Knocking- Part 1

Knocking at the Gate

By Aquila

Rating: NC-17, this part: R
Disclaimer: If I owned Trip and T’Pol, "A Night in Sickbay" would never have aired.
Summary: In the Delphic Expanse, complications arise as a result of previous choices made. This is an alternate universe, with spoilers.

Part One

==

“Captain on deck.”

Trip sighed as he heard a dozen pair of heels click to attention. He was kneeling on top of the warp engine, with his head in an access panel making adjustments. He raised his head, but could not see what had prompted the shout from Rorke.

“As you were.”

The rustling and murmuring of professionals going about their business followed the friendly command. Trip returned to the task at hand, until he was distracted again by the sound of feet climbing the warp engine access ladder. When he looked up, Archer’s disembodied head appeared.

“I thought you saved the spit and polish for your engines, Commander?” A grin accompanied the question.

“Military manners Cap’n are as contagious as a Vulcan virus.” Trip picked up the access panel and set it in place.

“I don’t understand.” Archer prompted.

“Rorke, the Marine, working just to the left below ya?” Trip tightened the nuts that held the panel in place, then sat back on his haunches. “Ever since he started cross trainin’ in engineerin’ my people have developed a penchant for salutin.’”

“Do you know why?” Archer was genuinely curious. Formality had never been part of Tucker’s command style.

“Let me start by tellin’ ya that I have haven’t been showin’ any favouritism.” Trip insisted to which Archer nodded in support of the assertion. “But Rorke has the makin’s of a fine, fine engineer. He is wasted in the Marines. I’d poach him right away, if I didn’t respect Colonel Chu.”

“I still don’t understand.” Archer was amused at Trip’s restraint. There was a time when respect or no respect he would have poached and ignored the possible consequences.

“Sometimes, when you’re in the presence of real genius, you just know. It is a beautiful thing to watch.”

Archer recalled his first impression of an engineering lieutenant he had met seven years before. “Yes, I can honestly say that I do.”

“Well, that’s Rorke. My people noticed right away. They like him so much that they humour him, playin’ along with his habits, like salutin’ and callin’ me sir all the time.”

“Discipline isn’t a problem in engineering I gather?” Archer barely controlled a laugh.

“My people are the best, Captain. You don’t need to lose any sleep over the engines. We’ll be ready when you need us.” Trip was genuine in his compliment.

“Do you have a minute, Commander?” Archer’s demeanor shifted from friend to superior officer with one question.

“I’ll be right with you, Captain.” Trip stood. “Mr. Rorke, you can run that diagnostic now. When the Captain’s finished with me, I’ll go over the results with you.”

As Trip turned began his slide down the ladder, he heard Rorke’s response, “Yes, sir, Commander, sir.”

The regular crew at their stations within sight of the Commander stifled grins as their Chief shook his head in resignation.

Commander Tucker sauntered across the engine room to his cramped office, which seemed even smaller with his captain inside.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” Trip adjusted his back just enough to suggest that he intended to stand at attention.

Archer teased him. “It appears you may be in the initial stages of the Rorke disease, Trip.”

“I’ll ask Dr. Phlox for a cure.” Trip waved to the chair and took a seat on the cot on which hr slept until he was no longer confined to engineering.

“Speaking of cures, do you know T’Pol isn’t well?” The captain had at last divulged his reason for the visit.

“Yes, ma wife keeps me informed of her well-being.” Trip withdrew - no longer an affable comrade-in-arms.

Archer was unfamiliar with this version of the man. He did not know how to reach him, so he kept to the facts.

“She won’t tell me what’s wrong and she won’t let Dr. Phlox examine her.”

“The cure is real easy.” Trip sighed. “She needs me in her bed.”

“Trip, I expected more from you than an excuse to get laid.” Archer stood.

Tucker stood, moving to a few inches of his commanding officer, “This isn’t about getting’ laid. It is about makin’ sure your First Officer is fit enough to perform her duties. We have no idea if that scout ship got a message to the Xin’di that we’re out here. For all we know their readyin’ an armada to track us down.”

“I need more information, Trip.”

The wall of solidarity his two senior officers had erected exasperated Archer. Were they deliberately trying to undermine his command?

“Look, Cap’n. Tell Phlox to look in his database under ovulation. See if he doesn’t back me up about the cure.” Trip stepped back to allow the Captain to leave.

Archer did not like the feeling that he had been dismissed.

==

“Commander Tucker said ovulation?” Phlox beamed. He made a quick note on his PADD. Study Tucker’s pheromones, capable of sparking ovulation in a Vulcan female.

“The word may mean something to you, Doctor, but it makes no sense to me.” Archer called Phlox back from his reverie.

“Surely Captain, you understand the meaning of ovulation?” Dr. Phlox was horrified at the prospect of having to give his Captain lessons in reproduction.

“Yes, yes, I understand the meaning of the word, but the context is completely foreign to me.” Archer tried to focus the doctor on the problem at hand.

“I’m afraid the context is foreign – alien actually – and one that my ethics will not let me divulge. But I can tell you this. Commanders Tucker and T’Pol need to be alone together, undisturbed for?” Phlox consulted his database, “At least three days – seven would be better, but circumstances are not perfect. I’m sure you would not like to be without their services longer than necessary.”

“How alone is alone?” Archer was afraid of the answer.

“No communication verbally or physically with any other living being, including Porthos. Nothing, no deliveries, no consultations, nothing. The conditions must be as if they are the only two sentient beings in this or any other expanse.”

“If we accomplish what appears to be the impossible will T’Pol be cured?”

“Commander T’Pol’s symptoms will become more manageable. There is no cure. Nor, if I hazard a guess, would she want to be cured.”

==

Information was in short supply. Malcolm Reed concurred with the assessment of Chu, the Marine commanding officer.

“We need intel, Captain.” Chu swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

“What do you propose, Colonel?” Archer hoped for something less cryptic than Trip’s explanation of T’Pol’s illness.

“If you will let me have two shuttles, Captain.” Chu turned to Reed including him in the conversation. “We’ll take two covert surveillance teams into Xin’di space. Malcolm has volunteered to lead the second team.”

Archer turned to T’Pol, “Is there a uninhabited Minshara class planet on the edge of the Xin’di system?”

“Almost, Captain,” she answered through clenched teeth. “There is a Minshara with a small population of pre-flight beings about 5 light years from here.”

“How small?” Archer stopped breathing.

“About 2 million. They appear to inhabit the northern continents only. The equator of the planet is a vast sea. The indigenous people have not yet developed technology to cross it.” T’Pol closed her eyes, fruitlessly seeking peace.

“You have my permission, gentlemen, with one small addition to the plan.”

==

Trip was piloting Malcolm’s shuttle. Reed made the request to let his pilot rest as long as possible. The surveillance team would be seeing action soon enough. The other reason, which he would never tell Commander Tucker was that Trip driving was less likely to cause complications, than if he rode as a passenger. The Commander had a way of getting into trouble when left to his own devices.

“The LZ is on my screen, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Commander. We’ll be back to pick you up in three days. Rorke will unload your luggage, sir.”

==

The second shuttle carrying a subdued Commander T’Pol landed a few minutes later. Trip left Rorke to pile the gear, while he welcomed T’Pol.

The shuttlepod hatch rose slowly. Trip restrained himself from diving forward to grab her. Instead he extended his right hand, with the first two fingers squeezed tightly together. His thumb held the other fingers in place over his palm.

T’Pol stepped out gingerly, her hand extended as Trip’s was. Their finger tips touched, held, then she crumbled at Tucker’s feet in a faint.

End of Part One

*******************

Continue to Part 2

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