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Consequences- Part 7

Author - Samantha Quinn
Fan Fiction Main Page | Stories sorted by title, author, genre, and rating

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: Right now: PG-13. Will be R later, Romance
All disclaimers in Part I
Spoilers: Possibly for “Fallen Hero.”

****

Part Seven

*Vulcan Security Headquarters*

Sumarek always appreciated the moments in which he was able to meet with V’Lar. The older Vulcan woman was one of the few that Sumarek believed truly embraced all the logical teachings of Surak. This did not prevent her from also being quite pleasant company.

This evening was one of those fortunate events. After what Sumarek deemed to be an unproductive meeting this morning, he had looked forward to a more agreeable evening. While their official purpose was to discuss V’Lar’s last security mission during which she had visited the Enterprise, the discussion was taking place over a relaxing game of chess.

“Did the council reach a decision this morning, Sumarek?” V’Lar inquired.

“Of a sort,” Sumarek remarked as his rook overtook V’Lar’s pawn.

“Interesting move,” V’Lar commented as her bishop replaced Sumarek’s queen.

“ ‘Of a sort’?” she inquired.

“Yes.” Sumarek studied the chess board for a moment before continuing. “They have decided that if any positive aspects can be found for melding, then they will consider taking steps to rid ourselves of the laws against them.” His scrutiny complete, Sumarek advanced his pawn’s position. The action had no adverse affect on V’Lar’s pieces.

“Positive aspects? Did no one consider the vague nature of such a term?” Inquired V’Lar as she made her own inoffensive move.

“Yes. ‘Positive aspects’ have been defined as medicinal purposes, scientific advancement, or logic enhancing circumstances.” Sumarek broke the tradition of inoffensive moves and successfully captured V’Lar’s previously offensive bishop with a lowly pawn. “Check.”

Moving her king out of harm’s way, V’Lar quirked an eyebrow. “Does the council intend to conduct experiments to help them determine if the melders can offer any of these benefits?”

“No.”

“Ah. The reason for the ‘of a sort.’?”

“Yes.”

They continued on for a moment, taking turns at “Checking” each other until Sumarek prompted, “Your report on the Enterprise incident was interesting. What was your interpretation of the crew?”

“Check.” V’Lar paused to consider her answer. During her pause, Sumarek moved his king out of harm’s way. Finally she commented, “Their dedication is impressive. They are a determined species and I foresee great scientific and diplomatic contributions by them.”

Sumarek inclined his head and remarked, “That is a quite different interpretation than Soval frequently gives.”

V’Lar nodded. “Soval is frequently hasty in his judgments.”

As V’Lar advanced her pawn’s position, Sumarek remarked, “I have read the reports of Sub-Commander T’Pol. It would seem that she is most frequently in agreement with you.”

At the mention of her former protégé, V’Lar’s eyes twinkled and her lips twitched with the only expression of a smile any self-respecting Vulcan would allow. “True. It is difficult to ascertain exactly which side shall reap more benefits from the mutual time in space.”

Sumarek nodded. “This chess board is quite unique. This is my first encounter with a 3-D chess board. Where did you obtain it?”

***

*The Enterprise*

*Desire and longing are pain inducing stimuli.* T’Pol mentally categorized the effects of emotions Hoshi had inflicted, albeit unconsciously, as the Vulcan walked towards the Captain’s Dining Hall.

As she relived the contents of her conversation with Hoshi , she recalled the last words spoken by the linguist. “So is Trip.” Anger, T’Pol reflected, did not induce head discomfort.

Standing outside the entrance, T’Pol took several deep breaths to try to calm herself. She anticipated the necessity of doing so, considering who was waiting on the other side of the door. *Anticipation is not a pain inducing stimulus either,* she noted. *Intriguing. Anticipation and longing are similar emotions. It is most curious as to why one induces pain and the other does not.*

Resolutely, T’Pol squared her shoulders and walked into the dining hall, only to find that disappointment could join anticipation rather than longing as a similar stimulus. Waiting for her was only Captain Archer. Charles Tucker III was nowhere to be seen.

“Greetings, Captain,” T’Pol remarked stoically as she sat down in her normal position.

“Good evening, T’Pol,” Archer replied cheerfully. “I’m afraid it’s just you and me tonight.”

Archer was delighted to note the furrowing of T’Pol’s eyebrows. It was one of the few instances in which his reserved science officer expressed emotion with her facial responses. He waited patiently for the comment he was certain that was following.

He was not disappointed. “Am I to understand that Commander Tucker is still working on engine repairs?” she asked.

“Yep,” Archer replied as the yeomans brought in their food.

Picking up her fork, T’Pol remarked, “He requires nourishment.”

Archer grinned at her as he cut into his own steak. “Why, T’Pol, is that concern for Trip I hear in your voice?”

*I believe I bypassed concern approximately after the incident with Koss.* T’Pol reflected ruefully. To Archer, she replied, “What you hear is concern for the productivity level of the ship’s chief engineer. With a lowered level of nourishment, the Commander will cease to be a productive engineer. If he is not a productive engineer, the engines most likely will not be repaired in time for us to rendezvous with the Vulcan and Andorian forces. If we are late, the peace treaty is likely to not be signed.”

*If I didn’t know better, I’d say T’Pol was just rambling. Or being defensive. Or both.* Whatever it was, Archer knew it was emotional. A slight twinge of jealously coursed through him as he realized that Trip was able to instill an emotional response when he himself was not. Still, his role as Captain of the ship took precedent over any personal feelings Archer may have had. And Archer had been hearing strange mumblings from his crew all day regarding Sub-Commander T’Pol. Words that would never normally be associated with the Vulcan, such as friendly and chit-chat, popped up in conversations throughout the ship.

True, no one had directly approached Archer about her behavior. But any good Captain can hear the slightest undercurrent of tension on his ship. Tension perhaps was too strong of a word. Confusion? In any event, Captain Archer was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with his science officer.

“So, T’Pol . . . I hear you had breakfast this morning with Travis,” Captain Archer started.

T’Pol looked up from her salad. “I did not see you in the mess hall during our meal. How did you hear of it?”

Archer shrugged. “It’s a small ship. People talk. Especially if someone acts slightly out of behavior.”

*Even the humans know that your behavior is unseemly for a Vulcan.* T’Pol reprimanded herself. Unwilling to share with the Captain the scope of her research, T’Pol told him, “It behooves the second in command to be well acquainted with her crew. I believe you have taken a similar command approach in your dealings with the crew.” *First you encourage emotions, now you tell lies that serve no purpose. Still you have the audacity to consider yourself a Vulcan?* Taking a bit of her salad, she mentally added, *It is only a matter of time before you begin to consume animal flesh.*

*That was definitely defensive,* Archer contemplated to himself. Deciding it best not to provoke the defensive side of T’Pol but still wishing to know more, he asked casually, “So, did you and Travis talk about anything interesting?”

“No.”

Archer had been undertaking the unwise decision to take a drink of water when T’Pol responded. Her matter of fact response provoked a laugh at the same time the he was attempting to swallow. It was an unfortunate combination of events. After a minor coughing fit, Archer couldn’t help but wonder exactly what T’Pol thought of some of their conversations.

“Are you well, Captain?” T’Pol inquired.

“Yes, T’Pol, I am fine. If you didn’t discuss anything interesting, what did you talk about?”

*Nothing beneficial to my experiment.* “We discussed his father.”

“Well, that is interesting,” Archer argued.

“Interesting is a matter of perspective.”

They ate in silence for a moment before T’Pol remarked, “Ensign Mayweather expressed an close relationship with his father. I believe you were also close with your father?”

*That was unexpected.* “Yes, my father and I were very close,” he remarked, allowing T’Pol to finish the conversation if she wished. *The less I talk, the more she will. Perhaps that way I can see some more of this bizarre behavior my crew’s been talking about.*

“I inquired of Ensign Mayweather whether his childhood had helped prepare him for a career in space.”

“Really?”

*The Captain is not his typical verbose self,* T’Pol noted. “He took a considerable amount of offense at my questioning.”

“Hmm.”

*Why is he not talking?* “Captain, are you well?”

“Yes, T’Pol. Why do you ask?”

“You are not behaving as your normal self.”

*I’M not?* Archer thought disbelievingly. *I hope you appreciate the irony of THAT statement, T’Pol.* Ignoring her concern, he asked, “Why did he take offense?”

“I believe he incorrectly assumed I was questioning his abilities,” she remarked.

“Ah.”

“Your childhood must have presented a starting foundation for your current occupation.” T’Pol phrased her statement as a question.

“Mmm hmm.”

Exasperation joined anticipation and anger on T’Pol’s mental list. “ In what way?”

*I wonder if this is some type of Vulcan experiment to determine what makes humans tick,* Archer pondered. Not that he didn’t trust T’Pol . . . but the “let’s get to know you” theme of the conversation was truly throwing him for a loop. “My father was my hero. Who I wanted to be when I grew up.”

Sensing that this line of questioning was useless, T’Pol switched topics. “Have you begun preparations for the Vulcan-Andorian peace treaty ceremony?” she asked.

“Some.”

“Some?”

“Yep.”

*This conversation is proving unproductive.* T’Pol decided. *It is obvious that Captain Archer is not invoking any discomforting emotions.* “If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I must go. I have an appointment with another member of the crew shortly and I need to change.”

“A date, T’Pol?”

“No,” T’Pol responded and did not elaborate further. As she left, Archer was treated to the same feeling of exasperation T’Pol had felt at his reticence.

***

*Vulcan*

“Are you certain, Ventik?” Sumarek asked the Vulcan doctor.

“No. However, I find little other reason for Soval’s irrational behavior. He remains in his quarters nearly constantly, refuses to be examined regardless of the regulations, and has verbally snapped at two crewmen,” replied Ventik.

“I see. Even if your theory is incorrect, Soval could still be a threat to contract negotiations,” Soval admitted.

Ventik nodded. “That is why I am contacting you.”

“I thank you. T’Ling is headed back towards Earth, but V’Lar is here at the headquarters. She and I shall depart within the hour and should rendezvous with your ship before Soval can do any permanent damage. If Soval’s time has come, she shall take his place in the negotiations.”

Ventik nodded. “I shall see you then. Live long and prosper, Sumarek.”

“Peace and long life, Ventik.”

Sumarek allowed himself an audible sigh as he turned off the computer. “Checkmate,” he mumbled softly.

***

*Enterprise*

“Attack me,” T’Pol instructed the lieutenant.

“Excuse me?” Malcolm asked in disbelief. Certainly he knew that Vulcans were twice as strong as humans. Nonetheless, attacking his senior officer was hardly proper. Even if she could render him unconscious with one pinch of her fingers.
“You must attack me, Lieutenant. Vulcan martial arts are intended to be a defensive measure, not offensive. In order for me to demonstrate defensive techniques, you must provoke me by becoming aggressive.”

It was not proper in the enlightened times of the twenty-second century, but a twinge of guilt lurked in Malcolm’s mind at the thought of attacking not only his senior officer but a woman as well. Not that attacking women was encouraged in the 22nd century, of course. Rather, Malcolm was concerned that his combat training would cause her more fragile body physical harm.

That concern exited Malcolm’s brain at approximately the same time he found himself flat on his back looking up into T’Pol’s face.

*Ouch.*

“Are you all right, Lieutenant Reed?” T’Pol inquired?

Rising, Malcolm replied briskly, “Yes, of course. That was some maneuver, Sub-Commander.”

T’Pol nodded. “Perhaps we should work up to it. Let us begin with a maneuver much less complex.”

Malcolm made no move to argue with her. *Either way, I am going to have to pay a visit to sick bay before returning to my quarters,* he noted regretfully.

“Stand still. Align your shoulders and feet,” T’Pol instructed. Malcolm complied.

To his surprise, T’Pol took his hands in hers and positioned them in a defensive gesture in front of face.

*I thought Vulcans never touched,* Malcolm pondered. He did not have much time to ponder further as T’Pol resumed talking.

“As I strike at you, clench your fists and move your arms up in a fan imitative gesture. When the opportunity presents itself, attempt to strike me as well.”

Malcolm nodded and they commenced their sparring.

The workout area was far from empty. The armory officer and the science officer attracted several curious glances as they practiced their exercise regimen.
Among the voyeurs were Lieutenant Hess and Ensign Thomas. While Trip was working around the clock, he insisted that his crew get plenty of sleep and recreational time.

“What do you make of that, Lieutenant?” Thomas asked Hess.

“It would appear Sub-Commander T’Pol is exercising with Lieutenant Reed,” replied Hess.

“Yeah, but since when?” Thomas remarked.

“Since the fire breathing dragon invaded engineering?” Hess suggested.

“Good point.”

Oblivious to the conversation concerning them, Malcolm and T’Pol continued their workout. As T’Pol struck at Malcolm, she mentally added aggression to the list of non-offending emotions.

They switched sparring positions several times until both the armory officer and the science officer were panting slightly. In the end, Malcolm was able to successfully throw T’Pol onto her back.

“Quite efficient, Lieutenant,” T’Pol commented as she rose off the floor.

*A compliment?* Malcolm wondered. *First she takes my hand, now she compliments me?* It certainly left Malcolm perplexed. If Travis and Hoshi hadn’t warned him of her strange behavior, Malcolm would have been tempted to believe his friends’ ribbings about her desire to become physical with him.

*I do not wish to conduct my experiment amongst the rest of the crew,* T’Pol mentally noted. “Come, lieutenant, I shall escort you back to your quarters,” she offered.

*Why?* Malcolm wondered silently, his suspicion level rising. “Er, okay, Sub-Commander.”

As they exited, Malcolm reflected that he most likely needed to take a shower or to go to sickbay for pain relief, but since T’Pol had indicated that she wished to follow him back to his quarters, he decided it best not to argue.

*I do not wish to pursue this conversation with the lieutenant.* T’Pol argued with herself. Still, T’Pol had begun to sense a pattern with her experiment, and she had anticipated her line of questions to provoke certain emotions to test the established pattern. *The end will justify the means.* A human expression, she reminded herself. *Unfortunately appropriate.*

“Lieutenant Reed, I find you to be a most efficient officer,” T’Pol began.

*Another compliment?* “Thank you, Sub-Commander.”

“I would like to continue our exercise regimen once a week,” she added.

That surprised Malcolm. Still, there was no denying that the workout had increased his physical endurance. Undoubtedly a benefit in Malcolm’s line of work. “That would be agreeable, Sub-Commander,” he acquiesced.

“Excellent. Of course, if your social life would suffer in any way . . .”

*She touched me voluntarily, has given me two compliments, and now we’re discussing my social life? Bloody hell.* “Er. . . no, Sub-Commander, I don’t think my social life would suffer any at all.”

“Are you certain? I surmise that you must have numerous numbers of female suitors.”

*SUITORS?* “Um, no, Sub-Commander, not exactly.”

“May I inquire why not?”

“Starfleet expressly forbids-“

“As I recall my human history, Starfleet has had a history of ignoring that rule. They have generally left the application of fraternization laws to up to the commanding officer.”

“Yes, but-“

“And given Captain Archer’s tendency to encourage fraternization amongst the crew, I do not understand your hesitation. Surely you do not fear adverse consequences.”

*Why the scrutiny of my romantic life?* Malcolm began to wonder if the profuse amounts of sweat he was producing could be attributed solely to his workout. “It depends on what you mean by consequences, Sub-Commander.” *Bugger. Is the Sub-Commander really making advances towards me?* No, Malcolm convinced himself. That simply was not in the realm of possibilities.

“Explain?”

“I am a senior officer. That is not a position I take lightly. To engage in any romantic relationship with any female aboard this ship would jeopardize my professionalism. Sub-Commander, are you all right?” Malcolm forgot his own misgivings about the conversation and grabbed T’Pol by the waist as she startled to tumble forward, clasping her head.

“I am uninjured, Lieutenant Reed. I offer my gratitude to you for preventing my fall.”

“Let me help you to sickbay.”

“I shall be returning there of my own accord later this evening,” T’Pol remarked. “Your assistance is not required.”

*Perhaps she does have a virus of some sort,* Malcolm mused. *She does seem ill.* Malcolm was greatly relieved. Not only did it possibly explain her strange behavior-and conversation-but it would give him news of his own to relate to Hoshi and Travis. At the mention of Hoshi, Malcolm involuntarily smiled .

“Pleasant thoughts, Lieutenant?” T’Pol inquired.

Malcolm flushed furiously. “Um, yes, Sub-Commander.”

They had arrived at Malcolm’s quarters.

“I assume your thoughts had wandered to that of Ensign Sato?” T’Pol further interrogated the armory officer.

“What makes you think that?” demanded Malcolm. Although the volume of his voice did not change, the difference in tone definitely denoted a switch in moods. The lieutenant was not pleased with her, T’Pol guessed.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow in response. “Goodnight, Lieutenant.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned to leave a very angry, very confused Malcolm to stare after her.

T’Pol was relieved to discover that her plan of getting Malcolm to discuss romantic attachment had worked. Because of his professionalism, he had been the obvious choice, as his concerns against fraternization paralleled hers. Logically because of the parallels in concerns, the emotions invoked should be parallel as well. After the conversation with Hoshi, T’Pol had been certain that sexual and/or romantic emotions were a constant trigger. *That does not explain the pecan pie,* a tiny part of her protested. *Does it not?* responded another portion tauntingly.

As she walked towards her last appointment for the day before returning to sickbay to report her findings to the doctor, she pontificated on her encounter with Malcolm. It had produced two very distinct emotions-aggression and romantic attachment. T’Pol was as reluctant as Malcolm had been to admit the identity of her object of affection.

***


A/N: Yep, that was long. And no, I cannot write Malcolm’s point of view in character at all.

Coming up in the next chapter: the return of Trip (or the fire breathing dragon, depending on who you ask.)

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


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