Message-ID: <002301c3e2d3$21969780$b5e1453f@max>
To: "ASCEM-S" <ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com>
From: "Sileya" <sil@sileya.net>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com
Precedence: bulk
Date: Sat, 24 Jan 2004 17:38:11 -0600
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW ENT:  Sharper Than Any Two-Edged Sword (PG-13) (T/Tu, S) (1/1)
Reply-To: "Sileya" <sil@sileya.net>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit



TITLE:           Sharper Than Any Two-Edged Sword (1/1)
AUTHOR:      Sue
E-MAIL:         susieqla@yahoo.com
SERIES:        Enterprise
Part:              1 of 1
RATING:        PG-13
CODES:        T' POV, S, Tu/Gen/Het
CATEGORY:  Friendship/UST
SPOILERs:    Precious Cargo
ARCHIVE:     Yes, to any archive.
DISCLAIMER:  Enterprise is the property of Paramount.
                      No profit is being made.
SUMMARY:     A Sub-Commander, despite jumping to
 
_______________


Sharper Than Any Two-Edged Sword



Why does Commander Tucker smile far more than it is necessary
to do so, of late?  He whistles toneless tunes for no
apparent reason, under the assumption that he can without
assaulting my hearing.  Why this overbearing good humor?  I
have my suspicion, but I should not concern myself with such
irrelevance, although my intent is to understand the Commander
better.  Behavior that varies so unpredicatably fascinates me.
I will agree to nothing more than having my curiosity as it
relates to the Commander's irrationality satisfied.

I'd been in Engineering earlier, just in time to witness a
critical intake valve rupture.  Scrambling quickly ensued and
shouts were deafening.  Above the outcries, Commander Tucker's
voice could be clearly heard over the din, making the situation
more chaotic, or so I thought.

Normally, he contributes substantially to the mayhem whenever
anything goes awry in his domain.  This time, however, he
wasn't behaving true to erratic form.  I will admit that I was
somewhat puzzled.  With a large smile plastered on his face,
and whistling throughout the effort to secure the breach, he
worked fast, paying painstaking attention to every detail,
even calibrating the random shift factor of the system to
within .0002 farads.

I made sure I told him how serious the malfunction could have
adversely affected overall efficiency.  He laughed, not his
usual patronizing laugh.  He sounded genuinely gratified, even
thanking me for my appropriate evaluation.  What I'd said
seemed to jog him.  He couldn't stop thanking me.

Loudly, he responded, "That's what comes from personnel knowin'
what they're doin' in the heat of a crisis.  Not to mention
yours truly at the helm, makin' sure we don't wind up dead in
the water longer than we have to."

I held my emotions deeply in check, although I felt like nerve
pinching his smug look off his face, a face that was greasy
and grimy and too close to mine.

In fairness, Commander Tucker is a superlative engineer in
spite of his bravado.

"Sub-Commander, a penny for your thoughts," he'd said before
moving off to one of his assistants who had called to him.

He'd waved good-bye as I stood watching him, realzing I stared
longer than was necessary.




"Excuse me, Sub-Commander, is anyone sitting here?"

I blink once, which is sufficient for me to end my
unproductive rumination.  "No," I respond, and even I can hear
how mechanical I sounded.  Staring up at Ensign Sato as though
she had appeared out of nowhere, I realize she wants to sit
with me.  The linguist is carrying a tray full of food, food
that makes me wonder how they can eat it.  The thought of her
eating those two greasy meat rods they call 'hot dogs' is
irredeemably distasteful.  Maybe she'll change her mind and sit
with someone else.

"May I?"

She is already seating herself, so it would be bad manners to
tell her she cannot sit with me at this table meant for three
people.  "Yes, of course."

It isn't long before she is gnawing away on one of her meat
sticks, wrapped in its starchy blanket.  I decide there is a
pressing matter to attend to in my quarters, to spare myself
further discomfort.  I sip the last of the latest tea blend
Lieutenant Reed suggested I try, Earl Grey.

"Oh, please don't leave on my account," the ensign insists.
She tears off another piece of the 'hot dog.'  I stop rising
from my seat, halting long enough to imagine she and Commander
Tucker biting off pieces at opposite ends like literal Earth
dogs.  Try as hard as I am able to suppress it, I shudder a
little, involuntarily.  Reseating myself, it dawns on me that
thoughts of Mr. Tucker have invaded my mind yet again, the
invasion, relentless.  My sigh catches the ensign's attention.

After swallowing, she asks, "Are you all right, Sub-Commander?"

No, I'm not; I'm disappointed with myself, with my lapse in
not being able to control the way I feel.  The image of the
Commander cavorting with that long-haired, long-limbed,
scantily clad Kaitaama is fresh in my mind.  I can think of
nothing else but the look of stark surprise etched in Mr.
Tucker's face when the captain asked if we had come at the
wrong time.  The wrong time--indeed!  They had, 'illicit'
written all over them!  The commander is...  I try to remember
the human term...  Ah, yes, that's it...he is a 'lady's man.'

"Sub-Commander?"

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Are you okay?"

I nod.  "My mind is elsewhere," I hedge.  I have become better
adept at stylizing the truth.

Sato nods a little then, but her facial expression tells me she
isn't wholly convinced.  I analyze what I'm feeling, which
feels harder and harder to suppress the more my mind dwells on
Mr. Tucker.

Sato giggles, and following the sip of her beverage, states in
no uncertain terms, "I guess Trip got his wish after all."

My ears 'perk up,' as the drawling person just mentioned would
say in jest, or that I'm 'all ears.'  "Oh, Engsign?  And what
wish was that?"

"He got to know the woman he couldn't tear his eyes away from
while she slumbered in stasis.  In more ways than one if you
ask me."

I do not like the way she is rolling her eyes.  I am about to
reply, but she continues, sounding even more cryptic.

"You were there, Sub-Commander.  So what's your verdict?  Did
they, or didn't they?"

"Did they or didn't they what?"  I'm not annoyed with her, but
rather with myself.  Why should I care, one way or the other,
what occurred between Chief Engineer Charles Tucker, III and
that woman, the ascendant to her world's monarchy? It's *not*
my concern.  It's what I've kept telling myself since seeing
them together, barely wearing anything, in that bog.

I don't think expressing my concerns with Sato is a good idea.
She talks too much; I've heard it said she is a gossip.  "The
Commander was thrust into a very trying and challenging
situation."

"Hmmm, 'thrust.'  That's an interesting choice of word,
Sub-Commander."

She is reading too much into this.  "Given the circumstances,
I am sure he conducted himself in a manner worthy of Starfleet,
and the code of the gentleman he prides himself on upholding."
I am beginning to think the ensign's eyes will whirl out of
their sockets.

"Right."  Sato starts on her second meaty source of
nourishment.

I will *never* eat meat; nothing short of a frontal lobotomy
could induce me to, and Mr. Tucker's teasing--never.

"Someone's sure become his private rooting section, lately,"
she continues.  "Nice he can count on you being in his corner."

I tell myself to ignore what she's just said, most of all the
implications.  My never-ending curiosity, however, will
ultimately be my downfall one day.  "What makes you think so?"

She shrugs, and confuses me further.  "Oh...well...  It just
seems that, lately, you back him up a lot more than you used
to.  You never used to."  She pauses before taking another
bite.  "That's all."

I hesitate, but gradually I decide I'd like to try something
new; I'd like to gain her insights.  "Ensign, may I ask you
a question?"  Before I decide whether or not this is really a
good idea, she gives me a leading look.

"Ask away, Sub-Commander."

I can see she hadn't intended to reply with a mouth partially
crammed with food.  "Since Commander Tucker's interaction with
the Krios Prime woman, would you observe his overall outlook
to be considerably more...more..."  Frowning inwardly, I stall.
The descriptive word I seek eludes me.

Sato smiles at me expansively as though we are somehow related.
Well, we are, in the widest view; we are women.  Happier?
Better contented?"  She purses her lips for dramatic effect, in
my qualifying opinion.  "Sated?"

That rolled off of her tongue a little too easily, a little too
expertly.  The unsavoriness of the word stays with me, and with
it, the the sag of my shoulders.

"Sub-Commander?"

I sense that I have gone far away, as though in deep
meditation.  I want to remain where I am.

"T'Pol?"

She does not call me that very often.  Hearing her use my name
draws me out of my private thoughts.  "Yes..."

"Do you have a thing for the Commander?"

I am at a loss.  What 'thing' is she talking about?  For a
brillant linguist, she can be as ambiguous as the man she
questions me about.  "Define this 'thing.'"

"Of course, it's none of my business," she assures, probing me
with intense dark eyes.  "But...just seems to me that...  Well,
don't take this the wrong way, okay?"

"Take what the wrong way, Ensign?"

"You like him, don't you?"

I've considered the meaning of 'like,' before.  In all honesty,
I don't know.  Mr. Tucker and I are worlds apart, literally
and figuratively.  He loves meat, I abhor it.  He is emotions
given free rein on two legs; I am the 'Ice Queen.'  He makes it
obvious how attentive he is to other alien females, but ignores
me. I can't answer.  Rigidly I hold my facial expression in
check.  Her eyebrows move up and down.  "We are friends."

Shaking her head, she asks, "Just friends?"  She watches me as
solemnly as I watch her.

Deep down, I want to confide in Ensign Sato, to air these
feelings I have for the commander out, so to speak, but I'm
not sure I should.  By confessing, do I expose how vulnerable I
am?  I should leave, feeling all but drained.  Something keeps
me in my seat.

"It would seem his tensions have been relieved."

Sato makes a sound within her throat, as though she snorted.
All in good time, she says, "And it's driving you straight up
the steel-reinforced walls, isn't it?  He's such a man."
Spoken like an authority, I judge without prejudice.

I eye her closely.  My shielding is on the verge of giving
way.  Years of rigid training serve me well...I focus on my
favorite placid lake on Vulcan, visualizing myself being
engulfed by its warm waters.  I am nude, feeling reborn.  I
shift perspective and immediately catch sight of Commander
Tucker standing at the shoreline watching me.  What does he
want?  What do I?

I compose myself.

"Are you interested in him, and not merely as a friend, or
not?" she asks pointedly.

I choose to evade.  "Your inquiry has no relevance."

"Yes, or no?" she persists, and my resolve to hold back
weakens.  She probably assumes I have no feelings at all.
They exist, but are relentlessly controlled.  But what if her
insights prove helpful with understanding the psychology of
the human male mind as it relates to mating, and subsequent
bonding?  Vulcan databases do not hold all the answers.

"Y...yes."  My voice sounded hollow and small, as though I had
just learned to speak.  Hear what he reduces me to.

The ensign folds her arms over her chest, and she is smirking.
I sense I've given her what she has long suspected, and I feel
I've failed in certain respects.  "Men..." she breathes,
disparaging the gender by the tone of her inflection.  "Well...
even if he had a fling with 'Princess Come Hither,' it doesn't
necessarily mean he isn't interested in you, T'Pol.  Trip likes
playing the field.  He's a bit of a make-out artist."

I wonder about that, but say nothing, not disposed to argue the
point, even though I'm not altogether sure what 'playing the
field' and being a 'make-out artist' actually mean.  The fact
remains though...Mr. Tucker does have a way with many a willing
female.

"I've caught him looking you up and down admiringly when he
thinks no one's paying the slightest attention."

"You have?" I say, my voice purposedly low.  Believing her is a
challenge.

"If he's on the bridge, and the captain gives you the command,
his playful little eyes follow you every step of the way until
you're parked in the chair."

"I've never noticed that."

"Of course not.  You're too preoccuppied with taking charge
and doing it right."

I have always credited Ensign Sato with being one of the most
perceptive humans aboard Enterprise.

"If you ask me..."

I almost have, several times.

"I think he's interested.  *Very* interested."

That is precisely my dilemma.  Is he?  Perhaps I deceive myself
because I find him fascinating...so different from any male,
and I don't understand him.  What am I to do?

We start, hearing the voice of the man we're discussing.  Both
of us look up as though we've been caught doing something we
shouldn't have been.

"Evenin', ladies," he doles out, ambling up to our table.  Mind
if I join ya?"

"As a matter of fact, Commander, we would," Sato says.

I shift my eyes off her face to his.

"We have some quality girl time going on here."

I lend tacit support in favor of our not letting him join us in
her direction.

"Do tell," he humors, his light eyes alive with amusement.
"Far be it from me to louse it up for ya."  After a little bow,
he bids, "Carry on, Ladies.  Ensign, Sub-Commander."  He winks
at me.

When Sato judges that he is a safe distance from us, she
asserts, "What a scamp!"

My eyes are fastened upon the Commander who is seated alone at
a table for two by a portal on the portside.  "Scamp?"

She nods, places the last of her salted radishes into her mouth
and says, "So many definitions, so little time."  She sighs,
then grins.  "He's the best definition of one I've ever known."
Crunching the raw vegetable loudly, she seems to think aloud.
"If you're interested in him, T'Pol, be subtle, but get him
moving in the right direction."

Humans intrigue me.  "And, I would do that, how?"

She frees her silky black hair from its 'ponytail.'  "A guy
like Trip needs to be given a clue, several, in fact.  He's the
type who thinks he knows what's best for himself, whether it be
his kind of woman, to wearing socks that don't match but are
both clean at the same time.  He's sweet, and most times than
not, means well, but he's too easy."  She sighs, this time
heavily.  "Like taking up with 'sleeping beauty,' for example."

My eyes widen, questioning.

"Oh...his nickname for Little Miss Stasis."  Her eyes flit over
to the commander for a brief moment.  "Just another example of
his knack for loving 'em and leaving 'em."

"He is fickle," I accuse.

"He's human, and lonely.  He needs someone who cares, a stable
relationship with a woman he can't run all over.  Yet, one who
would treat him right, and he, her."  Thoughtfully then, she
says, "Kaitaama's history.  If you want him, T'Pol, stake your
claim."

I want to, but how, without appearing illogical?  I want to
forget about Kaitaama, even though his choosing her over me
isn't a good feeling.  "How?"

The ensign targets him with calculating eyes.  "Next time he
asks you to do something, anything with him, agree to.  Just
don't appear overanxious."

"I would not have that problem."

"No, I guess you wouldn't."  She stands with her tray, hinting
that I should make my way over to the 'lost soul,' as she has
just termed him.

Before she leaves, my curiosity forces me to qualify
something I have wondered about, but have been too cautious
to ask, up until now.  "Ensign, do you *like* Mister Tucker?"

Following a crisp burst of laughter, she owns up, "As a friend,
sure.  He's a many splendored thing, but not my type.  Now, get
over there," she commands, "and see what develops..."

If I were heeding logic, and not my whim, I would not be aiming
myself in the direction of his table.  Yet, I do, and I can't
stop myself.

"Girl talk over?"

I stare at him.  My tongue feels stuck.

"What can I do for ya?"

He must not be very hungry.  All that he has before him is a
glass of milk and several bland crackers.

As though reading my mind, he says, "Not much of an appetite.
More tired than anythin' else.  Figured I'd turn in early."  He
runs his hand through his hair, holding it in his scalp for a
moment.  "Sit if you wanna.  Go 'head."

I obey, and notice that he does look tired.  Somehow, his state
relaxes me and I find something to say.  "Thank you, Mister
Tucker."

"Sure 'nough...anytime."  He starts munching one of his chalky
crackers, crumbs fall freely.

Without giving it further thought, I follow Sato's advice.
"Your experience on that inhospitable world must have been
rigorous.  Coupled with the fact that you were attacked while
totally defenseless, you are to be congratulated.  You and your
companion survived, despite all hardships."

Something in his eyes appears to glimmer.  "Why, thanks.  Nice
of ya to say so."  He chuckles, and along with a shake of his
head says, "Companion, ha...a handful an' a half that gal.
Mercy."  More to himself he mutters, "Don't know what got inta
me..."  He smiles and I sense it is not for me.

My even temperament erodes to a degree.  I feel a little sad,
perhaps even a little annoyed, but give nothing away.  Doing so
is as natural as breathing and I silently thank my mentors.

"Your decoy was ingenious."

"Her idea, not mine."  He drinks more milk, wiping away the
white border above his upper lip with the back of his hand.

"Oh..."

"Pretty smart for royalty."

*Leave,* I tell myself.  I do not want to hear him praise her.

"Brains and real easy on the eyes to boot..."

I'm leaving!

"She reminded me a lot of you...'ceptin', compared to you,
bein' around her was a non-stop fightfest."

"Comman--"

His long sigh fills the empty places in my heart.  "More tired
than I thought.  Sore as hell too.  Jumpin' outta that tree was
a bitch."

Our eyes lock.

"You handled the situation admirably well, under the
circumstances."

"Yeah, you really think so?"

We study each other's face as though speaking will disrupt this
level of communication.

Finally, he breaks the silence.  "We kissed..."  There is
relief in his admission.  "First she took a swing at me, an'
next thing I knew, she's grabbin' my face for some down an'
dirty liplock."  A look I am ill-equipped to identify settles
in his facial expression.  "Yeah...I kissed back, and we were
off to the races.  We were that is, till I passed out from
sheer exhaustion, I guess.  When I woke up, seein' how we were
spooned with my arm around her, naturally I thought we'd uh,
well...you know what I'm talkin' about.  I can't for the life
of me remember if we did or didn't."

"Why are you telling me this, Commander?"

He shrugs.  "Who else am I gonna tell stuff like this to?  The
cap'n?  Malcolm?  Travis?  You listen better."

Pointedly, I tell him, "Ensign Mayweather...  I believe you
refer to him as your 'running buddy.'"

"That he is, but there are some things I won't share with
anybody else 'cept you."  He traces along the table until we
sit side-by-side.  "You're a great listener when ya wanna be."

I have no idea what to say, so I listen.

"They're all my friends, but you're.  Well, you know, I think
of you as somethin' a little more, at this stage.  Shoo, a lot
more."

Sato is insightful, indeed.

"Are ya doin' anythin' tomorrow night?"

"I'm not sure."

"No, it's not movie night, but if you aren't busy, think you'd
like to spend a little time in my company?"

I don't shy away from his offer or the plaintive look in his
eyes.  "I would."



End




[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]


 

------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor ---------------------~-->
Buy Ink Cartridges or Refill Kits for your HP, Epson, Canon or Lexmark
Printer at MyInks.com. Free s/h on orders $50 or more to the US & Canada.
http://www.c1tracking.com/l.asp?cid=5511
http://us.click.yahoo.com/mOAaAA/3exGAA/qnsNAA/5x3olB/TM
---------------------------------------------------------------------~->

Yahoo! Groups Links

To visit your group on the web, go to:
 http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/

To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
 ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com

Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to:
 http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ 


From ???@??? Sat Jan 24 18:38:13 2004
Status:  U
Return-Path: <sentto-1978024-7766-1074987509-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com>
Received: from n37.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.105])
	by vulture (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aKxmW2Fh3NZFl50
	for <stephenbratliff@earthlink.net>; Sat, 24 Jan 2004 15:39:14 -0800 (PST)
X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1978024-7766-1074987509-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.com