Cry Havoc - Ch 5

Cry Havoc

By MissAnnThropic

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1

Chapter 5

Ensign Hoshi Sato had to jerk back from nearly sagging down face-first into her peas and mashed potatoes. It was the third time she’d nearly nodded off over dinner. Each time, when it should have been a hint that she needed to call it a day, instead she shook herself and concentrated even harder on the PADDs before her.

She started at the voice that seemed to appear suddenly near her. “You look like you could sleep for a week, Hoshi.”

Hoshi dragged her tired eyes up to the source of the voice and found Travis Mayweather with dinner tray in hand, face painted with a warm but concerned smile.

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Hoshi replied and gestured with her free hand to the seat across from her.

Travis sat down and ate a few bites of reconstituted steak before regarding Hoshi as she worked, her dinner nearly abandoned, and asked, “How you holding up?”

Hoshi missed the question and looked up, eyes glazed. “Huh?”

“No offense, but you don’t look too good.”

“Oh... just tired, I’ll be looking forward to the Aries’s arrival just to be over and done with this eleventh-hour report scramble.”

Travis swallowed a mouthful of food, took a drink, and nodded. “I hear you. I don’t envy you or Commander Tucker. I think you two have been the busiest people on Enterprise getting things ready for the Aries.”

Hoshi stifled a yawn. “Well, Commander Tucker’s team has done a lot of work on Enterprise’s systems and engines in the expanse since we started this mission and the Xindi language... I honestly don’t know how the Aries translation specialist is going to manage this. I’ve input the constants and grammar that I’m fairly certain of into the Universal Translator, but there are so many small details that I’m not one-hundred percent sure of but still fall back on in some instances in a translation, or adapt notions from a rough idea of the tongue that I’ve been battering about...” Hoshi sighed and set down the PADD.

Travis commiserated. “I can’t imagine. I’ve had it pretty light, just a few flying tips on navigating the expanse and spatial distortions but so much of what I do amounts to getting a feel for how the ship moves when it hits a rough spot. Not much I can do in the way of writing in a report for that.”

“At least after we rendezvous with the Aries we’ll be headed back to Earth for a little while.”

Travis was noncommittal on the subject, at least not as nostalgic as Hoshi was about Earth. His family was space-faring; he had no ties to Earth beyond it being the planet of his species’ origin. Not to say, of course, that he wouldn’t fight to the death to protect the quaint little world.

“Well,” Travis said, “I can’t say I’m not looking forward to a little rest. I don’t even plan to do anything but sleep.”

Hoshi nearly purred. “Sleep from the time we hit Jupiter Station to the minute we’re recalled to head back out.”

Travis nodded in enraptured agreement as he chewed a bite of his processed steak.

“I wonder how many other crewmen are planning on spending the entire down-time back in Sol unconscious.”

Hoshi thought idly on the postulation though it had been phrased more as a joke. “I’d imagine quite a few... this crew’s run ragged.”

“Yeah, though we’d be ready to go another ten rounds right here right now with a Xindi ship, bring it on.”

Hoshi smirked. “You sound like Lieutenant Reed. Although I think most on the ship would agree with you,” her voice dropped, “Commander Tucker certainly would.”

Travis, on impulse at the mention, looked across the mess hall toward the table he’d noticed when he entered the room. At the other side of the dining hall, at their own table, sat Trip and T’Pol. Trip was sitting facing in the direction of Travis and Hoshi. T’Pol was sitting on Trip’s left side, allowing Travis only a profile view of the Vulcan. Both were eating in apparent, comfortable silence, their lips intermittently moving faintly and without hurry. As he happened to be looking in their direction, Travis saw Trip lower his fork and throw a look sideways at T’Pol as his weary expression lifted to form a smile. T’Pol, for her part, gave no indication she found anything humorous or had much less been the source of it.

Travis turned back to Hoshi. “Wouldn’t surprise me if the second we handed off our reports to Aries the engineering crew dropped from exhaustion.”

Hoshi caught herself, in the conversation lull, attempting to return to work and adamantly pushed the PADD before her aside. “That’s if Doctor Phlox doesn’t medicate them en mass before that.”

Travis snorted. “Don’t think half the engineering staff would mind that when it came to Commander Tucker. No disrespect to the commander, I can’t imagine what he’s had to handle these last few days, but scuttlebutt is he’s been a real bear to work for since we received our new orders.” Travis looked again toward the chief engineer. “Then again, he’s been better lately... maybe Phlox already did medicate him.”

Hoshi gave a knowing smile, easily mistaken for amused, but said nothing. Of course, she didn’t know that Phlox wasn’t giving Trip a sedative, but her suspicion was that the reason that Trip was calmer was sitting next to him at that very moment sharing dinner.

So much of conversation between individuals was nonverbal, composed of body language, and Hoshi’s expertise was in all the intricacies of communication. She noticed the little details, insignificant to many, unnoticed by most because it was integrated into their personal style of communication so tightly they weren’t aware of it enough to disentangle body from voice. Hoshi watched as closely as she listened, and she just noticed that about Trip and T’Pol. They were almost electric together, the way their energy spiked in tone and gestures when they were around each other. As much as T’Pol fired the commander up, she also pacified him when the occasion called for it, his bane and his balm in one fell swoop. Their unspoken language had become ten-fold intricate and subtle since Trip had begun undergoing neuropressure at the Vulcan science officer’s hand, almost well beyond Hoshi’s skills to even partially decipher.

Their unique friendship was intriguing to say the least. It was almost a case study in intraspecies communication in its own right.

Hoshi spared a glance in their direction. She noted the way Trip sat with shoulders slouched, right elbow anchored on the table with his right hand lightly bobbing the empty fork, left arm laid flat against the table near T’Pol, his legs under the table stretched out and crossed at the ankles, right foot propped atop the left and just barely pulling his posture in her direction. His head was cant just slightly in favor of T’Pol’s position and with each glance his eyes were holding on T’Pol’s face longer than strangers or casual acquaintances would make visual contact.

T’Pol, a much harder read of posture, was sitting primly in her chair beside him, projecting impeccable Vulcan stoicism, but little things jumped out at Hoshi. Her back, so often held ramrod straight, was just barely relaxed, enough to drop her shoulders a fraction, her hands were clasped lightly around her fork and knife, her legs folded underneath the table at a near perfect ninety degree angle until they too crossed at the ankles, her left resting atop the right and almost imperceptibly drawing her stance toward the commander in kind. Her drinking glass was situated on her right, where Trip’s hand almost brushed its side thoughtlessly. Surely great care had to be taken for her to avoid touching him when she reached for her cup, but yet the cup remained where it was rather than being moved to an equivalent position on T’Pol’s left. She endured the risk of repeated, unintentional physical contact with Trip, a grave gesture for a Vulcan. Her movements, always trained, were more relaxed and her own glances in Trip’s direction were maintained longer than Hoshi noted T’Pol tended to hold eye contact with any other human members of the crew.

Were it not considered rude in both cultures, Hoshi could probably, with ease, waste an entire day just watching the way they interacted.

No, Hoshi doubted Phlox had anything to do with Trip being comparatively subdued.

“Hoshi?”

Hoshi tore herself away from her own thoughts and looked back at Travis. “Sorry?”

Travis shook his head. “Maybe you better get a jump on some of that sleep now, you look like you could use it.”

“That’s the second time you’ve implied I look horrible, you keep it up and I’m going to start taking it personally.”

Travis grinned. “Hey, don’t get ugly, I’m just looking out for you. Pretty, smart women like you need their beauty sleep.”

“Nice save, Ensign.”

Travis grinned playfully, eyes alive and energetic despite the hour and the past few days, then his gaze shifted to just above her shoulder and his smile fell. He was already starting to rise from the table as he said, “On second thought, I think some shut-eye is going to have to wait,” and with nary another word he took his tray to the disposal receptacles then exited the mess.

Hoshi turned to look over her shoulder, seeking whatever had drawn such a reaction from Travis, and found herself focusing intently out the mess hall windows. It looked like normal space to her, burning stars in the blackness, but the longer and harder she looked the more it seemed that one of those bright specs was just barely moving amid its celestial brethren.

Hoshi heard movement from elsewhere in the mess hall and sought its source. Trip and T’Pol were both getting up, expressions and gestures tenser as their eyes too returned again and again to the view ports while they gathered up the remains of their dinner.

Hoshi narrowed her eyes again at the speck. It was a white pinprick to her, granted a moving pinprick, but from the reaction from her fellow crew members, from a space boomer and the chief engineer as well as the Vulcan with superior vision, Hoshi could only conclude one thing. That insignificant spot was the long-awaited Aries.

****

Captain Archer had been called to the bridge just as he was preparing for bed when sensors detected a ship on a direct intercept course with Enterprise. He’d been redressed and back on the command center of the ship in two minutes, faced with the night crew of the ship. They were the faces aboard Enterprise he did not see near as often as he would like, but someone had to run the ship while his main crew slept.

Archer discovered he’d rushed to the bridge only to pace around and wait. The ship was too far out to identify, merely enough to register on the sensors. They weren’t in the friendliest of galactic neighborhoods and Archer didn’t intend to hail out to an unknown ship sight unseen. So they were waiting for the ship to come within range of positive identification, friend or foe.

The view screen showed what the sensors saw, attention locked on the slowly approaching vessel as the silver speck grew larger, the moving dot of light taking the very distant shape of a ship, its metal hull reflecting distant starlight.

Archer knew his ship and its abilities well enough to know they were nearly close enough for a more detailed read on the ship.

Seconds before that scan was capable of taking place the turbolift door opened and an outpouring of primary rotation staff fluxed inward. Ensigns Mayweather and Sato, Sub-commander T’Pol, and Commander Tucker.

Archer resisted smiling. He could only imagine how the group had learned of their possible contact out there, but he was not surprised. The same could not be said for the midnight crew currently manning the stations. Many looked toward the arriving staff with looks of wonder, for to them the perfectly timed appearance had to seem almost clairvoyant.

Ensign Mayweather went immediately to helm control but rather than relieve the current crewman chose to stand near the console, at hand if needed, and watch the view screen intently.

Ensign Sato, similarly, returned to her customary station. Neither did she request the current occupant vacant the post, but the night-shift crewman did anyway and Hoshi did not argue with him. Instead, Hoshi sat down in her seat and divided her attention between her communications console and the image on the view screen.

T’Pol was not quite as tactful. She did ask the on-duty science station attendant to relinquish control and the woman had little to do but obey the Vulcan. T’Pol did a quick check of her sensors, attentive to the slightest oscillation of readings that would mark the coming ship as good news or bad.

Trip, for his part, hung back at the rear of the bridge, never far from the turbolift door. He wanted to see what was going on but was prepped for a dash down to engineering at the slightest word from Archer, about as spring-loaded as a human being could get.

At peculiar moments like this Archer felt sparks and swells of pride in his crew.

“Sensors?” he asked as he turned toward T’Pol, “any idea yet if those are good guys?”

T’Pol, face buried in her readings, didn’t answer at first. When she did it was with her typical, unflappable tone. “The composition and structural scans correlate with the current Starfleet warp 5 vessel configurations.”

“The Aries I presume?”

T’Pol lifted her eyebrows and gave a nod. “That would be a fair assumption.”

Archer felt a little more at ease knowing they weren’t going to be looking down the barrel end of a Xindi ship.

“Let’s hail them, then. Hoshi..”

“Sir,” Hoshi interrupted before Archer could finish the order, “we’re being hailed.”

“All right,” the captain stepped toward the captain’s chair in the center of the room, “on screen.”

All eyes faced toward the view screen to get their first look at the crew of the NX Aries.

Everyone expected a familiar face, the blue jumpsuit and gold stripe of command that signified a Starfleet captain. They expected a friendly face.

Everyone, save T’Pol, was given noticeably startled pause by the sight that greeted them instead the moment the scene of space was replaced with the view of the other ship’s bridge.

It was familiar enough, but in the wrong, small ways. A human man filled most of the screen, his likeness larger than life on the Enterprise viewer. His face was almost off-putting in its hard-cut severity, so unlike the congenial, familiar face of a Starfleet representative they all were expecting, an open face not unlike Captain Archer’s. Strong features on the man opposite them now matched with the close-cropped brown hair, lighter at the temples with silver, and the gray uniform of finely-honed military precision.

MACO.

The stunned silence lasted long enough for the other man to get in the first word.

“Captain Archer, I’m Captain Richard Dalin of the NX Aries. Nice to finally catch up with you.”

Archer blinked, readjusted, then nodded. “Good to see another human in these parts, Captain. Excuse my obtuseness, but I wasn’t expecting the Aries to be under the command of the MACOs.”

Captain Dalin gave a smile, small but kind enough for such a powerful looking visage. “Yes, well, it’s not quite that simple. This is an official Starfleet mission, but certainly a conversation best saved for a face-to-face meeting.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Archer paused half a second when a second person on the Aries bridge walked by in the background. Another figure decked in the gray uniform of the MACOs. ‘I’ll be looking forward to knowing just what in the name of god is going on,’ Archer thought.

Dalin turned his head toward something off-screen then returned his gaze forward and said to Archer, “Our ETA to your position is about six hours. I’m afraid we’ve had a little hiccup with our warp engine, hit a pot-hole a few light years back and we’re stuck at one-quarter impulse until we can purge and recalibrate a misaligned warp core injector.”

“If you’d like us to adjust course and come to you..”

“Please, Captain, if there’s no urgently pressing business it would do us good to iron this out for ourselves, break in the crew and the Aries a little more, but I can’t say this stretch of space has been a pleasant ride.”

Archer barely smiled. “You don’t have to tell me, Captain, don’t judge Enterprise by her paint job when you’re close enough to see it.”

Dalin chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. If you don’t mind, Captain, I have a few details to tend to before we rendezvous...”

“Of course, Captain. We’ll see you in about six hours.”

The screen returned to a vista of space and for a long, drawn out minute no one on the bridge spoke... in truth barely moved save to look surreptitiously at one another.

Archer scanned the faces of his crew, finding them just as boggled as he, and when at last his eyes fell on Trip the captain stopped. Trip looked put-upon.

“What the hell do you think that’s about?” Trip had no qualms about blurting.

Archer shook his head. “I have no idea, but I intend to have a long talk with Admiral Forrest when we’re back at Earth.” ‘Forrest should have told me, warned me I wouldn’t be dealing with Starfleet,’ Archer fumed to himself. It was a surprise he need not have experienced, and on this mission Archer had developed a very low tolerances for surprises.

Archer looked once again at the bridge. It was fairly crammed. Two science personnel, two helmsmen, two communications specialists, a tactical crewman, the captain, and the chief engineer.

“I suggest A shift get some shut-eye while we have the chance... doesn’t look like we’re going to have much to do for the next six hours.” ‘And once the Aries gets here, we’re probably not going to get much sleep for the next three days.’

****

Almost exactly six hours later the NX Aries sidled up alongside Enterprise with slow, unpracticed and yet exact movements. The ship that so nearly was the NX Columbia, a perfect sister ship to Enterprise, still maintained its initially conceived frame and shape. It was clear at which late stage the ship had lost its fledgling identity and became the Aries. The two ships, in fact, to the undiscerning or distant eye, were identical. The Aries had the same saucer configuration, the same nacelle placement and angle of attachment, the same size bow to stern and starboard to port as the older, more experienced ship at its side. It was only upon closer inspection that the two ships, so alike in conception and intention, began to diverge. For all her wear and tear, scorch marks and singed plating, the Enterprise was the more esthetically pleasing of the two ships to look upon. Aries, for lack of a better word, looked like it was bristling. Bristled and furry with the pronounced edges of reinforced hull plating, the turrets and depressions of liberally placed torpedo shafts and phase cannons, the spikes of sensor antennae prickled along the saucer section. The difference in their mission was painfully apparent, because no passing alien species would even consider stopping to say high to the beefy monstrosity that was the NX Aries.

Then again, it may have been bias on Archer’s part. The Enterprise made this beast of a ship, so nearly its twin, look like the ugly duckling in a sleek starship family.

Archer was standing outside the launch bay, waiting for the Aries shuttle pod to land inside Enterprise. At his side stood T’Pol, Trip, and Reed. Reed they’d practically had to drag from the nearest view port to properly greet the guests from the Aries. Archer had to amend his earlier thoughts, because it was quite possible that to his tactical officer the imposing ship at their port was a thing of beauty.

A light above the launch bay door switched from red to green, indicating the pod had landed and the bay was pressurized.

Archer keyed open the door and the Enterprise group marched inside.

The pod sitting on their launch bay deck was just as equipped as its source ship. Heavy-duty hull plating, a propensity for weapons, and an all-around meaner look stood like a black scab against the smooth gray walls of the Enterprise shuttle bay.

The pod’s door opened and the first to emerge was the man whom they’d seen on the bridge view screen. Captain Dalin stepped on to the deck and stretched to his full height, an imposing man to match his armed ship. And Archer thought it was pets that masters were supposed to look like.

Two more people followed Dalin out of the shuttle. One Archer was relieved to note he recognized. Scott Williams, a comrade of Archer’s from Starfleet Academy. Scott was dressed in a uniform much more reminiscent of the Starfleet clothes Archer and his crew wore, a flight suit one-piece, only Scott’s was gray rather than blue with the familiar gold stripe across the shoulders. The third was, if clothes were any indication, another MACO, a man much leaner and a good three inches shorter than Dalin but cut from the same proverbial mold.

“Captain Archer,” Dalin greeted and strode across the launch bay toward the Enterprise crew. When they were close enough to notice fine details of their persons, Archer noticed the insignia sewn into the left-side chest of the uniforms. A triangular shape, actually more like a spade or arrowhead. It was not a MACO symbol, for the MACOs assigned to Enterprise lacked such identifying marks. Archer noticed that even Scott’s uniform bore the unfamiliar symbol on his uniform, and none among the Aries crew sported a patch as the Enterprise uniforms did.

“Captain Dalin,” Archer returned the gesture when the trio reached them, shaking the man’s hand and only offering a smile at the firmer-than-necessary grip Dalin exerted. “Let me introduce my senior officers, Sub-commander T’Pol, science officer; Commander Tucker, chief engineer; and Lieutenant Reed, tactical officer.”

Dalin nodded politely to each person in turn then said, “I have to confess I’m familiar with almost everyone on your crew already, Captain, courtesy of Starfleet...”

“How considerate of them,” Archer seethed just barely.

Dalin turned to the two at his side. “My first officer, Scott Williams, and my tactical officer, Mac Douglas.”

Archer nodded to both but returned his eyes to Scott. “I already know Williams, how are you, Scott?”

Scott gave a smile. “Not too bad all things considered, Jon.”

“Of course,” Dalin said, “I should have realized you and Williams were acquainted, forgive me.”

“Pleasantries aren’t my immediate concern at the moment, if you’ll forgive my bluntness, Captain Dalin.”

Dalin nodded. “Yes, I imagine you have quite a few questions, and I have your answers whenever you’re ready, Captain.”

“Good. I’ve arranged for an early lunch for all of us in the captain’s mess.”

“Excellent, just one thing, Captain?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to request Major Hayes join us.”

Archer couldn’t say he liked that idea at first suggestion. He was starting to get a bad taste on the back of his tongue, and it tasted like MACO.

TBC

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Four of you have made comments

Uh, uh. MACO? That doesn´t sound good. Uh.
Love the "covered" observations of Hoshi. ;-)

Looking forward to the next chapter.

Ooooooo, goodie! Dinner in the mess hall, and MACOs for dessert! :) Great chapter!

Oooh, the plot thickens! This is getting very interesting. I love your description of the silent communications between Trip and T'Pol in the mess hall, and how Hoshi can interpret their body language. Can't wait for chapter 6! :)

Very cool with the whole Trip T'Pol thing in the mess specialy from Hoshi's point of view. It's nice to know what some of the others are thinking.

I don't like the sound of the Aries hahaha which is quite funny to me because i am actully an Aries lol hahahaha. But oh well I don't really like the MACOs at all. So i hope they get a real slapping.