Chapter 9: The Naked Truth

"Okay, Okay, Hoshi, I'll be in a minute," the chief engineer relented and wiggled his hand free from hers. "I'll have to tell the captain."

She bounded ahead, while he pressed the call button. "Tucker to bridge"

"Archer. How does it look?"

"We're done here Cap'n. Have to take a shower but you can launch any time. Lieutenant Hess is here."

"I think we can wait until you've made yourself presentable, Trip."

He could hear the amused tone of his commanding officer, but he also saw the slightly hurt look on Anna's face; she didn't exactly understand the message as a show of confidence in her.

"Your call, Cap'n," he replied, rolling his eyes at the captain's 'people skills'. "But I didn't select my second in command for bein' dependent on me and I'd guess T'Pol would appreciate a launch as early as possible."

He heard a chuckle, before the connection ended and he followed Hoshi into the shower, watched by a grinning Anna Hess.

"I can't believe Trip is giving this up for a shower," the captain said, looking ahead at open space as the umbilical cords fell away from the hull. "Commander, since we're unlikely to make many scientific discoveries in the solar system, would you mind taking the comms console? I would suppose that our comms officer is on her way to her quarters for a shower, too."

With a nod T'Pol left her station and took Hoshi's place. Jon smiled faintly as she took out a cloth and wiped the ear-piece before putting it on.

"We have clearance to launch," the Vulcan reported after tapping keys in what seemed to him to be a rather random order.

"Ensign Mayweather, lay in a course to Starbase 74 and take us out. Half impulse."

"Half impulse, Sir."

Jonathan Archer sat back into his chair and smiled at Travis's enthusiasm. The day had finally come. The warp five engine – the work of his father's life was finally propelling a ship into deep space.

Trip entered the changing room of the engineering shower and saw Hoshi saunter – already stark naked – into the adjoining room, which had five shower heads aligned next to each other. He had initially thought that Malcolm had been exaggerating when he waxed lyrical about Hoshi's tush while they were in the Brig. But seeing the exquisite arrangement he came to the conclusion that Malcolm had actually employed a good deal of British understatement, and the engineer had to fight the urge to whistle.

"Like what you see, Commander?" she asked nonchalantly as she glanced back at him.

He blushed, caught out in blatant ogling.

"S-sorry, I-I mean ... I didn't mean to stare," he muttered, remembering that this was exactly why he had wanted to wait for her to be finished.

"It's okay, Trip," she said and he heard the water already running. "If I had been afraid of you looking, I'd have let you wait outside."

"Well, if Malcolm's memories of meetin' you for the first time are any indication, you're not exactly afraid of anyone lookin'."

He walked into the main room and opened the taps on one of the shower heads. There were no walls to separate the five shower heads on the wall, so he left one unused between himself and her to keep a respectful distance. He wasn't exactly shy or self-conscious, but it still felt weird being in the shower with the girl his new-found friend had unmistakably fallen for. He wondered if that tentative friendship they had developed would survive, if the Brit ever learned that they had taken the shower together as opposed to returning to their own quarters for it.

"How in the name of all that's holy did you get so much grime on your back?" she asked and he felt her scrubbing his back with a sponge.

"You haven't seen yours," he replied with a chuckle. "That stuff creeps in everywhere. Why'd you think we have a shower down here? The ship would be completely filthy within a week if we walked back to our quarters every time we need to get cleaned."

"Guess engineers aren't really self-conscious then," she mused, continuing her work on his back.

"Our department has the worst male-to-female ratio of the whole ship. We only have six women and all except Anna don't really get that dirty to begin with. So you rarely find anyone but guys in here – except for Anna o' course, but she's the galaxy's least shy person."

He checked the read-outs before him and – yes – the weapons array was still perfectly aligned. Considering that their 'epic' journey had lasted all of fifteen minutes so far, Malcolm found it unnerving that he had already run out of schematics to check. He needed something to do or he would die of boredom. Sure, it beat continuing to be Harris's pet assassin, but he was never one to be idle for too long.

"Permission to be relieved by my deputy, Captain," he requested, and waited for the answer.

"You aren't a nervous flyer, are you, Lieutenant?" his commanding officer replied with a smirk that he found slightly irksome, though he took care not to reveal that fact. In his opinion, it was not professional practice to poke fun at one's officers in the presence of junior personnel.

"Actually no, sir." His own tone was stiffly formal. "I would like to get started on that ... new assignment you gave me."

He fought down an indignant retort when he saw the captain's even more obvious amusement. Did the man think weapons were a joke?

"Granted Lieutenant. I doubt we have much to shoot at in our own backyard. We go to warp in about two hours. Make sure you're back by then."

He acknowledged the order with a nod and waited for his deputy – Ensign Moravek – to arrive on the bridge.

Trip took a large towel and wrapped it around Hoshi's hair while she was holding it in a bunch on top of her head. He folded it with the ease of long practice into what he used to call a 'long-haired girl bathroom turban'.

"Someone had a long-haired girl friend once," she said appreciatively.

"Actually, no. But my baby sister has a long mane like you. Had to do that loads of times when we were kids or she'd start cryin' in frustration when she couldn't get it done. She's a brilliant architect, but she's got two left hands and all her fingers are thumbs."

They shared a grin.

"And you still remember how it's done?"

"It's hardly rocket science, is it? And it's like ridin' a bike – you don't forget it," he explained, busy toweling himself dry.

There was a comfortable pause.

"So, will you help Malcolm with his new job?" he asked casually as he began putting on his underwear.

"If he asks – why not? Too bad you don't need help with your new job."

He smirked off her amused barb.

"The captain should have selected you or Anna for it, considerin' you're both not shy to flaunt it. And besides, a woman is much nicer to look at than a hairy guy."

"Hmm, I don't know. I found you quite pleasant to look at," she said mischievously. Zipping up her uniform she prepared to go, but turned around again, smiling brightly at him.

"And besides, Commander, I bet the art group will be mostly women."

T'Pol sat down at her terminal after the shift had ended. The first hours of warp flight had been pleasantly uneventful and in another forty-eight hours they would arrive at Starbase 74.

Three messages from Lieutenant Reed had arrived. The first one was an appointment for the next day for her hand weapons training with certification evaluation. She acknowledged the proposed time.

The other two messages were shipwide interactive announcements. She opened the first.

Application for art class

Ensign Mayumi Rao will teach an art class, open to non-commissioned and commissioned personnel. Applications are to be sent using the attached form.

I wish to take part in the painting and sculpturing class

a) as a student b) as a model c) both

If you selected model as a participatory option, select the appropriate option

a) only clothed depiction b) also nude or semi-nude depiction

T'Pol thought about the proposal. It would help to integrate herself with the crew if she took part in recreational activities and an art class sounded like an acceptable proposal. A congregation to produce art was a perfectly acceptable recreational activity for a Vulcan and likely to be a sedate and quiet activity as no incessant 'small talk' would be required. In addition she knew that some Vulcans used painting as a preferred method of meditation.

The question was if she would restrict her participation to the role of a student or would actually volunteer as the subject of the produced paintings. Logic dictated that she, as a Vulcan, would be more adept at remaining still for extended period of time and therefore increase the chance of higher quality art to be created. The distinction between nude and clothed depiction was not readily understandable. The body remained the same whether it was clothed or not and was merely a shell for one's katra. She reasoned that it might actually help to decrease the still visible apprehension of her human ship mates regarding interaction with her if they learned that the Vulcan body, small differences like the spinal ridge notwithstanding, was actually almost same as that of a human – at least in outward appearance.

T'Pol chose options c) and b) respectively and submitted the form.

Commander Charles Tucker III sat in a quiet corner of the mess hall, lazily stabbing at his salad.

"May I?"

He looked up and saw newly minted Commander T'Pol standing near his table carrying a tray with her food. He nodded his consent and indicated the empty chair across from him.

"Is there something wrong with your food, Commander?"

He looked up again. He had not really expected to be engaged in conversation as she usually preferred to eat in silence.

"Not really," he answered. "I just don't have a lot of appetite right now."

"If you wish to speak about what makes you lose your appetite..."

He thought about her roundabout offer. Hell, as first officer she might actually even mediate the inevitable conflict with the captain.

"It's about the message from Lieutenant Reed – the one about the art class. As a punishment for my brawl with Malcolm, I've been 'volunteered' to model for it."

"Would you have preferred a more severe punishment? Standing still for a period of time will most likely be challenging for someone with your obvious energy, but it is hardly a cruel punishment."

"Have you seen the 'options'?," he protested. "Both of them were pre-selected and locked against modification in my form. Forcing me to pose in the nude without my expressed consent is pushing it. I'm not self-conscious so if they really think they can stomach seeing me naked – fine, but I think I should have a say in this. I don't know who will be part of that class. It could get mighty awkward.

"Indeed you are right, and I concur. But I do not believe that there is reason to start a conflict with the Captain over it. As the first officer I shall make sure that your rights are strictly respected. It is fortunate that I have signed up for the class, too. I will be able to intervene immediately on your behalf should there be any unreasonable requests."