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And Baby-Ch. 17And Baby Makes Four By Samantha Quinn All disclaimers in Part I. Part 17 Absolutes
Of course, Trip wasn’t truly angry with the Captain. He was more angry at the circumstances that had led Trip to be sitting outside sickbay, waiting for the impending arrival of his child with no idea whether she, her mother, or her other father would survive the night. Namely, the three months of near continuous fighting with the Klingons that had culminated in a shuttlepod skirmish which had placed Malcolm in the sickbay next to T’Pol. Captain Archer’s capture three months prior had forced the Enterprise into several heated battles with the hostile aliens in an attempt to regain their leader. It had also placed a very pregnant T’Pol in command. As the Captain had been abducted prior to the start of her medical leave, T’Pol refused to leave her post for meditation purposes until Jonathan Archer was safely back on board and able to resume command. T’Pol had informed Trip-several times, as had been necessary-that while meditation was preferable before labor, it was not a biological necessity. Not that meditation would have helped much given circumstances, Trip thought angrily. For the umpteenth time, Trip closed his eyes and listened desperately for noise from sickbay. To no avail. The absolute silence coming from sickbay terrified Trip. T’Pol was in labor-women in labor were supposed to yell-scream-cry-curse-all of which required noise making. *She’s a Vulcan, Trip,* he reminded himself. But surely, even Vulcans allowed themselves exceptions where childbirth was concerned? Apparently they did not. Either that, or the jolt that Enterprise had sustained during the time they had been trying to protect the returning shuttlepod had done more than just knock T’Pol on her back.
“Move us to intercept, Ensign,” T’Pol instructed Mayweather. “Aye, Sub-Commander. Moving to intercept,” Mayweather replied. “Sub-Commander? I’m reading an explosion in the shuttlepod,” Ensign Tanner, filling in for Malcolm, had reported. T’Pol rose and walked over to the tactical station to investigate his findings. The Klingon phaser blast hit them simultaneously.
Trip desperately wiped the palms of his hands on his uniform, trying in vain to rid himself of the green liquid that was no longer there, but had completely covered him only hours before. In the quiet aloneness of the hallway, Trip allowed his thoughts to shift to the other occupant of the sickbay. Malcolm. T’Pol’s silence could be explained away because she was a Vulcan. But surely, Malcolm had no such reason to be so quiet. Unless the exploding console in the shuttlepod had done more damage than Trip wanted to contemplate.
“Commander, we’re being hailed by the shuttlepod,” Hoshi informed him. T’Pol may have been in sickbay, but he was stuck here. In command. The last place he wanted to be. “Trip, this is the Captain. Have Phlox meet us in the landing bay.” “Are ya alright, Cap’n?” “I’m fine, Trip . Malcolm. . . it’s a medical emergency, Trip.”
“Commander Tucker?” Phlox’s voice lacked the usual upbeat nature it normally had. Not a good sign, Trip was certain. Not trusting his voice to speak, Trip simply looked at the doctor expectantly. “The child is doing well, Commander. A healthy baby girl. The first human-Vulcan hybrid to live full term, in fact.” Phlox began. Trip felt his spirits lift somewhat. The baby was happy and healthy. That was a wonderful start. “T’Pol? Malcolm?” Trip prodded when Phlox did not immediately volunteer the information. The happy feeling was in danger of being replaced by dread. Phlox shook his head. “I’ve done all I can, Commander. Both Lieutenant Reed and Sub-Commander T’Pol have lost critical amounts of blood. If either of them survive the night, I’ll be surprised.” Trip leaned against the corridor wall for support. “They’re the two strongest, most stubborn people I know,” Trip informed Phlox. “They will make it.” Phlox mentally categorized the denial that Trip was experiencing, and decided to ignore it. He was correct in determining the nature of Phlox’s patients. But, whether stubbornness alone would be enough to sustain them had yet to be seen. “The child requires nourishment. I have prepared a supplement. Would you like to administer it, or shall I?” *Feeding,* Trip’s brain realized somewhat detachedly from the rest of his body. *He’s asking if I want to feed my daughter.* “I’ll do it,” he said resolutely. Trip followed Phlox into sickbay remorsefully. The first sight that greeted him was T’Pol. Her normally olive skin was much paler than could be healthy. He couldn’t allow his gaze to linger for very long. Instead, he focused on the tiny bundle of white clothing laying in an incubation chamber on the other side of sickbay. Walking over to the chamber, he gazed at the occupant with wonderment. After ten months of waiting, ten months of speculation, and ten months of anticipation, she was here. He was surprised to see that she was wide awake. Quiet as a mouse, but wide awake. Trip couldn’t help but recall an earlier conversation with T’Pol.
“Do Vulcan babies cry?” “That question severely lacks in logic, Commander.” “How does it lack in logic? It’s an honest question!” “Vulcan children are not born with the ability to communicate, any more than human children are. How else are they supposed to communicate their needs, other than by crying?”
Picking the child up, Trip continued to marvel at the creature as Phlox handed him a bottle with which to feed her. The baby took it readily. As she continued to nurse, Trip took in her full appearance-all eight pounds, 11 ounces of her. He noted with delight the tiny pointed ears, the cheerfully curly dirty blond curls, and the soft gray eyes which stared back up at him. *T’Pol’s ears, my hair, and Malcolm’s eyes,* Trip thought to himself. The attentive glance of the child in his arms made Trip feel immensely guilty. Although he knew he was imagining it, it was as though the baby was asking him, ‘Where are my other parents?’ “If either of them survive the night, I’ll be surprised.” Phlox had said. The idea that Trip would be all alone to raise their child horrified him. *I can’t. I don’t know the first thing about changing diapers, let alone Vulcan logic. I can’t do this by myself.* Briefly, Trip recalled the conversation with Alanna that had taken place ten months earlier. In her universe, Trip hadn’t survived to be part of her life. Had she helped to alter history so that Trip was the only one to survive? *** “I’m just saying that maybe we should reconsider T’Pol’s proposal for the science station.” “Malcolm, look, I know you’re worried about safety. Hell, it’s what makes you such a good tactical officer. But, I’ve worked all my life for this post. I refuse to give it up as easily as you and she seem think I should.”
Malcolm had been right. So had T’Pol. A starship was too dangerous of a place to raise a child. It was life on a starship, after all, that had placed their child in jeopardy of losing two of her parents. Leaning down closer to her tiny pointed ears, Trip whispered, “I promise ya, kiddo, if your momma and other dad make it, all three of us will move to that quaint little science station quicker than you can say ‘warp drive.’”
The goodbye party had been a brief, somber affair. The Enterprise crew was loosing three of their senior officers. In the words of Travis Mayweather, “It seems awfully morbid to have a party at a time like this.” Regardless, Trip had made a vow to his daughter and he intended to keep it. T’Pol and Malcolm had been surprised by his change of heart, but both had been relieved. Still, Malcolm knew it hadn’t been an easy choice for his friend. Which is why Malcolm had come looking for him now and found him, on the science station’s promenade, watching the departure of the ship that had been their home for two years. “Trip?” he inquired tentatively. “Hey, Malcolm,” Trip responded with a small grin. “Ya get T’Lanna settled in?” Malcolm nodded. “Yes. She’s asleep, finally. She’s inherited a good dose of stubbornness from all of us, I’m afraid.” Trip chuckled softly. “Yeah, we’re in for a fun time when she becomes a teenager, huh?” They stood in silence for a couple more minutes, as the Enterprise became smaller and smaller. “I hear the Captain didn’t take it very well,” Malcolm ventured quietly. He was referring to the news of their transfer. Trip snorted. “You could say that. He took the opportunity to remind me that the child had two other parents. In fact,” Trip’s voice lowered and the bitterness became apparent. “He voiced the opinion that quote, ‘She’s not really your daughter.’” Malcolm gasped in horror, “That’s an awful thing to say. Of course T’Lanna’s your daughter. Every bit as much as mine or T’Pol’s.” “Yeah, that’s what I told him.” “Before or after you slugged him?” “After.” “Good for you.” Trip looked at Malcolm in astonishment. “Good for me? Did the consummate professional Lieutenant Malcolm Reed just congratulate me for slugging the Captain?” “I believe so,” Malcolm replied. “Your bad influence, no doubt.” “Of course,” Trip smirked. More seriously, he added, “This really is the best place for her, Malcolm. It’s more diverse than the Enterprise crew ever was-there’s Andorians, Vulcans, humans, and what is Lieutenant C’Lak again?” “Alpha Centurian,” Malcolm supplied. “Right. Alpha Centurian. What better place for the first human-Vulcan hybrid to grow up?” Trip pointed out. Malcolm nodded in agreement. “It is quite an extraordinary station. The only place in the galaxy with such a diverse crew. More like what I expected space to be like when I joined Starfleet.” Trip glanced at him curiously. “Speakin’ of which, how’d Stewie take the news?” Malcolm winced. “You and the Captain had a more productive conversation, I believe,” he replied. “Well, isn’t it lovely that our dear friends and family members are so supportive?” Trip remarked sarcastically. “Then it is fortunate we have one another,” Malcolm supplied. Trip smiled and slung his arm across Malcolm’s shoulders. “Sure is, Mal.” ~~~~ Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS! |