Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 6 Jan 2004 09:15:22 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: shouldknowbettertt@yahoo.co.uk (shouldknowbetter) Title: A Logical Proposal Series: ENT, First in a series of 9 stories. Author: Shouldknowbetter Email: shouldknowbettertt@yahoo.co.uk Rating: PG13 Codes: Tu/T, all "Enterprise" characters, later in series, Soval, Forrest, action, angst, drama Disclaimer 1: Paramount owns the characters, the Star Trek franchise and the universe. I just use them for my own private, non-profit making amusement. Part 4/4 Story 4/34 Series A LOGICAL PROPOSAL Part Four The next time T'Pol awoke, Tucker had nearly finished assembling what he hoped would be the first transporter pattern enhancer. If not … he had just wasted five hours and Enterprise's first officer was going to die a very unpleasant death. This time he did not wait to see if Storan would do anything useful for the woman. Not that it looked as if the other Vulcan would even have bothered trying; he appeared to be meditating still. T'Pol had fallen over and was thrashing weakly, caught in the blanket still covering her scantily clad form and frightened by it. Tucker reached her as she started to cough, lifting her into a sitting position and supporting her struggling body, holding her head still as she fought for breath. "Ssh, it's OK. Keep still, T'Pol, it's OK." The coughing continued and Tucker watched horrified as green phlegm appeared around her mouth; she was bleeding internally from the effect of the toxic muck she had swallowed. He continued to sooth her until the coughing fit finally eased then wiped away the blood and tried to prop her back up in the corner, meaning to cool her down again - she was almost too hot to touch – but she began to struggle again. "Nirsh." It was almost the only Vulcan he could remember and it was a flat negative. She said something else just as desperately and he groaned. "Don't do this to me, T'Pol. You know I don't speak Vulcan." With little hope he glanced over at Storan and found the other man looking back with what could only be described as anger. "She said, ‘No, hold me'." "Excuse me?" "I believe my translation was accurate." Tucker was so surprised that he stopped trying to control T'Pol's increasing frantic movements and she took advantage, wriggling through his grip to press against him, head tucked into his neck. "Hold me." It was still in Vulcan but he recognised the phrase from moments before. Tentatively he closed his arms around the slight body and she sighed, positively snuggling closer. "Charles." Before he had a chance to absorb the implications of that one she went limp and Tucker pressed his fingers to her jugular in alarm. The pulse was still there but it was frighteningly weak. "Cap'n, just do it!" Tucker rarely lost his temper with Archer but he had this time. "No, Trip. I'm not risking your life with unproven technology." "It's not unproven. The bio-matter went through all right. Now beam me up!" "No." "Cap'n, T'Pol's dying down here. D'you want her death on your conscience?" "No, and I don't want yours either. Trip, calm down and think. This is T'Pol's only chance. Send her up first. If it works, fine. If not … then she was already dying. This is an order, commander. Put T'Pol in the pattern enhancer and BACK OFF." There was a pause then Tucker's voice came over the comm. again. "OK, she's in." "Energise." As always, it took an agonising time for the matter of a living being to be broken down into an impersonal energy steam and then reassembled, but once the process was complete there was a blanket wrapped form lying on the transporter pad. Phlox and Archer hurried over and after a brief check the doctor nodded. "She's alive." Across the room, the transporter operator passed on the good news, while Archer bent to lift the seemingly comatose Vulcan into his arms. She woke with a whimper, staring up at him. "It's OK, T'Pol," he said reassuringly, "you're home." Unfortunately the reassurance didn't have the desired effect. She snarled and thrust him violently away, then dealt an even fouler blow to Phlox as he tried to intervene. "Hey," Tucker had caught the sound of the altercation over the comm., "what's going on up there?" Archer struggled upright, bruised and annoyed. "T'Pol's being … eh … primitive." "Bring me up." "Trip …" "Bring me up. She's scared." "She doesn't look scared." "Cap'n!" "The risk …" "Fuck the risk! Cap'n, please!" The beleaguered captain nodded to the transporter operator; if Trip thought he could help with a Vulcan who seemed intent on kicking seven bells out of everyone in sight, he was welcome to try. Tucker materialised, glared briefly at the chamber around him then jumped out, crossing to grip the Vulcan woman by the shoulders; she had Phlox backed into a corner. "T'Pol, take it easy." She spun around, eyes wild, and he cupped her face in his hands. "T'Pol, it's me, I'm here, you're OK." Bemused, not to mention annoyed and very probably jealous as well, Archer watched as his first officer gave something suspiciously like a sob and collapsed into Tucker's arms, her own going around him. She mumbled something and Archer saw Tucker's mouth twitch into a smile. "No, no hokeet, not on Enterprise, and I'll make sure the doctor's got his bat locked up as well. C'mon, T'Pol," the engineer hoisted the woman into his arms, "let's get you to sickbay and let the doctor sort you out." Phlox had regained his feet, eyes watering only slightly. "If you would place the sub-commander onto the trolley, commander." "I reckon she's better where she is." Briefly Tucker met Archer's eye, a frown beginning as he read something of his friend's mood, then he headed for the door. "Let's go, doc." Archer drew a steadying breath and found that while he had been distracted Storan had also been beamed up and was glaring after the first officer and chief engineer. "Captain Archer, I will be filing a report on Commander Tucker's quite inappropriate behaviour during our recent away mission." "I'll read it with pleasure, lieutenant," and a great deal in interest. "His attitude towards Sub-Commander T'Pol is entirely over-familiar." And just how close had those two become when he wasn't looking? "They're friend, Storan." Or so he hoped. "So Commander Tucker informed me." "Then leave it at that." And perhaps he would too. T'Pol awoke to full awareness, identifying Enterprise's sickbay around her as soon as she opened her eyes. So Charles' entirely irrational plan for returning them to their ship must have been successful. He really was a most talented engineer. The only problem was that she couldn't quite remember … had he touched her while she had been ill? She seemed to recall the feel of muscular arms holding her close to a hard, cool body, or was that just her fevered imagination? Surely she wouldn't … Charles! She had thought of him as Charles. Not Commander Tucker, not the chief engineer, but Charles. It was, as he had said, a nice name but it was his personal name and she was Vulcan and she didn't like him and … "Ah, Sub-Commander T'Pol," Phlox's cheerful voice broke into her panicked thoughts, "I see you have rejoined us." "I wish to return to my quarters. I must meditate." "Not just yet, I'm afraid." The Denobulan inspected the monitor beside her bed. "You're still running a significant fever and I cannot release you until your temperature has stabilised for at least 12 hours." "I must meditate." "I assure you, sub-commander, that no one will think the worse of you for your behaviour while you were ill. Even me." She was too distraught to catch the last comment, never mind ask for an explanation. "I must meditate." Phlox sighed. Some patients were even worse than humans. "Behind you." She turned and found her meditation lamp on the bedside table. "Thank you." Normally she didn't see the point of human pleasantries, but that one was sincere. "Thank Commander Tucker. He thought you'd require it." The doctor paused, wondering if that had been pain that crossed his patient's face. "He also left the other lamp. I didn't understand the reference." T'Pol reached out an unsteady hand, not for her lamp but for the sheet of paper tucked behind it; between it and an extremely ugly object shaped, she thought, like a primitive human representation of a robotic device. The writing was barely legible to one used to print and to neat Vulcan script but she managed. "Mom bought me the nightlight when I got scared of the dark. Guaranteed protection against hokeet. Charles." Carefully T'Pol set her meditation lamp down in front of her and pressed the auto-ignite. He was illogical, emotional and sentimental; and she loved him very much. Now she must concentrate on returning him to the box marked Commander Tucker, chief engineer, Enterprise. A human with whom she had nothing in common and whom she despised for his contempt of her species and puerile interest in women. T'Pol was still in sickbay when Storan's tour of duty come to an end. She had pleaded but Phlox had been adamant. Until her temperature was stable she had to stay and it kept fluctuating despite intense meditation. But if she had hoped that her continued sojourn in Phlox's care would spare her a visit from Storan she was disappointed. He arrived there, stiff and disapproving and quite prepared to interrupt her meditations which hadn't been going well; no doubt due to her continued fever. "T'Pol, I am about to leave Enterprise. I cannot say that I have derived any benefit from my time here." "I regret your failure." "Regret is an emotion which I do not experience. I observe that you have again demonstrated your unfitness to become my wife." "I am sure that you will find a suitable alternative." "As am I. T'Pol, given our dealings together I feel at liberty to point out that I doubt your ability to find an acceptable partner. It is clear to me that you have … feelings … quite improper feelings … towards the human Tucker." "He is my friend." "I do not think so. You want him for your lover." It was the same word, t'hy'la, but the inflection was different. "Until you rid yourself of this illogical desire you will not find a Vulcan mate. Think hard on this infatuation, T'Pol. It does you no credit." He left without a further word and the smugness made T'Pol want to throw something after him. Her fever was definitely still present. Sub-Commander T'Pol," it was late at night and Phlox was doing his final round, "that is quite enough mediation for one day." He snuffed her lamp and placed it on the bedside table. "I want you to rest, please. If your temperature remains down over night, I will release you in the morning. Captain Archer has said that he will escort you to your cabin if you wish." "That will not be necessary." "As you will. Goodnight, sub-commander." T'Pol waited until the Denobulan had turned out the main lights and left, then turned on her side so that she could see her bedside table where her mediation lamp still occupied the space alongside Tucker's nightlight. He had not come to visit so she had been unable to return it and she had not felt it sufficiently important to ask Phlox to do so. Slowly she stretched out a hand, hesitated for the briefest moment then closed it on the meditation lamp. She would conquer this. Tucker was an annoying and irrational human whom she did not like at all. End of "A Logical Proposal" Continued in "Illicit Trade" -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to:http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service. From ???@??? Wed Jan 07 23:31:22 2004 Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n31.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.99]) by emu (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aErEF5uv3NZFnx0 for ; Wed, 7 Jan 2004 20:20:21 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-12831-1073535498-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.