Chapter 1: Maiden Voyage

Just two days remained until Buran would be back in subspace range and the daily video chat with Trip could recommence. Not only was recalling the day's events with Trip over a beer the next best thing to stand in for the badly missed evening dinners in the Tucker quarters, there was also the odd helpful hint that T'Pol chipped in with, which was very useful for a newly appointed captain, who found himself in charge of Starfleet's second most illustrious ship.

His life had always been that of a lone wolf. There never had been much feeling of family in his youth, mainly because his father radiated all the warmth of an alpine glacier. After the fallout over his refusal to join the Navy he couldn't get away from his father fast enough and ended up with Section 31, Harris's shady bunch, who were hunting for solitary souls like him, since the dubious life of a spy was lonesome by definition. Now, after experiencing something resembling a family with Hoshi and the Tuckers, he couldn't imagine ever to return to that business. Sure, the skills and instincts he had acquired would come in handy now that war loomed, but becoming a spy again, with the odd assassination here or there, was completely out of the question. He would never give up the life with Hoshi he had now.

The subject of his thoughts was sitting at the communications console treating him to a beautiful smile. Somehow she always knew when he was thinking about her. Normally she would be supposed to sit right next to him in the second center chair - a feature that all newly built NX-class shared, but once in a while she liked to do her old job. Regulations be damned Malcolm thought, let her do it. Hoshi enjoyed running the coms and war was on the horizon, best to let her enjoy herself while she still could. He grinned inwardly, besides it put Hoshi in a good mood, which made their off-duty time much more fun.

His mind wandered back to their honeymoon and Malcolm suppressed a laugh. There was a certain irony to having one's honeymoon organized by a Vulcan. Unfamiliar with human customs, T'Len, the newly minted Chief Engineer of Buran had asked Lorian for help and he obviously had recalled his parents' wedding. One day after leaving Salem One to deliver Admiral Gardner back to Earth, he and Hoshi found themselves in a Cargo Bay which had been transformed into a beach, a duplicate of Lorian's parents' own honeymoon in the Expanse. While he wasn't a big fan of beaches - after all they suggested water nearby - Hoshi had thoroughly enjoyed the idea and since this artificial beach came without the water, he enjoyed it as well. Hoshi, having a tendency to not wear a uniform, or any other clothing for that matter, in her quarters, had merely adorned herself with a beautiful smile. That of course had kept his hormones beyond control and they had made glorious love for most of the three days.

His glance fell on the person, who had come up with the beachified cargo bay. When it came to being an atypical Vulcan, T'Len could easily give T'Pol a run for the money. As the captain of the ship he had of course seen her service record and knew that at age forty-nine, she was a good deal younger than T'Pol. Not that it made much of a difference; age did not seem to affect female Vulcans until it was triple-digit. Even though pushing seventy T'Pol looked better than most human females in their twenties and the same was true for T'Len. The unusual thing about T'Len was that she was already fully bonded with her mate Sonos, who was Hoshi's second in command of the communications department. Malcolm had learned from T'Pol that most Vulcans got married in their sixties.

T'Len and Sonos had quickly established a rapport with the crew. When Hoshi had started to assemble an all-female basketball team, T'Len had joined it as if it was the most Vulcan thing in the universe. If Hoshi was looking fantastic in the skin-tight two piece sport dress, T'Len was best described as spectacular. The weekly basketball tournament in cargo bay two had been a huge success since day one, with mainly male crew filling the make-shift bleachers. If she hadn't been married already, T'Len would have to fend the guys off with a stick. No moves on her were made, however. The cultural briefing that Hoshi had forwarded to all non-Vulcan crew members had apparently been well comprehended.

When her beauty wasn't driving the male human contingent crazy, T'Len studied the assembled engineering reports she had gotten from Trip as a going-away gift. While she was quite the brilliant Engineer herself, she didn't grow up with Trip's genius for improvisation. Thankfully Buran still had the new car feel to it, so she wasn't in need of improvised repairs yet, giving T'Len the time to get a feel for her.

Sonos, her mate occupied the communications console, Hoshi's intrusions not withstanding. Unlike T'Len, he was a Vulcan of a more traditional variety, but he seemed to have no problems with T'Len's occasional departure from Vulcan customs.

Looking to the right Malcolm could see his replacement at the tactical console. During the first days of their journey and much to the amusement of the bridge crew he had - out of habit - gone from the turbo lift straight to tactical instead of the big chair, even though it was hard to miss that the station had a new occupant, because his successor was bright blue. Tholos, once a member of Shrans raiding party at P'Jem and one of the Kumari survivors who had followed Shran to Starfleet, had specifically asked for assignment to Buran. Not too many people had managed to outfox the experienced Andorian warrior, but Malcolm and his landing party at P'Jem had. Tholos had developed an honest respect for Malcolm as a result. Having that much experience behind the tactical console was even better for Malcolm's confidence, knowing he would have been tempted to second guess each decision of a less experienced officer. Such a lack of trust in his tactical officer would be disastrous in a battle situation.

Next on Malcolm's visual inspection was the portly figure at the helms console – the Tellarite Grev. Coming with a stellar recommendation and quite a few honorable insults, he was one of only two Tellarites to enter Starfleet service. Both Andorians and Vulcans now boasted double digit numbers of Starfleet officers. With only Grev on board justification for the construction of a mud bath had been difficult, but since Tellarite mud seemed to have a positive effect on the skin of other races, it was added as cosmetic therapy for the many females on board, at least that was what the requisition Malcolm had signed, indicated. Surprisingly even some of the Vulcan females made use of the facility.

Somewhat impatiently Trip waited for the connection to establish, grinning when the screen finally lit up. Centered on the view-screen was a rather sweaty Malcolm and Hoshi sitting side by side – he still in uniform, while Hoshi wore a silk robe, which looked exactly like the one T'Pol had. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess that she wore nothing, or at least very little underneath.

"Do you actually wear clothes in your quarters at all anymore, Hoshi?" Trip asked with a chuckle.

"I do, occasionally, but we're still having some teething problems. Today the temperature controls for most of C deck packed in - again. It was the easiest solution to ditch the frock. Of course he's too much Captain to follow my example. That's why he's sweating like a pig and I'm not." she said with a teasing look at Malcolm,

Trip laughed.

"Actually, I'll leave you boys to your beer," Hoshi said, tossing the robe over a chair, walking away out of viewer range in nothing but skimpy panties.

"Looks like you've got no problems in the entertainment department, Malcolm," Trip said shaking his head, still amused by Hoshi's antics.

"Certainly not," the Brit answered and raised his mug. "Cheers."

"So, how's your little melting pot coming along?" Trip asked.

"Bit tricky," Malcolm explained. "No problems between the species, but adapting to them is a technical and logistical nightmare. The Vulcans are freezing and the Andorians are complaining of being boiled alive. Between cooling down the cabins of the Andorians and heating up the cabins of the Vulcans the life-support system is badly strained. It's the third time this week that the environmental controls went haywire. Mind you, it treats me to the most beautiful picture in the world," he said with an admiring look at a topless Hoshi, who was somewhere out of viewer range. "But that is little consolation for my crew."

"I might have something to help you," Trip offered. "I hooked the life-support in our quarters to the bio-sensors. That creates a sort of temperature bubble around T'Pol. She had been introducing me to some advanced neuropressure techniques. Some of them take an hour or more, so she usually gets a bit cold towards the end, but if we crank the temperature up to her comfort level, I'll sweat like a pig and smell accordingly."

"I wonder, how you'd stay conscious at all," Malcolm snorted. "I once was in our meditation chamber and it was so hot in there I nearly passed out."

"Exactly; the modifications allow T'Pol to set the temperature to her liking and due to the hook up to the bio-sensors the bubble follows her around, leaving the rest of the room unaffected. That could work for the Andorians as well – at least in their quarters."

"And what about the energy requirements?" Malcolm asked doubtfully.

"About 30% increase over normal, but still massively less than cooling or heating the whole quarters."

"With only two Vulcans on your ship, I doubt that was an entirely self-less decision," Malcolm said in a teasing tone.

"Busted!" Trip laughed again. "T'Pol dislikes the thermal lining in her uniform with a passion, so I had to get her comfortable without sentencing myself to hours of sauna in my own cabin. That she's taken to occasional topless meditation since the new system has been working, is a positive side-effect. She says it's making it more relaxing for her, but I bet she does it just to get me going."

"Does she succeed in that?" Malcolm asked with a mischievous half-smile.

"Every single time," Trip said with a chuckle, before switching to shop talk. "Did you get your CMO by now?"

"Picked her up on Earth," Malcolm confirmed with a nod. "You'll never guess who it is."

"Phlox's wife Feezal," Trip said casually between sips of beer.

"You knew?" Malcolm wondered.

"Forgotten who our CMO is?" Trip asked back. "He told me about it. He just didn't know when she would arrive. In fact, he said you should not wait long before having a serious talk with her. Denobulan marriages do not require sexual fidelity as I found out back at Dekendri III. Phlox has already told her that married and engaged men are off-limits, but she'll have no qualms bedding unattached guys unless you specifically order her not to."

Malcolm smirked. "We've already had that particular talk, Trip. Frankly I couldn't care less as long as the guys are willing and she makes it clear to them that it isn't more than a friendly roll in the hay. In fact, I've noticed a significant improvement in crew morale. She uses the rumor mill to update her list of eligible candidates."

Both of them had to laugh about that.

"So except for a quarter master you have a full crew then?"

"In fact I have a quarter master - Krolek, a Xindi."

"We've got Xindi in Starfleet now?" Trip asked in surprise.

"No, he's a civilian. Worked in Gralik's kemocite operation. It looks as if most Xindi are on some sort of guilt trip over the attack on Earth and want to make amends."

"Six different species. That's one diverse gang you have there," Trip noticed with a chuckle.

"Tell me about it. I've thought about renaming myself 'Captain Doolittle' and take to traveling the corridors on a pogo stick."

Both men laughed and raised their mugs in salute.

"It's a good crew though," Malcolm said as he put the mug back down. With all the Vulcans and Andorians on board, we have more deep space experience than you lot."

"True," Trip agreed with a suddenly grim face. "And you're going to need it – have you read the latest recon reports?"

"Yep, " Malcolm said, suddenly turning serious, too. "Together with what I wrangled out of Harris, I'd say we have two months maximum before things get serious. That's why we're going to test the vortex generator tomorrow."

"Vortex generator? As in Xindi vortex?"

"The very same," Malcolm acknowledged. "The Xindi had one vortex generator left from one of the salvaged Reptilian ships and when they heard that Hoshi and I would command this ship, they just installed it. Guess we've made a bit of a name for ourselves."

"I assumed this technology depended on the Sphere Builders' manipulations of space?" T'Pol joined in and took a seat next to Trip.

"Hi T'Pol," Malcolm greeted her. "As they found out, all it takes is a vortex generator. Of course it wasn't meant to be invented for another 600 years and its gigantic energy requirements make frequent use prohibitive."

"This would contaminate the time line," T'Pol argued.

"Sure it will," Malcolm agreed. "But both Starfleet and the Xindi council have agreed not to study or replicate the device and it has an automatic destruction sequence should someone try to remove and inspect it. Theory is that either the contamination of the timeline is minor enough not to alert Daniels and his Temporal Whats-its-name or it was meant to happen in the first place. Frankly this temporal malarkey gives me a headache."

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed.

Before they could continue, Trip and T'Pol witnessed a half naked Hoshi hopping through viewer range trying to don a uniform commando-style, while a loud klaxon on both ships announced that they had gone to General Quarters status.

"On screen!" Malcolm demanded as the alpha shift took their places on the battle bridge. Commodore Archer's grim face appeared on screen.

"The planet Betazed is under attack. They sent out a distress signal. Have you tested your vortex generator already?"

"No, sir, we were planning... ," Malcolm started, but was interrupted by Archer.

"Then you will do so now. Get to Betazed as soon as possible and hold the fort. The Vulcans should be there within two hours, we need at five from Salem One. Until then, you're on your own, Malcolm."

"Aye, Sir," the Brit replied calmly, using all his experience to hide his real condition. What the crew needed now was a captain, who proved that he'd been in more than one battle before. "We'll keep them busy."

"See that you do," Archer replied with a nod. "Good luck."

"Shit just got serious," Tholos said grimly, showing off his 'skills' in human slang. His antennae were pointing forward in aggression.