Chapter 17: Pen Pals

Hoshi was sitting on the desk writing her letter and smiled as she heard a soft snoring from the bunk. As arranged before, she had fetched Trip from the captain's mess at precisely 23:30 By the looks of it, either Trip could hold his drink much better than Commodore Archer or their former captain had just drunk much more; Trip had been quite heavily buzzed and quite wobbly on his feet, but not hopelessly drunk. His older friend, however – well, she could imagine that he would not feel all that fresh the next day, indeed it was unlikely he'd wake up at all until late in the afternoon. Shran, who'd seemed almost unaffected by the drink, had promised to get the completely wasted Commodore, commander of the first fleet, back to his own ship within the hour. For good measure she'd told Tholos to keep an eye on them, especially to make sure that Shran wouldn't get it into his head to pilot the shuttle home by himself.

Thankfully Trip was a well-behaved drunk. He'd been telling a load of baloney, making jokes that were, well, probably best kept to an adult audience, but he never overstepped any boundaries of propriety. Considering that she had more than once teased him with the odd wiggle of her bust or other coquetry during their card games back on the station, she wouldn't have been too surprised or even angry if he had (with his inhibitions loosened by the drink) tried to 'cop' a playful feel, but the gallant southerner never put a foot wrong. In a way she had perhaps hoped he would, but she quickly suppressed this forbidden thought.

What had amused her most was that Trip could really keep no secret to himself in his condition. He would probably be the galaxy's most useless operative. His tongue loosened by Shran's ale, he had given away a few secrets that would definitely be of interest for T'Pol as far as spicing up their love life went.

Still smiling, she continued to finish her return communication to T'Pol. They had agreed before this mission to exchange letters. It wasn't so much to keep tabs on each other's husband, more to reassure each other that all was okay and to distract themselves from the stress of their separation.

Even though they were still in subspace range and Gardner was really giving them a lot of leash, they had agreed not to abuse that leniency and they already had used subspace resources for a purely private call, so written communication would have to do for now. Having finished her letter, she read it in one piece.

She encrypted the file and put it in the send queue. The next comms main cycle in two hours was about to bulk transfer it to the next subspace buoy together with other communications with Starfleet or relatives of the crew.

Hoshi undressed and threw her clothes into the laundry chute. After putting on a fresh pair of blue Starfleet underpants from the locker and a plain gray t-shirt she crawled under the sheets and slung her arms around the waist of her friend. Reassured by his solid warmth, she soon drifted off to sleep.

Trip checked the readiness report and the completion bar jumped to one hundred percent. Thirty-five ships had checked in to indicate their status as 'ready'. He stood up when Hoshi gave him the sign that fleet-wide connection had been established.

George Patton.

Picking up her silently mouthed hint he sent her a grateful smile that shortly after gave way to a more serious face expression again.

"This is fleet captain Charles Tucker III. I could launch into a pathetic motivational speech, but that would just bore the Vulcans out of their mind, so I'll keep it short and paraphrase the great George Patton: 'I don't care what species you are, as long as you go out there killing those Romulan sons of bitches. If you ever need me, you can find me on the lead ship at the business end of the battle'. Godspeed everybody."

Trip gave the Andorians a moment to finish their menacing war cry that Tholos excitedly joined in.

"Alright, war time cruising formation, warp six-oh on my mark," he ordered. "Now!"

A heavily armed fleet of human, Vulcan and Andorian ships zipped out after the Hammer Of War, heading toward Romulan space.

Malcolm was shaking, looking down at the dreaded element as it sloshed lazily back and forth after T'Pau had glided effortlessly into the bathtub. She had quickly turned around to face him, and his trembling fingers could barely meet with her own offered hand. She used both of hers to enclose his.

"You should not have let so much time pass since we last met here," she admonished him softly. "Your fear has had time to build up again due to your evading the water for an extended time. If you really want to overcome your fear you must not let that happen."

"I know," he sighed and his consternation turned to anger. "But I can't just take a bloody wellness bath when my wife and my best friend are out there on a deadly mission. I should be there to protect them, not dealing with a luxury problem for crying out loud."

"You know that isn't possible," T'Pau insisted, gently tugging his hand, and he took it as a sign to make the step down into the water. Agonizingly slowly he stepped down the stairs into the tub. He jumped down from the second to last step and a frightened shriek escaped from him. He had slipped upon landing and his head had momentarily dipped into the water. He felt his face heat up with a blush of embarrassment. T'Pau – bless her – did not comment on it.

"Doing your job here with T'Pol is equally as important," T'Pau said, while Malcolm continued to stare at the water. "Remember that winning this contract is crucial for your future."

"It will be quite useless if they don't come back," he ranted, still trying to glare the water into leaving him alone.

"Have you so little faith in your friend's command abilities?" she asked and he felt a little embarrassed about having given her the impression of thinking that Trip wasn't up to the job without having him there to cover for him.

"Trip is a fighter," he said, shaking his head. "He'll get the job done. I just hate being unable to do anything."

"You could restart fighting your fear," she suggested and he looked over at her. "Would it not be something that would give Hoshi much pleasure if you could invite her here upon your return without needing my presence for support?"

"Righto... , hand, please," he demanded, with renewed determination to get the job done. He suppressed a sigh as he got out of the tub. What was it with him getting pep talks from Vulcans lately?

T'Pau offered her hand again as he re-entered the tub, a lot quicker this time than during his first attempt.

"How's your head?" Hoshi asked, stepping into his ready room.

"I suppose better than Jon's," he said with a lopsided grin. She returned his light hug. "You're a peach, Hoshi. Thanks for that hypospray."

"You're welcome," she said, stepping out of his embrace, thankful for the short touch. Since transforming to his serious self, Trip had become a bit miserly with the simple, yet reassuring touches they normally exchanged during the day. "What did you ask me here for?"

"Letter for you came in on our private channel, so I guess it's from Malcolm. I'll be out on the bridge getting sitreps. Take your time. Best you answer it right away; we'll hit Rommie space tomorrow."

"Thanks, buddy," she said and kissed him on the cheek. He sent her a fleeting smile, before his face returned to its serious mien again. She watched him walk out, looking at him wistfully. She hoped this would be over soon, so she could see him more relaxed again.

Sitting down, she opened the letter that of course was from T'Pol. Malcolm wasn't the type to send longing love-letters, or any letter in fact. Knowing him he was probably looking for something to do to take his mind off their being apart.

T'Pol had really done a number on the encryption, Hoshi thought to herself as she cracked the cipher. There had to be a story in it if she made it even a bit challenging to get past the scramble algorithm.

The Suurok class cruisers hung back as backups while a large number of Kumari class ships criss-crossed all over space in a seemingly erratic pattern with the huge new ship diving into little spaces in between them to cover ships that simulated damage. It did so with fascinating accuracy, but also with an unsettling risk of collision. Whoever was operating the navigation console of the vessel was a true master at this task.

"A most impressive display," tactical office Torak summarized and Captain Sopek found himself in complete agreement with his officer's assessment.

"Fleet captain Tucker appears to foresee a large-scale battle with Rihanssu ships," the Vulcan added. "Is that your opinion, too, Subcommander?"

"Undoubtedly," the man behind the weapons console agreed. "The supremely maneuverable Andorian ships appear to emulate a swarm of insects, making them hard to target. The opponent will need to rely on hits by chance or will lose too much time trying to establish a weapons lock."

"Our part in the operation?" Sopek asked shortly and efficiently.

"The three Vulcan ships will guard the rear of the fleet, coming to the aid of beleaguered Andorian ships. We also act as backups for the three human NX class ships."

"Excellent, Subcommander. Find the ship in distress and move to protect it. Upon success, signal completion of the exercise to the lead ship."

Hoshi sat back down in Trip's ready room to answer T'Pol's letter after Trip had summoned her to the bridge to command the ship during one last large-scale tactical exercise. From now on it was 'Next stop: Romulan space'.