The Banquet's Ghost

The Banquet’s Ghost

By myst123

Summary: A response to the Shakespeare challenge. MacBeth meets Trip and T’Pol – dinner and a show!

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Star Trek situations, characters, and name are all owned by Paramount. This work is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.

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“A dinner! On Glawdor?! How did we get invited?”

T’Pol glanced at the clearly please Commander Tucker. “On Glawdor, the ruler has died and his successor is about to take his place. In celebration, a banquet is being prepared and the incoming ruler has invited Enterprise to send two representatives to partake of the festivities. Captain Archer believes, with all the extra work you and I have been doing on Enterprise lately, we should attend.”

“A banquet!” Trip’s eyes were alight with anticipation. T’Pol felt every minute convincing Captain Archer that she and Commander Tucker were the best choices to attend the dinner was time well spent.

When they met up later that evening to leave, Trip had learned how he came to be one of the party.

“You know, T’Pol,” Trip told her, “you didn’t have to manipulate the Cap’n into lettin’ me go with you. I would’ve said yes if you’d asked me yourself.”

“This is official business, Mr. Tucker. It was appropriate for the Captain to designate who should attend to represent our ship.”

“Whatever you say, T’Pol.”

T’Pol piloted the shuttle down to Glawdor. This was T’Pol’s first time to operate a shuttlepod after taking lessons from Ensign Mayweather. Trip had initially suggested she learn in case of emergency, and had offered to teach her himself. After the first lesson, which lasted an hour, it was decided that the Subcommander and the Commander had very different ideas about how to teach someone to fly, and it was agreed that the Ensign would give T’Pol lessons instead. T’Pol was confident about her skills, more so than apparently Mr. Tucker was. In the end it was necessary to pull rank on the Commander and have him sit at the back of the shuttle to escape his comments about her piloting style.

T’Pol gently landed the craft on the surface. Glawdor proved to be a sparsely populated planet with a moor-like landscape, barren and harsh. The banquet hall was a massive structure, built of dark grey stone, with only small rectangular windows puncturing the walls near the timber roof several meters above the ground. Torches lining the periphery lit the space. The enormous table was solid, dark wood with heavy pottery dishes, chalices, and silver forks and knives set at each place.

“This is a species capable of warp drive?” Trip queried as he pulled out a chair for T’Pol about halfway down the long table and then settled into the chair next to her.

“Yes,” responded T’Pol. “They have their inaugural traditions for new rulers based upon ancient rites handed down for generations. The atmosphere and food are reminiscent of times long past, symbolically legitimizing the authority of the incoming ruler.”

“Yeah, whatever. What’s for dinner?”

Trip watched for T’Pol’s reaction out of the corner of his eyes. He saw her lips tighten ever so slightly and her eyes glare at him.

“Forgive me, Commander, I didn’t mean to bore you.”

Suppressing a smile he rested his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. Leaning close to T’Pol, gazing into her eyes, he murmured in a low voice, “Oh, T’Pol, you know I’m only teasin’ you. I could listen to you quote facts and figures for hours and never grow tired of it. I melt inside knowin’ you will be able to tell me anything I want to know about anything I ask. Go ahead, tell me everything, and I mean everything, you know about the Glawdorians.” Trip’s voice kept dropping lower, until by the end it was almost a whisper.

T’Pol opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words were uttered. Closing her mouth, she swallowed and tried again. At that moment, an arm appeared between the two, and a plate of food was placed before Trip. Eye contact was broken. The brief distraction allowed T’Pol to regain her composure. Trip, glancing at her a second later, received a blank look. *Sigh.* For a moment he almost had her off balance, but now she was back in full Vulcan mode.

The meal proved to be to the very taste of Commander Tucker, the Glawdorian equivalent of meat and potatoes with a side of pasta and a green salad. No iced tea, but the wine more than compensated for the lack of that beverage. T’Pol drank water and accepted a small green salad for her dinner. Trip looked askance at her choice, but said nothing.

The host and soon to be ruler, a handsome man by the name of Macthane, rose to his feet to greet his well wishers. Trip politely paused in his eating and listened to the speech. Something about a man called Dunkeer, who apparently was the previous ruler and the one who had died suddenly. In the midst of his speech, Macthane, glancing at the doorway, abruptly departed upon seeing three disreputable individuals appear. Probably going to throw them out. No! He greeted them with warmth. **Well,** Trip thought to himself, **you never know. Those three would have given me reason to pause.**

“Don’t you think it odd that Macthane is greeting those three so warmly?” T’Pol asked Trip. “I would have been most suspicious, especially of that first man, the one holding the bloody knife aloft.”

Trip, reluctantly, agreed. He was frequently reluctant to agree with anything T’Pol said until he had time and opportunity to reach his own conclusions. In this instance, however, things looked a trifle odd.

Soon, Macthane returned to the banquet table. His wife rose and greeted him upon his return with a look. Trip was glad he wasn’t at the receiving end of that look. However, come to think of it, T’Pol often had that same gleam in her eye when she looked at him, especially when she believed he was on the verge of embarrassing her.

**Hmm,** Trip thought to himself, **who is that man sitting in Macthane’s chair?**

“Hey, T’Pol, who’s sittin’ in Macthane’s chair?” Trip asked.

T’Pol looked at the head of the table, at the empty chair, and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the Commander. “No one.”

Trip was annoyed. **What is it with T’Pol?** he asked himself. **Did I not ask the question in a fashion she finds acceptable?**

“T’Pol, the guy with the blood pouring from his head.”

T’Pol’s features altered slightly. Cautiously she reached out and picked up the Commander’s chalice. Sniffing it, she reassured herself – wine and nothing else. He had only had two or three sips of the libation. T’Pol never allowed herself to wonder why she was so aware of every move the Commander made, but she was certain he wasn’t drunk in this case.

Trip reached out and snatched back his glass. “I’m not drunk,” he hissed, furious with T’Pol and her suspicious mind.

“I never said you were, Commander,” T’Pol responded with perfect truth.

Trip’s look conveyed, without words, what he thought of her sophistry.

Macthane was clearly becoming agitated, shouting at the man sitting in his chair. Trip thought this abuse unnecessary – **just ask the man to leave, why don’t you?** T’Pol looked vaguely puzzled by the scene at the end of the table. Glancing about, she noticed the other diners looking perplexed as well.

Suddenly Macthane’s wife rose to her feet and assured the assembled crowd that her husband often suffered from delusions, but that these soon passed. Trip wasn’t sure this was a great quality for a leader to have, but was willing to let this society go its own way.

Again Macthane began shouting at the man in his chair. Trip gazed around the table, wondering what others thought of this exhibition. “T’Pol, why doesn’t he just get another chair?” Trip asked.

“Commander, there is no one in the chair.”

Trip felt a shiver of joyful fear run down his spine. Was it possible? After all these years?

“T’Pol? Is it…is it…could it possibly be…a ghost sittin’ in that chair?”

“Ghosts do not exist.”

“Do you see anything sittin’ in that chair?”

“No.”

“Well, I do. It could be a ghost!”

T’Pol sighed, but decided to let this delusion pass.

“T’Pol?” Commander Tucker was clearly not going to let this latest idea go.

“What?”

“This has got to be the most boring ghost ever.”

“What?”

“The ghost just keeps shakin’ his head. His hair is swingin’ back and forth, but really, nothin’ much is goin’ on.”

“May I inquire how a ghost should act?”

“I dunno, creepy or evil or even educational. Have you ever read “A Christmas Carol?”

“A what?”

“A story by Dickens. Now, the first two ghosts were great - the ghost of Christmas past and the ghost of Christmas present. Only after seeing those two did the ghost of Christmas to come make sense. He then was so menacing that Scrooge realized the horror his future held, should he continue on the path he was upon. All three educated Scrooge about the value of giving and Christmas.”

“Mr. Tucker, I have no idea what you are talking about. I take it, however, that there are ghosts you find acceptable and those you do not?”

“Well, I just don’t want a boring ghost. A ghost shakin’ his head doesn’t do much for me.”

“Macthane seems agitated enough. In fact, he reminds me of you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Macthane is gesticulating wildly and shouting. He reminds me of you.”

“T’Pol, if my insight into this situation is correct, then Macthane murdered the man this ghost is here representin’. Are you sayin’ I remind you of a murderer?”

“Really, Commander Tucker, you do interpret the most innocent of my remarks in the most sinister of lights.”

“Hey, lady, you all but accused me of actin’ like a murderer!”

“I did no such thing, Mister Tucker. Please, calm yourself. Your response to the insect you encountered on Padona last week was very similar to the response I see Macthane exhibiting.”

“That isn’t the same thing at all, T’Pol. And I have no problem with insects – they don’t scare me.”

“May I remind you that you screamed and climbed onto my back to escape a small bug which crawled on your shoe? I had to carry you several meters before you were willing to step foot on the ground again. I fail to see why you are so delighted to be frightened by a ghost and yet do not gain the same enjoyment when you come across an insect.”

“I didn’t scream,” Trip said through gritted teeth. “I was simply startled. I’m sorry I jumped and accidentally grabbed onto you when I lost my balance.”

“Really, Commander, there is no need to make excuses. I was simply noting your different responses to fear when it is something supernatural as opposed to a harmless bug.”

“How do you know the bug was harmless? And, by the way, thanks, T’Pol, for ruinin’ the mood. That’s a real gift you have there.”

Feeling the evening was rapidly deteriorating before her eyes, T’Pol pulled out her tricorder and ran scans of the area. “There is an unusual electronic reading coming from the head of the table,” she reported. “I would have to do more analysis back on the ship to determine exactly what it is.”

“T’Pol, it’s a ghost! The essence remaining of a murdered man, who has come back to haunt the one responsible. Who do you suppose the ghost could be? Dunkeer?”

“Commander Tucker, someone is going to overhear what you are saying. You could cause an incident by being so undiplomatic. It isn’t good protocol to accuse the host of murder without proof.”

“T’Pol, no one is paying any attention to us. Don’t tell me, the Vulcan High Command has a little book on etiquette which tells you not to make accusations at dinner, is that it? What would you do without your VHC bible? I’m telling you, this situation is very suspicious.”

“It’s none of our concern. Please, don’t get involved. We are here to have dinner, not solve a mystery.”

“Aha! So you sense a mystery as well?! Isn’t this wonderful?”

“Well, everyone, we thank you for joining us for this banquet,” Macthane’s wife’s voice intruded upon their conversation. “However, my husband seems to be having a severe case of the delusions and I must ask all of you to leave immediately. Don’t worry about who leaves first, everyone just leave immediately. Goodbye! Goodbye! We’ll do this again real soon.” Macthane’s wife had a firm hold on her husband, who was shaking and speaking to the ghost once more.

Trip and T’Pol joined the queue to exit the room, still debating the rights and wrongs of discussing one’s host’s actions while eating at his table, the existence of ghosts, and the mystery presented by Trip’s vision. By unspoken agreement, insects were not a topic for review. Trip drew T’Pol’s arm through his as they strolled back to the shuttlepod. They agreed that, upon their return to Enterprise they would tell Archer what happened and Trip’s suspicions. Trip would scan the Vulcan database to see if he could identify the man whose ghost he had seen. Should Trip succeed, they would recommend to Archer that T’Pol discover someone within the Glawdorian government to whom Archer could make a report. Both Trip and T’Pol were skeptical there was anything to be done, but they believed they had to try.

Feeling slightly morbid, all in all, Trip found this was one of the best dinner parties he had ever attended, including as it did an excellent meal, wine, a ghost, and a mystery. Never a dull moment with T’Pol! Gently squeezing her elbow in thanks for providing him with a memorable evening, he smiled down at her. T’Pol simply gave the Commander her best Vulcan look in return.

*************

end

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Four of you have made comments

Thanks for an interesting story. It would have been good to have seen more of the crew also at the banquet to get their responses on the ghost too. I must admit I kept hoping there would be an outbreak of romance developing between Trip and T'Pol too. What can I say? I'm just greedy - Ali D :~)

It certainly had some hilarious bits. I got a Scooby-Doo flash when T'Pol said Trip jumped on her back after seeing an insect. :)

You are an evil genius! You made Macbeth funny!

"By unspoken agreement, insects were not a topic for review."

-That was my favorite line. I loved this.

"May I inquire how a ghost should act?" That is too perfect! Love it!