Andorian Summer

Sincerest Form of Flattery Challenge

Andorian Summer

By Distracted

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended.
Genre: "Sincerest Form of Flattery Challenge," drama
Summary: And now for something completely different. It’s set in Season 4 after Terra Prime, and is AU, for reasons which will soon become obvious.

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“It’s strange…” he said in a distracted tone of voice. “There’s no pain anymore unless I move.”

“Then perhaps you should refrain from moving.”

“Heh!” he chuckled, and then grimaced. “Don’t make me laugh!” he protested.

She raised a brow. “That was not my intention,” she replied, and then reached forward to tuck the reflective emergency blanket closer around his shoulders.

The man lay on a makeshift pallet on the rocky floor of the cave, in a hollow scraped free of ice and snow. He stared out past the circle of heat reddened rocks that served as the substitute for a campfire and through the jagged opening in the rocks at the mouth of the cave. It was sleeting now. It had been raining before.

“I think I prefer Andoria in the winter. It might be fifty below, but at least it’s a dry cold.”

“You must be quiet, Captain. Conserve your strength.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Which faction shot us down, do you think?”

The woman sighed. “I have insufficient information to speculate on that, Jon. Now please try to rest.”

“Sorry. I was just talking. It gets my mind off things. How long has it been?”

“Seven hours and forty three minutes,” she replied patiently.

“Seems like Trip should have found the homing beacon by now.”

“The weather may be interfering with the search… that and the fact that the Andorian authorities would most likely prefer that we not be found. He may also be waiting for a break in the storm. The weather at this time of year in this area is warm, relatively speaking. He wouldn’t be aware of your injury, and thus would not feel the need for excessive haste which might risk the lives of a landing party,” she replied with flawless logic.

“Heh. Somehow I doubt he’s just sitting on his hands doing nothing, T’Pol. He’s probably frantic by now.”

“Commander Tucker is perfectly capable of command. I sincerely doubt that being without your assistance for a few hours is distressing him.”

“I never said it was me he’d be frantic about,” he said. She shot him a look, but said nothing.

He shifted on his pallet and tried to sit up. The effort wrenched a groan from his lips, and he flopped back down again, breathing heavily. She rose from her place opposite him across the rapidly cooling stones and knelt near his head, placing a hand on his sweat-drenched forehead and gazing with concern at his distended abdomen.

“Feels good,” he murmured. “Your hands are so cool.”

“Your temperature is dangerously high. I will get a fever reducer from the medical kit.”

“I’d rather have the flask from the emergency rations,” he said weakly.

“If the worms have penetrated your esophageal or gastric mucosa, the consumption of alcohol could cause considerable pain,” she warned. He smiled bleakly.

“That’s my girl… always a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.”

She raised a brow. He chuckled briefly, and then grimaced.

“But then, you aren’t my girl are you? Never have been.”

She inclined her head in concession. “No… but I am your friend,” she admitted.

“Then get me the damned bourbon.”

He turned his head away to watch the sleet bounce haphazardly off the rocks. His lips twisted wryly.

“I guess there’s one good thing to come of all this… Ever since we met the Aenar, I’ve been wondering where the hell those ice borers were swarming to. Now I know.”

She handed him the flask. “Stop it, Jon. Please.”

He grasped the screw cap and twisted it off without looking at her. “Here’s to you and Trip! I wish both of you a happy life together!” Then he took a stiff dose of it into his mouth and swallowed with a defiant scowl. His face turned white.

“It’s not so bad,” he wheezed painfully. Then he screwed the top back on and handed the flask back to her. She took it from him and sighed.

“There’s morphine in the field kit. Do you want some now?”

He nodded. She went to prepare the hypospray.

The sleet was slowing down. He caught occasional glimpses of the gleaming white peaks of the distant mountains through the haze. She came back and pressed the hypospray into his neck, and within minutes he was sleeping with her fingers interlaced with his.

He woke to the distant rumble of attitude jets. Through the cave entrance, he saw a figure in Starfleet uniform approaching. He watched as T’Pol rose to meet Trip, and was happy when she allowed Trip to embrace her. Over their shoulders the Andorian sun broke out of cloud cover, illuminating the great, wide mountain peaks in unbelievable whiteness. It was time to go home..

T’Pol woke lying by the circle of stones, now cooled to ambient temperature. Something had awakened her. At first, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Then it hit her. He wasn’t breathing.

End

If you want to know which author Distracted was imitating, check out the "Sincerest Form of Flattery" Challenge: Author List

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Hemingway of course. Whiskey, rain, pain, pathos, lonely man wistful for lost chances... Can't be anyone but Hemingway.

Somebody's been reading The Snows of Kilimanjaro...

Sad and lovely.

This is a really good imitation of Hemingway. It's Jon's loneliness that gets me - very Hemingway, and very well done with his character.

Ah, yes, someone is full of regret, aren't they? Funny. I just read one of Hemingway's short stories last night. Not all that sure I understood it, but it was full of the same melancholy feelings. Nice story.

I hope the fact that no one seems to have any difficulty whatsoever guessing who I'm trying to imitate means that I have the style down and not that I'm being shamelessly derivative. I'm trying to present original ideas within a framework of style and not just a retelling of someone else's story.

When I re-read a short story by Hemingway to prepare for this (yes, it WAS "The Snows of Kilimanjaro"), I couldn't see anyone but Archer as the tragic hero. I just didn't have the heart to kill off Trip. (Writing in Hemingway's style requires death. It's obligatory.) I also managed the rain and the bourbon. Couldn't figure out how to do the bullfighting and the big game hunting, though.

With my more limited literary backgroung I guessed Jack London. But this IS a good story. Thank you, Distracted.

Can't be London, dear. No dogs. : )

Well, no one died in "Hills Like White Elephants". I don't remember any rain, either, but there was beer. He used a lot of dialogue, too, just like you did. I'm still not sure what it was supposed to be about. Think I like yours better. At least I understood it. Anyway, I still wouldn't have guessed the author you were trying to "flatter". I just read it and saw the answer in your very first comment. But we both know I'm not very good at this sort of thing.

I don't remember that one, Bether. Are you sure nothing died? With a name like that I'd bet at least one animal bit the big one. Maybe I'm overgeneralizing, though. I'm sure he wrote a story every now and then in which no living thing lost its life, right? My memory's hazy about that. I just remember stuff about shooting things and drinking and bulls getting stuck with swords... and LOTS of dialogue. : )

OOOh, you really did another one, Disctracted!!
And it's great, too!
(Will it work again if I ask for another one? You know, three chips are not that much... :-))

Well, NCT... I'm running out of authors that are really familiar to me. Give me a chance to do some research, though, and I'll see what I can do.

I'll wait patiently ;-).

I really like this challenge! It's actually got me writing for the first time - but I'm way too busy at the moment, otherwise I'd try and return the favour... (emphasis on TRY!)

Oh, I just read "Hills Like White Elephants" for class, and there was no death, but there was an impending abortion, so nobody better do that for Trip & T'Pol!
Distracted, I get that this is Hemingway because you've got his structure and themes down, not because you inserted Trek characters into one of his stories. It's a good thing!

Thanks, JK. That's what I was aiming for. : )

I definitely didn't recognize the author style. But then again, I can't remember the last time I read any Hemmingway, so maybe there's the reason. Nicely done, D, nicely done. :)

Have to admit it, I've never read a Hemmingway, but good piece anyway - apart from killing off Archer of course!!!