Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 14 Jan 2004 19:10:52 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: susieqla@yahoo.com (Sue) TITLE: Mood Swing AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise PART: 12 RATING: PG-13 CODES: T/Tu CATEGORY: Friendship/Romance SPOILERS: Unexpected ARCHIVE: Yes DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount and its subsidiaries. No profit is being made. SUMMARY: Missing scene. NOTES: A stand alone piece in the on-going series of vignettes focusing on this pair's developing relationship. Mood Swing - Part 12 "Yes?" She hadn't really been asleep. Her door's chime sounded, sounding like an echo from far away. Her neural nodes lacked sufficient stimulation; they suffered such lack ever since the commander had been abducted, abducted clean off the bridge in engineering by a race of space travelers who had only identified themselves as the Boroders. Her chief confidant, her foremost friend, and possibly more... She had to stop that kind of indulgence, she rebuffed herself. What made her conclude there was anything more than friendship between them? It was unwise to cater to such delusions. Although staying with this crew had been her choice, now in hindsight, she wondered sometimes if it had been an impetuous decision? There was no time to explore her motives further. Archer spoke, the urgency in his voice was a true wake up call. "It's urgent I speak with you, T'Pol." There was only the slight drift of hesitancy in the commanding officer's tone. "Lieutenant Reed and Major Hayes are with me. We can migrate to the Command Center if meeting in your quarters isn't acceptable..." Duly noting the deference that had attached itself to Archer's tone, T'Pol took to her feet and was already donning the serviceable yet lovely silk robe lying at the foot of the bunk to cover her nakedness. "No, Captain." When the door slid away, she stood before the trio of grim-faced men as though she was granting an audience to the High Command. "Enter." She stepped aside, allowing admittance. The lingering brush of the major's eyes over her did not go unnoticed, but she squelched giving the MACO any degree of acknowledgement. She sensed something inappropriate in the human's basal responses whenever he got too near. She deemed it best to give the man a wide berth; one complex man was more than enough to deal with. Varied thoughts whose nexus was the complex man of her sometimes erratic meditations, of late, flooded her disciplined mind. T'Pol drove them down. If she ever hoped to see the commander again clear thinking was the order of the day. "The Boroders have made their demand untenable," the captain informed her, the flinty expression chisled on his face. T'Pol discerned that what he was about to say galled him to the limit of rationale. She leveled her ken evenly with his. "They won't rob him of his intellect; Phlox somehow talked them out of the synaptic transference experiment they had planned. He remains aboard their vessel to serve as their new Chief of Engineering." He cursed vehemently. "They're very adept liars, taking advantage of our good faith. They were never to be trusted, unlike the Xyrillians. Trip only wound up pregnant in their commpany, not shanghaied." The captain supplied the meaning T'Pol lacked. "Kidnap a man for compulsory service aboard a ship." "That's what we get for lending a helping hand in this dodgy region of space," Reed audibly griped, exchanging a venemous look with Hayes. With eyes pinned to Archer, he uttered wishful thinking aloud. "Captain, if they didn't have that peculiar deterrent shield protecting their ship, we could extract him using the Transporter." "Highly unlikely, Lieutenant." T'Pol all but failed to keep the timbre of her voice even; sleep deprivation was beginning to tell, markedly. Phlox had offered to lend his hands, but she had declined his kindly offer for reasons that were not wholly logical. "As Commander Tucker would say, 'it is out of commission.' Not long ago he informed me that the bithermal modulator in the sublateral auxillary housing inlays requires micro re-activations throughout the systemic grid. A lengthy, as well as tedious, undertaking. Considering the time factor involved, a fruitless effort." Archer pursed his lips, his tolerance fraying. "You think I would have learned my lesson pre-Expanse with all those other space-farers in need of site-to-site emergency assistance that blew up--literally--in our faces." "I've run diagnostics on the shielding, Captain, and sensory extrapolations indicate depolarization is possible at close range. I daresay a shuttlepod, considering its negligible size, and fitted with tachyonic radiators would have no trouble effecting such a breach at close range. EM emitters could modulate any detection." "I could have a strike team assembled on your command, Captain," Hayes vowed, the phaser rifle he toted everywhere, even beneath his table in the mess hall while he dined, rigid in his grasp. "Ready yourselves, Major. Coordinate the op with the lieutenant. We can't count on their engines being down for much longer, not with *our* crackerjack engineer working on them. As soon as Trip's got them up and running, they're gone, and he with them." T'Pol flinched not a muscle, undisputed master of the deadpan; inside herself, Archer's foreboding prediction rattled her to her very core. *Never to see the commander again,* nipped at her pysche. *Irrevocably unacceptable.* "T'Pol--" "Yes, Captain." "Get dressed and report to me in the Command Center. I'd like trans-fig calculations on all tangentials based on logistical data from scans up to this point." His strident manner resonated soundly in her quarters. He looked at her a moment longer only noticing then the dark circles pronouncedly underscoring her eyes. Dutifully, she nodded, immersed in thought of how best to proceed after so many missteps. Getting a fix on Tucker's exact location aboard the alien ship had so far proven to be an exercise in elusive. She cleared her mind of defeatist thinking and renewed her resolve to get a lock on Charles. The men turned for the door to leave, in unison as though one body. No sooner had the door closed after them, and T'Pol turned away from it, she became aware that the confines of her quarters wavered before her eyes as she vanished! ____________ Trip Tucker lay upon the comfortable circular bed in the high-ceilinged room his mostly transparent hosts had provided him. With his hands pressed into his eyes, and elbows jutting up in the air, he was bone-tired. Exhausted didn't come close to the way he felt, having worked, by his estimation, a twelve-hour shift straight. His non-corporeal captors had certainly seen to his every comfort, but it was all one big, fat so what. He wanted out of this fancy brig, and off this misshapen ship that was one sorry piece of messed-up work. They'd run their engines into the ground, and he was supposed to make it all better. Yeah, sure, it might take him the rest of his life. Weird wasn't the word for working alongside things that had about as much mass as a puff of smoke. All were so much filmy wisps of gradient energy. In desperation, he groaned aloud, wishing he was in his quarters aboard Enterprise. He felt so alone here, and the idea of living the rest of his life amid beings he had a hard time seeing unnerved him profoundly unless he could somehow escape. Tossing fitfully, he uttered the first name that had popped into his head. It had come out sounding gurgled. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He choked them back. "Yes, Commander, I *am here.* Trip gasped, sitting bolt upright at the sound of her soft voice. His skin crawled; was he hallucinating? He'd been thinking about her so much since his capture. Was the svelte figure standing before him, swathed in shimmery blue, flesh or figment? "T'Pol?" He rose from the bed, fairly lunging at her upon unsteady legs. "I-is it really you?" "Yes, it is I..." She was about to say more when an undulating parcel of invisibility came right through the wall, followed then by two more identical entities. T'Pol immediately went to stand at Trip's side, captivated by the arresting presentiments. The first entity that entered spoke first. "I am Ell, captain of this vessel. Welcome aboard our ship, The Irt." The other two entities took turns introducing themselves, their voices as equally dulcent as whispers as their captain's. "Welcome. We are pleased to have you aboard our ship. Is T'Pol your formal name?" Captain Ell delicately asked. "I am T'Pol of Vulcan, First Science Officer aboard Enterprise." "And, the frequent occupant of our new chief engineer's brilliant mind." Knowingly, the being divulged, "It is for this precise reason that you are here. We want to make his stay with us as palatable as possible, to enhance his efficiency. You seem to make him happy, T'Pol of Vulcan." "Damn," Trip intoned and blushed, hastening to turn his incriminating face as far away from his fellow officer as he could. Invisible mind readers, he thought, chagrined, but powerless to tone his thoughts down. "Both of you are new species to us. Please humor the errors we are bound to make with your treatment." The mass moved off, nearing the portion of the wall it had come through. Its subordinates, as they behaved, followed the first's lead. "We do not eat in the sense you corporeals do, but our magnosynthesizers can accommodate whatever you may require in the way of comestibles. By your presence alone, we are able to translate your nutritional requirements. What can we materialize for you?" "WE WANT OUT OF HERE, *DAMNIT!*" "Tea, mint," soothingly, T'Pol stipulated. "Plomeek soup and saltine crackers, the salt-free variety, if you please, is my preference." She tapped Trip with visual cues to make his partialities known. "*Forget it!*" "Commander, you must eat." By his behavior alone, she could tell he hadn't. Spitefully, Trip spat, "Black coffee, no sugar, and lots of it." The caffeine would do him more good than calories. "Charles," she purred. "Yeah, well, I wasn't hauled aboard to critique the cuisine, now was I?" Sourly, he rolled squally blue eyes at her so she'd get the message loud and clear how far from happy he was about their predicament. "No stomach for kidnappin's," Trip groused in a dourundertone. "He'll have a porterhouse steak, mashed potatoes and snap green beans; easy on the butter for the two vegetals. Thank you. Oh, and?" She flicked her eyebrow up at him. "A beer. Make it a light, if ya got it." His request held little enthusiasm. "We'll have your dietary elections in short order. Now, I leave you to your own devices. Again, welcome aboard our humble craft, T'Pol of Vulcan." "Merely T'Pol will suffice, Captain." "As you wish." The mild-mannered entity and its adjutants left the stately room in the same manner in which they'd entered. Trip thought it wiser they keep their conversation simple, convinced that the Boroders could read minds constantly. "Maybe we shouldn't say too much." "Exactly my sentiments, Mister Tucker. Unfortunately, I am without my PADD. In fact, I'm without much of anything, save this robe I wear." She had sounded neither nonplussed nor self-conscious. Trip's eyebrows flew up, and self-conscious for her, said, "Don't tell me... Y-you're butt naked 'neath that?" Stiffly, she replied, "Very well, I won't, but it will be difficult assisting you with the repair of their engines without suitable attire." "This is the first time I'm in here. They put me right to work, first break I've had." Going to, his best guess was a wardrobe, Trip wasted no time rummaging around in it. "Nah, way too big... nope, no good...be too flappy." His hand seized upon a light garment of gauzy consistency, yet opague enough to preserve at least some modesty for T'Pol. It could double for a tunic, and sizing it up, he was sure its length would just about hit her mid-thigh. "It's nothin' like your new duds, but it'll haveta do." He waved it at her. T'Pol advanced on him, reserving judgment for her private thoughts. Any stitch in a pinch, she evaluated. Accepting the article of clothing, she asked, "Where is the--" Trip jerked his thumb in the bathroom's direction. "Only because I had to use it." He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I was dead on my feet b'fore a shower." He went back to the bed and gingerly lowered himself to it. "Soon as you're dressed, I'll fill ya in on what's been accomplished." "After neuro-pressure." His face brightened almost instantly. "Well...if you wouldn't mind. I could use it; I feel like I've been raked over coals and then hung out to dry." "You have gone too long without a session," she stated, matter-of-fact. "Don't I know it." Before she disappeared into the bathroom, Trip, sounding contrite told her, "Sorry I lost my temper. Sorry you got dragged into this nightmare 'cause of me. It's true, I was thinkin' about ya...more than I should've, maybe. How well we work together now, how I could sure use your help; they've got a lot I'm unfamiliar with. Didn't know they could 'minddrop,' so to speak. If I had, I would've kept my thoughts to myself." He forded on, not knowing where his impulse would take him. "But, now that we're in this together...I...well... see..." He grasped for words, growing even hotter under the collar; why was opening up to her so hard--damn near impossible? Not as greatly far removed from his dilemma as he might have believed, T'Pol bailed him out. "Remove your uniform and lie prone." She glanced towards the bathroom. "When I return, we'll begin. It is more beneficial to finish the session before consuming a large meal." "I'm really not very hungry." Trip used his droopiest pout on her. "You'll fare better properly nourished." She softened her stern look imperceptively, remembering so often that when she strove to be solicitous, the commander was more apt to yield. Trip began undressing and while pulling the upper portion of his uniform down, replied, "Well, maybe just a little..." Glad to have found what could only be described as a pair of shorts to go underneath the skimpy tunic, T'Pol presently straddled her fixated recipient of her therapeutic touch. His firm backside buttressed hers. "Focus more purposedly," she gently encouraged, feeling the man's back muscles loosen to unknot. "Much better," T'Pol rewarded, performing the delicate interplay of intensities upon strategic pressure points. "Ma-magic fingers," Trip mumbled sleepily into the silky cushioned pad he lay prone upon. "So good..." "Don't speak," she softly admonished, spreading her fingers out over his pliant flesh. Did her touch betray her feelings she sensed could be so transparent when she engaged in this form of intimacy with him? She could never admit how wonderful it was experiencing him go boneless beneath her hands, his soft sighs that played havoc with her compass-like control. "Captain Archer is in the process of finalizing a rescue." "Well, if it falls through," Trip said dreamily, "we could be stuck with each other...you're worst nightmare, huh?" "Meditation mitigates them." "If our time together goes for extra innings, maybe you could break me in again." She prepared to give him another leading directive, when quite to her--there was no other way to describe it--shock, he spontaneously flipped over onto his back. Instinctively his hands shot to his crotch while he tensed. The carotid on the right side of his neck thickened as it swelled in a matter of seconds. As T'Pol was bucked over to one side, Trip abondonedly shouted, "Eeeeh--aaahhhh!" He tried to control writhing so much. Why was this happening now? His startled cry was a hybrid. She wasn't sure if he was in agony or ecstasy. "Commander?" T'Pol asked, a certain level of low-key concern had seeped into her voice. "What--" Trip panted between many gasps that didn't help him catch his breath. "I--T'Pol--I'm, I'm comin'!" he fairly yelped. The Vulcan's eyes widened wide in arrant alarm, as a glimmer of recognition appeared in them. *This* had never happened before in any of their previous sessions. True, this was a more advanced position, but she had judged he was capable of handling the more probing kneading. Tactfully, she instructed, "Submit to your sensation." Then, sounding more sheepish than she would have ever imagined she could sound, she told him, "You are more sensitive than I once thought." He smiled at her fleetingly, his embarrassment fading, nearing the end of climax. Strangely enough, there was no need to change what was passing for a bed sheet. He willed himself to relax after such intense pleasure. More like himself as moments passed, he said, "You aren't magic fingers for nothin'. I was thinkin' clean thoughts, T'Pol, honest. Just call me unpredictable." All traces of his blush had just about drained from his face. "This ever happen to Vulcans?" Before having the opportunity to reply, T'Pol, and gradually Trip, were aware that they'd been joined by one of the nebulous entities. The presence didn't strike them as being one of the others they'd met before. "You are humans," the being stated as though it was a fact being confirmed. Reaching for his uniform, slipping back into it, Trip answered, "Just me. My friend here's Vulcan." Trip gave her a noncommital look; T'Pol gracefully returned it. "Can we help you?" The alien sounded young and tentative. Maybe it was lost. "We were led to believe these are our quarters." "These are your quarters, and I am not lost." It drifted nearer to them; its movement strangely comforting although a tad more erratic than that of Trip's and T'Pol's former visitors. "I wish to help you. You wish to escape somehow and that is fine with me. Your presence aboard our vessesl is unwarranted. I am Me'i; we have met. I assisted you earlier with the engines. Before contact with your ship, I was to be chief engineer. The interference of your species denies me the chance to prove myself. I am judged less experienced." Skeptical, Trip stated, "Any minute now, I'm expectin' your friends to come back in here to tell us we failed this mind readin' test 'cause we won't drop the idea of wantin' to get away." "They will not. They cannot. My intervention prevents them for the time being since I am blocking approach to your mind. "What about hers?" "Her mind is inaccessible." Now why am I not surprised? Score two more points for her superior Vulcan mind, Trip mused to himself, a bit securer in the knowledge that he shared the thought with no one. "You mean to say you were workin' alongside me the whole time, not botherin' to identify yourself as the CE-in-waiting?" Enterprise's chief engineer didn't like the implications of that. And contrary to what this Boroder thought about its abilities, from what Trip had already seen, Me'i was sharp when it came to engineering. The southerner wondered how old the being was; it sounded so young, perhaps no older than his baby sister on her ninth birthday. "You must forgive me. I could not at the time. There would have been repercussions for you and for me." Me'i reflected soberly, and in the meantime had sensed T'Pol's heightened curiosity. "How do you propose to help us?" she asked straightforwardly. "Yeah, I'm dyin' to know myself. I'm all for equal opportunity. Bein' passed over for a human's gotta hurt." Trip shared a bald-faced deadpan with T'Pol. "You will help yourselves." A bluish haze appeared suddenly, diffusing enough so that gradually it enveloped the bemused senior officers. The two initially felt a chill, but that soon passed. It wasn't until more warmth returned to their bodies when their oh, too solid flesh started to fade away. Almost yelping again in another strong dose of being stunned, Trip said, "I know ships can be cloaked, but lifeforms?" "This is most fascinating," T'Pol finally allowed, and there was more than a hint of how impressed she was. She lifted her invisible right hand closer to her eyes, marveling how she saw clear through it to the floor where her feet used to be visible. "How long will we remain like this?" "You ask all the right questions," Me'i said, imagining that all Vulcans were as inquisitive as she. "For three point ten intervals of your time calculation. Remove all covering from your bodies." That had to mean hours, Trip reasoned. "I was real afraid you were gonna say that. I was hopin' for a delayed reaction and my uniform would disappear too in another moment or so," Trip drawled, dropping invisible eyes downward to traverse his clothed, fully transparent form. "I guess takin' what we've got on, along, is out." The unseen being, as well as T'Pol stared at the spot where Trip's voice issued. Sounding thoughtful and reconciled, the commander remarked, "Okay, if some decency needs to be sacrificed..." Giving an invisible shrug, he stepped out of his Starfleet issues, and stuffed both uniform and drawers under the bed. "I've heard of goin' commando, but this is ridiculous." T'Pol, ahead of him, finshed hanging what she wore up in the closet. She regreted having to leave her blue robe behind. Eeie how the tunic and shorts settled upon their hangar as though by themselves, Trip thought as he watched. He addressed the entity. "Fine, so you've got the our not bein' seen part of escapin' covered. Where do we go from here?" "You will return to your ship by means of a cloaked vessel that is waiting at a launch site two levels below." Superfluous, true, but nevertheless, Trip stood with both hands covering his privates. He needed to hear T'Pol speak again to locate where she was in the room. "Aren't you afraid of the consequences when your friends find out you helped us escape?" "Consequences? Such as? They will never know who helped you. We are incapable of reading each other's minds. It is only possible with lower lifeforms..." Wincing, Trip uttered, "Ouch!" Sounding insistent then, the alien told them to hurry. "Over here," Trip called to T'Pol, wherever she was. He groped until he felt his unseen hand in hers, equally so, and gave it a hard squeeze. "So we don't lose each other." "Indeed..." _______________ Projecting an air of authority in cool command, Malcolm informed Archer, "We're ready, sir. Standing by for your orders." With determined temperament, the lieutenant looked askance to Maj. Hayes who nodded. The major's trusty plasma rifle seemed welded to his palms. "Good, then let's do this." Archer watched with a certain detachment as the team scrambled to board Shuttlepod 2. The gall of these people, he deliberated, to have snatched T'Pol as well. What for? To add infuriating insult to crippling injury? He depended upon her every bit as much as he did Tucker. The last of the reinforcements had been loaded aboard the small craft when the recycled air in the bay got very still. The hairs on the backs of everyone's necks stood up. Reed shot Archer a pointed look of inquiry, but the captain had no explanation for the frisson of random energy actually piercing the bay's starboard hull. The building sound the inexplicable before them made reminded Jonathan of hurdy-gurdy music. "Captain," Malcolm said, finding his voice at last, "what is it?" "Damned if I know, Lieutenant." The MACOs' stances were defensive, while additional crew members trained their weapons on the crackling expansion of flashing bolts. The blinding expansion rapidly gave way to even greater blindingness. After several seconds, the materialized, though still fuzzy outline of a small craft that Reed and the captain took to be an escape pod, commanded center stage. "Stand back, people," Archer ordered, shielding his unprotected eyes from the intense brightness. He was blindly obeyed by all not counting Major Hayes. He lined himself up between the phenomenon and the captain and the armory officer, still maintaining deadly aim with his weapon. The blinding whiteness ended as precipitously as it had begun. The craft was slightly larger than an escape pod. The hatch popped open, but nothing emerged. "Sir!" Malcolm exclaimed. The sound of familiar voices, voices piquing the curiosity of the listeners, assuaged Archer, Reed and even Hayes. "Whoever's out there, get us clothes--on the double," Trip pleaded in a loud voice. An indicator light flashed intermittantly on the compact console which was quickly coupled with a sporadic succession of clarion beeps. Intuition told him something was about to happen in a matter of moments. "Hurry up with those clothes!" He was so caught up in the craziness of the moment to invest any consideration of T'Pol's superb beauty. T'Pol's intuition was in perfect synch with his, but she didn't share his severe attack of insecurity which held him back. "There is no time, Commander. We must leave--now." "B-but!" "NOW!" "What a time for our invisibility to wear off." T'Pol seized his hand, yanking him out of the craft along with her. No sooner had they hit the deck when the tiny vessel that had practically self-guided itself to Enterprise dematerialzed before all the bewildered on hand. Saving face as best he could, Trip looked over at her and said, "It was programmed to a delayed self-destruct, or whatever it did, once it got us here. No dissection of technology this time around." "It would appear," T'Pol agreed, covering her visible assets from unavoidable view for the sake of her human observers' sense of modesty with her hand and forearm. Yes, she happened to be nude right now. When clothes were available and she put them on, that would be that. Knowing he'd give himself a sound berating later on, Malcolm forced his eyes to keep off T'Pol. Although, he couldn't help a fleeting peep. Hayes stripped off his fatigue vest, and with eyes lowered, handed it to the science officer, and the latest girl of his dreams. "Welcome back, Sub-commander..." There was no denying he was in a begrudging mood when he pushed through taut lips, "...Commander." One of the MACOs more towards the rear tossed up a pair of tech overalls. Trip fielded them, and uttered a heartfelt, "THANKS!" to the empathetic soul. Malcolm couldn't help but shoot his friend an emphatic look before Trip had his back to the curious crowd, covering himself. With that done, and before Trip could open his mouth, Archer, who beamed at both his returned officers, anticipated and countered, "Get cleaned up and better dressed, first. We'll have something stimulating to talk about over dinner. My mess, Commander, Sub-commander. The usual time." "Aye, Cap'n. Just a suggestion," Trip helpfully supplied. "It'd be a good idea to leave this sector of space quick as we can. My mind's an open book to 'em, so there's a good chance they pretty much know I'm back where I belong. Wouldn't want a repeat of what happened before." "So noted," Archer rejoined, nodding, already moving off to the com that was nearest. "Archer to Mayweather...Travis." "Yes, sir." "Get us out of here on the double. The course we discussed, direct heading, no deviations." "Aye, sir. Mayweather out." Trip turned to T'Pol and, hushedly, directed his voice to her listening ear. "That porterhouse steak with the mashed 'taters sounds good right about now, with my appetite back full force to wolf it all down." "Instead of the saltine crackers, perhaps I'll try some mashed potatoes with my soup, without butter, of course." "Of course," Trip fired back, his gladness doing its best to find its way to her heart. ____________________ Later that week... "Don'tcha just love movie night?" "That word is used much too freely." "Which word?" "*Love.*" "Oh, yeah, *that* word." Trip fidgeted in his seat, like a kid about to be handed an ice cream cone, waiting for the advertized feature to begin. T'Pol, seated right beside him, for once, wondered what she had agreed to see, at his numerous invitations. Lacking sufficient interest, she had been disinclined to ask. Archer had kept her extremely busy over the past few days, doing more detailed investigation on the spheres. She agreed to accompany Trip tonight to repay him a kindness for tirelessly fine-tuning the instruments she had used in her research. "What will be shown?" Trip tried amazingly hard not to sound as cocky as he felt. "'The Invisible Man.'" TBC... -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! 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