Consequences- Part 4

Consequences

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: Right now: PG-13. Will be R later, Romance

All disclaimers in Part 1

****

Part Four

*A science experiment.*

At least, that’s what Sub-Commander T’Pol was trying to convince herself she was conducting. It was a much less unpleasant thought than completely acknowledging the truth. If she had been forced to acknowledge that she was looking for events that triggered her emotions, that would have caused too much discomfort.

After all, admitting that would have required conceding that she was capable of having emotions. That was something T’Pol was unwilling to do.

Especially given the reactions her body had been having lately to Commander Tucker.

*It is a simple science experiment,* T’Pol reminded herself. *As with any basic science experiment, I shall employ multiple variables.* In this case, the variables would be interactions with various crew members. Since T’Pol realized she could not interact with every one on board, she had narrowed it down to the senior bridge officers. Logically, she was in their presence most frequently. Thus, she reasoned, they should be more likely to incite emotional response.

*Strictly logical,* T’Pol told herself as she held her breakfast tray and scanned the mess hall for a suitable breakfast companion. As it was still quite early, the Mess Hall was not at all crowded. *Humans do have a strange capacity to skip breakfast. This typically leads to over indulgence in the afternoon and evening meals.* Strange behavior, indeed. One that T’Pol would have believed serving on a star ship would help curb, but she was incorrect.

The only bridge officers T’Pol found were Ensigns Sato and Mayweather. *How fortunate* T’Pol reflected. *I shall be able to eliminate two of the variables in one sitting.*

Determinedly, T’Pol made her way over to where the two unsuspecting Ensigns sat. “Ensigns,” she said by way of greeting. “May I join you?”

Hoshi and Travis exchanged a surprised look. It was common ship knowledge that the only people T’Pol ever ate with was the Captain and Commander Tucker. And the crew was pretty certain that was not something she did by choice.

“Well, Sub-Commander, I was just getting ready to leave. I have a lot of work to do in translating the language from our last encounter,” Hoshi told the Vulcan. “But I’m sure Travis would appreciate the company.”

From the expression that flashed across Travis’ face, T’Pol surmised that statement to be less than accurate. Still, Travis seemed to use the tactic of “being polite” as he flashed a smile in T’Pol’s direction and waved to the seat left vacant as Hoshi stood. “Sure, Sub-Commander, have a seat.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” T’Pol said to the helmsman. Turning towards Hoshi, T’Pol remarked, “Ensign Sato, I have noticed you to be quite dedicated in your tasks. Undoubtedly, your dedication causes you great amounts of . . . stress. I believe Vulcan meditation techniques would help to alleviate such stress. I can teach them to you, if you are interested.”

Hoshi just stared at Vulcan for a moment. *Did T’Pol just make an overtly friendly gesture?* she wondered. No, that couldn’t have been right. Vulcans aren’t friendly. *Maybe she’s just concerned about my “stress level” affecting my duties.* Still, it would have been rude not to accept the offer, considering it was the closest any of the Enterprise crew had gotten to seeing T’Pol attempt to be friendly.

“Sure, T’Pol. I’d be happy to learn whatever you’re willing to teach me,” Hoshi responded cheerfully.

“In that case, perhaps we should meet in my quarters after your shift is over?” T’Pol offered.

*Damn, she doesn’t waste any time, does she?* “Sure-um, see ya at 1700 hours?”

“That will be acceptable. Good day, Ensign,” said T’Pol as she said down opposite of a dumbfounded Travis Mayweather. Hoshi knew exactly how he felt and would have loved to stay in the Mess Hall to hear the conversation between Travis and T’Pol, but she did want to work on the language a bit more before her regular shift started. *And besides, if I get there soon enough, I’ll be able to catch Malcolm before T’Pol gets there.* Hoshi grinned to herself as she turned to go, knowing that the armory officer would find T’Pol’s out of character actions just as interesting as Hoshi and Travis had.

T’Pol turned to face the young helmsman seated in front of her. Although she had grown accustomed to the concept of conversing when she ate courtesy of her dinners with the Captain and Commander Tucker, she found it exceedingly difficult to begin to converse with Mayweather, as she knew very little about him to begin with.

For three full minutes they ate in silence until T’Pol realized that simply being in the same room with the man would not help her experiment at all. Grasping at the only information she knew about the pilot, she finally asked, “Do you feel your time in space as a child helped to adequately prepare you for your current posting?”

*What is that supposed to mean?* Travis wondered. *Since when does T’Pol care about any of our childhoods?* “I’m not quite sure I follow, Sub-Commander.”

“You spent your formative years in space with your parents, did you not?”

“Yeah . . .”

“My question was simply whether you believe such an experience was adequate training for your current post.”

*Is she questioning my skill ability?* Travis wondered, feeling himself grow angry. “Well, it helped to install the love of space travel. That’s helpful to anyone flying a ship, I suppose.”

“You ‘suppose’?”

“Well, I am a Starfleet trained officer. I’m pretty sure that had a lot more to do with training me for my current post than my previous boomer experience,” Travis managed to snap, allowing a bit anger to edge into his voice.

T’Pol picked up on it immediately and noticed that surprise was not an emotion which incited head discomfort. “I am aware of your qualifications, Ensign. I was simply trying to ascertain more information concerning your life. I believe you humans call it ‘small talk’?”

Travis felt a small sliver of guilt. Along with a heavy dosage of shock, of course. “Sorry, Sub-Commander. I suppose that outburst was un-called for.”

“I am not offended.”

*’Course not. That would require an emotional response, would it not?* Travis grinned to himself. “To answer your question . . . I’d say it helped a lot. My father in particular was a large influence.”

“In what manner?”

“Just in the way that he was so . . . passionate about doing what he loved. He was truly at home amongst the stars, and loved it. I always believed that I inherited my enthusiasm for space from him.” Travis stopped, feeling the full effect of his father’s death.

“Are you all right, Ensign?”

“Yeah . . . Sorry, I just got a little choked up there, thinking of my father.” At T’Pol’s inquisitive look, he explained, “Thinking of my father reminded me of his passing.”

“I grieve with thee,” T’Pol responded. Privately, she added guilt to the list of non-offending emotions.

“So, what about you?” Mayweather asked, taking a drink of his orange juice.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow and mentally added confusion to her list as well. “What about me?” she repeated.

“Well, yeah. What in your childhood prompted you to pursue your current plans?”

“Vulcan has been exploring space for some time, Ensign. Most Vulcan children contemplate the idea of space exploration at some point in their lives.” A more than slightly unwelcome memory of a disagreement bid its way into T’Pol’s mind.

****

“My decision is final.”

“It is a mistake. Any Vulcan has the same science capabilities as you. Your true talent lies in the realm of diplomacy-“

“My true talents are mine to discover.”

“You are allowing your failed relationship with that human male to cloud your judgment.”

****

“Sub-Commander?” The voice of Travis Mayweather brought T’Pol’s thoughts back to the present.

“I apologize, Ensign. I became . . . distracted. If you could repeat your question?”

“Uh. . . I was just saying that I should probably head to the bridge. It was real nice talking to you. But my shift starts pretty soon.”

T’Pol nodded. “I shall accompany you,” she informed the Ensign.

*Well, why not?* Travis thought to himself. *It certainly falls into the pattern of things that don’t make any sense that you established since you first came in this morning.* Out loud he simply said, “Sure.”

They walked in virtual silence to the turbo lift. Travis took the time to reflect on a truly bizarre morning and hope it wasn’t some type of sign of things to come for the rest of the day. T’Pol took the time to take stock of the emotions Mayweather had induced and their effects.

*Surprise, guilt, confusion and . . . * T’Pol was not entirely certain how to classify the last emotion, the one inspired by her remembrance. She was certain, however, that the emotion along with the other three had not caused her any type of physical discomfort.

Both Travis and T’Pol were so caught up in their thoughts that they did not hear the voice of the Enterprise’s chief engineer, calling them to wait up. In fact, Tucker barely made the turbo lift before it slid shut.

“Gee, thanks for holdin’ the lift,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, Trip, good morning. Didn’t notice you,” Travis remarked.

“That’s for damn sure. If I was a more sensitive man, I’d be offended.” Turning towards T’Pol, he lowered his voice just slightly, and asked, “How ya feelin’ this mornin’, T’Pol?”

“I am well, Commander Tucker.”

Trip frowned slightly, “Are ya sure? Ya had a real rough night . . .” he trailed off.

*So, the Sub-Commander’s sick. THAT explains a lot* Travis thought to himself.

“I told you once, Commander. I am well,” T’Pol said forcefully. “If I was not, the doctor would not have released me.”

Trip looked at her a bit skeptically. “If ya say so.”

“I do.”

Their discourse was interrupted by the halt of the turbo lift. As they walked out onto the bridge, they could clearly hear Lieutenant Reed saying, “I don’t believe you, Hoshi.”

“Well, it’s true. Just ask Travis when he gets here,” the Ensign protested.

“He’s here now, Mal. Ya can ask him,” Trip informed them, announcing their presence.

Sensing exactly what Hoshi had been sharing with the Armory Officer, Travis decided to come to both Malcolm and Hoshi’s rescue. “Oh, I think that can wait till we’re off duty, Commander,” he said as he scurried quickly to his position at the helm.

*What was that about?* Trip wondered. Travis’ actions, however, were nothing next to what T’Pol did. Coming to stand in front of Malcolm, she laced her hands behind her back and stated, quite calmly, “Lieutenant Reed, I will be practicing my Vulcan martial arts skills tonight at 1900 hours. It is a skill which requires a physical partner in order to be effective. As you are both our security officer and in excellent physical shape, I have determined you to have enough stamina and physical endurance to undergo such an activity. Would you assist me?”

Travis whirled around in his seat to exchange a look with Hoshi. As the Captain was not yet on the bridge, Hoshi took the opportunity to mouth “What the hell?” to the Ensign. Travis shrugged his shoulders and mouthed back, “She’s sick.”

“What the hell” was exactly what Malcolm was thinking. Actually, that was a very small part of what Malcolm was thinking. Still, it was the essential gist. “Er. . .come again, Sub-Commander?”

“I require a partner for tonight’s activities and wish that partner to be you,” T’Pol stated calmly, having no idea what type of effect she was having on her fellow officers. Then as an after thought, she remarked, “having such combat skills will greatly enhance your efficiency as a security officer.”

Those were, of course, the magic words. “I’ll be happy to assist you, Sub-Commander.”

“T’Pol, ya sure that’s a good idea? Maybe ya should rest,” Trip interjected.

T’Pol fixed her gaze on Trip. “I am fine, Commander. Further, my health is none of your concern.” Turning back to Malcolm, she added, “Meet me at 1900 hours, Lieutenant.”

*Right, none of my business. Déjà vu in that department,* Trip thought bitterly. *Course, while it’s none of my business, Malcolm’s practically gettin' propositioned.*

Trip at that moment decided that whatever reason he had for being on the bridge wasn’t that important. “I’m going back to my engine room,” he grumbled as he turned to walk back towards the turbo lift.

“That is most likely the wisest course of action, given the condition the engines are in, Commander,” was T’Pol’s reply.

Trip whirled around to face her. “If you’re so convinced I can’t do my job, Sub-Commander, maybe you can come lend a hand in engineering, after ya and Malcolm are done with your workout.” Trip was too busy stomping to the turbo lift to notice T’Pol pulling out the hypospray and applying it to her neck.

Hoshi, who had been watching the entire event in great amusement, did notice. “Sub-Commander, are you all right?” she asked with concern.

“I am fine,” T’Pol repeated once again. Inwardly, she acknowledged the falsehood of that statement. But there was no reason her science experiment needed to be made pubic. Even if she could have explained the nature of her experiment, T’Pol doubted very much that she could have explained why Commander Tucker’s challenge had installed a feeling of lust within her.

*Well, this day’s getting odder and odder,* Travis reflected, turning back to his console. *And it’s just beginning.*

***********

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