Seleya Hills 90210
Chapter 2: Fix It With A Hammer

Copyright© 2016 by The Slim Rhino

Trip woke up to the feeling of a dozen plasma relays blowing up in his head. Noticing the absence of wife in his arms he rolled over to rectify that situation. He should have remembered that he had crashed on Jon's couch last night, but since he didn't, he face-planted the cold floor when he fell off the sofa with a loud thud.

Of course such misadventure would not be complete without being seen in such an undignified position, so luck had it that just in that very moment Jon trundled by on his way to the bathroom.

"You running for pope?" he quipped nonchalantly. "Certainly got the floor kiss covered."

"Funny... , very funny," Trip groaned, trying to wrestle his wobbly legs into obedience. "How long I've been out?"

"A good 12 hours," Jon noted. "Prepare for a lecture from your wife for working 36 hours again. Look at the bright side, though. You were out after the first few ales. You're probably the only one of us, who has his head on straight today."

"Doesn't feel like it yet," Trip muttered. "Feels like someone stuffed a dead possum in my mouth."

"The morning breath from hell," Jon said, disappearing into the bath room.


"News from Gardner?" Trip pointed at the PADD in Jon's hand, as he came out of the bathroom after a shower and a change of uniform, which made him feel like a member of humanity again.

"No; Marital orders," Jon replied with a head-shake, pouring Trip a coffee. "We are to leave the quarters in pristine condition and I'm ordered to make sure that you put your uniform in the laundry basket instead of leaving it on the floor again."

"You mean to say, T'Pau was not happy that we left your home looking like a battle field last time?" Trip asked with a sarcastic tone.

"Yeah," Jon agreed equally amused. "A little tactical alarm is really no reason to skip the cleaning up part, is it."

"Can't really imagine yet, how it's gonna be to remain dirt-side," Trip said, while sipping his coffee. "Somehow I'm gonna miss the life we've been having the last 15 years."

"You'll miss being shot at?" Jon asked with an incredulous look.

"Maybe not that. But ... I can't see myself being the type for living in a house in a fancy neighbourhood as a doting hubby."

"What's going to change?" Jon asked. "We all will have our jobs, our kids will continue to wreak havoc and we sure as hell won't give up our weekly beer bash. And you will continue fiddling with your engines."

"That isn't decided yet," Trip said.

"It is," Jon disagreed. "I wanted to wait for the daily briefing, but I can tell you that you'll be head of the Constitution class project, Captain."

Trip's eyes went wide and his grin threatened to break Phlox's standing record. "I'll be damned!"


T'Pol took a look at the Bridge crew, once Captain Archer had left her in charge after the daily briefing. Commander Reed was working on his tactical station and she knew it was mainly diagnostic work. Enterprise had been in Federation space for several days and the tactical alarm seven days ago had been the last time that his expertise had been needed. For an officer with his expertise and distinction the rather repetitive tasks while flying in friendly space must be challenging his patience, but fortuitously his wife Talas 'kept him on his toes', as Trip used to describe it.

Trip himself was seated at the Engineering console, keeping an eye on the various read-outs. Although she did not approve of his overly long shift that had left him almost two days without sleep, she had decided against berating him. He had spent the last 15 years caring for the mechanical device and although Enterprise was the oldest of all the surviving NX-class ships, it was by far the fastest of them and that was mostly due to her husband's work. Probably sensing her mental ramblings he shot her a grateful look.

Her look fell on Hoshi and not for the first time she noticed the longing glances that were exchanged between her and her husband, Lieutenant Maywheather. She found it somewhat strange that two people, who were married and shared quarters would look at each other as if they had been separated for a long period of time. Even after 15 years living with Humans, she still found new and unknown nuances in their behaviour.

Confronted with the strange looks between the two Lieutenants, she decided that a mental consultation was needed, even though she had agreed with her husband to keep 'bond-speak' – as Trip called it – to a minimum during duty hours.

Husband. I need your help., she sent telepathically.

Startled by the unexpected mental nudge Trip looked up at her.

What is it?

Hoshi and Lieutenant Maywheather are exchanging looks as if they had been separated for an extended period of time. Could that be an indication for problems in their marriage?

Don't think so. I think I saw them canoodling in the lift yesterday, when Hoshi's shift ... Wait a minute. Can you route an access channel to the duty rosters to my console?

Of course


"What'cha think?" Trip asked, presenting his choice of clothing to T'Pol after a long shift on the bridge.

"It is an agreeable choice," T'Pol approved. "It may however cause disagreement with T'Mir."

Trip sighed. "Let me guess. Henry is wearing a blue shirt, too."

"Indeed. You know that she does not look favourably at her 'old father' wearing the same attire as her chosen."

"Old father, my ass," Trip snorted, sensing the teasing in T'Pol's reply.

"Y'know, I'm sorta worried," he said, while taking off the shirt that would bring down the wrath of his kid upon him. "I mean, if it goes on at that rate, we're soon gonna walk in on something, when Henry stays with T'Mir during our weekly beer bash. They're like an old married couple already."

"They do not yet engage in physical intimacy beyond 'cuddling' and kissing," T'Pol explained. "But since they develop close to human rates of maturing, it is to be expected that this might change in one or two years."

"Oh dear," Trip groaned, while presenting an alternative choice of shirt colour.

"Your attire looks agreeable. We should go now or the festivities conclude before we arrive."

"Lead the way darlin'"


Trip loved Thursdays. It had been a Wednesday on which a massive human fleet had finally blasted their Romulan adversaries into surrender during the bloody battle of Cheron, which had led to the most raucous victory party in Starfleet history the next day. Trying to rebuild the crew's spirit after years of bloody war, Captain Archer had made the crew party a weekly affair, with a tremendous impact on crew moral.

As they were nearing the mess hall, loud singing could be heard.

Donald has foughten wi' reif and roguery Donald has dinnered wi' banes an' beggary Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the Devil than Donald McGillivray Come like a tailor, Donald McGillivray Come like a tailor, Donald McGillivray Push about in and oot and thimble them cleverly Here's to King James and tae Donald McGillivray."

"Looks like McElroy commandeered the stage again," Trip said with a chuckle.

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed. "This type of music seems to be very popular with the crew."

"No wonder," Trip snorted with amusement. "Nothing goes better with a few beers that a good Scottish tune."

"You must know husband," T'Pol replied with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Donald's the caller that brooks nae tangledness Whiggin' and Priggin' and a' newfangledness They maun be gane - he winna' be baukit man He maun hae justice or faith, he'll tak' it, man Come like a cobbler, Donald McGillivray Come like a cobbler, Donald McGillivray Beat them and bore them and handle them cleverly Up wi' King James and wi' Donald McGillivray

The were nearly there, when the mess hall's door opened and Hoshi darted out. She passed them without sparing them a look.

"Did Hoshi cry?" T'Pol asked.

"Looked like it," Trip said sending a worried glance after a rapidly retreating Hoshi.

As they entered the Mess Hall they saw dozens of couples dancing to the music, forming a big circle. In the middle of the circle a blissfully grinning, spit-and-polished Henry Archer was twirling an equally happy T'Mir Tucker around, eliciting ooh's and awww's from the other dancers.

 
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