Consequences-Part 14

Consequences

By Samantha E. Quinn

Rating: Bumping this one up to an R. Blame it on Trip. Or Soval. ;) Oh, and the slight bondage scene. Yep, it's a little kinky, but we're not in the realm of normal sex at all.

All disclaimers in part I.
Spoilers: Kind of, for "Horizon" and "Oasis." Certain scenes may not make much sense if you haven't scene those eps. Oh, yes-and "Unexpected." Can't have T'Pol mentioning sex and Trip without mentioning the pebble incident, can we?

Summary: It sucks to be a Doctor and a Captain when you don’t know all the facts.

A/N: Because TPTB have made a rather forceful attempt at pushing Archer and T’Pol together, I had to address it sooner or later. However, defying Archer’s sometimes characterization (*cough* ANIS *cough*), I tried to make him as adult as possible about it.

Chapter 14

Misunderstandings and Lies

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

**First T'Pol, now Trip,** Archer's mind registered numbly as he and Dr. Phlox raced to Commander Tucker's quarters. **All this on top of the peace conference. Why must something always happen? Why can't things go smoothly just for once?** In the back of his mind, T'Pol’s words registered dimly. "The peace negotiations are unlikely to proceed smoothly, Captain."

**Well, that was an understatement.** Although he didn't know why, Archer couldn't prevent a small laugh from escaping his mouth. The situation, while far from humorous, had certainly proven T'Pol to be right. Things weren't proceeding "smoothly" by any means.

Dr. Phlox gave a curious glance towards the Captain. **Both Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol are unconscious, yet the Captain laughs. Intriguing.** The psychologist in Phlox knew that each person dealt with their grief in their own way. **Nonetheless, these humans are most unique in their responses.** he noted.

Archer and Phlox soon reached Ensign Sato's quarters, which she had reluctantly relinquished to serve as guest quarters. Ensign Mayweather had suffered the same fate and the two lowest ranking bridge officers would begin sharing their space with Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed, respectively. For some reason, no one had taken into account the idea that the Enterprise might serve as a vehicle of diplomacy. Thus, no one had designed guest quarters.

Walking into Ambassador Soval's temporary quarters, Archer was dismayed to find Trip lying on the floor, quite unconscious while Ambassador Soval stood by, watching passively.

"What happened?" Archer demanded as Phlox attended Trip.

"After you left the landing bay, Commander Tucker became increasingly irrational. Upon arriving to my quarters, he became convinced I had inflicted pain upon the Sub-Commander and demanded I tell him what I had done. I tried to assure him I had not injured the Sub-Commander in any way, but he did not believe me. Instead, he forced his way into my quarters. He became increasingly irrational and hostile until I was not certain of my safety. Eventually, I had to do the Vulcan nerve pinch-"

Archer turned on Soval in an instant. "Then he didn't just collapse of his own free will? You did this to him?" he demanded of the Vulcan Ambassador.

Soval looked at Archer steadily. "Yes, Captain Archer, I did. I saw it to be the only way to defend myself."

"Why didn't you call security?" the Captain demanded.

"Commander Tucker had not shared the procedure for doing so. This is a foreign ship, Captain," Soval reminded the human.

**I don't believe it,** Archer thought inwardly. Turning towards Phlox, he inquired, "Is he going to be okay, Doctor?"

**His adrenaline levels are elevated,** Phlox noted. **The opposite should be true, if in fact he sustained a Vulcan nerve pinch. The nerve pinch is a relaxant.** "I am uncertain, Captain. I do need to get him to sickbay."

"I will assist you, Doctor," Soval offered. Both Archer and Phlox looked at him in surprise. In reply to their own unanswered questions, Soval remarked, "Although I was acting in self defense, it was my actions that rendered the Commander unconscious. In addition, my Vulcan strength is superior to your own."

"Of course," Archer replied irritably.

With Soval's help, they reached sickbay rather quickly. T'Pol, who had been sleeping when they left, still was. More to the point, it appeared she was dreaming. As Soval laid Trip down, not so gingerly, all three conscious guests were privy to T'Pol's murmurings. "Read to you, my Trip. Bride of Frankenstein."

Soval turned to Archer in surprise. "Why would she be reading to Commander Tucker? Can your engineer not read himself?" the Ambassador inquired.

Archer glared at Soval. "Of course Trip can read. I think we should both leave and allow Dr. Phlox room to do his work."

Before they could turn to leave, however, T'Pol murmured softly, "I . . . Frankenstein. . . the monster. You . . . my bride." Soval's eyebrow arched high in surprise and before Archer could think of an appropriate way to force the man to leave sickbay, both he and Soval were shocked to hear T'Pol *giggle.*

**Dear God,**Archer thought. **She just giggled. A Vulcan. Giggled.**

"No . . . you will not be . . . pregnant. . . I shall . . . offspring. . . no pebbles," T'Pol rambled giddily in her sleep. This rather odd train of thought was followed by yet another giggle.

"OFFSPRING?" Soval demanded. "Why is Sub-Commander T'Pol discussing offspring and your engineer?"

"She's dreaming, Ambassador," Archer started, but was quickly cut off by the Ambassador.

"Vulcans do not dream, Captain. Although from what I am seeing of T'Pol's state, she is obviously engaged in a highly inappropriate relationship with your engineer. This must be brought to the attention of the high command at once."

"Trip and T'Pol are not involved," Archer snapped.

"Indeed, are they not?" Soval mocked. "Why then, did your engineer attempt to assault me when he believed I had caused her harm?"

Alarm bells were ringing loudly in Archer's head. Could Soval be right? Was what he was insinuating correct? No. Trip was T'Pol's friend. And even that wasn't an every day assurance. "It's a human concept called friendship, Ambassador. I'm certain Vulcans don't understand it. But we want to protect people we care about."

"No, proper Vulcans do not have friendships, Captain. But we do engage in sexual relations. We can also tell the difference between sexual relations and acquaintances. Are you capable of that as well?" Soval demanded.

Archer glared at the Ambassador. He wanted badly to tell this arrogant, condescending bastard to get the hell off his ship. But he couldn't for two reasons. Firstly, the peace treaty conference. As much as Archer despised the man standing in front of him, he recognized that as Captain, some things took precedent over his ego.

**But more disturbingly,** thought Archer, **I'm not one hundred percent certain that what Soval was saying wasn't true.** Archer sighed, feeling again the burden of being the Captain. "Soval, I'll escort you back to your quarters. I'm sure you'll want time to meditate before dinner tonight, given the events." At Soval's nod, Archer continued, "And I'll pay a visit to Shran."

The Vulcan looked at him with a distinct air of non-trust. "Shran?" he inquired.

Archer nodded. "You implied that Trip was irrational during your entire journey to your quarters. If Shran can substantiate this claim . . . "

"He shall be able to, Captain," replied Soval confidently, knowing the Andorian penchant to over-react.

"If so, then I assure you, Ambassador, Commander Tucker will be escorted back to Earth in the brig," Archer said quietly. **Oh, Trip, please don't be so stupid,** he prayed silently as he and Soval made the journey to his quarters.

****

Like T'Pol, Trip too was dreaming. Unlike T'Pol's dreams, however, there was very little conversation in Trip's dreams. Pure, unadulterated physical touch after physical touch.

The scenes were scattered. No coherent plot or story to Trip's dreams. But he was loving someone, although her face was somewhat bleary and Trip couldn't tell exactly who she was. But she was covered in . . . Triaxian silk.

**Of all the silks in the galaxy, this must be the softest,** Trip mused in his dream state. The silk was red, he noted and it accented the complexion of his companion nicely. The Triaxian pajamas covered her, from neck to foot, overlapping across her ample bosom. "Beautiful," Trip murmured as he began to remove the silk.

Still, he could not see her face. Not clearly. Yet he could and did taste her lips. They tasted sweet-the taste of pecan pie lingering on them mixed with the slightest hint of tea.

Hungrily, Trip devoured his companions lips, aching to taste more. In reply, she returned the gesture and began to remove his clothing as well.

The silk was still in his way. Try as he might, Trip could not remove all the silk. It stood as a barrier between his companion and himself.

The dream took on a more coherent quality as his companions face became a bit more clear. While Trip still couldn't determine who it was, he could tell she was a brunette. **Not Natalie, not Lisa, not Liana, not Ah'len,**Trip noted. As his hands ran through her locks, he noticed the shortness of her cut and determined it not to be Ruby or Kaitamma, either.

"Who are you?" he murmured.

He received no reply to his query. Instead, his companion's voice urged him to "hurry." A voice he had heard before. . . but where?

Trip didn't know. Couldn't know. Frustration and anger combined with his lust as he pulled furiously at the silk. "Damn silk!" he exclaimed. "Come off . . . Now!"

But it wouldn't. He removed layer after layer.

Only to find more silk.

"Hurry, Trip," his companion voiced again.

Her urging seemed to help him, as he was finally able to remove the last shred of silk standing as a barrier between the two of them. Relieved, Trip leaned down. . .

And the scene changed again.

Trip was on his back, his hands gently tied above his head. Gently enough not to hurt him, tight enough to keep him from touching. . .

His companion. She was back. And fully nude.

And straddling him.

The substance binding his hands? "Damn Triaxian silk," Trip murmured.

Her hands delighted him. Her kisses reached every portion of his body. Her tongue reached every orifice. . .

But he couldn't touch her. His hands were bound by that damn Triaxian silk.

"Do you want me to stop?" his companion inquired.

"No! Please don't stop," Trip urged her.

"Do you like me being . . . affectionate?" she asked.

It clicked in Trip's subconscious at that instant who his companion was. "Oh, T'Pol," he breathed quietly. "I love it, darlin'."

******

From his watchful post in sickbay, Phlox noted with some concern the ever growing redness of Commander Tucker's skin tone. **His adrenaline levels continue to rise,**the doctor noticed.

As he did so, the biobed began to beep loudly and obtrusively. Checking the machine, Phlox was alarmed to see indications of an irregular heart beat. Further, the engineer's entire autonomic nervous system seemed to be experiencing some type of distress.

**But what is causing it?**the physician wondered. He had been reviewing Commander Tucker's medical history and the man had been healthy and fit at his last physical, only two months previous.

**Yet the type of cardiovascular difficulty being faced by Commander Tucker is one that would have been caught easily in a physical,**Phlox mused.

The Denobulan didn't like it, that was for certain. Glancing over at Sub-Commander T'Pol, he could see that the sedative was beginning to weaken. **Seeing the Commander in such a state will not help her condition at all,**the Doctor lamented. It did not require much thought on the Doctor's behalf before he crossed sickbay and gave T'Pol a secondary dose of sedative. "Sleep, Sub-Commander," he encouraged her form. "Your dreams seem to be pleasant ones, whereas awakening shall only bring you pain, in one form or the other." If seeing Commander Tucker in pain didn't upset the Vulcan, certainly her inevitable confrontation with Soval would.

**No one is going to upset my patient that way,**Phlox vowed. **Or my friend.**

A groan from Commander Tucker caused the physician to wonder back to the engineer's side of sickbay. "Are you going to join the land of the conscious, Commander?" he asked the sleeping form.

In response, the man groaned again, a much more guttural sound. **Definitely sexual in nature,** Phlox noted. A survey of Trip's anatomy provided proof of the sexual nature of his groans in the genital area. To his utter surprise, he heard the engineer murmur softly, "T'Pol, I'd love it, darlin'."

Surprise colored Phlox's features. **Intriguing. Commander Tucker is experiencing dreams of a sexual nature, while Sub-Commander T'Pol's illness is related to feelings of sexual attraction while undoubtedly having dreams which are of the romantic nature, at the very least.**

Perhaps, just perhaps, the two events were somehow related. The thought gave Phlox hope. **If they are related maladies, they may be able to help each other,** he thought optimistically.

******
Captain Archer gripped his fists together angrily after leaving Shran's quarters. The Andorian's words reverberated in his head. "Yes, the pink skin was a decided shade of red. Even more so than usual for him. And he was quite agitated. From the moment you left. He was rather rude and angry towards us the moment you left the landing bay, Captain." Shran had clicked his tongue. "I had assumed his thoughts to be with the Vulcan female-he was rather irritated when I inquired of her health."

It was true then. All evidence pointed in the direction he didn't want to go. Trip and T'Pol were obviously involved.

**How long has it been going on?**Archer wondered. T'Pol's words in sickbay came back to him. The Bride of Frankenstein.

**Ouch. And I asked her to a date to Frankenstein. I bet they both had a good laugh at that,** Archer lamented as he made his way to Lt. Reed's quarters.

Personally, Archer was willing to overlook the rules of fraternization. He believed them to outdated, and it was widely known in Starfleet that the application of the rules was left up to each individual Captain.

Archer had no intention of enforcing them. Especially as far as they were from Earth. . . He had been certain that T'Pol would disagree with him, as she had given the indication that she firmly believed in them. Several times. **Ah, but each time was a time you were flirting with her, wasn't it, Jon?**he interrogated himself. **Trip on the other hand, why the hell not? Why not toss the Vulcan ideology of sticking to the rules out an airlock and torpedo it all to hell?.**

**Stop it,** he instructed himself. **This isn't about you or your jealousy.**

Had T'Pol and Trip simply decided to be together, Archer could have lived with that. It would have taken some adjustment. **And I'd be jealous as hell,** he admitted.

But Archer was a grown man, not a three year old boy whose toy had been taken away.

The issue then, was not their deciding to be together. T'Pol wasn't even a Starfleet officer. The rules, had Archer decided to stick to them, wouldn't have even applied to her.

No, the issue was that Trip had allowed their relationship to jeopardize the peace conference. If what Soval said was true, well, then Archer didn't know how, but he would have to find the resolve to initiate a court martial. Or at the very least, report the incident to Starfleet Command.

Trip would need to wake up first, and be questioned, of course. Archer hoped against all hope that his friend was innocent. But he had to admit, the evidence piling against him was pretty damning.

Arriving at Reed's quarters, Archer buzzed the door, announcing his presence. Travis Mayweather's voice floated out, "Just a moment."

There was a pause, two pronounced thuds, a "bloody hell, Travis," and a "Sorry, Sir," before a very sheepish looking Travis Mayweather answered the door. Seeing the Captain, the helmsman only looked more embarrassed. "Captain, sir, come in, sir."

"At ease, Travis," The Captain said with a forced smile. "Is Lieutenant Reed available?" he inquired as he stepped into the quarters. He found the answer to his question to be rising from the floor, rubbing his posterior region with a grimace of agitation. Seeing the Captain, the man managed to look even more flustered than normal. "Captain, sir! I apologize, sir, but-"

Archer waved him off. "At ease, Lieutenant. Have the two of you done something to the environmental controls in this room? It feels funny," Archer mused.

Reed grimaced. "We have not, sir, but Ensign Mayweather insisted on trying out the zero g in my quarters," he replied.

Archer almost smiled. Almost. "I see. Did you not find that agreeable, Lieutenant?"

Reed sighed. "It is rather difficult to review armory reports in a zero g atmosphere, Captain," he admitted.

At this the Captain did smile. Which only incited Reed to sigh again. Travis and the Captain were both against him. There would be no wining of the battle this time.

"Well, gentlemen, I've come to invite you to our diplomatic function tonight. Lieutenant Reed, you have no choice, as you'll be sitting in for Sub-Commander T'Pol, but Travis, you can skip out if you want."

"Is the Sub-Commander still sick?" Travis inquired.

**Does everyone know about what's going on this ship before I do?**Archer wondered angrily. To Travis, he replied, "Yes."

"Well, uh, I think I'll pass sir, if it is okay with you," Travis replied, hearing the angry tone in Archer's voice and believing it to be directed at him.

"That's fine. I just didn't want you to feel unwelcome, as Hoshi will be joining us as well," Archer remarked.

"She will, sir?" asked Malcolm in surprise.

"Yes," the Captain responded. "She will be taking Commander Tucker's place."

"What's wrong with Commander Tucker?" demanded Malcolm. "Is he injured?"

"He is in sickbay. Ensign, can you excuse us, please?" Archer said to Mayweather.

"Sure, Captain. Um, have a nice night," the helmsman replied.

"Travis- I'd better not come home to a zero g environment," the armory officer warned the man as he sauntered out of room. There was no reply, and Malcolm had a sneaky suspicion he had been ignored.

Once alone, Archer sighed and motioned for Malcolm to have a seat. As he sat, Malcolm regarded the Captain curiously. "Sir? What's this all about? What's wrong with Commander Tucker? Is he going to be alright?"

"To answer your questions, lieutenant, he's in sickbay, the doctor doesn't know, and I'm about to tell you 'what it's all about.' But first, I need a guarantee from you, lieutenant," Archer said soberly.

"A guarantee, sir?" Malcolm asked in confusion. He couldn't help but notice the Captain was behaving strangely. **He's behaving so proper. Almost the way a proper Captain should,**he noted. It frankly frightened the armory officer, as it was immensely out of character. **And why isn't he as concerned for Trip as I am? I thought the Captain and Commander Tucker were friends?**

"Yes, Malcolm, a guarantee. I know you and Trip have grown very. . . close lately. The two of you are good friends, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm replied honestly, wondering exactly what this had to do with anything. Inwardly, he braced himself for the impact he was certain was coming.

"How good of a friend would you say you are, Malcolm?" the Captain asked.

**It's some type of trick question, **Malcolm decided. **It just isn't. . . natural of the Captain to be inquiring exactly how close someone's friendship is on the ship.** "Sir, I'm afraid I don't follow?"

Archer lost his temper. "It's easy enough of a question, Lieutenant, if you answer honestly. How good of a friend are you with Commander Tucker?"

**I don't know what you are insinuating, but I don't like it,** Malcolm thought angrily. "Good enough to have breakfast, occasionally, sir," Malcolm replied. He paused a moment before adding, "And I rather enjoy it, sir." The last sir was said with a slight emphasis, the kind that let Archer know that Malcolm wasn't entirely certain he deserved to be addressed in that fashion.

Archer turned to look at his armory officer in amazement. He had angered the lieutenant. "Malcolm, I'm glad to hear that," he murmured softly.

**Then why in the bloody hell are we having this conversation?** wondered Malcolm. "You are, sir?"

"Yes. I want my crew to be close-there's only 83 of us and we're all we got," Archer commented. "I just need to know that friendships won't come in the way of duty."

"Respectfully, sir, I've never--"

"No, you haven't, Lieutenant. Not yet," Archer agreed. "But when Commander Tucker awakes from sickbay, he will need to be interrogated. There is a very real chance he will have to be confined to the brig."

"The brig, sir?" Asked Malcolm in surprise. "What for, sir?"

"Ambassador Soval claims he was assaulted by Trip," the Captain replied.

"Trip wouldn't do that," replied Malcolm instantly.

Archer gave a grim smile. "I don't like to think so, either, Lieutenant. But the evidence is piling against him."

Malcolm listened in growing horror as the Captain related the events of the past twenty-four hours to him.

"I just need to know, Lieutenant Reed, that if Trip is guilty, I can depend on you to do your duty," Archer stated. "Even if it means locking up your best friend."

"You can always count on me to do my duty, sir," Malcolm replied. "I won't like it, one bit, but if Commander Tucker is guilty of what you say, sir, then I shall escort him to the brig personally."

Archer nodded. "Of course. You can always count on a Reed to do his duty, can't you?"

"Aye, sir," Malcolm replied.

"I'll see you at 1900 hours, lieutenant," Archer told his armory officer as he turned to leave.

After he was gone, Malcolm sat down on the edge of his bed and lamented being a Reed.

******

In sickbay, Trip continued to dream. . .

T'Pol was loving him.

He was loving T'Pol.

Or as much as he could, with his hands tied together. She refused to heed his requests to untie him and he grew increasingly frustrated with each passing moment.

"T'Pol, untie me," he begged.

"Do you truly wish it, beloved?" she teased gently. “I do enjoy hearing you beg.”

"Yes," he moaned. "Want-need-to touch you. Please."

"As you wish, th'yla," T'Pol replied. Her hands reached for the silk bonds that held his hands together . . .

But someone was pulling her away. "No!" Trip exclaimed. But the stranger, a male was all Trip could determine, continued to pull T'Pol away.

In his dream state, Trip's emotions rapidly turned from happiness and desire to anger and frustration as the entity pulled T'Pol further and further away from him. As T'Pol was dragged further away, Trip became aware of an intense pain deep within him.

He would seek revenge against someone for taking T'Pol. And for making him suffer. Someone would pay, Trip vowed.

To Be Continued
*********
Less of a cliffhanger?

A/N: I hereby thank myst and Trip/T'Polers website for the captures on the episode "Horizon." Myst's comment on the Bridge of Frankenstein forced its way into this story. So. . . I hereby plagiarize it. My humble apologies.
A/N, II:: Hope the sex wasn't too strong. But well, if you’ve figured out what is wrong with at least one of them, you’ll know it’s kinda necessary.

A/N, III: In regards to the last chapter, I was modeling my Soval-T’Pol hand salute on the one Spock exchanges in Star Trek V with Sybock (right before Sybock goes off to commit suicide.) Thus, I envision it to be more of a ‘hug’ than a ‘kiss.’ What T’Pol did with Trip, I was modeling on Amanda and Sarek’s exchange in Journey to Babel, thus definitely a ‘kiss’ of sorts.

Please R/R. The muse is extremely vain. And so is the author. ;)

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

Continue to Part 15

Return to Part 13

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

Two folks have made comments

Three guesses for who the dream-baddy is! This is very good and I can't wait for the next part. Ooh, I so want something bad to happen to that creep Soval... Grrrr... Well done, keep going! Ali D :~)

I'm really enjoying this story, although Soval is my favorite bitter old Vulcan - I love him! On the show, that is, not the Soval in your story :P

Wow, something I wrote gave you an idea for part of your story? That is very nice of you to say.

I'm looking forward to more! Keep writing.