Seek First...- Pt. 5

Title: Seek First to Understand – Part Five
Author: Aquila
Rating: R
Category: Angst
Disclaimer: Thank you Berman and Braga for creating Trip Tucker. Thank you Connor Trinneer giving him life. Paramount do you own their souls too?
Summary: Spoilers, Alternate Universe, The effect of the Expanse on Trip, T’Pol and their professional relationship. Part Five is told from T’Pol’s point of view.

==

15 minutes later

A quarter hour has passed. I conduct another scan. No Xindi are in the vicinity, but some interesting data about my companion appears on the screen. His heart rate is elevated. There are increased levels of testosterone in his system. His brain activity is at a point that registers only when a human is awake. He is feigning sleep.

I turn the scanner off so that my face is no longer lit by the light emitted by the screen. I am having difficulty maintaining the proper passivity. He, belying the stereotype of an engineer, is attuned to body language and facial cues. I know this because I have overheard the engineering crew discussing this.

“It’s like he knows what you’re thinking before you say it,” complained one chastised crewmember to another.

“And he knows when I’ve received bad news from home, before I tell him,” replied his companion. “Next time I see him heading in my direction I’m going to pretend we’re playing poker.”

“And that’s going to help how?” was the rejoinder, “His ability to tell a bluff when card playing is legendary.”

To prepare for the position of observer I studied the Vulcan Human Social Research database. There I learned of the propensity of Humans to stereotype others. The most obvious stereotype was the emotionless Vulcan who wanted nothing more than to keep Humans out of space. The Commander had applied that stereotype to me when we first met, although it appears that time may have lessened the perception somewhat.

He does not fit the stereotype of an engineer as depicted in Human literature. He is neither absent-minded nor unkempt. He does not carry essential tools in a pocket protector. He reads voraciously and is capable of carrying on conversations peppered with literary allusions. He is fond of puerile humour, yet displays a sharp wit and an appreciation for irony when the occasion warrants it. He does not wear, to correct his vision, devices that detract from his personal aesthetics. He is athletic and aggressive with a warrior’s sensibilities, tempered by a devotion to family that is, once again, contrary to the stereotype. He demonstrates social aplomb, especially in the presence of beautiful and receptive females. Lastly, he is most to the eye and to the touch. Unfortunately that last thought awakens prurient interests that I believed I had stifled.

“T’Pol, you’re looking at me like I’m the last piece of pecan pie in the universe and you are starving. I’m flattered but downright flabbergasted. Do you want to talk about whatever is eating ya once you’ve finished that overdue scan?”

I turn on the scanner and confirm that a quarter of an hour had passed. I run the scan, taking note of the absence of Xindi and that Commander Tucker’s hormone levels are high enough to trigger sexual desire. My curiosity is aroused.

The scanner screen flashes.

“An encrypted bulletin has arrived.”

I pass the device, to erase the look of disbelief that is pasted on his face.

“Son of a bitch,” is followed by a sequence of taps, which end in repeated pattern of beeps. He passes the device back to me. “You have five seconds to enter your ID code.”

His remark was unnecessary, but I have come to understand that humans make unnecessary remarks during stressful moments to reduce tension. I tap in my identification. The beeping stops and we hear Sato’s voice.

“Priority Alpha One Niner Niner. For your ears and eyes only. An encrypted aural response is expected. I repeat, do not respond with visuals.”

“Damnation, what is happening up there?”

Commander Tucker slides across the deck so that he can watch the screen. The message is in the form of a video signal.

“I’ve done the drills, but I’ve never received a real Priority Alpha before.” He falls silent as Captain Archer’s face materializes.

“We are under attack. [A shower of sparks and the sound of explosives underscore his statement.] We presume it is a Xindi destroyer. The ship dropped out of warp and began firing. There was no attempt at negotiation. I repeat. There was no attempt at negotiation. [Archer was seen to move from side to side in response to another explosion.] Malcolm made a direct hit on the enemy’s engines, but we have not been able to neutralize their armament. Our weapons are off line, but have impulse power and our shields are holding. We must withdraw in order to effect repairs. You are on your own. We will be back to get you as soon as we are able to defend ourselves. Send an Alpha One, sound only, to confirm receipt. We will send an update every six hours. Archer out. [Another shower of sparks cascaded behind him.]”

I recorded and sent a confirmation of receipt. The Commander watched silently, a look of concern upon his face, which dissolved into a look of concentration. I had learned that he dealt with fear and anger with action that was sometimes predicated on flawed logic and sometimes inspired by brilliance. Judging by the expression on his face I would have to deal with one or the other very soon.

End of Part Five

Continue to Part 6

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