Consequences- Part 8

Consequences

By Samantha Quinn

Rating: Right now: PG-13. Will be R later, Romance
Disclaimer: I am not responsible for them in any way-except for the nonsensical Vulcans whose names I made up. I’m also not making a profit, so please don’t sue.

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Part Eight

T’Pol examined the contents of the refrigeration unit carefully. Most of the contents disgusted her. However, it was not her own tastes she needed to consider.

Finding leftovers of what the Captain and Commander Tucker had called “Meat Loaf,” T’Pol carefully removed two slices and placed them on a tray next to a serving of carrots, two slices of bread, and a piece of pecan pie. While T’Pol did not approve of eating meat, she did acknowledge the logic involved in the dish. A person consuming such a dish would benefit from protein, carbohydrate, and vegetable intake simultaneously. An efficient dish, notwithstanding its vulgarity. Finally, she poured a glance of orange juice and set it on the tray next to the food as well as a glass of tea for herself.

Sitting down at a table to wait, she reflected once again how un-Vulcan her behavior was. *It is necessary.* she maintained. *Commander Tucker is another of many variables. His presence here shall contribute to my findings and is no different than that of Lt. Reed, Ensign Sato, or the Captain.*

*You are already aware of the reactions Commander Tucker provokes.* she chided herself.

*Those emotions were uncontrolled. Now that I have a list of offending and non-offending emotions, I can determine whether it is emotions that Commander Tucker provokes that caused me discomfort or his presence in and of itself.*
Considering the implications of the latter possibility, T’Pol fully understood the essentialness of this portion of the experiment. Even if it was going to be more difficult than even her conversation with Lieutenant Reed had been.

***

“Jazz?”

“Yes, it is a musical form. Haven’t you heard of it before?”

“No, I have not. Is it as illogical as your ‘rock and roll’?”

*Laughter.* “No, this one’s much more to your liking. Trust me.”

****

*I should not have.*

“T’Pol?” the impatient voice of Commander Tucker interrupted T’Pol’s thoughts.

“Greetings, Commander Tucker.”

Seeing the plate of food in front of T’Pol, Trip contemplated when the Vulcan had started to eat meat. Agitatedly, he ran a hand through his ruffled blond locks as he inquired, “Your message said it was urgent.”

“It is. Please have a seat.”

“Look, T’Pol, I don’t have a lot of time. The Cap’n-"

“You require nourishment in order to continue working efficiently.”

“I’ll grab somethin’ later. I gotta get back to the engines.” Trip turned and started to walk towards the door.

“I-" T’Pol’s voice failed her as she watched the retreating form of the engineer. The familiarity of a blond form walking away destroyed her resolve.

Trip had heard her, however, and although he was still busy and agitated, something in her tone made him re-evaluate his plan and he turned back around.

“Ya what?”

Straightening her shoulders, “I require your assistance as well.”

“For what?”

“It concerns my illness.”

“Thought ya said that was none of my concern,” Trip pointed out.

“Did I cause you reason for offense?”

Trip ignored her question. “Maybe someone else can help ya. Are ya sure ya don’t want Malcolm, maybe?”

*It would appear that Commander Tucker is resentful of the time I spend with Lieutenant Reed.* T’Pol noted. The notion stirred the slightest feeling of pleasure within her, similar to the sensation she had experienced on the bridge earlier in the day. It also installed a similar visible sign of head discomfort.

His agitation at her forgotten, Trip was at her side in a moment. “Ya all right, T’Pol?”

“I am well, Commander.”

“Bullshit.”

“There is no logical reason for profanity, Commander.”

“Is there a logical reason to lie about being well when ya obviously aren’t?”

“Vulcans do not lie, Commander.” *Although I have once today.* “I will be going to sickbay following our conversation. I apologize if you believe me to have been dishonest with you.”

*Why am I such an ass?* Trip wondered guiltily. “No, T’Pol, it’s me that should be sorry.” Taking a seat, he flashed her his famous Tucker smile. “It’s been a real rough shift with the engines.”

T’Pol nodded. “All the more reason for you to require nourishment,” she replied, pushing the tray towards him.

“Aww, T’Pol, I didn’t know ya cared,” Trip teased as he eyed the meatloaf. The sound erupting from his stomach proved T’Pol’s point to be true.

*It is fortunate that you were unaware of my affection.* T’Pol reflected. She watched fascinated, as Trip threw the two slabs of meatloaf onto a slice of bread, layered the carrots on top, and carefully placed the remaining slab of bread on top of the whole conglomeration before pressing them firmly together.

“So, how can I help ya, T’Pol?” he asked before taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

In response, T’Pol laid the hypospray on the table. “First, during our conversation, if I experience any head discomfort, you must apply this hypospray to my neck.”

*Wow, she must really be sick,* Trip thought. *I really am a bastard.* he added, guiltily. “Sure thing, T’Pol.”

“Secondly, although you are eating, I must require that you talk as well.”

“How’s that gonna help?”

“Please do not ask me to explain, Commander. I cannot. Not yet.” *The experiment is incomplete.*

Trip shrugged. “Fair enough,” he replied, taking another large bite of his sandwich. “What’d ya want me to talk about?” he asked, though his bites of food.

“Please refrain from talking while in the midst of chewing your food, Commander.”

“Sorry. Thought ya wanted me to talk.”

“Is it too much to ask that you swallow first?”

Trip obliged her request by swallowing before stating, “Nope.”

“I wish for you first to discuss something bland.”

“Bland?”

“Yes. Something that does not provoke any emotion.”

“Uh, okay.” Trip thought for a moment. *She thinks everything I say is ‘emotional.’* he thought contritely. “How about warp drive mechanics?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You tend to become too . . . passionate when discussing them.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be a ‘competent engineer’ if I didn’t, would I?” he teased her.

*My careless words used against me,* mourned T’Pol. *It is fortunate the man does not know anything more personal concerning my beliefs in his abilities.*

“How ‘bout Porthos?”

“No. He is attached to Captain Archer who is your friend, for whom you have feelings.”

“Meat loaf?”

“No. Humans attach much emotion to food.”

“Uh huh. And Vulcans don’t?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t ya eat meat?”

“Discuss the alphabet.”

*Can’t get much more bland than that.* Trip thought. “Uh, anything particular you want me to say about it?”

“No. Recitation will suffice.”

*The woman called me away from repairing the engines to recite the alphabet?* “The English alphabet okay? Cuz Hoshi’s the linguist. My skills aren’t –“

“Your skills shall suffice, Commander. Proceed.”

“Um, okay. Uh, A, B, C. . .”

As Trip continued to go through the alphabet, T’Pol mentally noted that when the Commander was discussing a bland subject, there was no discernable discomfort she felt relief. *It is not the Commander’s mere presence that is enough to incite head discomfort.* “You may stop.”

“”But we’re only at T,” Trip protested.

“I am aware of how it ends. I need you to insult me.”

“Why do-"

“Please, Commander. We have very little time. Insult me.” *So that I may eliminate negative emotions from my list of offending ones.*

*Two years ago, I woulda been happy to oblige ya, T’Pol. Now I’m havin’ trouble comin’ up with an effective one.* “Uhhh . . . Your logic is damn annoying.”

“That is not an insult.”

“Sure it is,” Trip argued.

“If you wish to assist me in discovering the nature of my illness, you must do a more efficient job.”

“Fine. Any ideas what I should use as an insult?”

“You must say something that would . . . I believe the phrase is ‘hurt my feelings’, if I were human and had such illogical emotions.”

Trip scowled. *Damn stubborn Vulcan. If ya didn’t have ‘feelin’s ya wouldn’t ask me to come up with somethin’ to ‘hurt them.’* And, Trip knew, he didn’t want to. Still, she needed his help. “All right . .. you’re a bad science officer.”

“You are an engineer. You do not have any expertise in the area. Thus it is again an ineffective insult.”

Trip sighed. T’Pol realized his reluctance and assured him, “Commander, your concern for me is displaced. I am a Vulcan; I do not have emotions. Regardless of how harsh your comment may be, I will not be offended.”

“Then why do ya need me ta say it?” Trip demanded.

*His logic tonight is nearly flawless. Or is it merely that I have lost control of mine?* Ignoring his question, she commented, “Perhaps you could insult my abilities as second in command. With reasons that you believe me to be incompetent.”

“But I don’t,” Trip protested.

“Commander. It is important,” T’Pol stated.

*Damn it, damn it, damn it.* “Fine. Ya. . . ya don’t know anything about commandin’ a Earth vessel full of humans. Ya shouldn’t be second in command and ya are only here to babysit us because the Vulcans don’t think we can handle it by ourselves.” Trip rushed through his sentence, hating saying every word.

It was, T’Pol reflected, an effective insult. Effective enough to cause her a degree of hurt. Another non-offending emotion.

“T’Pol? How was that? I didn’t mean it, ya know. Ya do a real good job at being in command. Hell, a lot better than I do,” he said hurriedly.

“I am not offended, Commander. Your apology is unnecessary.” *Neither negative nor neutral emotions effect me, even when in the presence of Commander Tucker. It would appear that positive and possessive emotions are what cause discomfort.* Still, it was necessary to test that theory.

“I’d offer ya a bite of the pie, T’Pol, but considerin’ how ya acted last time, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Trip remarked, taking a bite of the dessert.

Ignoring him, T’Pol instructed, “Please discuss either Ah’len, Kaitaama, or Liana.”

Trip regarded her for a moment, taking his own sweet time in swallowing his food. Finally, he remarked, “Why?”

“I cannot tell you. Yet.”

*What do any of ‘em have to do with T’Pol? Well, I’m definitely not gonna discuss Ah’len. The more we forget that, the better.* “Well, they don’t really have a lot in common ya know. Ah’len, well, ya know all about her. Liana was real sweet and –T’Pol? T’POL?”

The science officer was cupping her head in her hands. She managed to whisper, “Hypo,” as she did not have the strength to pick it up herself.
Quickly, Trip picked up the instrument and pressed it to her neck. Within moments, she was looking visibly better. “Jesus, T’Pol, what was that?” Trip demanded.

“I cannot tell you yet.” *He has not discerned the nature of my possessive feelings. I am gratified for that.*

“You really need to get to sick bay.”

“You are correct,” stated T’Pol as she rose. Trip rose as well. “Commander, before we depart, I would like to express my thanks for your help by demonstrating the Vulcan form of goodbye.”

“Um, isn’t it this?” Trip asked, holding up his hand in the split V gesture he was familiar with. “Along with ‘Live long and prosper?’”

“That is appropriate only when there is a period of prolonged goodbye, Commander. You are not going anywhere anytime soon. Further, it is a less . . . affectionate goodbye than the one I am about to demonstrate.”

*She’s gonna be affectionate? That’s the stuff dreams are made of.* Trip thought. “Affectionate, T’Pol?”

“Yes. This goodbye is appropriate for acquaintances. Perhaps what a human would call a ‘friend,’” T’Pol responded. *A second lie.*

“Oh,” Trip said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. *Get a grip, Trip. That’s all you are, and you know it.*

*I do not wish to do this.* “Arrange your fingers into a fist.” *It must be done. I must be certain if the feelings of desire affect me within a controlled setting.* “Now extend your forefinger and index finger.”

*Hmm. I’ve never seen this type of Vulcan gesture before,* Trip mused. “Like this?”

“Yes,” responded T’Pol. Slowly, T’Pol allowed the walls of defense she had carefully built against the Commander to fall. Copying the gesture made by Commander Tucker, she leaned forward and touched her fingers to his.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Commander Tucker was left with an unconscious Vulcan. He applied the hypo to her neck, with no change in her condition.

Hurriedly, Trip made his way to the Comm Unit and contacted sickbay. “Dr. Phlox, medical emergency to the mess hall. It’s T’Pol.”

“Understood, Commander. On my way.”

Leaning over the frail Vulcan’s body, Trip grumbled, “You’d better be all right, T’Pol. Cuz when ya wake up, ya and I are gonna have a nice little chat about this illness of yours.”

To Be Continued

***

A/N: As Always, Please R/R. Feedback is the only payment I receive for these stories.

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A handful of people have made comments

This is superb! I just love this story to bits and T'Pol taking her experiment to Trip has certainly raised the stakes. I cannot wait to see what happens next. Well done and a whole heap of thanks, Ali D :~)

been reading this on FFN so far... enjoying it very much.

oh this should be good... can't wait for the next part.

I'm completely intrigued! Keep writing. And thanks for a wonderful story!

Well done, I'm enjoying this very much, with my favourite man centre-stage. Keep up the good work.

This is really GOOD. Lots of internal T'Pol. She's not always the easiest to write and still sound convincing, you're doing a great job!