Miscommunication - Part 2

Miscommunication

by Ragua

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I’m just borrowing.

A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute
http://home.teleport.com/~vli/vlif.htm

Chapter 3

Trip sat in his quarters in the cross-legged Tal t’li pose with the PADD on the floor next to a meditation candle that T’Pol had lent him for his “practice.” He was not, however, practicing his meditation.

“The sehlat is black,” Hoshi’s Vulcan language program informed him.

“Sehlat nesh-kur,” Trip responded obediently along with the computer’s voice.

“The le-matya is white,” the program continued.

“Le-matya wan-kur,” Trip echoed.

The engineer had only been working on his language lessons for a few days, but he was already becoming discouraged. So far, all he had learned was that the sehlat was black and small, and the le-matya was white and big. Both were apparently animals that lived somewhere on Vulcan, but that was all he knew. According to Hoshi, one animal was a cuddly pet and the other was a vicious Vulcan-eater, but which was which mattered a great deal less than his ability to pronounce their names correctly.

The linguist’s priorities made no sense to Trip. He certainly thought it was a lot more important to know which animal was likely to eat you than how to say its name right before it ate you.

The engineer tried to return his attention to the lesson. “T’Luki and Sonok are working,” the computer voice droned on.

“T’Luki heh Sonok fi’ ar’ kadan.”

“T’Luki and Sonok are working in the field today.”

“Nash-gad T’Luki heh Sonok fi’ ar’ kadan svi’ solai.”

Even worse than the sehlat and his le-matya buddy were T’Luki and Sonok. Those two did nothing but work, work in the field, work very hard. Sometimes they were cold and wet, other times warm and dry, but the program never explained how they got that way.

Trip envisioned the boring Vulcan couple falling into a raging river and then recuperating by a cozy campfire. That probably wasn’t what happened, though, he thought sourly. No doubt they got wet because they worked—worked hard, worked in the field—during a rainstorm. Then went home for plomik soup where they were warm and dry.

Trip made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and slapped out the flickering candle with the palm of his hand. T’Luki and Sonok were a couple of morons. If he had a phaser, he would stun them both. And the sehlat. And the le-matya. He didn’t give a damn which one was cuddly and which one was vicious.

The thought of blasting away with a phaser gave Trip an idea. He switched the language program off and called up the Vulcan-Standard dictionary. He had the rudiments of the sentence structure down. All he needed were some real words.

Phaser. Wek-zehlek. Shoot. Pohshau. Ha! Trip smiled to himself.

Pohshau nash-veh wek-zehlek na’ T’Luki heh Sonok.

Much better! Trip thought cheerily. Then he frowned. It probably wasn’t a good idea to go around phasering Vulcans, no matter how irritating and imaginary they happened to be. Maybe he should just shoot the sehlat. Or the le-matya. Trip’s frown deepened. No, he’d feel guilty if he shot the cuddly one by mistake.

Trip sighed. Better leave the shooting to Malcolm, he thought. I’m an engineer, not a gunfighter.

This, however, gave him another idea. He searched the dictionary again. There it was!

Nash-veh mishek, Trip said to himself with a touch of pride. I am an engineer!

* * *

Hoshi sat over a cup of green tea in the mess hall and rubbed her temples. These language lessons with Commander Tucker were going to drive her insane.

She knew she should be more patient. It had only been a week. Things couldn’t be as bad as they looked right now. But... Hoshi sighed. In all her years of teaching, she couldn’t remember ever having a student so inept! Or at least, none that stuck with it once they realized it was a lost cause. Commander Tucker was completely aware that he was hopeless, and yet he kept at it with a tenacity that both impressed and annoyed her.

I should have realized it from the beginning, she thought. T’hai’la and thel’a sound nothing alike! He couldn’t even distinguish the difference between the glottal stop at the beginning of the first word from the ‘th’ sound at the beginning of the second!

“Hard day, Ensign?” a familiar voice asked. When Hoshi looked up, startled, the voice’s owner misinterpreted her reaction. “I’m sorry, Hoshi—Lieutenant!” Malcolm Reed, a cup of tea in his hand, smiled in apology. Hoshi smiled back and motioned him to sit.

“I’ve just gotten started on a new project,” Hoshi answered. “It looks like it’s going to be pretty tough, so I was just sitting here giving myself a pep talk.” Hopefully that would be specific enough to satisfy him and vague enough to keep him in the dark.

Malcolm eyed her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. “Is that the project you’re working on with Commander Tucker?” he asked innocently.

Hoshi sat dumbstruck. She should have realized that very little occurred on the ship that the sneaky, suspicious Armory Officer wasn’t aware of. How much did he know? Should she go along with him, or feign ignorance? “Sir?” she queried, trying to buy some time.

“Well, you’ve been spending quite a bit of time in Engineering lately,” Reed responded. He shifted his weight in his chair. Was he uncomfortable about something? Hoshi wondered. “And I’d noticed that the two of you have taken quite a few meals together here in the mess hall.” He raised his eyes to hers as he took another sip of tea.

Hoshi stared at him. He seemed almost embarrassed. Oh my God! she realized suddenly. Does he think...?!?!

“What are you implying, Lieutenant?” she snapped. Malcolm looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to feel guilty or defensive.

“It’s just that the two of you are spending a lot of time together. When you talked about the new...project...I just naturally assumed that it had something to do with Commander Tucker.”

For the staid Armory Officer, this waffling response was the equivalent of screaming out loud that he suspected his fellow bridge officers were carrying on a torrid affair. Hoshi was aghast at his unwarranted assumption. There were so many things she would have liked to say to him, first and foremost, “Mind your own damned business!” followed quickly by, “Get your mind out of the gutter, you smarmy British perv!”

If she were completely honest with herself, what she would have liked to say most was, “Why should you have a problem if other people on board think I’m worth violating that non-fraternization rule for, you gutless wonder?”

Facial expressions must have accompanied all her potential responses as she considered them, because Lieutenant Reed was looking slightly alarmed when she refocused on him. She narrowed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. Malcolm looked as if he expected steam to accompany the exhalation.

“Well, you know what they say about people who assume things, Lieutenant,” Hoshi finally answered. It was a cliché, but at least it wouldn’t get her busted for insubordination. She picked up her mug and stalked off.

* * *

Trip was actually enjoying his meditation session with T’Pol, although it couldn’t be said that he was actually meditating. His “practice sessions” had helped him learn to sit in the correct pose without losing sensation in his lower extremities. His Vulcan lessons gave him something to occupy his mind while he spent the time watching his t’hai’la do her thing. There certainly were worse ways to spend an evening!

T’hai’la, he enunciated the word carefully to himself, pronouncing it as Hoshi had taught him. Tuh-high-lah! There really wasn’t a ‘th’ sound to it, unless you said it really fast. No wonder T’Pol got mad at him for screwing it up so badly.

He took the opportunity to gaze her from under his eyelashes, admiring her in Vulcan. Or at least, what little Vulcan he knew.

Her bezhun were closed, but he considered them the most beautiful he had ever seen—even when she was giving him The Stare. That he appreciated her bru, particularly the lower one, went without saying. Her delightful little pointed kaluk had always fascinated him. And while he didn’t agree with Malcolm on much, the guy certainly had a point about her nice pla’kruslar. Not to mention her really fine pair of—

“Commander, why do you find it necessary to stare at me?” T’Pol’s severe voice brought him back to reality.

Caught in the act, Trip panicked. How did she do that? “Uhhhmm...” Think fast, Tucker. Unfortunately, Trip couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse. Even the truth.

A human woman would be flattered if he told her he had been distracted by her beauty, but T’Pol? Not a chance. No matter how eloquently or romantically he might state his case, T’Pol would hear his excuses as, “My undisciplined human mind can’t focus on the meditation because I’m gettin’ all hot and bothered checkin’ out your bod.”

Which was pretty much true. Trip sighed in frustration.

“I believe that I have been precipitous in inviting you to join me in meditation,” T’Pol finally filled the silence. “You are obviously not ready for Vulcan discipline.”

Trip shook his head, unwilling to admit defeat. “I just need more practice. I can do this, T’Pol.” He looked her squarely in the eye. “I want to get this right, ‘cause it’s important to you!”

“It has been more than a week, and you have yet to ‘get it right,’” T’Pol responded stonily. “What is the likelihood that you will ever do so?”

Trip opened his mouth to protest the injustice of her harsh response, but as he frantically searched his brain trying to figure out the right thing to say, T’Pol took advantage of his silence.

“Have you actually been practicing?” the Vulcan accused.

“Yes!” Trip affirmed stoutly, despite being somewhat off balance from her unexpectedly aggressive reaction. “Every night before I go to sleep.” That wasn’t a lie. He practiced his Vulcan every night.

T’Pol, however, seemed to have a sixth sense where he was concerned. She eyed him coldly, skepticism evident in her face. It wasn’t The Stare. It was something worse. Trip felt something akin to fear. “You practice meditating every night?” she asked in a deadly voice.

Trip opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. There was no right answer to this question. She had trapped him. T’Pol narrowed her eyes at his failure to respond. Abruptly, she got to her feet, blew out all the candles, and began to put away the meditation cushions.

“Vulcan meditation takes a great deal of time, discipline, and commitment,” she stated as she tidied up her quarters. “It is apparent that you are deficient in these qualities.”

“T’Pol!” Trip protested, but she went on as if he was not there.

“Perhaps it is self-control you lack,” she continued, looking at him with distaste. “Perhaps the hours you have been spending with Lieutenant Sato limit the time and the commitment you can dedicate to your ‘practice.’” T’Pol continued to eye him coldly. “Whatever the reason, I most certainly have erred in asking you to join in my cultural traditions.” Suddenly, she looked sad. “I have been foolish.”

Trip was blindsided by her words. He felt as if she had clocked him with one of her little Vulcan statuettes. Suddenly, the full import of what she had said hit him, and he leapt to his feet.

“You...you think...me and Hoshi,” he was inarticulate with rage and indignation. “You think we’re...messin’ around?” When T’Pol did not answer, he asked again, enunciating slowly and carefully in a manner that would have impressed the Communications Officer. “You think I’m having an affair with Hoshi?”

T’Pol covered her feelings with a cloak of indifference and Vulcan stoicism. “What I think about your interactions with your crewmates is irrelevant. As first officer, however, I would advise you to be more discreet, given Starfleet regulations.”

Trip was having none of it. “Don’t give me that non-fraternization crap, T’Pol. You think I’m messing around on you. Do you really think I would do something like that to you? To us? Do you really believe—”

“Commander!” T’Pol interrupted him. Trip pulled up short, and they glared at each other for no more than a heartbeat. Then T’Pol pulled the rug out from under him. “There is no ‘us.’”

Trip gasped in disbelief. Rage, indignation, denial, anguish, despair. He didn’t know which emotion to feel first. But it really didn’t matter, because T’Pol turned her back on him.

“It would be best if you left now.”

Stunned and hurt, Trip did as she asked.

Chapter 4

Enterprise’s Chief Engineer sat in the mess hall the next morning, picking over his cooling breakfast, replaying the previous night’s scene in his head for the hundredth time. How could she think he would do such a thing? Trip shook his head. After all they had been through together, he thought she knew him better than that—that she would think more highly of him!

“You look like you could use some company, Commander.” Malcolm appeared at his side, holding a tray of his usual breakfast, the disgusting pancakes and peanut butter combination.

Trip nodded morosely. The two sat in silence for some time. Reed was a bit surprised. The engineer was usually the most gregarious of individuals.

“Problems, Commander?” Malcolm queried. Trip looked up from his scrambled eggs, frowning. “It might help to talk about it,” Reed encouraged.

The engineer sighed and then let loose. “T’Pol thinks I’m messin’ around with Hoshi!”

Malcolm took a bite of his pancakes and chewed slowly, trying to compose a diplomatic response. In his opinion, T’Pol’s suspicions were warranted, but his friend was obviously upset about the situation. His prolonged silence, however, seemed to be all the response Trip needed. The engineer glowered at him.

“You think I’m messin’ around with Hoshi!” he accused, incredulous.

“The two of you are spending an inordinate amount of time together, both on and off duty,” Malcolm responded, keeping his tone neutral and his eyes on his breakfast. “The Sub-Commander’s assumption is a logical one.” He banished from his mind Hoshi’s comment about people who make assumptions.

Trip gaped at the Armory Officer as if the man had grown an extra head. “We’re working on a project together!” he snapped.

Now Malcolm raised his eyebrows at Trip. “What project?” When the engineer remained silent, Malcolm nodded knowingly and went back to his pancakes. “A project that requires you to spend a great deal of time together and for which you won’t provide any details.” He shook his head, wondering for the umpteenth time why the engineer was so reticent about providing details of his conquests.

“We’re just friends!” Trip snarled, sounding both angry and desperate.

Malcolm looked the engineer in the face again. “You once told me that you and T’Pol were ‘just friends.’ If that’s the case, why should it bother you that she thinks you are having an affair with Hoshi?”

Trip let out an exasperated breath. “And like I said before, you just need to drop it! Why the hell can’t you mind your own damned business?” He stabbed at the sausages on his plate, piercing them full of holes.

“Look,” Malcolm said in as conciliatory a manner as possible. “You’re obviously bothered about the whole situation. It certainly would help to talk about it.” When Trip maintained his stubborn silence, Malcolm tried again. “You know I won’t judge you.”

At this, the engineer narrowed his eyes. “Seems to me like you already have, Lieutenant.”

“Well, look at it from my perspective,” Malcolm cajoled. “I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me about what’s going on. We’re friends, after all.”

“Are we?” Trip asked quietly, his voice cold.

Malcolm was taken aback by the venom of the response. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far. He sought to do some damage control. “Trip” he said soothingly. “You needn’t—”

“Don’t tell me what I need, you suspicious, dirty-minded little bastard!” Trip hissed. The viciousness of the words stunned Reed as if he had been phasered. “I think you need to take a good look at your friends,” the engineer continued in an icy voice. “I mean, why the hell would you be friends with a guy that you obviously think of as an untrustworthy, disloyal, lying, cheating—”

“Trip!” Malcolm protested, cutting the tirade off. He had never seen his friend so angry. The engineer’s face white—completely bloodless—and yet the veins in his neck were pulsing furiously. His eyes glittered with carefully controlled emotions, which disturbed Reed more than he could say. Trip normally vented his feelings in loud, volatile explosions. The iciness suggested a fury far beyond the norm.

Malcolm was still trying to think of an appropriate comment when his friend got abruptly to his feet and walked away. “Trip!” Malcolm called after him. The engineer did not respond. He bussed his dishes and left the mess hall without once looking back.

* * *

Hoshi Sato was at a loss. Lieutenant Reed’s inquiries of the previous week should have warned her some potential fiasco was in the making. If not that, then the fact that she was suddenly out of the ship’s gossip loop. The only reason people got left out of the gossip loop was because they themselves had become the gossip.

The final straw—or nail in the coffin depending on how one decided to look at it—was Commander Tucker’s brusque communiqué declaring that he would be unable to continue their language sessions, although he still wished to learn Vulcan. To that end, he respectfully requested that she send lessons via the ship’s internal communications.

Like that’s going to do anything for his godawful pronunciation, Hoshi thought, dejected.

The uncharacteristic reserve and formality from the normally easy-going Chief Engineer was almost more than Hoshi could bear. She realized that their lessons—and the ship’s gossip—must have led to some kind of falling out between him and Sub-Commander T’Pol. Staff briefings were mechanical and chilly. Hoshi suspected that something had also occurred between the commander and Lieutenant Reed as well, because all communication between those two had been unnaturally brisk and clipped lately.

Hoshi didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. She could easily solve the problem by making the truth known, but that would mean breaking her promise to Commander Tucker. It seemed an infantile consideration at this point, but she didn’t feel right exposing him that way. If he wanted others to know the truth, he could easily have told them himself.

She would have to speak to him.

* * *

T’Pol sat alone in her quarters attempting to meditate. It had become very difficult to focus since severing personal contact with Commander Tucker. The emotions engendered by their confrontation continued to haunt her. In fact, it seemed as if they were increasing rather than dissipating, as she had hoped.

His interaction with Lieutenant Sato had all but ceased. Either that, or he had followed her advice and was exercising discretion. Whichever the case, T’Pol no longer saw them laughing together in the mess hall, nor did she encounter the Communications Officer in Engineering when necessity required the Science Officer to be there. At staff briefings, the commander spoke minimally, if at all, and left as soon as the captain dismissed them.

Perhaps she had been wrong in her deductions. But if that were the case, why had she sensed that he was keeping something from her? Why did it seem that he was sharing a secret with the Communications Officer?

Yet he had seemed so genuine in his surprise when she accused him of spending too much time with Hoshi. He had seemed indignant, not ashamed, as she believed he would have been, had he truly been engaged in some kind of...relationship with the Communications Officer.

This is the problem with emotions, the Vulcan thought. My feelings for Commander Tucker lead me to ignore logic. Simply put, she wanted to believe him innocent because of her...affection for him, however much logic suggested otherwise.

Humans, particularly males, were a sexually active species. Despite their one night together, T’Pol had done nothing to encourage Commander Tucker in that way. Humans considered sexual relations intimate, but T’Pol had wanted to establish an intimacy between herself and the commander that was more...Vulcan.

It was logical to assume that the engineer, seeing little or no possibility of physical relations with T’Pol, had sought to satisfy his needs elsewhere. A human female, particularly one within such close proximity, was the obvious solution to his problem. Although, T’Pol thought, in the three years that I have known him, Commander Tucker has never been reluctant about engaging in sexual relations with alien females. The commander’s various escapades with alien women provided more evidence to support the logical conclusion.

Logic, however, did nothing to salve the pain that his betrayal had caused her. It was her own fault for becoming emotionally attached to a human. For believing that he could be to her what only a Vulcan male could. She had only herself to blame.

She would not make the same mistake again.

* * *

Malcolm Reed sat at the desk in his quarters going over the ship’s security reports, but he was having a very difficult time focusing on the important details. His mind kept returning to his last real conversation with Commander Tucker.

Since the engineer had sailed out of the mess hall, Reed’s only interaction with the man had been on a purely professional level. And Trip had behaved so professionally that he seemed almost robotic. Malcolm never thought to see his friend—an amiable, good-natured soul if ever there was one—become a veritable automaton. It was almost if he was trying to out-Vulcan T’Pol.

Could I have completely misinterpreted what was going on between Trip and Hoshi? the Armory Officer thought guiltily. He shook his head, baffled. If that was the case, why hadn’t either Trip or Hoshi simply told him the reason they were spending so much time together?

Neither of them were spending time together now, though. Trip rarely left Engineering. He didn’t even come to the mess hall to eat. Malcolm shifted uneasily in his chair, uncomfortable at the idea that he had so misjudged his friend. Trip had expected Malcolm to listen to his problem, offer comfort, maybe suggest a solution. And what had Malcolm done? Pretty much said, Yeah, love stinks, you randy bastard. Now tell me everything, and don’t be stingy with the lurid details.

Malcolm groaned an dropped his face into his hands. He’d better go try and salvage his friendship before it was too late.

* * *

Trip stared intently at the flickering candle flame. He sat in the Tal t’li pose, but he certainly wasn’t meditating. He just couldn’t get over how little his friends apparently thought of him. Friends? He had never doubted that the people on Enterprise were his friends, closer than any he had ever had, in fact.

But now everything was different.

He had always considered himself a pretty good person. His parents had raised him to work hard, to respect others, to do right, to be honest—basically, to be a nice, decent human being. At least, that’s the way he saw it.

Apparently, the people on the ship saw it differently. They saw some self-indulgent, hedonistic, flaky, good-time Charlie of dubious integrity, who couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants.

Trip sighed. It would be one thing if it was just ship’s gossip. But the fact that Malcolm bought it! The guy he’d faced death with several times over, not to mention those she-males on Risa. He couldn’t believe how much it hurt that Malcolm obviously thought he was someone who would play around on one friend and put the reputation of another in jeopardy.

And T’Pol. After all they’d been through together. After she had accused him of being incapable of having a sexual relationship without becoming emotionally attached. After he’d stood by her through thick and thin, not to mention that Trellium-D insanity.

Trip slammed his palm down on the candle, snuffing out its flame. He then kicked it across the room for good measure. Maybe if he could maintain his anger, he could continue to ignore the hurt.

As he was trying to decide which inanimate object to abuse next, his door COMM chirped.

* * *

Hoshi shifted her weight nervously as she waited for the commander to answer his door. She glanced up and down the hall, hoping no one would see her there and misinterpret her presence. Her attention shot back to the door as it slid open to reveal a harried-looking Chief Engineer.

“Hoshi!” he hissed, looking up and down the corridor to see if they were being watched.

“Sir,” she responded evenly. “We need to talk. Can I come in?” She started to move forward, but to her surprise, he blocked her.

“No!” he yelped, alarmed. Instead, he stepped out into the hallway with her. “We can talk out here,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jamb.

Hoshi closed her eyes and counted to ten. She had to be patient with the man: he had far more on the line emotionally than she did. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her warily, as if she were a bomb that might explode.

Don’t I wish, the Communications Officer thought sourly. The idea of detonating herself and sending people fleeing in all directions seemed extremely attractive at the moment.

“Commander,” she snapped instead, “you have got to tell people the truth about us!”

“I have been!” he replied testily. “I’ve been telling ‘em we’re working on a project and that we’re just friends.”

“That’s not the truth I’m talking about,” Hoshi all but yelled in frustration. “I’m talking about the one that will convince everyone on board that we aren’t knocking boots!”

Now he looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m real sorry about that, Hoshi. I never meant to ruin your reputation.” His hangdog expression and his absolutely archaic concern for her “reputation” wrung an unwilling smile from her. She found herself thinking that T’Pol was one lucky Vulcan.

“All you have to do to fix that is let everyone know the real reason we were spending so much time together.”

His expression quickly went from chagrined to stone-faced. “No.”

“Why not?” Hoshi demanded indignantly. “I know that you’re on the outs with T’Pol. And I know that you had some kind of confrontation with Malcolm over this whole thing. Why won’t you just tell them the truth, and make it right?”

“Because I shouldn’t have to tell them, Hoshi,” he responded with quiet fury. “They’re supposed to be my friends. They’re not supposed to expect me to be some kind of lyin’ shitheel who goes around banging every woman he can just for the hell of it, regardless of how it affects other people.”

He has a point, Hoshi thought. It really was cruel of Malcolm and T’Pol to assume the worst. But his refusal to defend himself was so juvenile! “Sir!” she tried again.

“No, Hoshi,” he stated firmly. “I’m not tellin’ ‘em anything.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And neither are you!”

The Communications Officer gave him a rebellious look. I take it all back, she thought, disgusted with his pigheadedness. T’Pol, girlfriend, you can have him. You’ve got your work cut out for you.

Seeing her mutinous expression, Trip continued, warningly, “Hoshi...! You promised.” Hoshi wavered, not quite convinced. Trip enunciated one final time, stabbing his index finger at her with each word. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

Hoshi swallowed and then nodded her agreement, looking at the floor.

* * *

All Malcolm’s good intentions disappeared as he rounded the corridor and came upon Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Sato facing each other in the hallway outside Trip’s quarters.

“Ah!” he said aloud. Trip and Hoshi looked up at him and then elsewhere, in obvious embarrassment. Malcolm chided himself for having doubted his instincts, and yet, at the same time, he was profoundly disappointed at having been confirmed in his suspicions.

“Forgive me,” he said in his most formal tone. “I had no intention of interrupting.” He had intended to say something else, but stopped upon seeing Commander Tucker’s eyes blaze in fury. For a nanosecond, Reed thought the engineer was going to attack him. Then time flowed normally again. Trip’s eyes shuttered, and he turned back into his quarters and shut the door without so much as a goodbye.

Which left Malcolm standing alone in the corridor with Hoshi.

“Ah,” he said again, for lack of a more intelligent comment. The Communications Officer gave him an almost reptilian look. Reed, determined to appear nonchalant about the entire business, nodded his head toward the closed door and inquired, “Trouble in paradise, Lieutenant?”

Unlike Commander Tucker, the linguist gave no indication whatsoever that she was contemplating violence. Consequently, when her open palm smacked against his cheek, the unsuspecting Armory Officer was staggered by the force of the blow.

By the time Malcolm regained his footing, Hoshi was gone.

* * *

The next morning, Enterprise’s Chief Communications Officer sat in the mess hall worshipping her cup of coffee. Inhaling the warm fumes soothed her pounding skull, and the pleasant aroma calmed her roiling stomach.

After her disgracefully schoolgirl reaction to Lieutenant Reed’s snide comment the night before, she had retreated to her quarters to await the inevitable consequences of her actions.

She had assaulted a superior officer. Her life as she knew it was over.

Her imagination had run wild, wreaking havoc on her nerves. How bad would it be? A security detail? Definitely the brig. They might even march her through the ship in irons! Did they even make irons anymore? Maybe she had been watching too many of those swashbuckler movies.

There would definitely be a court-martial. At the very least, she’d be dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. At the very worst...Hoshi’s mind worked desperately, trying to recall the penalty for striking a superior officer. Had she ever even known the penalty? It wasn’t something she would have thought to research, as she had never before been the type to resort to fisticuffs.

Oh, but it had felt good smacking the self-righteous smirk off that pissy British face!

At some point during her long wait for the other shoe to drop, she had turned to the bottle of saki her folks had given her when Enterprise left spacedock for its most recent tour. She woke early the following morning to a bottle that was nearly empty and a stomach that wished it was.

The one good thing about a hangover, Hoshi thought, is that nothing else that happens today can make me feel any worse. She pressed her face closer to the mug between her hands. Could she drown herself in such a small space? If only.

“Hey, Hoshi!” a cheerful voice above her somewhere made her head scream. When she turned a baleful glare on Travis, he shrank back. “Whoa. You look like crap!”

“Thanks, Travis,” she grunted. “You sure know what a girl wants to hear.”

Travis sat down, eyeing her dubiously. Hoshi ignored him completely. Eventually, however, the silence became too much for the chipper young helmsman.

“You know, Hosh,” he began, “if things are that bad, it might help to talk about it.”

Hoshi raised her bloodshot eyes to his face as she contemplated his offer. There was no doubt that Travis was her friend and was sincere in his offer to help. But he was not above using their friendship to get inside information for the ship’s gossip circuit. For all she knew, he had paid heavily into some pool about her personal life and was looking for tips that would help him make a killing.

“I know it’s none of my business,” Travis continued when the Communications Officer did not respond, “but there’s certainly nothing wrong with you and—”

“Travis,” Hoshi interrupted him. “If you make a comment that links me romantically with any sentient being on this ship, I will throw this coffee in your face and beat you to death with the mug.”

Hoshi was pleased to note that her statement kept Travis quiet for the remainder of the meal.

Continue to Part 3

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I Love your story so far. Great Writing!

*I will throw this coffee in your face and beat you to death with the mug.*

What a great line!!!!

I don't know who to be madder at, T'Pol or Malcolm. I'm with Trip on the righteous indignation. I can sorta forgive T'Pol. She's new to the emotions game, but then I think she should know the man Trip is. Grr...

Oh this was awesome!

You got Trip's reaction to that double-sided betrayal right on, and I loved that Hoshi showed some fire. Damn Brit. Oh I hope they all get what they deserve. Muahaha. Please please please update soon! This was really fun!

Love this story. Couldn't stop laughing as Trip was pacticing his meditation & Vulcan lessons. I could just see and feel his frustration-- too funny for words :) Wonderful writing.

I'm liking this story more and more. I can almost see something like this happening next season if they really do try to develop their relationship.

That said, while I feel for Trip's indignation his track record isn't so hot. If the situations were reversed and he saw Malcolm & Tpol spending a great deal of private time together and not actually explaining the 'project' I think he'd jump to conclusions also.

Hoshi is the one I feel the most sorry for stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Update soon.

I'm really enjoying this story, especially Hoshi's part in this "comedy of errors". Loved her comment to Mayweather. My sympathies are with Trip -- although it wouldn't kill him to explain! I'm looking forward to the next chapter.

This story is a riot! Love it....can't wait for the next chapter!!!!

"Trip made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and slapped out the flickering candle with the palm of his hand. T’Luki and Sonok were a couple of morons. If he had a phaser, he would stun them both. And the sehlat. And the le-matya. He didn’t give a damn which one was cuddly and which one was vicious." -lmao! This is frustrated, impatient Trip in a nutshell. Great!

Hung-over Hoshi is highly amusing. Great job with Trip's anger, and with showing all four POVs involved. Excellent.

More soon, I hope!

Trip's mad at Malcolm...
T'Pol's mad at Trip...
Hoshi's mad at everyone...
And Travis is to scared to give Hoshi any lip...

Yup... I'd say that about sums it all up! Now when does Hoshi get to slap Trip for being so damn stubborn? Just tell them idiot before T'Pol totally gives up on you!!!!

I think T'Pol might just need a slap in the face as well.....

What a most beautiful chapter! Could you smack the heads of all four together? Please? ;-)))

This is a brilliant chapter, I love it to bit and must demand that it be updated a.s.a.p.!

It isn't really that unusual for T'Pol to jump to conclusions, afteral she jumped to conclusions in Unexpected...Harbinger, of course, Malcolm's historically just as likely to jump to conclusions, so this story is entirely believable which is why I enjoy it so much...

Like I said, UPDATE SOON!

jumping to conclusions is right..
trip's rep is probably far worse then reality..

it really was peebles in unexpected..
he didnt really have a clue at first that liana in oasis was coming on to him.. t'pol saw it first.
liana had to get pretty blatant about it till he did and then he said he wished more women paid attention to him which showed he is so clueless about how attractive ect he is.

he was real suprised in harbinger when amanda kissed him.

the only time he did do anything was in precious cargo and then the princess went after him first..

yeah i think he does have cause to be upset.

I love this story! Everyone's actually in character, and the descriptions and dialogue are great fun!

I can't wait to read more!

I couldn't stop laughing and yet life is sometimes like that, something small and innocuous can be blown out of all proportion. I can't believe that T'Pol didn't figure out that she had jumped to a conclusion that led her to over react and can't wait to see what happens next. The other thing that amused me no end was that the Captain seems totally oblivious! Ali D :~)

Yeah, I was wondering where Archer was in this... is he dead? No? *scolds* Don't get my hopes up.

Sorry anti-Archer folk. The captain will be making his debut in the next chapter. And while he is fairly clueless (as always), his heart will certainly be in the right place.

You've pretty much got me hooked. Please continue!!! Hopefully T'Pol will realized she over reacted.

OoooooOOOoo I love it! YAY! Very good stuff.

When's the next part coming out? ;)

Good chapter. Shame on them for thinking the worst! Looking forward to the next update :)

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Shame on you for not putting on a warning at the beginning of your story: "The drinking of beverages while reading should be discouraged." Are you going to help me clean up my monitor? Keep it coming - great, great story!!!

Oops! Part of my comment above got cut! I quoted the lines: Even worse than the sehlat and his le-matya buddy were T’Luki and Sonok. Those two did nothing but work, work in the field, work very hard. Sometimes they were cold and wet, other times warm and dry, but the program never explained how they got that way.

And there shoulda been a big old ;-D after I asked for help in cleaning up my monitor - see what happens when I should be going to bed but instead I'm reading fanfic? Dammit! ;-)

Love it! Love it! Love it!