Three Months- Pt 4

Three Months Later

By Aquila

Part Four

Rating: R
Disclaimer: All copyright belongs to Paramount – The mistakes are mine.
Timeline: After Expanse, before Season Three – Alternate Universe – I have ignored the Bounty episode - SPOILERS
Summary: The triangle develops.

==

All but essential personnel were standing in the dining hall. As instructed, they had arrived by department, buzzing with questions and gossip. Col. Chu and Lt. Reed greeted the groups as they entered. The officers directed the arrivals to the section designated for each department.

A smiling Dr. Phlox greeted the medical team which had been assigned the view port corner farthest from the hatch. He was pleased that his team had gotten into the spirit of things. They had fashioned obsolete lab coats from sheeting. Some had simulated stethoscopes, which they hung about their necks.

The science team had been assigned the corner opposite the medical team. They had fashioned elfin prosthetics for their ears and shaved their eyebrows into permanent looks of surprise in honour of their Science Officer. She thought the honour dubious, but effective.

Captain Archer led his flight services team, which entered the hall close formation; their arms extended like wings. Each of them wore white scarves, goggles and grins.

The last to arrive was engineering. The early arrivals fell silent, the erupted into gales of laughter. Each member of the engineering team wore a beanie, with his or her tool of choice spinning rakishly aloft.

Chu and Reed had tossed to see who would act as Master of Ceremonies. Reed lost the toss. Archer thought it was for the best as the Colonel and his team had had little opportunity to make themselves known to the Enterprise crew.

==

Mayweather from his position, just behind the left shoulder of the Captain, peered across the hall at Ensign Pat Cannington. She was focused on the Colonel’s presentation, which eliminated the need for covert surveillance.

He showered and spent 8 hours at the helm, but if he licked his lips he could still taste her. Her scent lingered in his nostrils. His fingertips recalled the curve of her breast. He cursed silently, as his libido wrestled for control with his common sense.

==

As planned, Chu asked the Captain to say a few words.

“Most of you are aware that to earn a captaincy in Starfleet, crossing training is a prerequisite. There aren’t many positions on the ship that I haven’t spent some time learning. But because I believe this project of Colonel Chu and Lieutenant Reed is important to the success of the mission. Cross training will increase our chances of survival in the Expanse, since we have only ourselves to rely on. I have looked at the duty roster and identified an area I am totally unfamiliar with.”

Archer panned their faces, pleased to see many of them were trying to second-guess him.

“To celebrate, at the cross-training certification ceremony, I will cater the affair. Yes people, I am going to be cross trained by Chef.”

Good-natured groans erupted from the crowd, which eventually turned to applause.

Chu satisfied that the Captain had concluded his speech, stepped up to announce the cross training assignments.

==

Jonathan Archer knew that in space the concept of night and day was artificial. His body, however, refused to believe his mind. The cross training inauguration had been a success, so much so that the party did not break up until the wee hours. He had stayed to the end, believing his presence would do more to gain the project’s acceptance than issuing a standing order.

Which brought his thoughts around once again to the concept of night and day. Sleep eluded him. His mind was whirling. Crew morale was on the mend as his plummeted. A cliché surfaced to linger at the top of his mind: the loneliness of command.

The two people in whom he had learned to confide were at the root of his problem. Porthos jumped on the bunk, turned around three times, then dropped to lie near his master’s legs. When had he lost control, he asked himself? Even my dog disobeys the rules!

==

Floating upside down in the sweet spot, in the artificial night, Travis reminisced. He was fifteen, when Angela swept onto the freighter in a cloud of expensive perfume. Ten years older than he, to him she was a worldly woman, exotic and mysterious.

He had been inexperienced enough to believe that he had been the seducer. Their relationship had begun simply enough, “Travis, would you give me an orientation tour. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.” He made himself indispensable, running errands, fixing her personal items in need of repair. She would talk to him about her favourite authors. When he asked, she lent him the books about which she spoke. Inevitably he showed her the sweet spot, where they floated. He told her of his dream to join Starfleet. She told tales of alien ports and people. Her last night on board, an artificial night much like this one he remembered, after the farewell party, reluctant to say good-bye he begged her to spend her last few hours with him in ‘their’ spot.

Three years later, he saw her again, on the other side of a room of carousing cadets. “Angela,” he had cried as he elbowed his way toward her. “Who is Angela?” asked his new roommate. He pointed at her. His roommate snorted, “Angela? That’s not her name, at least not tonight.”

That was the night he learned that his father had provided free passage in exchange for services rendered. At his father’s insistence she had taught him there was more to relations with females than stamina.

“Travis?”

Mayweather looked down. A female was silhouetted in the light that poured through the hatch. Angela?

“Travis? Are you up there? It’s Pat. Have you ever done it in the sweet spot, Travis? I’ve always wanted to! ” Pat Cannington floated toward him, “Did you bring your joy stick, helmsman? ‘Cause I want you to teach me to fly.”

==

“Is it performance anxiety?”

Trip spluttered upright, goose flesh rising all over him as the cold night air hit his skin. “Excuse me.”

“I have been studying Phlox’s database too, Charles.”

T’Pol pulled him down, into her arms. He snuggled against her, basking in the heat that she radiated.

“Human males,” she hesitated, “Some times experience anxiety, which can interfere with the performance of certain reproductive acts.”

“Darlin’, we aren’t even married yet and you’re already accusin’ me of failin’ in my conjugal duties?” To distract her, he began circling her ears with his fingers.

“Charles, you have never failed, conjugally.” T’Pol said sincerely. “Is it me?”

He sat right up again, pulling her up with him. He held tightly to her upper arms, eyes drilling into hers, “T’Pol just because we haven’t consummated our relationship – either in the Vulcan or Human sense – do not think for one minute that you have disappointed me in any way.”

Relations between males and females were so much simpler for Vulcans, she thought with exasperation. “Charles, help me. Whatever it is you need cannot be found in Phlox’s database, am I right?”

Continue to Part 5 (conclusion)

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