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To Have Learned Nothing At All- Ch 4

Author - Samantha Quinn
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To Have Learned Nothing At All

By Samantha Quinn

Chapter 4

Happy Little Bluebirds Fly

Rating: PG-13, Drama/General
Disclaimer: Nothing’s changed. I still don’t own Star Trek or its characters and am still not making any money from this. Please don’t sue
A/N: Again, multiple thanks go to my fab betas: K. Phillips and HopefulNebula for again whipping this one into shape.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

T’Pol chose to remain on the bridge. The message would wait until her shift was up, she reasoned. As she told the Captain, “Two of our senior officers have left for the planet. It would not be wise of me to abandon my post for frivolous reasons at this point in time.”

If Archer sensed any alternative motive behind her reticence, he chose to keep it to himself. Patiently, they both waited for communication from the landing party. They did not have to wait long.

“Tucker to Enterprise.”

“Go ahead, Trip,” Archer responded.

“We landed fine, Cap’n. The sewage system problem’s really just an overgrown leak. Malcolm says the security system’s a bit more complicated, but I’ll probably finish up early, and be able to give him a hand. Either way, we should be just about wrapped up by the time the little storm passes.”

“Please be advised that the ion distortions will produce a storm far above a magnitude appropriate to be labeled ‘little’,” T’Pol interrupted. “In addition, it shall cause excessive havoc upon the surface of the planet. It would be wise for you to be indoors at all times.”

A chuckle came over the comm. line which severely threatened T’Pol’s Vulcan veneer of calm. When Trip regained his ability to speak, he remarked, “Careful, T’Pol, someone’ll think ya care.”

“I have a great deal of quite logical concern for the safety of the chief engineer and tactical officer of the Enterprise. We are still approximately forty light years away from Earth. A vast number of problems could occur before reaching that destination which would require your services.” She did not notice the pause before she added, “Or Lieutenant Reed’s.”

The intolerable chuckle returned. “ ‘Course, T’Pol. Don’t worry, the colony has apparently developed some practically storm-proof buildings. Pretty much all the repair work is going to be inside, even the science crew’s.”

Archer took the pause in the conversation to reassert his place. “Are there any other problems, Trip?” he asked

“None so far, Sir. Except it’s damn hot down here. Malcolm and I have decided that it’s hotter than Florida and Malaysia,” Trip responded.

“We trust you have yet to encounter Lucifer,” T’Pol responded dryly.

She received a startled look from the Captain and T’Pol mentally chided herself for speaking so lightly over the comm. It was, of course, inappropriate. She chose not to dwell upon the list of inappropriate actions and thoughts Commander Tucker had induced in her.

“You and that Vulcan hearin’ of yours,” Trip grumbled good naturedly over the comm. “No, I haven’t seen Lucifer, but we did see something almost as scary. The official greetin’ party of the planet was thirty men all dressed in well, some type of loin cloth.”

The Captain laughed softly, leaving T’Pol to wonder why human males were so easily amused. “Remember, Trip, every six hours.”

“Aye, Sir. Tucker out.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^**************^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

When Trip disconnected the comm line and permitted himself to be escorted to the underground tunnel which housed the sewer system, he had been in a fairly good mood.

Three hours later, in the deepest depths of the sewer, he was decidedly less happy with the state of events. True, he had on what the colonists had promised was a bio-hazard suit, but the stench of human excrement was so strong that it penetrated the protective helmet and made him long for a shower. *‘Course, a shower won’t be possible ‘til this is fixed,* he reminded himself. Fleetingly, he felt a sting of remorse for the colonists. *They might be xenophobic bastards, but no one deserves to have this stuff comin’ out of their shower heads.*

What he had assumed to be a leak was really much more complex. In an effort to correct said leak, Trip had begun a slight flood. A mini-flood, he assured himself. The self confidence in that assumption ran dangerously low when Malcolm contacted him through the colony’s communication network.

“Trip?”

“Yeah, Malcolm – everything okay?”

“I was about to ask you the same question. Is the . . . leak . . . under control?” The British accent held equal parts mock and concern. Given his recent conversation with T’Pol, Trip decided for certain that Malcolm was in fact a Vulcan. He’d always had suspicions. Now they were confirmed.

“Everything’s fine on my end, Malcolm. How are the security systems lookin’?”

The pause was slight, but audible nonetheless. It added to Trip’s irritation. When Malcolm finally continued, he remarked, “The security systems are going well. Officer Hogan has been extremely helpful.”

Trip fought back the jealousy he felt at knowing that Malcolm had help. *Stupid colonists couldn’t have exiled their engineer after they fixed the sewage system, could they? And who decides to build a colony and only bring along one engineer? They have lots and lots of architects and no engineers. Stupid, stupid colonists.* “That’s good to hear.”

“Yes. Er. . . are you certain everything’s all right, Commander? You don’t need assistance?”

With an exasperated sigh, Trip retorted, “Yes, everything’s fine. Why do you keep asking that?”

“Well, Trip, it’s just. . . well, we can smell it, Sir.”

They were on the opposite side of the colony. There was no way in hell they should have been smelling any flaws in the sewage system. They hadn’t been able to when Trip had first arrived. *Of course, given the temperatures and the addition of the flood . . . * With a curse under his breath, Trip replied, “Well, in that case, I guess I better work a little harder. Tucker out.”

With a definite scowl, Trip slammed the comm system button a little harder than he had intended. Unfortunately, the additional force was enough to disrupt his balance and Trip fell backwards into a pile of solid evidence that he was in the main sewer line.

“Sonofabitch,” Trip cursed irritably, regardless of the fact that no one was there to hear his outburst. As he stood, he came to the unfortunate realization that he was going to have to cross over to other side of the sewer. A gulf of liquid waste lay between him and his destination. Such a realization caused him to utter an additional string of curses. It did not help the situation at all, but it did make him feel slightly better.

Protective suit aside, while he began to wade in the pool of urine, he reflected that today was one of those days when it would have been better to remain in bed. It hadn’t started out good, and was decreasing on a rapid basis. Dejectedly, he began to compose a mental list of things that had gone wrong in the past five hours.

-The Captain had refused his invitation, again.

-He’d managed to anger T’Pol. Again.

-Their homecoming had been diverted. To help a group of pissed off humans.

-He’d been assigned to sanitation duty.

-Sanitation duty meant a week away from the Enterprise, so that he couldn’t apologize properly.

-Upon arriving, they’d discovered that the temperature was unbearable.

-And now, he was knee deep in liquid waste.

The end result was, he decided, symbolic of the day itself. Continuing to think unhappy thoughts, he drudged himself out of the liquid. Reaching the control panel, Trip discovered it to be encapsulated in some type of metal substance which appeared to be stuck. He again felt compelled to curse the rotten day. Had there been any good to the day at all?

Permitting himself the smallest of smiles, Trip’s thoughts drifted back to the conversation with T’Pol during his check-in. *Well, maybe the whole day hasn’t been complete hell, after all,* he reasoned. *After all, T’Pol did seem worried.*

Nah, Vulcans didn’t get worried. Concerned. She had definitely been concerned – even if he’d pissed her off earlier. Immensely pleased with his ability to read Vulcans, Trip considered the fact that T’Pol had grown pretty good at reading humans as well. Why, she had openly teased him over the comm line.

Employing a substantial amount of force, Trip was able wretch the frontal casing off of the control panel. As soon as it came off, mounds of months old sewage, baked from the natural heat of the planet, fell onto what would have been his lap, had he been seated.

“Goddammit,” Trip muttered. With a sigh of both resolution and regret, he set out to finish cleaning out the control panel.

^^^^^^^^^*********^^^^^^^^^^^

Unlike Trip, Malcolm was actually having quite an enjoyable experience. Tanner and Luxin were working quite efficiency alongside Security Officer Hogan’s staff in replacing the security interface with the changes Malcolm had suggested. Things were proceeding so smoothly that the normally socially withdrawn armory officer agreed to have lunch with Hogan. True, it was mostly to do with the fact that Trip was refusing to take a break, but Hogan’s affable nature was a good incentive as well.

“You’ll have to call me Jack,” Hogan insisted as they took their seats in the restaurant located conveniently close to their work stations.

Perhaps it was because of Commander Tucker’s influence, but Malcolm agreed to call the man that he had known for only the past six hours ‘Jack.’ Opening a menu placed before him by a male server, Malcolm took note that not only was the server male, but so too was everyone in the relatively busy restaurant. *And they’re all wearing those bloody loin cloths,* Malcolm observed to himself. Apparently all the men on the planet wore them with a startlingly amount of frequency. Since the away team had arrived, Malcolm had only noticed three or four men who were not decked as scantily as their official greeting party had been. And he hadn’t seen any women on the planet at all. “Jack, are there any women in your colony?”

“Why, of course there are,” Hogan laughed delightedly, as though the concept of a colony without women was unthinkable.

Malcolm supposed it would be. Yet, his natural armory officer’s instincts made him curious about something that appeared to be so seriously askew. “If you don’t mind my asking, then, why haven’t I seen any?”

Hogan frowned and crossed his arms. “Are you looking for a mate, Reed?”

Malcolm flushed. “NO! Of course not. I . . . I already have one,” he finished helplessly. *Well, of a sort. Mackenzie and I have been quite close of late.*

Hogan’s grinned broadened. “Well, then, as long as you aren’t one of those men looking to have a girl in every port, intent on defiling the virtue of our fair ladies, I’ll be happy to introduce you and your friends to some of the females tomorrow. There aren’t a lot working in the security sections, unfortunately. Most of those who do have higher positions of authority. They don’t really do the grunt work.”

Feeling a bit more relieved, Malcolm nodded. “I’ll look forward to meeting them.”

Their waiter arrived again, and took their order. As he left, Hogan turned his gaze back to Malcolm questionably. “So, Malcolm, you have quite the well known last name.”

“You have heard of my family’s naval background?” Malcolm asked in surprise.

“Oh, yes. You see, I come from a naval background as well. My father was Jerry Hogan.”

Malcolm sat up in instant recognition. “Your grandfather was David Hogan, then? The great Captain on the SeaScape?”

Hogan nodded. “The one and only.”

Their friendship sealed, Malcolm forget his earlier concerns as they lapsed into a companionable conversation.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

One hour later, on the bridge of the Enterprise, T’Pol was not able to forget her concerns with quite the same amount of ease as the armory officer. It had been exactly six hours, two minutes, and thirty-six seconds since Commander Tucker’s check in. He was due- and late.

The Captain had retired to the Command Center to work on reports an hour ago. T’Pol briefly contemplated contacting him, but decided such an action was unnecessary. After all, she was in command, and quite capable of taking the initiative herself.

“Ensign Sato, please contact Commander Tucker,” she instructed Hoshi.

As the Ensign complied, T’Pol laced her fingers behind her back, chanted a mantra of Surak silently to herself, and restricted the urge to pace. She tried to remember that Commander Tucker had the unfortunate propensity to become so engrossed in his work that it was exceedingly likely he had simply forgotten to check in. Still, she could not help but mentally acknowledge the fact that he had been sent on a potentially dangerous mission from which he could not return or be rescued for another six days.

His voice interrupted her musings. “This is Tucker.”

He sounded agitated, T’Pol noted. Indeed, his voice gave the clear indication that he had been interrupted. Commander Tucker was unmistakably not pleased by such an event. T’Pol, on the other hand, was quite pleased that the less grisly of her previously considered scenarios had been true. Still, she was displeased at his lack of discipline.

“Commander Tucker, you were late checking in by two minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” T’Pol said sternly.

“Dammit. . . " There was a pause on the other end of the comm until Trip continued with a voice that still demonstrated frustration, but also showed considerable restraint. “I apologize for not checking in, T’Pol, but I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Your production level is not an acceptable excuse,” T’Pol responded.

An audible sigh came over the comm. and T’Pol fought back a level of concern as she inquired, “Is the situation on the planet agreeable?”

Over the comm. this time could be heard a snort. “Yeah, T’Pol, it’s agreeable enough, considering that I’m wading through a pool of human waste and it’s about 39 degrees in the shade down here.”

“Are you and the away team progressing in your efforts?” T’Pol questioned, momentarily ignoring the Commander’s complaints.

“Sorry, Sub-Commander. To be official – everything’s proceedin’ fine down here. Malcolm checked in a half an hour ago and repairs are proceedin’ real smooth for him. Anders isn’t have as much luck locatin’ the source of the seismic disturbance. I should have this under control within the next six hours.”

“Why is it currently not under control?”

Another exaggerated sigh came over the line and T’Pol noted that the human expended far too much energy with such displays. Knowing him as long as she had, however, made her certain that it was unwise to point this out. Instead, she waited patiently for the answer. “Well, to make a long story short, I started a flood.”

Behind her, Ensign Sato did not confine a stray giggle. In front, Ensign Mayweather’s shoulders shook slightly with uncontained laughter. T’Pol had been amongst humans long enough to understand the source of the amusement. “Given your location, I imagine the temperature of the planet did not make the flood a pleasant experience.”

“No, T’Pol. Wading knee-deep in human waste that smells like a pig pen when it’s hotter than hell isn’t pleasant. It isn’t pleasant at all.”

“You are taking the proper precautions to avoid illness?”

“Yes, T’Pol. I’ve got the suit, complete with helmet.”

“I am certain your experience will improve.”

“Thank you, Sub-Commander. I’ll be sure to check in on time next time.”

“Make certain you do. Enterprise out.”

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Two folks have made comments

You're evil! I wanted to know about that message. I don't see why she didn't check the message immediately. Seems like it was sent Enterprise (*we've* received . . .), not to T'Pol. Could be important. The only reason I can think for her not to check it is to build u suspense and drive readers like me crazy.

I'm weirded out by the "defiling the virtue" bit. Definitely need more on that. Seems like if a woman wants her virtue defiled, she ought be able to make it happen. Keeping them closed away seems odd. Yet they seem to claim that (most) of the women are in positions of authority. Very interesting. Look forward to learning more.

This had me chuckling away, poor old Trip up to his knees in the foul smelling mucky stuff while Malcolm gets a nice companionable chat and a hot meal. I loved T'Pol's little comments. I wonder if T'Pol already knows or guesses what the message is going to be hence not hurrying to read it yet. Keep up the good work, I am really enjoying this. Ali D :~)