Chapter 3: Bridging The Divide

It was a quiet day on the bridge. Everybody minded his or her own business, running scans, diagnostics or whatever was available to fight the boredom of flying through friendly space. Due to the latest incidents with Augments and Orions, Starfleet had ordered the ship to stay closer to home, leaving the job of traipsing around in unknown space to find exciting new worlds to Columbia. It didn't exactly do much for the mood of the crew, and Jon wasn't sure how long it would take until the first crewmen would experience acute cabin fever.

"Еб твою мать, блин!"

Nobody except Ensign Sato could make any sense of Trip's latest outburst, that had abruptly pulled them out of the collective lull on the bridge. The furiously angry engineer had run off the bridge, so naturally all eyes were fixed on Hoshi with an unspoken request to translate.

"Y-you don't wanna know," Hoshi answered the questioning glances with a flushed face. Captain Archer had a sense of déja-vu.

A slight shudder of the ship made the bridge crew aware of the fact that Enterprise had unexpectedly dropped out of warp and turned their attention away from Trip's heretofore unknown language skills for a moment toward finding an explanation for the sudden drop in speed. Though it was entirely possible that the two were connected.

"T'Pol," Captain Archer ordered, tilting his head in the direction of the turbo lift. "Lieutenant Reed, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Sir."

"Any idea what Trip's little outburst was all about?" the captain asked as they walked towards engineering. "That sounded like Russian or something."

"It would be a logical conclusion. Commander Tucker mentioned that his second forefather Anthony Tucker lived in Russia."

"A Tucker in Russia?" Archer asked back in disbelief. Now that was a story he wanted to find out about.

"According to Commander Tucker it had something to do with... 'a gal from Anadyr'," T'Pol explained with an elevated eyebrow, and Jon laughed about her stilted use of human slang.

"Hoshi looked quite embarrassed, so maybe it's really better not to know, what Trip said," he mused as they reached the entrance of Engineering. They arrived just in time to see Trip dive away from an exploding EPS conduit, while a fountain of sparks scorched his uniform.

"Ебанный в рот!" Trip swore as he scrambled to get on his feet again.

"I never heard you cuss a blue-streak in Russian before," the ship's commanding officer said, bewildered, while lending Trip a hand to help him back on his feet.

"Hell, I've never been pissed off like that before," Trip returned angrily, his face red from the heat and his anger. "Seriously, next time we're on Jupiter Station, I'll boot some of those dimwits out the nearest airlock."

"Maybe it would be in the interest of all involved if you reverted to speaking Russian," T'Pol delivered deadpan, and the captain saw that she was obviously having a calming effect on him, if only a little.

"No, really." Trip continued in exasperation, wildly gesticulating as he ranted. "What's the point of bein' capable of warp 5.5, if half of engineering blows up every time we try to give 'er the beans? I can't believe how they jury-rigged the damned EPS grid. That's the sort of shit you'd expect from an office temp with a bad attitude. Those guys are supposed to be engineers. If someone of my team had delivered such a crap job, he'd be cleanin' the latrines with a tooth brush."

"Enough, Trip!" Archer interrupted his chief's rant, but couldn't keep a smile off his face. He knew that Trip's language could get colorful, but he had not heard him swear like that too often. He was sure that T'Pol had not understood even half of it. "What's the problem?"

"Watch this," Trip explained and opened a schematic of the EPS grid. "They couldn't expand this power line, so they jury-rigged a bypass without installin' stronger conduits. That's OK up to five point two, maybe point three, but as soon as we go faster, the shit goes flyin' and hits the fan."

The captain nearly laughed out loud when he could see how T'Pol's mind had probably started calculating a reasonable meaning for a metaphor of airborne excrement colliding with a primitive rotating air conditioning device. But she came up short if her confused look at the engineer was anything to go by.

"Can we correct it?" he asked, redirecting his attention away from the fascinating interaction between his officers back to the state of his ship. "And more importantly, why didn't we notice it before?"

"As for why we didn't notice it," the engineer explained pushing his sweat-soaked hair back with his right hand. That bypass was installed after the Klingon Augments gig, together with the new tamper-proof crypto-routines, and since I was officially a displaced crew member of Columbia, I had no access to the engineerin' reports from Jupiter station. So you might wanna ask Kelby how he could miss something as blatantly wrong as this!"

"Trip, I didn't say you're to blame," the captain said in a conciliatory tone. The engineer was right of course. During their short stop-over after resolving the Klingon crisis Kelby had overseen the repairs. But he hadn't gotten an answer to the most pressing question, so he repeated it. "Can you repair it?".

"Yeah, but that'll mean double shifts for at least a week and we'll run short on spares in the process."

"T'Pol will assist you with that," Jon decided. "I'll contact Gardner that we're returning to Jupiter station to pick up spares and have them clean up the mess they made. We might just as well send the crew on shore leave, while we're at it. It has been a while anyway, and we didn't get a chance to do so last time."

"Like the sound of 'at, Cap'n," the younger man replied with a tired grin. "Just make sure none of those imbeciles touches my engines ever again without me knowin' about it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Archer answered with a grin of his own and left Engineering. Shore leave was definitely in order. Those one and a half days on the planet had helped, but Trip was nowhere near back to his old self.

"May I?" T'Pol asked, pausing with the tray of food still in her hands.

"Of course," Hoshi nodded and the Vulcan took the indicated free seat on the opposite side of the table. "Where's Commander Tucker?"

"He remained in Engineering. It is often unwise to interrupt him, when he is ... repairing his engines," she replied dryly. "I'll take some food to him when I return to Engineering."

She saw the young human smile at this comment.

"Congratulations, by the way," the ensign said. "I've heard the Commander has finally moved in."

"Indeed and I wish to thank you for your advice about 'pulling my thumb out of my rectum'," T'Pol replied straight-faced. "Would you assist me with another linguistic problem, Ensign?"

"Sure, Commander."

"I am experiencing difficulties in understanding some of Commander Tuckers recently-used colorful phrases, like his metaphor of 'excrement colliding with a fan'."

She could see Hoshi choke on her sandwich, desperately trying not to laugh out loud.

"That is one of a more mature variety, Commander," the young woman admitted when she could finally speak again.

"I suspected that. Commander Tucker's speech was quite ... animated," the science officer agreed.

"That's putting it mildly," Hoshi answered, a blush creeping up her face. She was obviously remembering the Russian swearing from the incident on the Bridge earlier.

"Would you explain what Commander Tucker expressed in Russian?"

"No way!" The shocked expression on her face made it clear that the words really must have been fairly unmentionable. "I really meant it, when I said that you don't wanna know what it means. Russian swearing can be somewhat ... ripe."

"I see. I suppose it is better for all involved, that the universal translator did not manage to translate it," T'Pol said with an elevated brow.

"Well, such phrases have been left out deliberately," Hoshi answered with a sigh of relief. "Regarding these ... colorful phrases, I'll set up a database for you, Commander. You can then add new phrases whenever you encounter them."

"Thank you, Ensign. I expect that Commander Tucker will be a constant source of them."

"No doubt about that," she answered with a smile. "How about meeting in my quarters after the shift? We can go through the phrases that you didn't understand."

"That sounds agreeable, although we may not cover all the phrases. You will, after all, need some time to rest before your next shift."

Hoshi laughed softly at the dry suggestion, while T'Pol regarded her with an amused eyebrow lift.

"Hi again, Cath," Jon said with a smile when the face of Trip's mother Cathryn reappeared on screen.

"Thanks for callin' back, Jon. These subspace transmissions cost an arm and a leg."

He could see the embarrassed look on the older woman's face. He always had felt that it was a shame that Starfleet couldn't spare some subspace time for close relatives of the crewmen they sent out for years. The least he could do was call her back immediately to spare her the costs.

"Don't worry about that, Cath," he said, still smiling at her reassuringly. "They should have given you a subspace channel allocation to begin with. Take it as my way of correcting that oversight."

"You won't get into trouble?" she asked back, and it was plainly visible that she was still worried.

"No," he answered. "It's my job as the captain to look after my crew and when my third in command is having a family situation, it's my job to help."

"How is he?" the gray-haired woman asked. "He's still not answerin' any messages."

"Can't say I blame him," Jon said. "He showed me the message he got from his father when we returned from the Expanse. I'm not gonna lie to you, Cath. That was the most disgusting diatribe I've ever read. That was not the Charles Tucker I remember. But to answer your first question. Trip is well, very well in fact."

He was slightly taken aback when he saw tears running down the woman's face. He wasn't sure if they were tears of joy about Trip being well or tears of grief over losing contact. At a guess, it was probably a bit of both.

"I didn't know about that message," she admitted. "Charlie wrote it when I was in church. He was blind drunk that day, like he was so often in the first year after Lizzie's death."

"Is he getting help?" Jon asked in shock. Hearing that Trip's dad had a drinking problem was a serious blow. After he'd met Trip during the Warp Two project, they had spent so many weekends in Florida, listening to the seasoned engineer's tales. Charles Tucker jr. was not a guy to spurn a beer or two after a long day's work, but he had never seen him more than mildly drunk.

"He helped himself, eventually," Cath explained. "You know him. He never drank hard stuff, just beer. Thankfully it wasn't enough to get him addicted, well at least not physically."

"But mentally," His suspicions were confirmed when he saw her nod.

"Jon, he literally had to learn how to fall asleep again. It was no problem not to drink anything, but he had gotten so used to emptyin' one bottle after the other until he got tired, his body had sort of forgotten how to fall asleep when he was sober. And the nightmares, god almighty..."

"Is he better now?" It was hardly surprising that Charles Tucker Senior had had nightmares, having lost his daughter in such a way; nevertheless Jon was taken aback by the horror in her face.

"He was so shocked and ashamed when he heard that Trip went to Vulcan instead of comin' home, he admitted to writin' the message and asked Father Garret for help."

"Wouldn't a doctor have been the better choice?" As a confirmed atheist, he was doubtful about the fact that they had preferred a pastor over a medic.

"His problem was up here and down here," Cathryn replied, tapping her temple with her index finger, before doing the same with her heart. "Father Garret helped us grieve for Lizzie, and he helped Charlie out this time too. Only the rift with Trip. That's not something he can help us with."

"Maybe I can," Jon said with conviction. "I have a gut feeling that he might be much more willing to reconcile now."

The glum expression on the face of Trip's mother turned into a wide, hopeful grin, and the captain wondered briefly if he'd been too hasty with his assessment of the situation. Still, it was too late to retract it now, and Cath needed some good news if anyone did.

"Jon, tell me, did he finally get together with that Vulcan lady, T'Pol?"

The captain fidgeted. On one hand he wanted to give her hope by acknowledging the recent development between his two bridge officers, but on the other hand he didn't want to spoil a surprise Trip might want to spring on them himself.

"That's all I need to know," the elder woman said softly. "You're a good man, Jon, not wantin' to spoil the surprise, but really, he's written about nothin' else than her for god knows how long. And you're sayin' he is really well..."

"He'll kill me when he finds out that you learned all this from me." He put on a comic grimace of apprehension.

"No he won't," she insisted. "'Far as we're concerned, you haven't told us anything. If he would just speak to us again..."

"I'll have a talk with him, Cath. But I won't sugarcoat it for you. His dad is in for being read the Riot Act. He wrote things about T'Pol in that message that were not exactly printable and you have no idea how fiercely protective they are of each other."

He was taken aback by the scowl on Cathryn's face.

"Jon, trust me, it can't be worse than the Riot Act that I read him. And even if he's better now, a little refresher can't hurt. Charlie's done a lot of good after the Xindi attack, but nothing justifies what he's done to himself and to Trip and T'Pol, and trust me – he knows that by now."

"I'll do my best to help," he promised, sending her a reassuring smile.

The hot water was raining down on them as Trip pushed forward, holding T'Pol by the hips. He heard a grunt of approval as his throbbing erection sank into her opening. She was steadying herself with her hands against the wall of their shower.

He'd never believed his older brother's stories of how he and his wife couldn't keep their hands off each other during their honeymoon, but considering that since T'Pol's late-night confession not a single day had passed on which they hadn't made glorious love at least once, it didn't sound like such a tall tale anymore.

Their intimate encounters were still an area of experimentation, with neither of them very well versed in the stimulation of each other's bodies, and since T'Pol could not provide much feedback once her arousal had reached a certain level, Trip had taken to assessing her reaction by the noises she made.

Currently her only communication consisted of low guttural grunts and moans, which usually meant he was doing quite well as far as stimulating her was concerned. One thing he had learned was that her breasts were so sensitive he had to stay away from them sometimes or the encounter would end up much shorter than anticipated. Her ears and the prominent spinal ridge were other very sensitive areas, while her jaw and shoulder blades seemed to be rather unwanted areas for touch.

Her noisy reaction grew stronger as he picked up speed, sliding in and out of her in a precise rhythm. Even during the most intimate activity she could not hide her Vulcan nature, preferring a steady rhythm of thrusts rather than irregular intervals. Her full breasts swayed back and forth whenever he pushed back into her.

Sex with T'Pol was like ice dancing – not as difficult, but as mercilessly judged. Vulcans could not lie about whether or not it was a satisfying encounter. He would soon know his 'artistic score' by waiting for how long her senses were blacked out. If he had hit the bullseye, she could be out of it for up to fifteen minutes, while recovery within five minutes meant that they had found a technique or posture not worthy of repetition. Perhaps not every man would take easily to this sort of instant evaluation of his performance.

If her moaning and grunting was anything to go by, she wouldn't regain vision and hearing before he had soaped up, washed and toweled off both of them – she wouldn't be in any condition to do so herself. With a few more thrusts he pushed her over the edge and caught her as her body went limp in the throes of a mighty orgasm, with his own climax following hers almost instantly.