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Parallels

Author - Giggling Vulcan | Genre - Drama | Genre - Romance | Main Story | P | Rating - PG-13
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Parallels

by Giggling Vulcan

Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: If I owned Enterprise, Archer would have flown out an airlock long ago. Don’t own it, don’t make money from it, don’t sue me.

Summary: This is a retelling of The Next Generation episode “Parallels,” But using the Enterprise crew and T’Pol in place of Worf.

*****

Chapter 1


T’Pol sat at the piloting console of Shuttlepod 1, the course set for the current location of Enterprise. She closed her eyes and meditated over the current state of events.

Earth was safe now, the Xindi thread eliminated. Enterprise was to continue the mission she was meant for: exploration. T’Pol’s field-commission had been renewed until the Captain could (how did he put it?) pull strings. Enough strings, in fact, to weasel her way out of basic training and to convince the authorities to induct her into Starfleet while maintaining her current rank, which in the terms of Starfleet would be a commander. It was only logical, she assumed, that they take that course of action. Starting her back at the bottom of the chain of command would be folly; expertise, training, and experience wasted. She had completely proven herself during the Xindi conflict to Starfleet, she assured herself. Despite her sureness of her quality as an officer, she felt slightly unnerved.

Her eyes snapped open when she caught herself. Apprehension was an emotion. Even without the Trellium in her system, T’Pol still experienced a full range of emotions, and as much as she denied it to herself, she was growing even more accustomed to them.

She was an average Vulcan when she’d first set foot on the Enterprise. She was a Vulcan who followed Surak, logic, and had an easily offended nose. By cultural belief, unnecessary physical contact was taboo. She had been a typical Vulcan. But as her time with humans progressed, so did T’Pol of Vulcan. Her actions had led her to unwanted encounters that had weakened her mind. The Pa’nar Syndrome and the Trellium-D left it vulnerable to a number of influences, some negative, some positive, and some she couldn’t begin to categorize as good or bad. The most dominant in this category was Commander Tucker.

She remembered the first time she’d made the Commander’s acquaintance. In those seemingly distant days, she wouldn’t even shake his hand. In just three short years, she’d been as physically close to him as Human or Vulcan alike could get. The emotions she experienced through the Trellium had no name to her. She hadn’t bothered to question someone knowledgeable on emotion to name them for her. All that mattered was the sensation they gave her; how close to Human they allowed her to get. How close to Trip they allowed her to get.

There had always been something about him, something lurking behind those mischievous blue eyes that touched her from the beginning. Some sort of magnetism that drew her attention to him every time he entered the room. Some sort of unknown and unexplained energy that was exchanged between them when they worked together and engaged in neuro-pressure. Even before the Trellium, he could always work his way under her skin just enough to seize her emotions and bring them dangerously close to the surface. Now, she missed his presence. Sitting alone in the shuttlepod, she admitted to herself what must be true. She…loved him. There could be no other alternative term. But this sudden revelation frightened her and shook her so deeply that she couldn’t bring herself to admit it to him, even when she knew that this emotion was requited. What would it mean for their fragile relationship? It had certainly been through it’s share of pain, bliss, and trials over the past year. Its tentative course had been disrupted and destroyed time and again. But he had offered to talk to her. He told her he was “all ears”, a rather crude Human metaphor, she thought, but somehow, she found his childishness endearing. She made up her mind that she would have that conversation with him when she returned to the Enterprise. She just hope that the proverbial “bomb” she was going to drop wouldn’t ruin that fragile trust forever.

He had asked many questions when she chose to take her leave on Vulcan. Everyone else thought it was quite natural, but considering he thought something was terribly wrong with her (which wasn’t far from the truth), she assured him her trip to Vulcan was routine at most. He had grudgingly accepted her vague description of what she would do and continued on his journey to Earth to consume all of his mother’s salt and pepper catfish he could before they disembarked once again, two weeks later. She found the prolonged separation to be somewhat depressing. But she would see him soon, and she would speak with him, she admonished herself.

That would have to wait a bit, though. She was to report to Dr. Phlox as soon as she boarded to relate the findings made during her stay with Dr. Yuris. Dr. Yuris had all but lost his position in the Vulcan medical exchange, but he used this to his advantage to search for a more advanced treatment for Pa’nar Syndrome. He had requested that T’Pol return to receive additional treatment and be the test subject of his new findings. The procedure had gone extremely well.

Clearing her mind, T’Pol kneeled on the floor of the shuttlepod and lit a candle in front of her, attempting to get some much needed meditation. Her mind felt foggy and tired from the procedure, and she found it increasingly difficult to achieve the level of concentration that was required of her. After a few minutes of trying, she opened her eyes and blew out the candle. Meditation was not going to be possible. It would be illogical to continue to attempt it.

She sat back down in the chair in front of her console and double-checked the settings. She adjusted the course heading a bit and gazed out at the stars. She felt slightly burdened, reminding her of her need to cleanse her mind. She found that the Human practice of “keeping a log” was the best alternative.

“Computer, begin recording.” She said. “Sub-commander’s log, supplemental. I am currently en route to rendezvous with the Enterprise. I found my stay on Vulcan quite enriching. Dr. Yuris’s treatment was highly effective. He believes is also helped to repair some of the damage to my synaptic pathways caused by the Trellium-D. Dr. Phlox will be pleased with these results, as am I.”


***

Trip glanced around Engineering to make sure there weren’t any unwanted eyes patrolling his general area. He touched the computer screen a few times, typing in necessary access codes.

“Bingo…” He whispered and the words flashed onto the screen, “Accessing Crewmember Files.”

Soon, the list of names popped up. Trip stole a quick glance over his shoulder again, then accessed the Bridge Staff Personnel Files. Quickly, he selected Sub-commander T’Pol.

“Yes!” He hissed triumphantly.

STARFLEET AFFILIATE PERSONNEL FILE: T'Pol

Species: Vulcan
Rank: Sub-commander (in Vulcan hierarchy)
Assignment: Science Officer, Enterprise NX-01
Full Name: T'Pol
Date of Birth: March 3, 2088

“No way!” He exclaimed. He checked the chronometer at the bottom of the screen. To his pleasure, it displayed, “March 2, 2154”.

Since he had finally got T’Pol to confess her age to him after three years of trying, he thought it was okay now to look up her birth date in the database. To his absolute delight, it was tomorrow. He grinned widely as he closed the window and continued to smile and hum as he finished up his duty shift in Engineering. It was late and T’Pol wasn’t going to be back until the next day, which gave him limited time to work his magic. He needed recruits.

As he exited Engineering, he sighted his first unfortunate victim, who was trudging along the hallway to the Mess Hall in his characteristically pessimistic mood. He glanced up when he heard Trip coming.

“What are you so bloody cheerful for?” He asked with interest.

“Glad you asked.” Trip said, still smirking as he joined his friend. “Tomorrow happens to be the birthday of the resident Vulcan.”

“What are you up to?” Malcolm asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Oh, nothin’…” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he picked up the pace a bit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some balloons to replicate…partner in crime is appreciated if you’re up to it.”

“As long as I remain anonymous. I don’t want to be subject to any ‘Vulcan wrath’ if you don’t mind. I’ll join you after I get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Thanks, Mal.” Trip replied, walking off down the corridor, whistling happily to himself.

“By the way, how old is she?” Malcolm called after him.

Tip turned around, his lips pursed in mid-whistle. “Wouldn’t be my place to tell you that! Intimate information you know…” His lips spread into a slow grin as he turned around and headed for his quarters to begin his plans, completely forgetting about the piece of pecan pie he’d promised himself earlier.

Malcolm stared after him down the corridor, his brow wrinkled in thought.

“Intimate?”



Continue to Chapter 2

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