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C’est pour nous deux, la lune qui danse

Author - Aquila | C | Genre - Angst | Genre - Drama | Main Story | Rating - R
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C’est pour nous deux, la lune qui danse

By Aquila

Loose translation of the title: It is for we two, the moon dances.

Note on title: Two lines from Se Rêver, full lyrics can be found at www.brunopelletier.com – once there, click on discographie.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the obsessive/compulsive behaviour.
Summary: A sequel to No More Blackened Catfish or Pecan Pie*


==

Fourteen hours had passed since he had relinquished command of the ship to the Chief Engineer. Fourteen hours in which he relived every moment of the past two years, twice. Hindsight could sink your career he was told in Command School. Hindsight led to second-guessing, which led to self-doubt, which led to permanent assignment as a chauffeur to an admiral.

Archer needed a distraction.

==

Sixteen hours had passed since he had been alone with T’Pol on his way - he thought - to accomplishing Mission Impossible. Intellectually he understood why the upstart, grease monkey had aborted the intimate exchange. Understanding did not lessen the frustration.

Hayes burned for T’Pol.

==

Fifteen hours had passed since the exasperating, argumentative, skilled, unpredictable human out of courtesy, informed her in person that she was relieved of duty and confined to quarters until further notice. During fifteen hours of alternating meditation with the writings of Surak she had failed to regain her equilibrium.

T’Pol plotted her escape.

==

Engineering was running smoothly. The skeleton crew pulled together, helping each other whenever the situation called for it. Fourteen hours as acting Chief Engineer gave her a new respect for their seemingly irreverent and relaxed superior officer. The experience taught her that she was not yet ready for a permanent Chief’s position, but when she was she was going to be a good one.

Nelson prayed that as long as she was the ACE she would not become distracted.

==

Sato was exhausted. The internal communication system had been running above recommended capacity for sixteen hours. Squabbles, billets-doux, overdue reports, requests for materiel, and jokes flooded the system, sent by the uninhibited confined to their quarters. The emergency crews added their share of ship’s business as they worked double shifts to compensate for the reduced staffing.

Hoshi longed for an interruption.

==

He calculated that he had been on-duty for 40 hours. He reviewed the armoury roster for a second time. He would be on duty for another ten, as there were no replacements. Phlox had speculated that the weapons team would feel the effects of the Expanse second only to the MACOs. He did not take that as a compliment. Other departments had begun to refer to the armoury as the Proctology Department, because they are so tight-assed.”

Reed ached to blow something up.

==

Phlox had lost count of the formulae that he had tried and rejected since he first determined the crew was at risk 64 hours before. Thankful that his essential hibernation period was months in the future, he soldiered on. A cure had become more important than the accolades he would receive when his results were published in the Journal of Space Medicine.

Phlox began again.

==

His memory of the first hour in charge was sketchy. He knew, because the log confirmed it, that he had ordered all junior personnel to report to Phlox for a physical examination. All supervisory personnel were ordered to remain at their posts to cover for personnel Phlox confined to quarters.

He was able to recall his actions in Hour Two with greater clarity and much discomfort. He had visited Major Hayes to inform him that to be on the safe side Phlox had confined every MACO to his or her quarters. He did not expect the man to take the news well. Unfortunately he had been correct. Trip used his phaser pistol, set on stun, to avoid being beaten to a pulp.

Hour Three he spent reviewing the Reprimand and Punishment Log. He compared the number of entries submitted since the ship had entered the Expanse with a similar period during their previous mission. There was a marked increase in insubordination, inappropriate language and sexual harassment. Hour Four was spent creating a file for Phlox’s signature, forgiving each infraction on medical grounds. The slate was clean by the time he had finished.

Hour Five found him touring the ship, department by department. At each stop he took the senior personnel aside and explained that uninhibited sexual behaviour was only one of the symptoms. Using the cases cited in the R&P log he communicated vividly the breadth of the problem. He left each one with a personnel word of praise and encouragement. That task was completed by Hour Eight.

A visit to the Captain was his next task. He reported his findings, his actions and their results. He received a pat on the back and a weak smile of approval in response.

“I’m sorry Trip,” his dejection patent, “If I hadn’t insisted on this mission, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

He tried to reassure his friend, but left when he failed.

Hour Nine was spent on the bridge or the ready room, listening to the concerns of the bridge crew. He changed the shift pattern to four hours on and four hours off. At Malcolm’s suggestion, the bridge crew began hot bunking in the ready room. Off-duty personnel rolled out of their cots at the end of four hours to be immediately replaced by the personnel they were relieving. They slept in their uniforms and consumed endless cups of coffee.

Hour Ten he spent with Nelson answering her questions and reviewing her concerns. Satisfied with the quality of her work, he told her that he would not be able to spare the time to visit again. He emphasized that he would welcome written reports or concerns sent to the bridge.

From Hour Eleven to Fourteen he wrote reports and initialed requisitions, the paperwork that kept a ship running smoothly, at least as smoothly as was humanly possible during this crisis. When he put his stylus down at last he felt grubby. He tried to ignore the prickly eyes and five o’clock shadow, but failed.

“Travis,” he said as he crossed the bridge to the elevator, “You have the bridge. If you need me I’m in my quarters.”

Trip headed to the shower.

End of Part One


Continue to Part 2

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Two folks have made comments

That's a damn good start to the story. It's very easy to see how on-edge the crew is, and how the pressure is building hour by hour. I can't wait to read more.

I'm so glad you've written a sequal. I'm complete hooked, I can't wait for the rest.