Seleya Hills 90210
Chapter 3: Cloak And Dagger

Copyright© 2016 by The Slim Rhino

An anniversary was coming up, causing the weekly ladies gathering as well as the guy's beer bash to be cancelled.

"If it wasn't for the ears, I wouldn't believe that I'm talking to two Vulcans," Trip said exasperated. "I mean, if that idea had come from Malcolm... , but you?"

"If you look back at several such celebrations of the past, you will realize that the concept of 'gag gifts', based on a common theme, is not necessarily a new concept," T'Pau insisted.

"So we did that before," Trip said. "But the scheme is all wrong. T'Pau, you of all people should see that."

"I believe my husband is well able to see the irony in getting presents for his alleged retirement on his fifty-fourth anniversary."

Trip sighed.

"But you do remember that Enterprise is decommissioned the day after, don't you? The 'retirement' scheme gets quite the sour aftertaste, if your ship is put into a museum the next day and you're the captain."

T'Pol and T'Pau thought about that for a moment.

"I believe in this case we shall modify the theme slightly. The original 'retirement' theme remains, but the gifts should also refer to the history of Enterprise's mission," T'Pol suggested.

"Bit of a funny look back," Trip mused. "That could work. But I'm still not sure that it won't backfire."


Chief Kranz walked cautiously towards the meeting point with his MACO co-conspirator. Reaching the agreed spot near the transporter alcove, he waited a few moments before Master Sergeant Jean de Cortez stepped out of the shadows.

"Everything prepared?" the MACO asked.

"Yes. We're parked in transporter range of Space Station Centauri III. Their transporter room is standing by. Tucker has faked an injector problem, but we should be done as quickly as possible. Archer won't buy that Tucker needs an hour to straighten out a moody injector."

"OK," the MACO agreed with a nod. "Let's get the show on the road."

Kranz walked up to the transporter controls and pushed up the energy levers.

Accompanied by the typical whine of a matter transport, four crates materialized in the shimmering light. Kranz walked up to the platform and checked the delivery, while de Cortez made a small gesture which caused a group of MACO's to appear seemingly out of thin air.

"You people really ARE good," Kranz said, admiring the stealthy talents of the soldiers.

"Which one goes where?" de Cortez asked.

"This one to Engineering," Kranz explained handing one of the MACOs a key card. "Put it in Commander Tucker's office and return the keys to me."

Watching the four MACOS walk off with the heavy package, Kranz turned to the other two soldiers.

"This one goes to the science lab."

As before, they walked off leaving only Kranz and de Cortez behind.

"I'll take this one," the Chief instructed and grabbed a crate that had several slits on the top and bottom. De Cortez grabbed the last crate and followed Kranz.


"Ugh," Henry Archer groaned as he woke prematurely from a deep sleep. Trying to get a bearing on his surroundings, he rolled over to glance at the chronometer, but before he could do so his field of vision was obstructed by a blond-haired head planting a clumsy and noisy good-morning kiss on his lips.

"You are worse than Mom and Aunt T'Pol," he sighed when he finally got a glance at the clock. "Why are you awake so early? Go back to sleep!"

"We must look to see if our package for Uncle Jon has arrived," the little girl demanded and climbed out of bed, dragging a rather reluctant Henry with her.


Jon walked the corridors of his ship, as he had done so often over the last fifteen years, but it hadn't been the same recently. Not only was the ship to be retired to a plinth in just two days; the absence of a tail-wagging companion added to Jon's malaise. Dying peacefully in his sleep four years ago, Porthos had left a hole in Jon's life.

Of course, the marriage to T'Pau and the birth of his precious son, Henry, had obliterated Porthos' status as the sole companion of the long-serving star-ship Captain, but there were situations in which the faithful little ball of fur was sorely missed. The long walks through the ship were one of those. Taking Henry for a walk would only earn him the wrath of little T'Mir for hijacking her troubadour and taking both of them wasn't an option either, because their joint talent for unfortunate mishaps would make a stroll along the corridors the equivalent of entering Trip's department with a shirt saying "F*ck the Engines". It would just be begging for trouble.

Still mourning the absence of a walking companion, Jon bumped into someone as he changed direction at a T-junction.

"Are you trying to beat your son at his own game?" the blue obstacle in Jon's path asked in reference to Henry's body-check a few days before.

"Huh ... oh, Shran. Sorry about that," Jon muttered. "Guess I was a bit distracted."

"Obviously, " Shran said with a smirk. "Saying good bye to your ship?"

"Something like that," Jon said. "It's hard to imagine that she's gonna be decommissioned after only fifteen years. Somehow it feels like she's being cheated out of many years of faithful service."

"At least you'll be able to visit her whenever you want. Something I can't say about my first ship."

"Looking at it like that, you're right," Jon agreed. "Really, Shran, you should become a councillor, not an ambassador."

"I might be able to read you, pink skin, but I have no clue about most other humans. I've been married to Amanda for years now and she's still a complete mystery."

"Don't expect that to change, ever," Jon said with a laugh. "Men have tried to make sense of their ladies for centuries. They all failed."


Stealthily, Agent T'Mir came up to the entrance of engineering's production workshop. Since parts were rarely produced from raw materials aboard the ships anymore - after fifteen years in space, humanity and its Federation allies had more than enough space stations to get new parts from - this particular part of engineering had been all but unused for the last three years. Today, however, one day before uncle Jon's 54th birthday, it was buzzing with activity. It would be a perfect place for Agent Henry to hide in, so Agent T'Mir, obliged by their game to find and apprehend him, snuck a peek inside.

Her father, the ship's Chief Engineer, was standing with his back to the door and inspecting some sort of rod made from a dark, shiny wood. This was too good an opportunity to pass up and Agent T'Mir snuck up to her parent, tickling him from behind.

Her male ancestor, in deep concentration and unprepared for a pint-sized Agent tickling him, was so startled that he threw up his arms and let go of the rod, which went flying, hit and extinguished a ceiling lamp, before its deflected flight path brought it on direct collision course with Uncle Kov's head. BANG!

T'Mir froze when she saw the rather unexpected consequences of her sneak attack. Groaning, her father turned around and stared her down. "What did we tell you and Henry about playing 'Super Agents'?"

T'Mir took up her usual 'guilty-pout-staring-at-the-floor pose'.

"You will apologize to Uncle Kov and help him cool the bump on his head, got me?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said and trundled towards the slightly dented Uncle Kov.

"After that, you might just as well go to your room and start meditating already, because that's going to be your mother's verdict anyway."

"But I don't want to meditate without Henry," she complained.

"Don't worry," Trip said. "Knowing him, your Henry will soon try the same prank on your mothers. Have a guess how that's going to go."


Stealthily, Agent Henry snuck up to the astrophysics lab entry. His two years of experience as 'Super Spy 00-Archer' told him that Agent T'Mir would hide somewhere with her parents. His lady was way too curious to pass up an opportunity to find out what her Mommy and Daddy were going to give his dad as a birthday present.

He had considered the two opportunities that were open to his blond-haired girlfriend and playground adversary. Falsely believing that he knew all about his better half, Henry had decided that T'Mir would spy on the two resident Vulcan moms in the science lab, since spying on two people in one go would be twice as effective as spying on Uncle Trip only. At least that's what he'd have chosen, were he playing the fugitive's role in today's game.

Entering the astrophysics lab, he quickly ducked below one of the desks. Nobody was inside, but the hideous screeching noises from the adjacent storage room told him that the lab was not completely empty. Due to the loud noises, nobody had heard the door opening and closing again.

Agent Henry silently questioned the logic of Mommy and Aunt T'Pol. If he could enter undetected so could his father, and the surprise would be spoiled. Waiting for another 2 minutes, during which nobody scanned the room for trespassers, he silently inched closer to the open entry of the storage room.

Peeking around the door frame he saw Aunt T'Pol, a magnifying glass squeezed into her right eye, working on some sort of metal plaque with a laser. Too good an opportunity to pass up, thought the little wannabe-spy, and snuck up on her from behind. Just before his aunt came into arm's reach, little Henry felt his feet disconnect from the floor, while his right arm shot up and he found himself hanging in the air, his wrist in the iron grip of his mother, who had shown her superior spy talents by sneaking up on him from behind.

Notified by the boy's yelp of surprise, his aunt had turned around and he looked into her disapproving face. She stared him down with what Uncle Trip had once called "The Eyebrow of Doom".

"Unfortunately for you, T'Mir has already been apprehended after a similar attempt at mischief," she lectured. "You may now go to her quarters, where both of you will engage in meditation for at least two hours. She is already waiting."

"You're no fun," Henry complained. "T'Mir's been caught, Uncle Trip used the bond telephone with you to rat her out and then Mom just spied on me with her big telepathic powers. Not fair!"

"While your logical deduction is commendable, your choice of words is not - three hours," he heard his mother announce from behind. She still held him dangling in mid air.

Henry groaned theatrically in frustration, as he was lowered to the floor again.

"I understand your frustration," Aunt T'Pol delivered dead-pan. "Three hours is fairly short. Four hours, then."

Without another word Henry trundled off in defeat, before any other reaction could cause the "Iron Moms" tag-team to extend their detention to a time that would make him late for his wedding with T'Mir.


Chief Kranz put the finishing touches on the woollen blanket he had promised the kids to make for them. Considering that it had been more than three hours since they dropped by last time to check if their present for the Captain was still there, he could only assume that they had run into conflict with the matriarchal law again.

He wondered whether that brilliant an idea for a gift had come from the kids themselves. Despite all the havoc they wreaked, they were good kids, so it seemed likely. Especially little T'Mir was everybody's darling, which was not really a surprise. Even at this young age it was not too difficult to see that she would one day be a stunningly beautiful creature and little Henry would have his hands full fending off all the guys with a stick.

 
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