hoshi managed to negotiate for us to take home a turkey……………”

“For crying out loud……have you lost your mind?” exploded Archer. “Did you fall under the influence of some hallucinogenic drugs while you were down there? That is not a turkey, it’s got two godamn heads for starters…….any more than that is a Christmas tree! For which you have forfeited us any possibility of either learning any more about a new species, or, any chance of getting hold of any more of that crystal should Sub Commander T’Pol find a use for it!”

“Well Sir, when you put it like that………..it‘s just that we didn‘t know…..”

“….that each tree represented the soul of an ancestor.“ Supplied T’Pol as she fixed a venomous look upon the mortified engineer. There was a lengthy, uncomfortable pause while Archer came to a decision.

“Do you know what Trip?” He said at last. “You can just forget all about Christmas, because when I’m done with you, you won’t feel even remotely like celebrating, is that understood?”

“Sir…….?”

“You and Ensign Mayweather can start with removing those trellium ores from the walls of the transportation device…..with a godamn pickaxe if you have to.” Trip stiffened.

“Permission to speak freely sir?” He asked.

“Denied……………and dismissed!” Fumed Archer. “Oh, after you’ve removed the greenery and swept up those pine needles!” With that, Archer turned smartly on his boot heels and left the shuttle bay.

The three remaining members of the ill-fated Away mission exchanged looks.

“Oh……….dear.” Hoshi said and looked glum.

“Exactly.” T’Pol concurred with a slight inclination of her head towards the linguist.

“If you ask me……….”

“Which we were not!” T’Pol interrupted Trip and blazed him with a scorching two-thousand-yard stare, into which she managed to encapsulate more contempt for him than Trip had ever thought it possible for an allegedly unemotional species to feel towards anybody. I guess I can kiss goodbye to any more neural pressure sessions in T’Pol’s cabin he thought, but not to be outdone he added “…..I think the Captain’s being rather harsh…..”

17.23 hrs

“Well, I for one am not at all sorry that Commander Tucker’s Christmas jamboree has been cancelled.” Sniffed Lt. Reed. “Serves him right. Idiot.”

“That’s a superior officer you’re dissing…just thought I’d mention it.” Hissed Travis Mayweather.

“Hardly behaves like one!” Retorted Reed with considerable venom.

Just what is it with this guy???? Mayweather thought quietly to himself as he gathered some heavy-duty equipment together; apparently Captain Archer had been entirely serious about wanting the trellium ore that had fused itself into the transportation cabinet walls removed by whatever means necessary. Mayweather found the British Armoury Officer hard work at the best of times, but his gloating over the scuppering of Trip’s plans for Christmas seemed entirely out of place, if not entirely over the top.

“Hey! You guys, are you supposed to be helping, or what?” Trip’s voice floated over the top of some storage crates. Mayweather shot Reed a loaded look that said don’t even think about letting Commander Tucker see how happy you are about this………………before he picked up his tools and stomped off. Reed reluctantly followed on after Mayweather full of conviction that it was rather rum that he should be expected to help him and Tucker - it was their punishment duty after all.

Mayweather saw that Trip had been hard at work chipping away the trellium ore from the walls of the Transportation Device.

“Can’t do a damn thing about where it’s actually fused into the wall substance though.” Trip said. “The best we can do is smooth down the walls and give them a new coat of radiation-proof paint. It’s about as good as Cap’n Archer can expect……it’s that or leaving holes in the walls, and I guess he won’t like that idea much.”

“I don’t like the idea of this whole device. I don‘t trust this thing one bit.” Responded Reed with feeling. “If you ask me it’s an exceedingly dodgy idea in the first place, I mean to say, who would want to have their body dematerialised molecule by molecule, atom by atom, and then be beamed out into space. Whoever thought of it ought to be put up against a wall and shot!………repeatedly.”

Trip and Mayweather exchanged glances. The Brit wasn’t exactly know for holding forth, but he certainly had his issues with this device…….and Christmas, apparently.

“Maybe that’s why we don’t use it to transport people……yet.” Trip said stonily as he prepared to smooth down a patch of wall with a sander. “But I have no doubt that, once the boffins back at the Sloane Institute have perfected it, we’ll all beaming around all over the place and having a real good time doing it!” He beamed a huge, cheesy smile at the British lieutenant.

“Terrific!” Muttered Reed. “Given the choice, I’d rather endure your defunct Christmas Party…..” He favoured Trip with a smirk of his own. “Sir”. He added rather belatedly. Mayweather looked pained at this latest development , while Trip put down his tool and glared at the Armoury Officer.

“And just what is your problem with Christmas anyway?” He demanded aggressively. “Your schedule don’t include any fun?”

“It’s childish……and pointless. And if you want my opinion - and you obviously do since you asked the question - we have better things to be getting on with; there’s the small matter of the Xindi and this Delphic Expanse we have to get through.”

“That ain’t it.” Stated Trip. “If you want my opinion, and you probably don’t, I’d say you have a problem with Christmas because you don’t know how to have a good time, either that or you’ve forgotten how.”

“Whatever, Sir, with your permission, I’d rather like to get this task finished.” Reed snatched up a tool and began hammering away at a lump of trellium ore with great alacrity.

“Well you heard the lieutenant, Travis, let’s get to work!” Trip recommenced working with his sander and for a while, the room was filled with the sound of power tools.

17.23hrs

Sub Commander T’Pol could hardly believe what she was about to do. It was most illogical to suggest to the Captain that Commander Tucker should be allowed to go ahead with his ‘social’ after all, and yet, here she was on her way to the Captains quarters. Maybe, she thought, it had been the fact that Trip had spoken of his ‘Christmas’ as being an important family ritual for him. T’Pol’s own family observed their Vulcan rituals, and it would be illogical to deny that, in the past, Captain Archer and the crew of the Enterprise had proven themselves to be most accommodating in making allowances for her vegetarian diet, and her need for quiet in the corridor outside her quarters so that she could meditate. Her Human colleagues had, mostly, shown her the utmost respect, and to her it seemed only logical that they all offer the same respect to Commander Tucker, even if she was going to have to press the point with the very stressed-out Captain.

Even though she did not understand the Human need for what they called ‘Rest and Recreation’ which seemed to consist of either sleeping, watching ‘movies’ or playing games, it was most obvious to her that the normally alert Commander Tucker was finding it rather hard to focus latterly, and if performing a few ‘rites’ - no matter how strange - would help him refocus, then what would be the harm?

18.05hrs

“For at least three Christmas mornings that I can remember, I was the first up and downstairs to see if Father Christmas had left me a deluxe Pheonix and Control Centre, and every year I was disappointed……..” It was Lt. Reed who was spoke bitterly during a break in their work on fixing the walls of the Transportation Device.

“Hey! I had that!” Said Trip. “That was one great toy……if I’m remembering correctly, it also came with Dr Lily Sloane and Zephram Cochrane action figures!“

“Yeah! I had that too!” Said Mayweather. “I wanted one like……for ever….and I had to wait for ever for it too! My Dad ordered it from Earth and it took months to catch up with our freighter, but boy was it ever worth the wait! I swear when I finally got it, I was the happiest boy alive!”

“Do you remember that you could open up the Pheonix and the figures could sit inside…..oh and it made noises and the hull plates would blow off and the warp nacelles would fold out just like in the original!” Laughed Trip, and then he noticed that he was on the receiving end of some sour looks from the Armoury Officer. “So, er, Malcolm, what did you end up getting instead?” Reed looked crestfallen.

“One year it was a book about Naval history, another year it was a cricket bat - and I have always loathed the game - and I think the last thing was a new pair of rugby boots….for school.”

“Oh man, what a total………..bummer!” Sympathised Mayweather.

“That sucks.” Trip concurred.

“I hated all sports.” Reed added in a quiet voice. “Still do. And I hated school.”

“And no wonder you hate Christmas!” Trip said as he picked up his sander again.

This post has been edited by JulesLuvsShinzon: 07 December 2005 - 07:34 AM

[Captain_Hair]

I'm going to move this to the fan fiction section.
*zoink*

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

^^^Ooops! My bad..I posted it in the wrong place by mistake. Thanks for sticking it in the right place..much appreciated!

PART TWO.........

18.11hrs


“Okay.” Captain Archer could feel a yet another headache coming on. “We’re talking about the same man who was prepared to jeopardise an Away Mission to satisfy his cravings for turkey and mistletoe, and who I have had to discipline, and that you now believe deserves a party? Sorry, Sub Commander, but I don’t see the logic.” Archer absently put down a hand and stroked the top of Porthos’ head as he spoke, and suddenly T’Pol had an idea.
“I admit that the logic is not easy to ascertain in this situation, but during my time aboard Enterprise I have observed that Humans have a need to ‘occasionally let their hair down’ - as Commander Tucker would phrase it. I have also observed that failure to have sufficient recreational activities leads to crew members acting…..irrationally… I believe that Doctor Phlox would describe it as symptomatic of being ‘under stress’”. T’Pol paused to let the words sink in; looking at the dog, Porthos, enjoying the stroking he was receiving, she knew she now had another tack to try if this ploy failed.
“Sub Commander, we are all facing the greatest challenges we’ve had since we first left Earth, and we are all under stress! I’m afraid that does not excuse Commander Tucker’s behaviour; the ban stands.” Archer watched as T’Pol pressed her face into it’s customary pout. “You obviously disagree. That or the ‘odours’ from Porthos are causing you discomfort.”
“I disagree.” T’Pol stated flatly, although she always had to fight to keep her nose from wrinkling every time she was in the Captain’s quarters.
“Oh really?”
“Yes. It is also illogical to give sanctions against a member of your crew, when you yourself have been guilty of the same thing.” Archer snatched his hand away from the top of Porthos’ head.
“I beg your pardon?” He demanded hotly. “Would you care to explain that last remark?”
“I seem to recall that in recent times you managed to cause offence when your ……dog…..used a tree for a latrine and it turned out to be a sacred tree.”
“That was my dog!” Archer pressed a hand to his forehead. “It was a mistake! Porthos is dumb animal! Commander Tucker is - allegedly - a trained officer!”
“And I seem to recall that the natives did not appreciate that distinction.” T’Pol replied coolly.

The NX01 Command Centre - December 25th - 08.00 hrs.



“That is completely illogical.” T’Pol, who was not given to showing any emotion whatsoever, almost exclaimed. “I do not see the logic in deliberately performing an action that one would have cause to regret for the entire following year.” She added in a dry tone and that odd quirk of her eyebrow. “Besides that” she nearly frowned, “regret is an emotion.”
“Well there y’go!” Said Trip Tucker expansively. “You, Sub Commander can truly afford to really let your hair down tonight in the knowledge that in the morning, you won’t be feeling any pain!”
“In all probability….not….” again the brow, “since I do not drink…..alcohol.” T’Pol allowed her full lips to curve around the name of the intoxicating substance with a moue of distaste. “And it would appear that the main focus of your Human ‘Christmas’ rites that you intend for this evening, will be the consumption of this substance to a level well beyond that which is wise. Therefore, I…….regret….that I will have to decline your invitation to join you and the rest of the crew in the mess Hall this evening.”
T’Pol turned her back on Trip and continued to analyse the results she had obtained from the crystalline substance they had found on the planet that Trip had now dubbed ‘Planet Christmas’. In exasperation, Trip threw his arms wide open.
“T’Pol don’t be such a stick in the mud!” He protested. “It’s thanks to you that this thing got floated again……….” The cool Vulcan compressed her lips further and shot a look back at him over her shoulder.
“Don’t make me regret doing so.” She said and rotated her head back towards her monitor.
“T’Pol, Sub Commander, I would regard it as a personal favour if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to the Mess Hall Christmas Party……” Trip pleaded. “I-in fact, I would take it personally if you turned me down…………..” With an almost-sigh, T’Pol turned back to the engineer,
“And what would I be turning down - exactly? You or the… party? You would not be….asking me out on a ………I believe you Humans refer to it as a …..date?” She enquired, her gaze penetrating, as Trip was once again reminded of the way she had reacted to the way he reacted when she removed her top during their first neural pressure session. He frowned, the woman really was impossible; he wondered how Vulcan men and women on her Homeworld ever got things together. With one very notable exception, all the Vulcans he had ever met were distinctly reluctant to talk about sex….and as for actually doing it - well, that had been almost impossible for him to even begin to imagine; at least before the neural pressure sessions with T’Pol and those had filled his mind with all manner of titillating imagery.
“No…..unless you ,er, wanted to……” Trip saw her expression change the wrong way and he added “I’m really only asking you to mingle with the crew in what will be a not entirely unpleasant experience.” Trip regarded her doubtful pout and went on “You’ll like it, everyone’s going - even the Captain - after I persuaded him. You can trust me…..and I’ve got a li’l surprise lined up for our Mister Reed.”
“A ‘surprise’?” T’Pol echoed in a flat voice.
“Yeah! He’ll love it!” Then Trip’s expression fell slightly. “At least I think he will….can’t really tell with him. Anyway, it was Travis’ idea…..so I’ll just blame him instead! Now, Sub Commander….Whaddya say to a li’l Christmas cheer?”

10.00hrs

“It looks like Commander Tucker finally got his own way!” Doctor Phlox said cheerfully to Hoshi Sato as he squashed some Megadonian bat poo between the chubby pads of his fingers and sniffed it. “Oh dear, we can’t seem to get you in the mood can we?” He addressed this latter remark to the bat. The romantically-challenged creature itself hung upside down in its cage a few feet away. To Hoshi, the creature appeared rather despondent and she felt a little sorry for it, imprisoned - as most of Phlox’s live specimens were - in a rather small cage. The female hung sulking in another cage, next to hissing snake which lay arranged in iridescent coils in a Perspex tank. As usual, sickbay smelt like a mixture of antiseptic and zoo, a fragrance that had been remarked upon at one time or another - by most of the Enterprise crew - as being one which made you really have to think hard about exactly how bad you were feeling before venturing forth to consult the ship’s medical officer. Hoshi could only concur with this generally held opinion; she thought that Phlox was a sweet man, but some aspects of his practice - and certainly his personal habits - were not things to dwell upon too closely, and certainly not too close to a meal.
“Actually, I’m pleased for Trip.” Hoshi said brightly. “I think we could all do with a party, and I think that once the Captain gets into the swing of things, he’ll have a good time too. Do you know if Sub Commander T’Pol will be going?” she added with wide-eyed innocence, when In fact, she thought the likelihood of the disapproving Vulcan joining her Human colleagues in a frivolous shindig, about as likely as a deputation of Xindi fetching up with a crate of sake and asking if they could wish the crew a heartfelt Merry Christmas.
“Hmmm, I have no idea what the Sub Commander’s plans are, I only know that Commander Tucker had it in mind to invite her along. Which reminds me, I did promise him that I would look into making my own contribution - have you any ideas? I thought I would look ‘Christmas’ up on the ship’s database.”
“Well….” Hoshi appeared to ponder for a moment and then snapped her fingers. “I know! I took breakfast in the Mess Hall this morning and I did think that it looked a little, well, bleak to hold a party in. Maybe you could assist me with the decorating……..”




18.30hrs.


“Come on inside!” Doctor Phlox invited. “Ensign Sato and I have been very busy!” Phlox favoured Trip Tucker with one of his unfeasibly long grins and stood aside to let him see how he had made the normally Spartan mess fit for the forthcoming festivities. It did indeed look very different to the way it had been just a few hours previously; but there were some items that caught Trip’s attention immediately and he found himself doing a triple-take.
“Oh Lord, are they…………..?” He spluttered in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me they’re…..” Phlox grinned most alarmingly and Trip felt himself losing the will to live I knew I should never have let him loose in here…….what’s Captain Archer gonna think? he thought wildly to himself. Meanwhile Phlox was burbling away happily
“…………so I looked up ‘Christmas’ on the ship’s database, paying particular attention to the portion on ‘Christmas Parties’ and discovered that the traditional adornments for party venues included balloons, but unfortunately we didn’t have any of those and so I used my initiative.”
“Oh….Lord!” Trip wanted to put his head in his hands and weep, but still Phlox continued on.
“It turns out we had plenty in stock…….standard issue; but they come in quite an array of ‘festive’ colours……….”
At that moment Hoshi Sato arrived carrying a large box and stood behind Trip, she let out a giggle and said “Oh my! Are they……………?”
Trip could feel himself growing redder by the moment and he could only nod his affirmation at the giggling Hoshi.
“’Fraid so.” Was all he could eventually manage to say.
It turned out that Hoshi’s own contribution to the decking out of the Mess Hall was considerably more decorative, and to Trip’s relief, considerably less controversial. She had spent most of the afternoon making dozens of origami birds and angels and she hung them about the large room, and when she had finished they fluttered delicately in the slight air currents from the ship’s life support pumps.
One corner of the Mess Hall was now filled with the once-sacred tree that Trip and Travis had purloined from Planet Christmas. It was still showering the deck with needles, but it was now festooned with origami snowflakes and metal shavings - waste from the earlier repairs made to the transportation cabinet; the only thing that was missing was a pile of Christmas gifts waiting to be opened.
Trip had not had time to organise a ‘Secret Santa’ for the party, but he had been able to arrange one gift at least and this was now being carried in with some ceremony by Travis Mayweather, who halted when he saw Phlox’s idea of Christmas bunting.
“Holy cow!” He whooped and broke into gales of raucous laughter. “I didn’t even know we had such things on board……that is way too funny, Doc you are a genius!” Travis’ reaction set Hoshi off again, and in spite of himself and his anxiety over what his two senior officers might make of it, he joined the hilarity. Still laughing, Travis carried the large gift - which he had carefully wrapped in grease-proof paper from the ship’s galley, upon which he had drawn crudely rendered holly leaves with big red berries - across the room and placed it carefully under the shedding alien pine tree.

19.00hrs

Having already caved into T’Pol’s relentlessly logical argument for reinstating Trip’s party, Captain Archer decided he might as well go the whole hog and sent around a general order that crew members could wear civilian dress and so when he arrived at the party with Porthos trotting at his heels, he found the normally drab Mess Hall a blaze of unaccustomed colour.
“Aw tell me you wore that as a joke Travis!” Archer could hear Trip joshing the young navigator as he approached.
“Whaddya mean? I bought this shirt last time we were on Earth, it’s Hawaiian!” Archer heard Travis reply and then Hoshi say
“It is a little loud.”
“Hoshi! I’m hurt and I was about to say you look really pretty in that dress!”
“Well it does make a change from that boiler suit.” There was a round of laughter and Archer smiled to himself; it had indeed been a long time since he had that sound on board his ship.
Archer himself had dressed casually in jeans, an open-necked checked shirt and training shoes; his attire feeling strange after continuously having worn uniform and standard-issue boots for so long. As he entered the Mess Hall he saw that Travis was indeed wearing a retina-challenging shirt with white slacks and Hoshi had put on a very pretty silk shift that flattered her slender form. Trip, however, was quite another matter, since he had chosen to show off the upper body development he had been working on in the Enterprise gym with a tight vest and too-tight jeans.
However, none of them were the most arresting sight in the Mess Hall and Archer’s eyes boggled as he noticed that some joker had decked the hall with hundreds of standard-issue prophylactics blown up like balloons. He frowned that just has to be Trip’s idea! He may be out for having a good time tonight but he really doesn’t want to push his luck…………….
Just at that moment, the prime suspect himself breezed past Archer with what looked to be a crate of beers.
“Trip!” Archer called out to him.
“Sir?” Trip replied looking about as shifty as it was possible to get. Damn! The young man thought Archer thinks I’m behind the ‘balloons’! He was all too correct and he saw Archer tip his chin in the direction of an artfully arranged group that Phlox has pinned over the doorway. “Care to explain?” Archer’s tone was grim, and in spite of his innocence, Trip could feel his face flushing pink.
“That wasn’t me! Doctor Phlox…………..” Trip hurried to protest.
“Oh it was Doctor Phlox, naturally!” Archer’s expression turned flinty. “No doubt with a little hinting from you. Is this your idea of a joke?”
“No………..Sir. I honestly had nothing to do with it, and by the time I saw it…….” Trip gestured helplessly at the rapidly filling Mess Hall “………it was too late to take ‘em down.”
Archer was about to make some comment about what the Vulcan Sub Commander might make of it and maybe an arch observation along the lines of well it’s a good job Risa’s not on our itinery this trip, when they both saw Malcolm Reed entering the room. All at once, Archer decided to let this infraction go because he was pleased to see that his stiff, reserved and rather intense young Armoury Officer was actually making the effort to join in - for once. Even the Captain thought if he is a little over-dressed for the occasion and Archer watched as Reed made his uncertain way into the middle of the room. He was dressed in grey, cavalry twill slacks and a navy blue ‘sports jacket’ with some sort of crest on the breast pocket. Worse, he sported a cravat and appeared to have slicked his normally wavy hair into a sleek helmet with a severe side parting dangerously low to one shiny pink ear. To Archer he looked like a bit-part player in a PG Woodhouse vidcast and compared with Mayweather in his garish shirt, Hoshi’s elegance, his lumberjack look and Trip’s caveman, he looked irretrievably out of place. From beside him, Archer heard Trip Tucker give a low wolf whistle which caused the Armoury Officer to wince.
“There you are. I thought I’d find you in the middle of things.” Reed’s - suspiciously-pink face beamed at them both. “Look here, I bought thish as my……contribution….. to the proshheedings, I’ve been shhhhhaving it for a shhpecial occashhion. Just don’t drink it all at once….there’shhhhhhh a good fellow! Good evening Captain. Merry Chrishhhmas and all that! I shay, is that Hosssssssssi? Shhhhe scrubs up well I musht say………….” And having shoved a half-full bottle of Lambs Navy Rum into Trip’s crate, he was off on an intercept course for the lovely linguist.
Both Captain and his third-in-command stared at each other in amazement; it was clear that the normally shy Malcolm had taken more than a few nips of rum before turning out for the party, in all probability to give him the ‘Dutch courage’ to do was about to do. With her back to him, for the moment Hoshi was blissfully unaware that she was being targeted by the Armoury Officer.
“Aw hell, he’s set course and it’s full speed ahead!” Trip said to Archer out of the side of his mouth.
“Well, it certainly looks that way!” Archer said. “He doesn’t strike me as the type who is exactly used to strong liquor, may be you should put that beer down and keep an eye on things.” He fixed Trip with a gimlet-eyed stare. “I did say I didn’t want any trouble.”
“Sir.” Trip acknowledged with great reluctance. From the way Reed was weaving towards Hoshi, he was beginning to wonder whether he didn’t have his work cut for the evening trying to keep his fellow crewmembers out of trouble, let alone trying to have a good time himself. Unfortunately, Trip didn’t quite get there in time to avoid the first trouble of the evening. It was something he would singularly fail to do for the entire night.
Hoshi was still talking to Travis Mayweather when she gave a sudden yelp and wheeled round. Behind her, Travis saw Reed’s smirking, scarlet features beneath a ludicrous coiffure.
“Do you mind!” She snapped.
“I don’t if you don’t!…….Whassa matter?” Reed slurred and strong fumes washed over them both. “It’s Jusssa a li’l playful tap on the bottom.”
“You’re drunk!” Hoshi exclaimed. “Already!” She saw Trip’s large - and mostly capable - hand land on Reed’s shoulder, making any reaction from Mayweather largely redundant.
“Okey dokey…. nice, Malcolm, as it is to see you’ve joined us…” Trip whispered loudly in his ear “you might want to consider only looking and not touching!” He winked at Hoshi. Sorry. “let’s go get some nice strong coffee…..we need to have you in tip-top condition for later on tonight.” He tipped another wink at Mayweather and then made to propel the already inebriated Armoury Officer towards the coffee machine.
“Wha?” Reed swayed under Trip’s steadying hand. “No coffee! I hate coffee, particularly out of that bloody machine! It tasshhtes like mud. I’d far rather have a nisshhee cup of tea!”
“Okay. Tea it is.” Trip grinned tightly and hauled him away to make him sit on a chair by the door. “Stay there. Travis?” He yelled across the room.
“Yo!”
“I gotta go get him some tea. Can you go fetch the rest of the beer?”
“Okay!” Travis took his leave of Hoshi and went to bring the few remaining crates of beer he and Trip had managed to blag from the resident marines; they had been crafty - for they had made it a condition for receiving an invite - since the marines weren’t technically part of the crew.
As Travis and Reed were about to leave the hall together, Sub Commander T’Pol entered, and before Trip could stop him, Reed spluttered. “Blimey! You’re wearing far too many clothesh! For Heaven’s shhake, you look like an archbishop in that clobber!”
If Trip fervently wished for a gag to stop up Reed’s mouth, he also couldn’t deny that what the Brit had said was true. In sharp contrast to the costumes he normally only ever saw her wear- the attire that caused him to take so many early-morning cold showers - T’Pol was decked out in what appeared to him to be full Vulcan ceremonial attire. Apart from the tall headdress that only just cleared the doorway and looked like a couple of Cleopatra’s needles sprouting from the top of her head, T’Pol was - he could only describe it as covered - from chin to toe in a heavy brocaded gown with stiff, wide shoulders and all kinds of curly glyphs - which he took to be Vulcan. Slung around her - normally - slender shoulders was a huge, ugly necklace affair set with massive gemstones, and the hands that had so recently…..and frequently…..deftly administered to - not quite - all his needs, now were almost completely obscured and long, wide sleeves that hung in a most unflattering manner from the swooping shoulders.
Trip could not recall in his entire life when he had ever felt quite so disappointed in anything before. He swallowed; she looked hideous! Somewhere, hidden beneath the turgid folds of her gown, Trip knew there resided the curves of one of the ripest bodies he had ever seen, but it might as well have been entombed in concrete ten feet thick. Beside him, he could feel Mayweather vibrating with ill-suppressed mirth, while she stood before them wearing a grim disapproving expression and taking in the scene.
“It appears that some one has anointed the Mess Hall with……counter STD measures.” she said in a toneless manner - which nevertheless - managed to convey to the entire gathering that had now fallen totally silent through speechlessness, her exact feelings for the Human Rites of ‘Christmas’.
“Well!” Burbled the relentless Reed. “By the looks of you, nobody’s going to be needing them anyway!” He chortled at his own joke, while Trip quickly ran to fetch him some tea.
“That’s enough Lieutenant!” Commanded Archer from the far side of the room. “Any more from you and you’re confined to quarters. Show some respect, is that clear?”
“Essshhtremely clear…..Shah!” Reed popped a salute.

Doctor Phlox was helping the Galley staff to bring in the makeshift Christmas feast. He caught the eye of Captain Archer as he made his way through an applauding crowd with a vast platter, upon which sat Trip’s two-headed turkey.
“So you decided it was edible after all.” Archer said eyeing the strange foul with great suspicion.
“Oh yes, it won’t do any of the human crew any harm at all, but I did want to warn you that Porthos should be kept well away from it. I detected some complex protein molecules in its blood that would cause digestive upsets in canines.”
“Oh, thanks for the warning Doc!” I guess that advice will hold good for me too! The Captain thought.
“It proved to be an interesting species, it’s a shame we have to eat it really. But then again, it would be disappointing for the crew who seem to be most enthusiastic about tonight’s celebrations, and I wouldn’t want to be thought of a ’party pooper’!” Archer knew that Phlox was on a roll now and he resigned himself to listen as the Denobulan medic chatted away. “On examination I discovered that its endocrine system is most complex and I have asked for the Galley to save the ‘giblets’ - I believe is the customary term you use - I have isolated some interesting enzymes that I believe merit further investigation…..as does the fact that it has no structures for excreting solid waste.”
“I’m sorry?” Archer could feel his attention beginning to wander.
“It has no anus !”
“So I heard.”
“Indeed! It would appear that this species recycles everything it consumes, perhaps channelling precious resources into its reproductive cycle.” Phlox explained.
“How fascinating.” Archer replied in a tone that suggested that he was anything but fascinated.
“ Indeed!” the oblivious Doctor continued relentlessly. “I imagine it was rather challenging for the cook to find an orifice in which to place the stuffing!” Phlox fixed the suddenly nauseous Archer with one of his startling smiles. “Anyway, I’d best set this down and ……let the feasting begin!”
“Yeah,” Archer said in a dazed tone, “you do that.” Archer bent down to Porthos and patted the top of his dog’s head. “You hear me? Leave the bird alone! There’s a good boy!”

“Drink it up Malcolm. All of it…. and see to it that you don’t have any more tonight, we need you for later.” Trip had managed to rustle up a cup of tea for the inebriated Armoury Officer; at least it had given him something to do to take his mind off the crushing disappointment over T’Pol’s choice of party attire.
“Your wishhhhh is my command!” slurred Reed taking the cup and spilling a fair portion of the tea into his saucer. He slurped at it noisily and then his bloodshot eyes weaved their way uncertainly up to Trip’s face and he said “What do you want me for anyway?”
“Let’s say we got a li’l surprise for you!” Trip beamed at him and patted him on the shoulder of his ludicrous sports jacket and made to move away.
“A shhurprise! How very nisshhe……what ish it? A date with T’Pol?” He was up on his feet and blocking Trip’s escape route.
“Don’t be crazy!” Trip almost snapped; if he had found Reed trying in the past, it was nothing to how he was finding him now.
“No? Can’t shay I’m that shorry, don’t fancy her in that Vulcan get-up anyway, you can’t shee her……….”
“Malcolm, that’s enough….” warned Trip.
“If you ask me, it’s nowhere near enough……flesh……on show….if you ashk me!”
“Oh fer cryin’ out loud! If you’ll excuse me, I got…….” Trip made to dodge around Reed, but without success.
“Hoshi?” Reed had grabbed the shoulder strap of Trip’s vest.
“What?”
“Hoshi! Ish it a date with Hoshi?” Reed pressed eagerly. Just a few feet away from them both, the woman in question was engaged in conversation with one of the marine officers. Trip fervently hoped that she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“NO!” None too gently, Trip pushed Reed back down onto his seat. “It’s isn’t a date with anybody! “
“Oh that’s a shame! I rather fanshy shome totty.” Reed looked crestfallen and stared into his empty teacup.
“Sorry, can’t oblige you.” And with that Trip marched away to seek out some more congenial company.
All of a sudden there was a loud blast of music that made the entire gathering give a collective yelp, they all turned to see a flustered Mayweather fiddling with the Mess Hall speaker system.
“Sorry people, I got the volume a bit wrong!” He said and then the room filled with the pleasing sound of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas. “Doesn’t sound bad for a two-hundred year old recording, does it?” He said to Trip as the engineer handed him an ice cold beer. “Thanks! I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Let’s drink to our friends….the Marines.”
“Bottoms up!” concurred Trip cheerfully as in perfect unison, the pair tipped up their bottles and took long swigs of beer. “Aaah! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas pal!” Both men touched bottles and turned to survey the result of all their efforts.
The Mess Hall was packed to capacity; with only a skeleton crew manning essential stations - on a promise that they would be relieved and given a chance to attend the party as well - it was an almost one hundred per cent turnout.
“You should be feeling pleased with yourself.” Mayweather said.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, ol’ buddy!” Trip raised his beer bottle again.
“Nah, it was a pleasure. It’s good to see the crew having a good time.”
It was true; they were having a good time. The viewscreen was showing It’s A Wonderful Life without the soundtrack, and the scenes segued wonderfully with Mayweather’s unashamedly sentimental choice of Christmas music.
Captain Archer was wondering around chatting to as many crewmembers as he could and Doctor Phlox was holding court by the food tables, as he helped cook carve the alien turkey and handed around plates to the queue that was beginning to form. The only person who didn’t appear to be having a good time was Sub Commander T’Pol, she stood by the door like a heavily upholstered mountain, wearing an expression that was very close to furious. Everyone else in the room was giving her a wide berth, as it was plain to all and sundry that she really didn’t want to be there and Trip felt a sudden wave of guilt that he had insisted that she came.
“I, er, better go and talk to T’Pol.” Trip said. “She looks kinda lonely over there.”
“Looks a little fierce if you ask me.”
“That too. See ya in a li’l while. Wish me luck!” With that, Trip started to make his was through the crowded room to where T’Pol stood.
“Sub Commander! Glad you could make it!” He said cheerfully, only to be rewarded with the kind of facial expression that would slice through steel. “Having a good time?” He asked helplessly….and pointlessly. T’Pol’s expression grew even fiercer and she blazed him with a stare that - had it come from the business end of a phase pistol - would have dropped him where he stood.
“Do I look like I am having ‘a good time’?” She snapped.
“Maybe not.” Trip was forced to admit. “But you would if you maybe went and tried to converse with a few of the people here.” T’Pol blasted him with another look of pure contempt.
“Commander, I can talk to people every day, I do not see why conversing with people who are having ‘a good time’ will improve the conversational experience for me.”
Trip was at a loss to know how to reply to that bald statement, and for a moment the power of speech deserted the normally garrulous engineer….completely. While he was floundering, he noticed a new expression cross T’Pol’s granite demeanour, one of surprise and then - incredibly - one of complete and utter disgust.
“T’Pol?” He managed eventually, but not before T’Pol’s expression had pulled Captain Archer from his perch by the Mess Hall window and scurrying over to them.
“Sub Commander…is there…a problem?” He asked. It was then that Trip became aware of some strange animal grunting that appeared to be emanating from beneath T’Pol’s Vulcan robe. Trip’s eyes boggled and he wondered if he was hearing things.
“Captain Archer.” Intoned the Vulcan in her matriarchal get-up, her face compressing itself into a look that neither of the human males could accurately read. The T’Pol lifted the heavy hem of her robe and the eyes of both men were inexorably drawn downwards.
“It would appear that your…..dog….is attempting to simulate copulation with….. my leg.” T’Pol’s eyes were flinty shards of ice.
Sure enough, while Archer had been engaged in conversation with one of the marine officers, Porthos had taken his opportunity to slip away and find his own form of entertainment under T’Pol’s Vulcan gown. He was going at it with great gusto.
Trip was so embarrassed he didn’t know where to look and Archer was so mortified that he suffered a momentary paralysis.
T’Pol’s eyes burned loathing into the room, and other crewmembers who had suddenly noticed the new altercation were turning round to look. From somewhere in the room came a low titter and it was that sound that broke Archer out of his inertia. In one swift movement he reached down and grabbed Porthos by his collar.
“No! Stop it! Stop it at once!” He commanded and tried to the haul the beagle away. However, Porthos was having none of it and forced his owner to be as forceful with the dog as he had never been before. Eventually Archer yanked Porthos away from T’Pol’s leg. He was red in the face and sweating. The only saving grace had been that the wall of on-lookers had effectively obscured the scene from the view of Lt Malcolm Reed who was still sitting where Trip had left him, demanding to know what was going on.
“I - am - so -sorry!” apologised Archer as he watched T’Pol’s expression change and an eyebrow rise slowly up her forehead.
“You will be.” She replied.

21.00hrs


“Y’know, it’s kinda funny how people at parties always end up in their usual little cliques.” Mayweather observed to Hoshi as he handed her another beer. “I mean, look at that, the marines are all talking to each other, the senior officers are over there in a little huddle….” He pointed over to the corner of the Mess Hall where Trip, Archer and Doctor Phlox were conversing. “And we…..”
“Ensigns are …..here, talking.” Hoshi finished the sentence for Mayweather, she took a swig of her beer straight from the bottle and then held it up to the light and frowned; then she took another swig and gave a Travis a daffy grin. “I think I shouldn’t have any more of these.” She said.
“Well, we do have to appear all present and correct on duty first thing tomorrow. Trip -er - I mean Commander Tucker’s already been told by the Captain that he’ll be held responsible if any of us fail to make it to muster.”
“That seems a bit hard on the Commander.” Hoshi said and then she leaned close to Mayweather and said “What do you think they’re talking about?”
“The senior officers’ group? Oh, that embarrassing incident with Sub-Commander T’Pol probably!”
“Where is she?” Hoshi enquired. “I don’t think she came back after she stormed out.”
“Would you?” Mayweather chuckled.
“Ooh…. probably not, but then maybe I should feel slighted!”
“Slighted? You? Why?” Mayweather asked, confused.
“Well….” Hoshi explained with an expansive gesture of the hand which was not holding her beer. “Obviously Porthos doesn’t find me attractive!”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Well, I did get myself all dressed up especially!” Hoshi giggled and took another swig of her beer.
“And did I say that you look very attractive in that dress?”
“Several times I think!” Hoshi poked Mayweather playfully in the chest and continued “And did I tell you that your shirt is really very, very loud!”
“Well, I did want to make an impact and it seems that I have. So I will take that as a compliment.” Mayweather smiled again. Up until this evening, he hadn’t really got to know Ensign Sato that well, but he found that he was enjoying talking to her and that she had a pleasing sense of fun, especially after a few beers.
“Do you think Lt. Reed has sobered up yet?” Hoshi asked.
“The state he was in earlier, I imagine it will take him at least a week to get back to normal!” Mayweather replied. “He was in his quarters drinking Rum before he made his appearance!”
“I bet Captain Archer won’t be amused!”
“No-o, probably not, but then I can’t see how he can blame Commander Tucker either….the guy was hammered from the start!”
“Will you still do the surprise?” As one of the party organisers, Hoshi had been let into the secret.
“If he can stand up when the time comes - sure!”

21.00hrs

Sub-Commander T’Pol knelt in her quarters in her pyjamas and tried hard to meditate in front of the lone candle that flickered on the floor. She had been trying to reach a meditative state for at least an hour, but she seemed unable to blot out the images of sights, sounds …..and smells of Commander Tucker’s ludicrous party.
If she had been an emotional being, she might well have better understood the feelings that pulsed through her mind and body as humiliation; as it was, she was trying hard to suppress surges of what she took to be anger, and something even darker……..a desire for revenge. It was all illogical of course; the Captain’s dog was a mere animal following it’s animal instincts and -logically - no one could be held responsible for its behaviour, least of all Porthos, but that seemed to do little to restore her sense of equilibrium or control.
I must ignore these emotions she told herself firmly. I must restore my control. I must not surrender myself to darkness and chaos where there is no order - no logic.
It was fruitless to deny that the ship’s recent encounters with the mysterious race known as the ‘Romulan’ had unsettled her somewhat, since they had bought back memories of myths and legends of Vulcan’s past history she had heard whispered by other pupils during rest periods at school on Vulcan. Anyone caught sharing that kind of unorthodox, illogical tale would have been punished most severely, but even that threat had not deterred some of her friends from indulging in the illicit pastime. The stories of a long distant past when the Vulcan race had been a brutal, savage people whose emotions led inevitably to tribal warfare and mass genocide had been suppressed for a millennium, and yet they persisted in an illegal oral tradition that thrived in Vulcan’s austere schools where children were taught that emotions and impulses were to be shunned and pure logic to be embraced.
T’Pol remembered the last time she had caved into an emotional impulse - once again instigated by the incorrigible Trip, this time with one of his pointless Terran ‘delicacies’ - something called ‘Pecan Pie’ that he had introduced as a food item but was of almost no nutritious value whatsoever. Initially, she had successfully deflected his insistence that she try a slice, but later on - when she knew no one would see her - she carried the last slice on a plate back to her quarters and laid it on the floor. She had stared at it for some time - almost achieving a meditative state doing so - and then she had taken up a spoon and tasted some of the pie. She found that it was almost unbearably sweet to someone who was used to a plain diet - and yet - it was not an unpleasant sensation and as she swallowed the first mouthful, she found that her spoon had automatically cut another portion which she lifted to her lips. She had only intended to try one mouthful, but she ended up eating the whole slice of pie. In the end, the richness had made her sick to her stomach and almost feeling foolish for allowing herself to be seduced by her curiosity about Earth and its strange, illogical customs.
‘Revenge’ was another Human custom T’Pol was not about to try….but then she felt the blood rush once again to her cheeks as she recalled the amused reaction of the other members of the Enterprise crew and something the Denobulan doctor had mentioned to her in passing: ‘I must make sure I remember to tell Captain Archer that the poultry might be harmful to Porthos’- you know what a little thief he can be at times, so it might be best to keep him away from temptation this evening…..’
T’Pol slowly rose from her kneeling position with her eyes narrowed. Ignoring the Vulcan robes that had caused such base hilarity earlier in the evening, she dressed quickly in one of her usual uniforms and left her quarters to rejoin the party.

21.45hrs

Hoshi Sato felt a little giddy and refused another beer when Mayweather offered it to her.
“No, thank you, I’d better not.” She had said politely and excused herself to pay a visit to the heads. Now, as she walked along the corridor to the female facilities, she wondered whether she shouldn’t have said ’no’ at least one bottle earlier and decided that she would only drink coffee for the rest of the evening.
She found that she was the only person in the small room that served the female crewmembers in that part of the ship. Eyeing the empty cubicles with their steel heads and the array of function buttons set in a panel beside them, she was reminded of another one of the many things she didn’t enjoy about life on board ship.
The bathroom facilities on Enterprise were a veritable dignity trap. The heads were made for midgets, there were at least three extra buttons - besides the one that activated the torrential flush - that Hoshi had never been able to work out the functions of, and like almost everything else on the ship, she was wary of touching anything unknown in case a sudden catastrophe occurred which resulted in the crew being forced to abandon ship in those claustrophobic, dodgy-looking ‘life pods’ and land on a Xindi outpost - or something equally worrying.
As was her usual habit, the ever-cautious Hoshi did a quick reconnoitre of each of the empty cubicles, steeling herself to peer cautiously into each steel bowl to ensure that it hadn’t been visited recently by anyone even more perturbed than herself by the mini tidal wave that was launched every time the flush button was hit, and finally satisfying herself that the paper dispenser had contents and was in full working order - and that no one had used it to festoon the interior of the cubicle with paper streamers - a habit that Hoshi always found most perplexing, she answered the call of nature. Afterwards she flung open the cubical door and reaching as far out she could, gave the flush a nervous prod and darted outside the cubicle while an enormous roar sounded and the head erupted into a lively fountain that sent water in all directions, which was then followed by an unpleasant sucking noise that emptied the bowl of it’s contents - a thoughtful, precautionary measure in case the artificial gravity generators should fail.
Hoshi then approached the bank of sinister-looking basins that were mounted on the opposite wall; for Hoshi this was always the most trying part of any visit. The taps were supposed to activate as soon as a hand was placed under the spout, but what happened in practice was that as soon as Hoshi got within two feet of a basin, water spurted out horizontally to wet her clothing and make it look like she’d had an embarrassing accident, which then necessitated a spot of limbo-dancing in front of the hot-air hand dryer. She had often wondered if the male facilities were any better, and then one day had got her answer when Lt. Reed had shot out of the Men’s’ to answer a Red Alert with a hand over his crotch and muttering ‘Bloody useless plumbing!’
If the truth be known, Hoshi Sato still had not really adapted to life in space; almost every aspect of being trapped, as she saw it - in what was essentially a tin can dependent on fantastically complicated machinery even to keep her breathing - kept her awake at nights. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Commander Tucker and his team to keep it properly maintained and in good working order, but even the most vigilant of engineers would be helpless to prevent a total shut-down if the main ship’s computer went off-line and the entire crew suffocating to death. And then there was that term she had heard on several occasions - warp core breach - muttered in almost reverential tones whenever they got into a ruckus with an enemy ship. Hoshi did not know the finer ins and outs of how the ship’s warp-five engines worked, but warp core breach sounded serious enough to her to cause a bolt of anxiety to rip through her every time the Enterprise took a direct hit - an all too frequent occurrence these days.
Hoshi sighed and looked mistrustfully at the bulkhead that was all that separated her from the vast, pressure-less vacuum of space. Life had been so much simpler back on Earth where there had been no Xindi, no constant need to listen out for strange noises that might indicate impending doom, and she didn’t have to live cheek by jowl with a whole bunch of people she still had not had become to well acquainted with - indeed, may never become acquainted with. Of course, in her mildly inebriated state things were feelings were always going to be somewhat amplified, but the fluttering in her stomach when she contemplated what would happen to a human body floating in space without the pressurised protection of an EVA suit was real enough.
Hoshi shuddered and abruptly left. Outside in the airless corridor where the constant throb of the Enterprise’s warp engines could be felt most keenly, and the low hiss of the environmental pumps served as an endless reminder to her that her continuing functioning of her lungs was entirely thanks to machinery with mechanical moving parts which were bound, someday, to wear out and suddenly go phut! - probably without warning; Hoshi contemplated the many signs that informed the crew whereabouts on the ship they were now, and where they were headed for. When she reached the place where corridors intercepted, she saw that there were a plethora of places she could choose to visit; places with names like Store no.2, Stellar Cartography, Hydroponics and Sickbay - all names of places that had never been a part of her life until the day she boarded Enterprise. The names resounded in her head like the tolling of great cracked bell and served only to increase her sense of isolation all the more; Sickbay echoed through Hoshi’s head and then she remembered the melancholy bat who resided therein - the bat who was far too miserable to mate.
That’s what I feel like….she thought …..Doctor Phlox’s bat, stuck in a cage in a very unnatural environment…..a Human being in captivity! and instead of taking the corridor that would lead her back to the throng in the Mess Hall, Hoshi began to walk slowly towards Sickbay.

(TO BE CONTINUED............)

This post has been edited by JulesLuvsShinzon: 07 December 2005 - 07:41 AM

[Kirok]

I've enjoyed this - is there an ending to it? You don't often read Christmas themed Star Trek stories.

Merry Christmas to one and all

Kirok

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

Sorry for the delay..here's the last installment!!



22.00 hrs

So far, Sub Commander T’Pol’s return to the Mess Hall had gone completely unnoticed by her Human colleagues, which suited her purposes well. The Vulcan woman skirted the party by sticking close to the wall and following it around until she located her objective lying all but forgotten on the debris-strewn table. Even Phlox appeared to have deserted his station hovering by the remains of the strange two-headed bird Commander Tucker had brought back with him, and no one saw T’Pol’s face ripple with the dual expressions of disgust and determination as she reached into the carcass and plucked out a morsel strong-smelling roasted flesh. As it happened, she was just in time and she quickly moved away as two MACOs who had just arrived at the party went to help themselves to what little was left of the bird.
“OK, a turkey with two heads is kinda random, but I still say it’s a whole lot less weird than spending the holidays with my mother-in-law in Arkansas!” T’Pol heard one of the MACOs remark to his companion as he forked pieces of meat onto two plates. “Hey, Bubba, we even got two wishbones to make a wish apiece!” he continued to his friend “You fancy pulling one with me?”
“Sure buddy!” The other one said and then eyeballed T’Pol standing nearby watching them both with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “The Vulcan’s watching us. What do you think she makes of all this?”
“Who cares?” Said the first MACO as he yanked out one of the wish bones. “Make a wish!”
“Okay, I wish that I could have a date with that purty young Ensign Sato. Howzat?”
“You’re not supposed to tell on what you’re wishing klutz!” The two men pulled the wishbone apart.
“I got the biggest part, so I get to……….okay, I made wish. Wanna know what it is?”
“I thought you just said that we weren’t supposed to tell anyone……okay, tell me, what did you wish for?”
“I wish that goddamn pointy-eared vixen would quit looking at us like we have our pants down around our ankles, that what I wish. Sheesh! That woman never has any other expression on her face other than like a slapped backside, kinda getting fed up with that buddy!”
“I know what you mean, she is in serious need of attitude readjustment.”
“Yeah, them Vulcan’s get away with a lot, just ‘cos they’re aliens and all. To me they’re all just plain rude!”
“That, my old friend, is what I would call a total understatement. I’d like to see the whole lot of then pointees rounded up and deported all the way back to Planet Pointee PDQ. We don’t need those arrogant sons of bitches anymore, that is for certain.”
“Yeah, like ‘so long and thanks fer nothing!”
T’Pol turned away from them and if she had been Human her cheeks would have been burning; as it was, the MACOs just hardened her resolve to find Porthos and ensure that at least one source of threat of further humiliation aboard this Earth ship was permanently neutralised.

In another part of the crowded Mess Hall Travis Mayweather was making a quick assessment of Malcolm Reed’s fitness to take a joke; to him the Brit didn’t look in too bad a shape considering he had tipped most of a bottle of Lamb’s Navy Rum down his neck earlier in the evening.
“Okay, pay attention sir, how many fingers am I holding up right now?” The young man asked him.
“Very funny I’m sure.” Snapped Malcolm as he sipped his fourth cup of tea of the evening.
“Ah ah ah! You haven’t told me how many fingers I’m holding up!”
“Okay, three. Now why don’t you just go along and amuse yourself elsewhere?”
“Do you know what? Sometimes you’re a hard man to like!” Travis, who had by this time imbibed rather more than his usual tolerance level, had become somewhat artificially emboldened and a little too dismissive of the fact that Malcolm Reed outranked him.
“Is that a fact?” Reed said in a crisp tone. “You’ll like me even less when I report you for insubordination!”
“Aw get a life buddy!” Travis exclaimed. Reed was about to respond when they were both interrupted by Trip Tucker and Hoshi Sato, the latter looking a little flushed and more than a little pleased with herself.
“Am I interrupting something?” asked Trip innocently when he saw the angry look on Reed’s face.
“As it happens………” Reed began.
“Nothing at all!” Travis said quickly and ran an appreciative eye down Hoshi’s slender form which made her even more flushed.
Suddenly Trip froze and it took the others a little while to notice he had become very still. It was Travis that noticed first that something was up with him.
“Trip….? You okay?” He said, worried by the intense expression that his friend was wearing as he stared back at him.
“Travis…” Trip ground out slowly “……..don’t move….just don’t move……”
“What’re you staring at?” Travis said in alarm as his friend regarded him as though he had suddenly grown another head, while beside him he heard Hoshi loudly gasp.
“Travis, you have…no don’t look! phlox! Someone get security!” Trip suddenly became animated as Malcolm Reed who had quietly been fulminating upon Travis’s lack or proper respect for a higher-ranking officer eyeballed the snake that was peering over Travis’s shoulder, a snake that had a pulsating sphincter for a face.
“Excuse me, I’ll take care of this!” Shouted Malcolm Reed as he leapt out of his seat, grabbed a phase pistol and aimed it at Travis’s shoulder. Travis’s eyes followed the direction of the aim and he yelped in horror.
“Holy cow what is that? Getitoffme……getitoffme……holy phlox!”

“Oh, eeeeuuuuuuwwwwwwwww!” Exclaimed Hoshi somewhat unhelpfully.
“Malcolm what the hell are you doin’?!” Yelled Trip as he tried to wrestle the phase pistol from Reed’s surprisingly fierce grip. “you can’t fire that thing in here!”
“Gerroff!” Snarled Reed as he struggled with Trip, the firing nozzle of the phase pistol pointing wildly and indiscriminately about the crowded room. “I told you I will deal with this, it’s my job.”
“Okay….Malcolm….put down the gun.” The calm voice of Major Hayes, the senior MACO, soothed through the mayhem like Gaviscon on a bad case of heartburn. “Give the gun to me, Malcolm.”
“Certainly bloody won’t!” Retorted Reed fixing Hayes with a gaze full of loathing borne of several weeks’ worth of feeling sidelined by the beefy MACOs. “Why don’t you just bog off? I’m sick and tired of you and your fellow primates stomping round the bloody Enterprise like you own it! Go on sling your hook and let a real professional do his work!”
“That’s enough!” Jonathan Archer was making his way through the crowd towards the melee. “What in hell is going on here? Trip? Malcolm, Travis?…….Hayes?” The captain’s eyes made a swift assessment of the heated situation between his men while the faceless snake slid quietly down Travis’s front and dropped harmlessly onto the floor.
“The guy pulled a gun.” Explained Hayes.
“Malcolm put the gun away, you don’t get your weapon out on this ship unless there’s a an immediate threat, and certainly not at a Christmas party!”
“There is an immediate threat, Sir, look……….” Reed swivelled his eyes back to Travis and Archer watched them widen in shock. “………At least there was.” Travis also stopped panicking when he realised that the snake was no longer on his shoulder, but his relief quickly turned to anxiety over where it had gone.
“Exactly what are you talking about?” Archer demanded having expected to at least see a Xindi standing behind Mayweather. “I don’t see anything. What was is in that rum stuff? You are to return to your quarters and stay there until further notice….until I decide what to do with you. Dismissed!”
“But Sir!” Protested Reed.
“You heard me, move it! Trip? I think it’s about time we wrapped this up, I’ve had just about as much of this tomfoolery as I can stomach.”
“Yes sir. Okay you heard the Captain, party’s over!” Trip clapped his hands together as though he were trying to move a herd of recalcitrant cattle. Slowly and reluctantly, people began to drift towards the door of the Mess Hall, while the snake slithered unnoticed across the floor until it was pounced upon by an Andorian Crab Spider that had broken off from building itself a spectacular web under the food table. The spider made short work of the snake and it wobbled off on its twelve hairy legs, roughly four times it had been, and recommenced spewing out strings of an ectoplasm-like substance from which it swung happily from one end of its straining web to the other, until it encountered a mobile carnivorous plant squatting beside the web with it’s quivering maw poised ready with minute poison-tipped fangs.
It took a while, but the room eventually emptied of people - all except Archer and Tucker who surveyed the ruins of the party with bleak expressions.
“I don’t need to tell you, do I, that I’m making you OIC of clearing up this mess?” Said Archer blandly and favouring Trip with an I-told-you-so expression pasted across his long face.
“No, Captain, you do not.” Trip replied with weary resignation plastered all over his.
“Good. Then I’ll bid you good night then and oh, I almost forgot…………..merry Christmas! Porthos!…………………….Porthos?”







The Morning After…..

Ensign Hoshi Sato could barely remember anything that had happened the previous evening. After a certain point, her memory must have become affected by all the beer she had imbibed, leaving her with a load of vague concerns that she had perpetrated some misdeed that had caused Captain Archer to call a premature halt to the party. In an attempt to jog her memory she was busy retracing her steps from the time she left the ladies’ heads, while there seemed to be some kind of party still going on in her head - one to which she was not invited.
When she reached the interchange of corridors with the various direction signs, she remembered that she had decided to head for sickbay. Sickbay she told herself would also be a wise choice this morning, then she did a quick inventory of herself to decide how bad she really felt. Do I really feel bad enough to want to risk one of Phlox’s remedies? Maybe so, and actually lying down on a bio-bed with some slimy bug strapped to my forehead would be okay by me if it meant my head would soon stop pounding.

In Sickbay, Captain Jonathan Archer was in the process of recovering from yet another night spent in Dr Phlox’s company. His dog, Porthos, was now resting comfortably in his dog bed, but it had been a long, worrying night. After the party, he had found Porthos under the food table, lying on his side and breathing in a rasping, laboured way; he had been violently sick, but that proved to be nothing compared to what emerged later from the other end; even the implacable Phlox had been moved to comment on its grossness. Archer himself may well have thrown up from the smell alone had he not been so preoccupied with worry for his faithful pet. Now, as he emerged stiffly from the curtained-off bed where he had spent a fitful night, he could see the doctor bustling around his sickbay and humming tunelessly to himself. He stopped when he saw Archer.
“Ah there you are! I trust the patient is sleeping soundly?” Phlox said cheerfully, threatening one of his freaky grins.
“Yes, out like a light. That was a close shave.” Archer replied, his voice thick with tiredness and sudden emotion. “I really thought I was going to lose him this time.”
“I know, poor fellow. I don’t believe I have ever seen faeces like it before. Extraordinary! And so much of it!” Phlox burbled happily while Archer’ stomach churned. “In fact, I’ve kept a sample for further analysis. I have quite a collection of faecal matter, you know, fascinating stuff to study, you can learn so much from what creatures pass.”
“Really?” was all Archer could manage in reply.
“I think it would be wise for Porthos to remain here for a time, just so that I can keep an eye on his progress - if you’re in agreement?”
“Sure, I have to go on duty in a quarter of an hour, but I’ll keep stopping by to check on how he’s doing. By the way Doc, that’s another one I owe you, thanks for saving Porthos’s life.”
“Oh, it was nothing, that’s what I here for and dogs are not the strangest creatures I have had to work on you know.” This time Phlox did do one of his incredible grins.
“Well, again, thanks.”
The door opened to admit Hoshi Sato and immediately saw the Captain there in front of her. Because it was too late for her to turn around, she moved timidly into Sickbay, her headache increasing to astounding proportions. Archer gave her a very hard look and addressed the doctor.
“Okay, I’m going to my quarters now, I’m going to take a shower, get a bite to eat and then I’m going to hurl the book at a few of my crewmen……starting with Ensign Sato here. Report to my quarters in twenty-five minutes and you’d better be ready with an explanation!” With that, Archer left a worried linguist staring in his wake.
“Oh dear.” Hoshi said in a tremulous voice. “It’s worse than I thought!” Phlox gave her a quizzical look and Hoshi felt herself grow red in the face as the memories from the night before returned with a vengeance; she had not lost them, they had merely been misplaced.
“I came to say I’m sorry.” Hoshi said in a small voice.
“I hate to be the one to say this, but ‘sorry’ might prove a little inadequate when it comes to facing Commander Tucker, he was the one who had to round them all up.” Phlox said in mock sternness. “I was otherwise occupied here. It seems that someone ignored my warnings not to feed any of the roast poultry to Porthos, he was very ill indeed.”
“Oh, oh dear!” Hoshi exclaimed. “Is he going to be alright?”
“Yes, I believe so. The application of Venusian leeches sucked the toxins out of his system.”
“Oh I’m relieved to hear that.” Hoshi said suddenly wanting not to hear any more talk of leeches since her own stomach was feeling a little unsettled. “I’m still sorry for what I did, I don’t know what came over me, it was such a stupid thing to do.”
“Oh well, what’s done is done………” The doctor said in a kindly voice.
“You’re not making this easy!” Hoshi said.
“Easy? Everything is back as it should be and no lasting harm was done. I think you Humans have a saying - least said soonest mended?”
“You’re being too nice, and I feel so bad.”
“You’d rather I shouted at you?” Phlox asked perplexed.
“Well, maybe not shout. I imagine the Captain will do that when I go and see him.”
“Probably.” Said the doctor. “But in actual fact, you did me a favour!”
“Favour? How so?” It was Hoshi’s turn to be puzzled.
“Oh yes, it appears that my poor old Bats need to be free in order to mate. Thanks to you, they enjoyed a night of unfettered copulation in the Armoury and I’m very pleased to say that it was successful. We won’t be running short of bats I’m pleased to say!”
“Oh, well that’s alright then!” Was all that Hoshi managed to say as Phlox’s face split into a very disturbing grin.

**

“Come in!” Captain Archer ordered as Hoshi Sato stood outside his quarters trying not to tremble too visibly.
Now that he had eaten and freshened-up and now that Porthos was out of danger, Archer felt a little more relaxed himself - not that he was going to betray this to any of the crewmen who were on his schedule for carpeting, and he had a full roster of reprimands to be handed down.
“Take a seat Ensign.” Hoshi did as she was bid. “It strikes me that you have a little too much time on your hands.” Archer began without preamble. “Certainly when you put your mind to causing trouble on board my ship, you do it with flair and imagination. Look likes we need to keep you it bit better occupied.”
“I am very, very sorry for……….” mumbled Hoshi.
“Oh you don’t get away with it that easily!” cut in Archer. “All I’m going to say to you is that you’d better get used to that shuttlecraft crewman, Because from now on you will be first choice to accompany every away mission we undertake, is that clear? It appears we’ve been under-using you and since Sub Commander T’Pol was impressed by your performance during our last sortie, you’d better make sure that universal translator is in good working order. Clear? Dismissed.” Hoshi couldn’t help it but her mouth was hanging open in amazement. “Did I not say you were dismissed?” Archer snapped. Hoshi leapt to her feet and exited from the Captain’s quarters like a scalded rabbit. Once outside, she experienced conflicting emotions of relief at not being given a horrible detail like cleaning the heads as a punishment, mingled with apprehension that she would be facing a lot more potentially dangerous situations in the future. As much as living aboard the Enterprise caused her daily anxieties, outside in space or on strange new worlds was always worse.
As Hoshi headed towards the Bridge and her duty shift, there was some new emotion rising up within her which felt curiously like elation; she had expected to the Captain to at least give her a formal reprimand to go on her record - not something that was akin to a promotion.

**
If Sub Commander T’Pol had been human she might have started to feel regret over what she had happened to Porthos. The scene, as it played out after the party was over in the Mess Hall, had not been a pretty one and the much anticipated demise of the Captain’s canine companion had looked as though it might be rather messy and traumatic. T’Pol had hoped that the dog would just keel over and die instantly and that Doctor Phlox wouldn’t be suspicious enough to carry out an autopsy; it was just a dog after all, but ’just a dog’ had not alerted her to the fact that the dog would be rushed to Sickbay and Jonathan Archer would be left on the verge of utter panic. To make matters worse, after all that chaos and mess, the dog had survived and Phlox had easily determined that it had been poisoned. Now the Captain was on the warpath because he and Phlox had been careful that everyone at the party was told not to feed the dog. T’Pol didn’t know if Archer suspected her right off the bat, the testimony of the two MACOs who had insulted her race and who had witnessed her lurking suspiciously (for an avowed vegetarian) close to the bird had been damning enough. It was true, they had been forced to admit, that neither one of them had actually seen T’Pol take any meat but she sure had looked ‘shifty’, and now the Captain wanted ‘a word’ with her in his quarters. To the logical Vulcan, the signs were ominous.
When she reached the closed door of the Captain’s quarters, T’Pol hesitated before alerting him to the fact that she was there. To her, the Human Captain’s attachment to the malodorous creature was beyond understanding, but she had observed during her time on Earth that Humans had a tendency to keep all kinds of creatures as ‘pets’, and as illogical as it all was to her, they often preferred these ‘pets’ to some people. However she felt about this pointless Human habit, she knew she had crossed the line with Archer and there would be a big price to pay.
T’Pol answered the Captain’s terse “Come in” and took the seat he offered her; he was a study in barely repressed fury and his eyes blazed at her while she looked coolly back at him. “What is the condition of your dog?” T’Pol asked in seeming innocence. She was a Vulcan and she would not show a flicker of emotion, it was making Archer crazy.
“Improving.” Was all the Captain said while he watched her expressionless face for any sign of guilt, even though he knew he would not see one. “I’ll come directly to the point; did you feed my dog any meat from that bird?” He craned in closer in an effort to ascertain anything at all from the stoic Vulcan; T’Pol’s expression, or lack of it, did not change.
“I did not give any meat to your dog.” Was all T’Pol said.
“You’re lying!” Archer almost shouted and was about to launch into the fact that the two MACOs had seen her near the table, when he saw a most un-Vulcan-like look of distain cross T’Pol’s serene features.
“Vulcans do not lie.” She said simply and that was the simple truth. What was not so simple was that she had told the truth when she said she did not physically give the meat to Porthos; that she had dropped the meat on the floor close enough to be a temptation to the dog, would be a subtlety that the Human Captain would not pick up on.
Jonathan Archer knew that he was scuppered, just as he still knew that in some way she had been involved - somehow - but he could not get past the fact that he knew Vulcans did not lie, and when T’Pol told him that she had not poisoned his dog he had no choice but to believe her. He gave out a sigh knowing that he would never get to the bottom of this and he had to let it go.
“Okay.” He said after a long pause during which he eyeballed her steadily and she sat impassively under his gaze. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you.” T’Pol said, inclining her head and taking her leave. Archer put in a call to Sickbay.
“Doctor Phlox, Archer here. How is Porthos?” He said watching the door close behind his First Officer.
‘Well he’s still asleep, but I think he’s having some nice dreams. Don’t worry Captain, Porthos will be fine.’
**

“Commander Tucker you look like phlox!”
“Thank you Travis. Funny, that’s just how I feel!” Trip Tucker had been up all night putting the Mess Hall back into its normal state. The tree - now just a sad collection of twigs - and all the trimmings had been despatched to the recycling plant, the needles all swept up, the chairs and tables back into their usual formation. Trip had donned rubber gloves to pull down Phlox’s makeshift balloons and dispose of them. What had taken considerably longer than the cosmetic repairs of the mayhem caused by Porthos’s illness and the usual party flotsam, was the rounding up of Phlox’s menagerie that had unaccountably escaped from Sickbay. He had managed to get most of the creatures back into their cages after a ship-wide hunt, but there was still a snake and an Andorian Crab Spider unaccounted for and the likely reason was sill squatting on a high shelf and snarling venomously at Trip. The carnivorous plant had pulled itself up onto the shelf by its root system and waved savage-looking poisonous fronds at Trip every time he tried to make an approach. Trip was wondering is he was going to need the help of the MACOs in full body armour to coax it down, when Travis arrived looking far better than he had any right to after all he had drunk the night before.
“I’m gonna need your help buddy. See that - that triffid up there?” Trip said giving the snarling, snapping plant an evil stare.
“Triffid?” Travis replied, confused at to what his friend meant.
“Yeah, that plant critter up there, I need you to help me hook it down, but watch it, it’s a vicious sonofabitch. It bites.” Where Trip came from, the most dangerous livestock he ever had to think about were alligators, they were nasty, but this plant had a bad attitude.

**

“Come in Mister Tucker. Take a seat.” Jonathan Archer was on his third mug of strong coffee that morning.
“Thank you sir.” Tucker settled himself into his seat and prayed that there would be not further recriminations or the previous night.
“Got the Mess Hall all cleared up?” Archer asked.
“Yeah, finally, but had get Major Hayes in to help me get that nasty plant back to Sickbay. Why the hell does Phlox want one of those badass critters anyway?”
“Search me, I don’t know what he uses half that stuff for and I guess I don’t really want to know.” Archer said and Trip was relieved to see that his commanding officer now appeared to be bit more like his old self. “You know Trip, I was going to grind you up about last night, but you look exhausted and I’m going to save it for Mister Reed.”
“That’s good to know!” Said Trip. “I am all in and I gotta go straight back on duty.”
“But I can’t let you leave without making something very clear to you Trip. I guess when T’Pol first came to me about that party of yours, I should have checked up in Starfleet regulations, because there’s a whole section in there about ‘Equality and Diversity’ and ‘Political Correctness’.”
“Political Correctness?”
“Yeah Trip, it’s about making sure that we, as senior officers, don’t discriminate against anyone because of their age, race or sex or make anyone feel uncomfortable.”
“I don’t follow, what has this to do with Christmas?” Said Trip mystified.
“Simple really. I let you have a Christmas party and Christmas is a religious festival, right?”
“Not in my family. We just use it as an excuse to party.”
“You’re missing the point Trip. Do you know how many Earth religions are represented on this ship alone, or any idea how many there could be?”
“Er no.”
“Okay, have you any idea how many potential requests I could have for permission to observe a religious festival? Let me see, here’s a list off the top of my head, we could have…….Hanukkah, Divali, Chinese New Year, Yom Kippur, Ramadan, Eade………..in fact there’s a whole bunch of religious events that stretch right across the calendar, and under the rules set out in the Starfleet manual, if I grant permission for one, I have to grant permission for all. We wouldn’t get any work done at all and our mission to rip the Xindi a new one would be on permanent hold. Now then, that’s just talking about Earth religions….” Archer fixed Trip with a loaded stare and continued with heavy emphasis “………and when you take into consideration possible alien festivals like, say, the Denobulan Festival of Fertility and the Vulcan Purge……….”
“Okay!” Said Trip quickly. “I get your meaning.”
“Good. I hope you do.” Archer sat back in his chair satisfied.
“Captain?”
“Trip?”
“So that means the New Year’s Eve party I got planned is out of the question?”

**

“I said …..go away!” Reed shouted hoarsely from his bunk. His mouth felt dry and as fetid as the bottom of one Doctor Phlox’s animal cages, his head hurt like hell. Travis Mayweather was having none of it.
“Hey! C’mon open the door……you won’t regret it!”
“Oh won’t I?” Reed said bitterly. His recollection of what had transpired the night before was worryingly foggy, but he was fairly certain that he had made a total ass of himself and it was the embarrassment, rather than his physical condition, that was keeping him in bed. As far as he was concerned, the Captain could seek him out in his quarters and throw the book at him, he knew he certainly deserved it. He was certainly in no mood to face the jocular Mayweather.
“I got you a present!” Mayweather persisted on the other side of the door.
“Really?”
“You’ll like it!”
“Will I?”
“Why don’t you open the door and see?”
“I don’t want to!” Reed knew that he sounded like the peevish schoolboy he had once been, but he couldn’t care less.
“Aw c’mon!”
“No!”
“I’ll stand here until you let me in. I’m not going anywhere!”
“Do what you like, I don’t care. By the way don’t you have anything more important to do?”
“Er……..no.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Knowing when he was beaten, Malcolm read climbed out of his bunk and slowly went to let Travis in. Behind the door he found Travis carrying a large box covered in makeshift wrapping paper.
“Merry belated Christmas!” Travis said with a beaming smile as she shoved the box into the startled Reed’s arms. Reed stared down at the parcel as though Travis had thrust a long dead goat upon him. “We were going to give this to you last night, but under the circumstances…”
“What is this?” He demanded suspiciously.
“Your Christmas present with love from me and Commander Tucker, and with the best wishes of the entire rest of the crew.”
“Really? And ………..what have I done to deserve this?”
“Why don’t you just go ahead and open it?”
“I will………….when you’ve gone!” Reed snapped.
“Aw, I want to see the look on your face when you open it!”
“That’s exactly why I want you to leave first!”
“Okay have it your way. Anyway, enjoy!”

Once Reed was sure that Mayweather had reached the end of the corridor, he tore off the wrapping paper and found a cardboard box that had been taped together. Reed was certain that the box contained some childish joke and he felt most reluctant to proceed in opening the box. In fact he wanted to shove it under his bunk and leave it there for ever, but in the end, curiosity got the better of him.

It was clear that they had all seen better days, but it was also clear that the young Trip Tucker and Travis Mayweather had been careful children who had looked after their possessions; the toys showed only the inevitable wear and tear to be expected when they had been played with numerous times. It seemed incredible to Reed that those two men had used part of their valuable kit allocations to bring with them these reminders of their childhoods, but here they were: A toy Phoenix in almost perfect working order with the name Charles Tucker carefully inscribed upon one fin and underneath the missile silo. Travis had donated his Lily Sloane and Zephram Cochrane action figures. Everything still worked and when a tearful Malcolm pressed the tiny hidden lever on the underside of the Pheonix, the side panels sprang away and two miniature warp nacelles slowly folded out from its flanks.
Malcolm Reed was moved beyond words at the generosity of his crewmates, and he regretted every single uncharitable thought he had ever had about either of them. He quietly marvelled at how each of them had thought to see beyond his stuck-up demeanour and cared enough about him to give him these much loved childhood relics. As Malcolm gently placed the Pheonix back into its silo and carefully posed the figures to form a little tableau on his bedside shelf, he resolved that, from now on, he was going to go out of his way to be sociable and pleasant; he was no longer going to Malcolm with the stiff upper lip. He would put his father’s disapproval of Starfleet and his disastrous time in the Navy behind him.
“Merry Christmas Trip and Travis.” He whispered softly to himself. “Merry Christmas Malcolm Reed.”

THE END.

[Captain_Hair]

Yay!

Beautifully done! Bravo!

[Jenson]

Nice! Bravo! Great episode, I loved it *catches up with the prior postings*

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

I'm really glad you both liked it. I had such a lot of fun writing it too! Happy New Year!

[Shlomi of Vulcan]

Absolutely EXCELLENT story. I would have loved to have seen this get aired. Thank you Jules for writing and sharing it with all of us.

[Trekker]

Yes very good, you are right Shlomi it should have been aired

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

^^^Well thank you so much! Those are the best compliments my writing has ever had!

[AdyCarter]

I enjoyed it Jules, very nice work!

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

^^^^^ADDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!! Thank you sweetheart!

[Kirok]

I am considering producing this as a PodBook for the Eigth Day of Christmas (click my sig) - can anyone do a fair impression of any of the Enterprise crew?

Cheers

Kirok of L'Stok

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

^^^I've read your last PM.

I had a heavy night Friday and felt unable to scrutinise pages of print to do the few corrections that I know need doing, but expect a fair copy in your inbox by the end of today!

Oh, and saving me the effort of resorting to wading through my DVDs, can anyone remember where Phlox's bats actually came from? I've called them "Megadonian", but I swear I heard the grinning-one call them something else!

This post has been edited by JulesLuvsShinzon: 11 November 2007 - 01:45 AM

[Captain_Hair]

You're looking for the Pyrithian bat.

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

^^^Ah thanks! I'll amend my draft!

[Kirok]

I read through this yesterday on my laptop - eccentric uncle does not beigin to describe what they must think of me here! - and and I reckon this should work as three instalments, the first read by a man with a Tennessee accent (ie Trip's viewpoint) up to the end of the first part, the second by a woman who could do Hoshi and T'Pol justice (The drunken Malcolm parts migh be a challenge though!) up to the end of the party and he third by a, I dunno, a man with an Archer accent?

Thoughts?

K

[JulesLuvsShinzon]

^^^That's a pretty creative idea! I like it! The story read from 3 different viewpoints! That would never have occurred to me.

I'm thinking that your three installments would be ...

PART ONE would end right before the mission to Planet Christmas, when Archer has agreed to the part on three conditions.

PART TWO could either end as Hoshi makes contact with the "hobbit lady", or includes the scene where Archer disciplines the Away Team and bans the party.

PART THREE runs to the end.

Am I right?

BTW: Did you spot the additional Tip/Tucker dialogue I added to the "triffid" scene in the fair copy I sent you?

This post has been edited by JulesLuvsShinzon: 12 November 2007 - 11:57 AM