Chapter 16: Absit Omen

“Now would be a good time to lend a hand,” Trip said teasingly, tilting his head towards the atrium, where a naked Hoshi applied some of that orange ‘super sun cream’ to her bare torso.

“I think she manages just fine,” Malcolm replied evenly and added a few more plastic chips to the pile. “Just concentrate on your hand. If we’d be playing for real credits, you’d have to sell your grandmother by now.”

The men sat in the living room, playing a friendly round of poker. After their ‘not-kiss-because-Hoshi-said-so and make up’ evening three days ago it was the first time their stomachs hadn’t revolved at the thought of a cool beer, so they had grabbed some and sat down in the cool dwelling for a bottle and a nice game of cards. Who knew when the next downtime would come.

Most of the time Hoshi had not worn any clothes outside, and had gone through two bottles of sun cream – not that either of them was complaining, especially Malcolm.

“I didn’t even know Asians actually did get a tan,” Trip said.

“What do you think their skin is made of – leather?” Malcolm said with a snicker. “Back in the day, when my parents moved to Malaysia, there were people who could have passed for Africans.”

Trip chuckled and demanded two new cards when T’Pol passed by in a light summer robe. Malcolm decided to return some of Trip’s earlier ribbing once T’Pol was out of even Vulcan earshot.

“Hm, never seen this type of robes before.”

“It’s the hot season, Malcolm,” Trip replied, not looking up from his cards, indicating for a new one.

“We had this myth for centuries whether or not the Scots wear anything beneath their kilts. Do Vulcans wear anything..., you know, beneath?”

Trip just shrugged wordlessly.

“Come on,” Malcolm insisted. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“You just keep guessing about that and find an answer to this – Royal Flush,” Trip announced and presented his cards to a sour looking Malcolm before collecting the pile of chips.

Neither of them had noticed T’Pol’s return into the house.

“You have spent the last two days almost exclusively inside,” T’Pol said. “Does that have to do with Hoshi’s decision to rest without attire or the after-effects of your drinking?”

“No problem with Hoshi for me,” Malcolm quipped casually.

“That would imply it is one for Trip,” T’Pol noted.

Malcolm felt a pang of sadistic glee seeing Trip’s eyes widen and how his friend quickly grabbed the bottle of beer to buy himself some time, so he thought it was time administer a good ol’ rollicking as it was usually himself who ended up in awkward situations. Now it was time for Trip to taste some of that.

“Look, T’Pol,” he lectured. “Hoshi is my fiancée and you are his, so in theory he’s not supposed to be aroused by seeing Hoshi in the nude, but the male human brain isn’t exactly wired to ignore a naked female, especially if she’s as good looking as Hoshi,” he said, keeping an eye on Trip, who still ferociously tried to suck the contents out of the bottle in as small swigs as possible.

T’Pol raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“But don’t worry, the awkwardness will subside after a while,” Malcolm assured her ‘benevolently’. “We’re all friends after all.”

T’Pol sent a stern look towards Trip, who immediately put the bottle down, before turning her attention back to Malcolm.

“Would you suffer the same predicament, if I undressed?” she asked.

Malcolm ejected the triumphant winners swig of beer he had just taken through his nose and coughed violently.

“There’s your answer, darlin’,” Trip said with a healthy dose of Schadenfreude.

“I suspect the awkwardness will subside for him after a while, too?” T’Pol asked Trip.

“Sure thing,” Trip said.

Without another word, T’Pol unclasped her robe and it fell to the floor, answering Malcolm’s earlier question by revealing that she wore absolutely nothing beneath it and she walked out to occupy the second desk chair next to Hoshi.

Malcolm sat motionless, looking absolutely dumbfounded.

The two men saw but couldn’t hear Hoshi and T’Pol converse for a while, before Hoshi threw her head back in hysterical laughter.

“Dug yourself a nice hole, buddy,” Trip laughed. “Just so you know; I cannot get too aroused by seeing Hoshi naked, courtesy of being bonded to the most beautiful Vulcan ever. Still a nice view, mind you, but it doesn’t do anything for my hormones. I resisted three Orion women, you forgot that already?”

Malcolm looked at him, still somewhat bewildered.

Trip was still laughing. “Y’know, T’Pol kept her robe on until now because she didn’t want to make you feel awkward, but you’ve just given her the perfect excuse to ditch it.”

“She planned to get naked?” Malcolm croaked.

“Of course,” Trip explained, still grinning about Malcolm’s crushing defeat. “She took a liking to skinny dipping and just lying around in the sun, when we were at my parents. And beside; it’s hot season around here. Vulcan’s cannot sweat. Well they can, theoretically, but when they start sweating they’re short of passing out already. Their bodies have evolved to preserve water at all cost and sweating is an extreme strain on the body – sort of like a last-ditch effort, so before losing water by having too many clothes on, they just go with light robes or in some cases even naked. Vulcan kids rarely wear anything in temperatures like today. Why do you think the walls around Vulcan homes are almost as high as the actual houses and why there are no multi-story buildings in residential areas?”

“You knew all that beforehand, didn’t you?” Malcolm asked.

“Yep, mate. I only stayed inside, because with that darn hangover, the light outside was way too loud. Now enjoy the view. I’m pretty sure Hoshi will appreciate all the pent-up sexual tension,” he teased. “And the sound proofing is excellent in this house, so deal the next round, man.”

“You are incorrigible,” Malcolm complained, but couldn’t contain a snicker.

Trip carefully approached the deck chair. Hoshi was dozing on it as she had done so often during the last days since the trial. Dozing in the sun sometimes with, sometimes without T’Pol, after 40 Eridiani had dipped far enough below the zenith, had quickly become a favorite pastime of hers. Feeling safe behind the high walls of T’Pol’s estate, she had removed her Bikini again, which hung over the arm rest of her chair.

Trip cleared his throat loudly enough to wake her up.

Shooting up from her chair, Hoshi instinctively covered her bare chest with her hands, completely forgetting that she wasn’t wearing a bottom piece either, which prompted an amused chuckle from Trip. Somehow this instinctive reflex must be hard-wired into female brains across the universe, he decided. She had been dozing stark naked in the evening sun for almost a week without the slightest bit of self-consciousness and in full view of all the house’s inhabitants, so this sort of reflex was more hilarious than helpful, but then even T’Pol still crossed her hands over her chest sometimes during nightly neuro-pressure sessions.

“Not that I don’t admire the view,” Trip teased her. “But unless you want to give the crew something to look at, you might wanna jump into a uniform. We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Oh my god,” Hoshi said, hurriedly grabbing but not donning the bikini. “I haven’t even packed. Why didn’t anyone say something?”

“Don’t worry, Hoshi. Malcolm has already packed your stuff. He didn’t want to wake you up. Maybe you being in plain view for him from your room had anything to do with it.”

Still grinning mischievously Trip went back into the house.

“You two are impossible!” Hoshi complained with a giggle and threw a cushion after him.

As the airlock opened after docking their shuttle at the T’Kuth ship yards the four returning visitors were greeted by Lorian.

“Mother, Father, I hope you found time to rest after the ordeal at the trial?”

“Nothing a bit of extra meditation and a healthy sun tan can’t cure, son,” Trip replied, causing himself and Malcolm to chuckle. Both got a mock-menacing ‘one more word, Mister’-look from Hoshi.

Seeing Lorian’s confused look, he added: “Everything’s fine. How have things been up here?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of supervising repairs on both ships and I can report that Enterprise is in perfect condition.”

“And your boat?” Trip asked

“Hull reconstruction is nearly complete, but it will take at least a further six weeks until Endurance is in serviceable condition again.”

“Gotta hand it to the Vulcans,” Trip said with an admiring whistle. “120 years in the Expanse and they patch it up in less than three months.”

“Indeed,” Lorian agreed. “Using their lower need for rest, Vulcan crews have worked 24 hour shifts.”

Walking their way towards Enterprise’s docking port, Trip continued to ask Lorian for details.

“How’s your crew coming? Have they assigned the new people to complete the crew?”

“Yes. Several members of the returning ship Vahklas have decided to apply for service in Starfleet. We have been assigned five of those crew members. Another batch of young crewmen has been dispatched from Earth. They are expected to arrive within the week.”

“Is Kov on your ship, too?”

“He is now my chief engineer. Unfortunately I was not allowed to retain that position, when I was assigned command of the ship.”

“He’s a good man,” Trip said as they reached the docking port. “You coming for dinner tonight?”

“I asked your Chef to prepare a meal for four. I didn’t think it was appropriate to invite myself.”

“You’re our son, remember?” Trip said with a laugh. “I’ll tell Chef to add two more. Please bring Kov, will ya.”

“As you wish.”

Trip walked into Engineering on auto-pilot, reading a PADD with engineering reports. Looking up, he met a number of amused looking armory crewmen and let out a sigh.

“Dammit,” he swore under his breath.

“Got lost Commander?” Malcolm asked with a smirk.

“Very funny,” he answered slightly annoyed and turned to leave. “Guess it’ll take a few more days to get used to it.”

During the last two days he had walked into the former engineering chamber several times, only to meet the amused looking armory crewmen. What had been engineering was now part of Malcolm’s realm and it was filled to the brim with new Mark-III torpedoes. It would take some time to get used to the fact that engineering was now in the ‘hot rod’ section.

“Still catching up, Trip?” Anna asked as she strolled into his office, once he had actually found it.

“Yeah; Bless the Vulcans, they’re brilliant engineers, but I think they all have a bad case of OCD.”

Anna laughed softly.

“Look at it,” Trip continued and waved one of the PADDs. “They’ve taken stock and documented every single bolt and welding wire. It’ll take me until retirement to read all this.”

“Let me help,” Anna said and sorted through the PADDs on Trips desk. After some searching she had picked out three of them and handed them to Trip.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Lorian prepared a summary review of all those,” she said, waving her hand over the stack of PADDs cluttering his desk.

“That’s my boy,” Trip said with a grin and started to read the summaries.

Healer Gratev stumbled out of his laboratory. Only a few moments ago the loudest explosion he had ever heard had pierced one of his eardrums, leaving a small trickle of blood oozing out of his right ear. Expecting yet another unfortunate accident in the nearby Dilithium mines, he had grabbed his medical kit, ignoring the stabbing pain in his ear. Nothing had prepared him for what he saw out on the street.

The first thing he noticed was the heat. Even at the height of summer it had never been this hot and it seemed to get hotter and hotter. A group of soldiers ran towards him and, as was Gratev’s habit, he did not really pay any attention if they were government troops or rebels. As a healer he had patched up combatants from both sides of the conflict. With the mind-numbing pain in his ear and his vision blurred by the growing heat he just waited. The soldiers did not look like being in need of medical assistance.

“Are you a healer?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Yes,” Gratev answered.

“We must seek shelter, now!”

“Basement,” Gratev managed to utter before one solder each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him along.

“What happened?” the healer asked, once the group had reached the basement below his laboratory.

“We don’t know,” the leader answered. Gratev did not know much about the military, but the sheer number of symbols on his epaulets made it clear that he was the most senior of the soldiers.

“You are injured,” one of the soldiers noticed. “I’m a field medic, let me look at your ear.”

Phlox entered the bridge with a distinctly bad feeling. It was rare enough that he was included in a staff meeting and even more seldom had those meetings been summoned without prior notice. When he entered the ready room the other officers were already there.

“Coridan Prime has been attacked,” T’Pol started without preamble. The room fell silent.

“Do we know who?” Trip asked.

“We have only limited information so far. Apparently most of the planet’s surface has been incinerated. The fire was fueled by the extensive Dilithium deposits.”

“Dilithium doesn’t burn just like that,” Trip said, shaking his head. “You’d need a whole shipload of antimatter to blow up a whole deposit.”

“Speculation does not serve any purpose,” T’Pol refused. “We have been ordered to rendezvous with Columbia, Challenger and Discovery at Wolf 359. We shall investigate and provide any help we can give to the survivors on Coridan Prime. Doctor Phlox, assemble all personnel with medical training and coordinate with the medical officers on the other ships.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Commander Tucker, Commander Reed, assemble all non-essential personnel and assign them to rescue teams. The ship will be manned by a skeleton crew while in orbit.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” Malcolm interrupted. “Isn’t it too risky to leave the ship with minimum personnel? Whoever attacked the planet could still be out there or return to finish what they started.”

“A detachment of Andorian battle cruisers will join us in orbit around Coridan. They are ill-equipped to mount a rescue mission, but they are more than adequate to provide defensive cover.”

Seeing Hoshi crouched down near one of the huge tents that engineering crews had erected to serve as a field hospital, Trip ran over and put his arms around her to keep her from falling over. With a pained gagging sound she emptied the measly contents of her stomach onto the ground.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “I need to get a away...”

Trip tried not to sigh. He knew exactly what Hoshi was talking about. The tent was overflowing with Coridanites, who had fallen victim to the fire storm that had turned most of the planet’s surface into a smoking pile of ashes. As far as his eyes could see there was nothing but burnt stumps where once a lush forest had been and any sort of settlement had been reduced to a collection of burnt-out hollow shells. While that was enough to rattle a person, the real horror was the horrid stench of charred flesh and decaying corpses that poisoned most of the planet’s atmosphere.

He slung Hoshi’s arm over his shoulder as he helped the staggering girl to walk towards a smaller tent. Grabbing a cloth from a table near the entry, he gently wiped the remnants of vomit off Hoshi’s face and helped her to get ‘comfortable’ on a make-shift biobed. Basically it was just a stretcher with four metal rods welded to it to serve as legs, but it was the best they could do with the limited resources. Vulcan had dispatched several freighters with emergency supplies, but even though Vulcan freighters were capable of speeds in excess of warp four, it would still take them another thirty-six hours to reach Coridan.

Without needing any instruction to do so, a young crewman came over and put an oxygen mask over Hoshi’s face. Freed from the horrible miasma and breathing clear air for the first time in over a day, Hoshi calmed visibly, but her empty stare, which had gained the infamous name ‘thousand yards stare’ in Earth’s more savage history, made it clear that she was in bad shape.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. He whipped his head around and looked straight at T’Pol’s face.

“How’s it going in here?” he asked, exhaustion clearly showing on his features.

“I am trying to counsel the crewmen to the best of my abilities.”

“You’re doing fine, darlin’,” he said quietly enough to escape the hearing of any bystanders. He had noticed her insecurity about counseling distressed humans, but T’Pol had done a marvelous job so far. With Vulcans’ inherent problems with physical contact, she wasn’t well-suited to help Phlox’s teams, but with her ability to absorb and suppress emotions at least for a time, she was surprisingly effective in caring for the crew members, who had succumbed to the stress of the horrid situation.

“Your confidence in my abilities honors me,” T’Pol admitted when she picked up his surface thoughts. “But I do not know how much longer I can function.”

Her outright admission, which was still a rather rare occurrence, set off the warning bells in his mind. Realizing that she hadn’t meditated in almost two days, he acted quickly and opened his communicator.

“Tucker to Enterprise!”

“Enterprise here,” came the reply of Lieutenant Rao.

“Lock on to Captain T’Pol and transport her up. She’s to be left undisturbed for at least three hours.”

“Acknowledged.”

Trip noticed the strong wave of anger and irritation in the bond. Obviously she didn’t care much for his decision to exert more authority than his rank allowed him to.

“Exactly that’s why you’re now going up and will meditate the hell of it until you’ve gotten rid of the stress. You just went straight through my shields with your rampant emotions,” he said in a tone that made sure she knew that he wasn’t open to negotiation. “You may be the Captain, but you’re also my wife. I’m not standing by to see you fall apart. We need you at your best.”

Before she could deliver a reply, she dissolved in the glittering light of a matter transport and was gone.

“I’m taking over here,” Trip said to the two crewmen, who had watched the scene from a respectful distance.

Captain Sopek disembarked from the shuttle and took a look at the scene. He had just escorted a convoy of freighters to Coridan. With grudging respect he looked at the provisional landing site the humans had constructed. Not only had they cleared a huge area, they had built a lot of provisional landing pads for inbound and outbound shuttles and erected a structure overlooking the area, from which they coordinated the approaching and departing vehicles.

It had been three years since his last visit to this planet. Only a selfless act of Subcommander T’Pol then was responsible that he was still alive. At the time the humans had been a most disagreeable disruption. Their main achievements at the time consisted of a destroyed monastery and skirmishes with species like the Suliban, who until that time had been a minor footnote in the quadrant.

Since then the humans had started to claim their place in the intergalactic diplomatic spectrum and even most conservative and skeptical Vulcans like himself had to admit that they could not be dismissed any longer. Whether it was the truce at Paan Mokar, the discovery of Surak’s original writings, the successful defense against the Romulan drone ships or the rescue of Ambassador Soval from rogue Andorians, the humans had always been involved in a decisive fashion.

His thoughts were interrupted by an approaching human officer.

“Captain Sopek, if I’m not mistaken?” the human asked. Looking at the rank insignia, Sopek identified him as a Starfleet Commander.

“Indeed.”

“I’m Commander Malcolm Reed. If you would please follow me. We’re standing right in approach vector Three-Alpha.”

Following the human, Sopek tried to get an overview of the frantic action. Shuttles of human, Andorian, Vulcan and Coridan origin were approaching and departing in a dangerously high frequency. Such a low separation between vessels would be considered an irrationally high risk, but somehow the humans had managed to devise a method of making such dangerous flying reasonably safe. Sopek wondered if that was the reason why the humans had asked all Vulcan shuttles to identify themselves by the prefix ‘Desert’ followed by a unique ordinal number they were assigned by the humans.