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It Shouldn’t Happen to an Engineer

Author - Shouldknowbetter | Genre - Humor | I | Main Story | Rating - PG-13
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It Shouldn’t Happen to an Engineer

By ShouldKnowBetter


Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters, the Star Trek franchise and the universe. I just use them for my own private, non-profit making amusement.

Summary: Trip goes on shore leave again – without T’Pol to look after him!


Author’s Notes:
1. This ignores Season 2.
2. I didn’t try to represent a southern USA accent in type. You all know how Trip sounds – just read the words with the correct accent.
3. This story is extremely silly and very non-politically correct, but I needed a break from depressing stuff. It could happen not long after “Repercussions” or perhaps in an altogether fluffier universe.


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

Tucker slipped another questionably patterned shirt into his overnight bag and sensed more than saw the disapproving stare of the woman seated cross-legged on his bed. “If you’re not gonna come with me you can’t complain.”

“I said nothing.”

“You thought it.”

“Of course. That shirt is offensive. The notion that you will wear it whilst on shore leave reinforces my decision not to accompany you.”

Tucker came to stand directly in front of T’Pol, hands on hips. “You’re mean.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you loved me you’d come with me, help me relax.”

“You wish to spend your time in meditation?”

He dropped onto the bed, toppling her to lie beside him. “I wanna spend my leave with you. Although,” practiced hands pressed her close, “not all of it meditating.”

“I understood that you were intending to participate in the water sports that Carhea offers.”

“Yeah.”

“Vulcans do not have an affinity with water.”

“Is that so?” Tucker was laughing silently at her. “Remind me not to make you shower with me anymore.”

T’Pol glared. “That was not my meaning. Our bodies are denser than those of humans. I would sink.”

“I’ll teach you to dive. You wouldn’t need a weight belt.”

“No.”

Tucker nipped one delicate earlobe and began to nuzzle his way upwards. “You’re mean.”

“And you are annoying. Charles, stop that at once.”

“Why?”

“Because,” T’Pol found herself unaccountably short of breath, “your shuttle pod leaves in ten minutes.”

“Come with me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Charles! Desist!”

Tucker desisted only because the door buzzer sounded and his momentary distraction gave T’Pol the opportunity to free herself and take up a defensive position across the room. He glowered at her in half-serious annoyance. “Come in!”

“Hello, sub-commander.” Mayweather’s expression was carefully bland although close scrutiny revealed to T’Pol that the muscles at the corners of his mouth were twitching. “Are you ready, sir?”

“Sure.” Tucker picked up his bag and took a step towards T’Pol who moved smartly to the door.

“I will review your latest report during your absence, Commander Tucker, and provide you with my input on your return.” There was no need to suggest to a junior officer that her presence in Tucker’s cabin was for any other reason than professional consultation. Mayweather was not to know that Tucker had handed her the report early the previous evening and then offered such pleasant distraction that she had forgotten all about it until that moment.

The engineer rolled his eyes at her but took the hint. “OK, Travis, let’s go. You know, sub-commander,” the remark was addressed to T’Pol as he strode past, “you’re gonna regret this.”

The first officer raised a skeptical eyebrow and took herself off to the bridge. Regret was an emotion she did not experience – but if she did, then she would know where to place the blame.

The planet Carhea had an equatorial zone that closely resembled that of Earth, even if the sky was green and the ocean a correspondingly nauseous shade. Sato had done a good job with the Universal Translator and Archer with the preliminary negotiations so the resorts were more than prepared for the influx of adventurous aliens. Tucker and Mayweather had no difficulty with their accommodation and within a very short time of their arrival were wet and mostly naked – and all in the cause of innocent entertainment.

Archer called on the privilege of rank and declined to take leave. He was more than happy to stay on his ship and study the backlog of scientific data available – and the fact that this time his first officer hadn’t seen fit to pressure him had nothing to do with it. He looked up with bland indifference when said first officer requested entry to his ready room, although his expression slipped when she presented him with a lucid and undoubtedly accurate analysis of the data he had been studying. “Thank you, sub-commander, you’ve just saved me several days’ enjoyment.”

An eyebrow rose. “Captain?”

“Why didn’t you go with Trip, T’Pol?”

The eyebrow rose higher. “Commander Tucker is quite capable of releasing tension without my input.”

“But what about you, T’Pol? Didn’t you want to spend time with Trip off the ship?”

“Commander Tucker’s company can be pleasant. It can also be intensely annoying. I chose to avoid the latter.”

“T’Pol,” for a moment Archer considered asking his first officer how she could be in love with someone she didn’t want to take a holiday with, then decided against it. Tucker seemed happy with the relationship and he was the only one in a position to judge the compensations of such an arrangement. “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

“I was intending to continue with my analysis of stored data.”

The captain thought about that one and decided not to play fair. “Do you think that Trip’s going to spend a quiet evening in?”

He got what he deserved. “Are you suggesting, Captain Archer, that Commander Tucker is likely to take advantage of my absence to be unfaithful?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Time to make amends. “Actually, T’Pol, you happen to be dating one of Earth’s most honorable representatives and he loves you. He wouldn’t play you false.”

She regarded him steadily. “We could address the analysis I have given you during dinner.”

“Then I’ll see you at 1900, sub-commander.”


Tucker watched Mayweather making his way towards the bar for another round of drinks and wondered ruefully if he was getting too old for the lifestyle they were practicing. The helmsman still seemed wide-awake and full of energy but Tucker was pleasantly tired after a day of strenuous water sports and an excellent evening meal. If someone warm and cuddly with pointy ears were to show up, then he would be more than happy to retire to bed and investigate whether he was really as tired as he felt, but sadly T’Pol was no doubt deep into something boring and not thinking about him at all. Tucker yawned and considered calling Enterprise but he didn’t want Mayweather to get the impression he was one of those guys who couldn’t spend time away from his girlfriend without checking in every few hours. It was just … he missed her and wanted to know if she was doing OK without him around and whether she had changed her mind about coming down to the planet.

“Hello.” Tucker was startled out of his fond recollection of just how very cuddly T’Pol could be when she wasn’t annoyed with him and blinked at the woman who had come to stand beside him.

“Hi.”

“Are you here all by yourself?” She accompanied that with a sensuous glide onto the stool Mayweather had been occupying and Tucker grinned despite himself; that used to be his favorite opening line.

“I’m here with a friend.”

“A very good friend?”

“Just a friend.”

“Good.”

“Not necessarily.” It had been a long while since he’d had to fight off offers but it had to be done. “I’m afraid I’m taken.”

“Really?” The Carhea woman was extremely handsome, black hair piled high to exaggerate her slender height and humanoid features. “Are you sure you couldn’t be persuaded otherwise?”

“Positive.” T’Pol would never forgive him if he so much as smiled at another woman. Come to think of it, she probably wouldn’t believe that he had summarily rejected an offer. She had a touching belief that he was irresistible to women and a jealous streak a light year wide.

“Here.” Mayweather handed Tucker a drink and directed a wide smile at the woman. “Who’s your new friend, commander?”

“We hadn’t got that far.” She offered Mayweather her hand to touch fingertips in the Carhean gesture of greeting. “My name is Nerissa.” Tucker was sure her smile had grown much warmer but then the younger man bore a distinct similarity to the natives – evidently blondes weren’t in fashion here.

“Travis,” Mayweather offered with another smile, “and this is …”

“Trip.”

The ensign couldn’t quite bring himself to refer to one of his senior officers by his nickname, but he was quite prepared to do the other man down. “Has he told you, Nerissa, that he’s got a girlfriend?”

“He has.” She shot Tucker a look that seemed to judge him and find him wanting – at least when there was a better option around – and returned her attention to Mayweather. “But you haven’t?”

“Absolutely not.”

Tucker sighed and settled back to watch the other man’s chat up technique. He was definitely getting old.

T’Pol completed her meditation and retired to bed with a book that Ensign Sato had recommended, although why the communications officer had thought that a Vulcan would be interested in a fictional and sentimental account of one of Earth’s civil wars, T’Pol did not know. The fact that it had been known as the first modern war – that is, the killing was performed more efficiently – in Earth’s bloody history was not touched upon, nor was the political background. T’Pol read for a few minutes then gave up in favour of a PADD of data from an interesting erratic planetoid. She did not understand why the woman had married the man Charles when she had not liked him, but felt that his early and ignominious death from disease was symptomatic of human folly of which she would rather not be reminded. Her own human was no doubt committing a great number of follies at the moment, although she trusted he was not dying of disease, however contracted.

It was not a rational thing to admit, but T’Pol found herself just a little lonely for Tucker’s company. Not that they spent more than a quarter of their nights together … T’Pol rapidly reviewed the past six weeks and adjusted her estimate. They did not spend more than 71.4% of their nights together. The percentage surprised her. She really should practice more restraint or Charles would start to believe that her affection for him was greater than it was. T’Pol reviewed that thought as well and admitted that the premise was built on an unstable foundation. Her affection for Charles was a great deal stronger than for anyone else she had ever encountered. In fact, she had long ago admitted – privately, of course – that she loved the human engineer and nothing had yet changed that. She had speculated that the closer knowledge of him that intimacy inevitably brought might cure her of her misguided passion but it had not. Charles was still annoying, rash and undisciplined, but he was also kind and considerate and surprisingly tolerant of the cultural differences between them – and then there was the physical gratification. The sensations that could be generated by the careful application of friction were remarkable. T’Pol found herself dwelling with what she could only describe as smugness on her own part in the proceedings of the previous night, of which Charles had been most appreciative. That could not be allowed so she returned to her study of trajectory data with renewed concentration and firmly suppressed lust.

Tucker decided eventually that he had had enough to drink and more than enough of Mayweather’s pick-up technique and dropped a hand onto the other man’s shoulder to gain his attention. “Travis, I’m off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Huh?”

The noise level had risen considerably over the past hour or so. “I’m going to bed.”

“No way, sir.” The younger man leant in close, gesturing with his drink to the trio of pretty women he had collected. “We’ve been invited to a party. You have to come along.”

“I’m tired, Travis, and I wanna be fit for tomorrow.”

“You’re not scared of Sub-Commander T’Pol, are you, sir?”

“No!” That was said perhaps a little too firmly.

“Then come along. It’ll be great.”

“Travis …”

“We’re on leave. It’s all about having fun. What could go wrong at a party?”

Most of the senior staff were at their posts when the call came through from Shuttle Pod 2 the next day. Sato took the call and swung around to Archer in some concern. “Captain, Rostov’s reporting that Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather haven’t reported to the rendezvous point. They’re half an hour overdue.”

Archer frowned at the communications officer, not pleased at such laxity. “Has he tried hailing them?”

“Yes, sir. There’s no response.”

“Try from up here.”

There was a brief pause then Sato shook her head. “Nothing, sir.”

The captain mentally condemned his chief engineer to perdition for acting like an irresponsible cadet and turned to his science officer. “T’Pol, can you locate them on the surface?”

“Possibly.” She was looking severe herself, although Archer thought he saw her stiffen at one point before appearing to re-run her checks. “Captain, apart from those crew members in the vicinity of Shuttle Pod 2, there are no human life signs on the planet.”

Archer stared, anger forgotten. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He nodded to Sato to put him through and hit a button on his chair. “Rostov, this is Archer. Are you sure Trip and Mayweather aren’t anywhere near you?” He hesitated but it had to be said. “Passed out in the departure lounge springs to mind.”

“No, sir.” The man sounded confident. “The building’s been checked.”

There was an uncomfortable silence around the bridge until Archer nodded slowly, as much to himself as to anyone else. “Return to Enterprise, crewman.”

“Sir …”

The captain held up a hand to stop Reed’s protest. “Hoshi, start calling medical facilities and the civil authorities in the area. T’Pol,” she had been staring somewhat fixedly at the view screen but looked over at him, “run those scans again. Check for anything you can.” He didn’t think it was necessary to ask her to look for corpses; the thought was uppermost in all their minds.

Tucker awoke with a killer headache and no memory at all of getting to bed. He lay very still, hoping the pounding in his head would stop and silently cursing junior officers who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He hadn’t wanted to go to the damn party but would Travis listen? In fact, he couldn’t even remember the party. His last hazy memory was of leaving the bar; whatever he’d drunk after that had evidently carried a kick not designed for the human metabolism. Admitting at last that the headache wasn’t going to subside, Tucker reluctantly started to sit up, hoping he could make it to the bathroom and several glasses of water, but stopped with a groan that wasn’t caused by the pain in his head. This wasn’t his room. Admittedly he hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in the hotel, but this was definitely not the room he’d checked into the day before. He groaned again, muttering a heart-felt prayer that he hadn’t done something monumentally stupid for which T’Pol would never forgive him and looked cautiously around. Fortunately for his peace of mind, the only other occupant of the room was Mayweather, still asleep on a bed against the opposite wall; and both beds were singles, Tucker noted with relief. Not that it wasn’t entirely feasible to make a fool of yourself in a single bed, but he’d take it as a positive. He managed to make it into a sitting position on the side of the bed and, in a fit of temper, lobed a pillow at the other bed. “Travis!”

The helmsman woke with a yelp and sat up, only to clutch at his head. “Oh, my.”

“Where the hell are we, ensign?”

The younger man squinted first at Tucker and then around the room. “Uh … no idea, sir.”

“Why not?” Tucker was not in a sunny mood. “The party was your idea. I just wanted to go to bed.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember the party, sir, just leaving the bar.”

“That makes two of us.” Tucker scrubbed his hands over his face and stumbled over to the only door visible, hoping it led somewhere more familiar, but it didn’t lead anywhere; it failed to open. Not really believing the evidence of his own futile pushing and pulling, Tucker finally gave up and took a closer look around their accommodation. “Aw, hell.”

A non-intrusive search from orbit had failed to reveal any evidence of Enterprise’s missing officers and Archer had eventually bullied the local law enforcement agency into allowing members of his own crew to continue the investigation planet-side. The police commissioner had agreed with a shrug and a smirk that said very plainly that Archer was overreacting but the captain didn’t believe that he was. At first he had been as prepared as the local police to believe that Tucker and Mayweather were simply AWOL, but T’Pol was adamant that there was no trace of them on the planet and that was wrong. So he ended up with Reed and T’Pol in the coastal resort it was known his officers had intended to visit, trying to trace their movements. The hotel was easy to find because Starfleet regulations stipulated that personnel had to file an itinerary, but the only fact the hotel staff provided was that their colleagues had returned briefly to change and gone out again the evening before, not to return.

Archer was scowling as they stepped out into the sunshine again. “Exactly what they told Hoshi. Suggestions?”

“We check the bars and restaurants.” Reed was scanning a list provided by the hotel of places it recommended. “Someone must have seen them.”

“How many are there, lieutenant?”

“Several hundred, I’m afraid, sir.”

The captain sighed. “Then we’d better get more of the crew involved. Malcolm, head back to Enterprise and organize search parties. T’Pol and I will make a start.”

“Is that wise, sir, when we’ve already lost two of the crew?”

“I don’t think we’ll be in any danger, lieutenant. Get moving.” The Englishman nodded and moved briskly away and Archer turned to survey his first officer, whose expression of supreme indifference hadn’t faltered for the last several hours. “Where would Trip go to eat, T’Pol?” Her stare was so affronted he might have asked her to be his date and he sighed. “T’Pol, I know you consider it private, but Trip’s your boyfriend. Where would he go?”

She gave him another glare and started walking. “I suggest we commence our search in restaurants specializing in seafood – preferably where the service is provided by scantily clad females.”


“What’s wrong, sir?” Mayweather was squinting doubtfully at Tucker who had abandoned the door and was examining the walls instead.

“This isn’t any sort of accommodation unit.” The engineer climbed onto a bed to inspect a ventilation grill. “This is a prison cell.”

“Sir!”

“Take a good look, ensign, then tell me otherwise. I don’t think we’re even on the plant anymore.” He tugged at the grill and swore as the metal bit into his fingers without budging a millimeter.

“But … why?”

“I’ve no idea, but unless you want Captain Archer to find out, you’d better lend a hand here.”

The shock was helping cure Mayweather’s hangover as it had Tucker’s. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Travis, we don’t even remember what we did. Now get over here.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait? Perhaps it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Tucker wasn’t given a chance to point out that Mayweather’s naivete was touching but misplaced because the door opened at that moment to allow in a stocky, middle-aged Carhean female, with an expression that spelt trouble to Tucker; he’d often encountered that look of disapproval.

“Please don’t attempt to damage the facility, young man, or the cost will be added to your contract.”

He gaped at her. “Now just a minute …”

He was ignored. “Your names are,” she paused to read from a portable screen she carried, “Travis and Trip?”

Tucker had jumped down from the bed and was facing her, hands on hips, temper rising. “I’m Commander Charles Tucker. That’s Ensign Travis Mayweather. We’re from the Earth vessel Enterprise, currently visiting your planet. Now what the hell are we doing here?”

“That will never do. You’ll have to learn to keep a still tongue in your head or you’ll find that you don’t have one anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

She stepped towards the belligerent engineer and before he realised what she intended thrust a small rod into his stomach. He cried out and collapsed to the floor as the electric charge hit his nervous system. “I’ll have no more insolence from you.”

“What did we do?” Mayweather demanded as he knelt by his groaning colleague and got a surprised look.

“You opted for a career change, Travis.”

“Career change? But …”

For the first time a smile curved her mouth - not a very nice smile. “Many of our men have second thoughts at first, but the contract is binding. Welcome to Carhea’s premiere brothel, gentlemen.”


Archer and T’Pol struck lucky at only the third restaurant they visited which did indeed serve fish although the waitress who cautiously agreed that she had served the two aliens was fully clothed – at least at lunchtime. The captain could not blame the girl for her apprehension; he’d have been nervous if T’Pol had stared at him like that. He managed to edge in front of his first officer and tried a winning smile instead. “I suppose you don’t know where they went when they left here?”

“Well …” T’Pol had shifted around her captain for another pointed look, making the waitress back away. “Why’s she keep doing that?”

Archer reminded himself that the situation was potentially serious and frowned at the Vulcan woman. “T’Pol, why don’t you go and question a few passers by. Perhaps they saw something.”

“Unlikely. The odds …”

“T’Pol, go away.” She glared at him for a change but went and Archer tried again. “Sorry about that but she’s very fond of one of our missing crew.” Tucker claimed that T’Pol was fond of him, anyway. Archer hadn’t seen any evidence lately.

“The tall one?” The girl’s expression became dreamy. “I can understand that. He was lovely.”

“Actually the blond one.”

“Oh,” she shrugged indifferently, “well, she can have him.”

“I’m sure T’Pol will be relieved to know that. Did they mention where they were going?”

“They asked about bars and I gave them a few names.”

“Care to share the information?”

“Sure; and if you find the nice one, would you ask if he wants a date?”

“Did you say … a brothel?” Mayweather retained a residual hope that the Universal Translator had failed but the woman’s smirk didn’t really leave much room for hope.

“I did. Stand up. Him too.” The helmsman obeyed, helping Tucker to his feet; the other man was still in considerable pain. “Well, you’ll do,” she said to Mayweather and approached for a close look at the engineer, “but him …” She shook her head doubtfully. “We’ll have to see what we can do. Follow me.”

“Wait.” Tucker was still panting but the pain was gradually subsiding. “You have to let us contact our ship.”

“You have no ship. Here the past counts for nothing. It’s in your contract.”

“We didn’t sign any contract!”

The woman gave him a pained look and consulted the notepad in her hand. “I think you’ll find that your thumbprint matches the one I have here.”

“We wouldn’t have done that. We’re Starfleet officers. I …. Ah!”

With practiced ease she had again shocked him, only Mayweather’s grip keeping Tucker from collapsing. “You have no past and unless you behave, you will have no future. You’re not such a prepossessing specimen that we’ll take much nonsense from you. Now come with me.”

“Commander?” Mayweather asked doubtfully and Tucker could only nod. Resistance didn’t appear to be an option at the moment and surely it wouldn't take long for Enterprise to realise that they were missing and to track them down.

The room to which they were taken was larger than the cell they had woken in and clearly served another purpose. The two humans looked around the luxurious bathroom with its steaming and scented plunge pool and exchanged a nervous look; the word ‘brothel’ was looming larger in the mind of each with every passing moment.

“Strip.” The woman’s voice left as little room for argument as Archer’s sometimes could.
The men exchanged another look. “And if we don’t?” Mayweather inquired hesitantly and she gestured at Tucker.

“Ask your friend just how painful a correction stick can be.”

“Sir?”

“Maybe a bath wouldn’t be a bad idea.”


Archer tried to dissuade T’Pol from accompanying him but she wasn’t open to hints and he didn’t quite feel that he could make it an order. Having a disapproving Vulcan at his shoulder wasn’t a pleasant prospect when he was fairly sure that, while Trip wouldn’t have done anything he really shouldn’t, he might have gone a good deal further than his current girlfriend would tolerate. They drew a blank at the bars the waitress had mentioned, however. Indeed, such a complete blank that Archer halted outside their final stop to frown at his first officer. “Doesn’t it strike you, sub-commander, that there’s a conspiracy of silence operating here?”

He got a supercilious look. “I simply assume that Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather sought gratification elsewhere.”

“T’Pol, I’m sure that Trip has behaved like a perfect gentleman – wherever he currently is.” Archer’s lips pursed as he looked thoughtfully back at the bar they had just left. “I’m positive they were hiding something. Perhaps it’s time to let Malcolm loose on them.”

“Lt. Reed’s time would be better spent in questioning other such establishments.”

“I think we’ll give him a chance, sub-commander. Perhaps he’ll surprise you.”

“I trust not.”

Tucker didn’t usually object to women staring at him but he did object to an appraising and critical stare when he was naked. Even T’Pol usually stopped nagging once she’d undressed him but the look this alien woman directed at him and Mayweather was frankly insulting. He hopped quickly into the bath to avoid the scrutiny where the warm water at least helped relax his still traumatized nervous system although the headache he’d woken with was back. He just wished he knew how long they’d been unconscious; hopefully long enough that rescue wasn’t far off. Mayweather splashed happily to one side and Tucker directed a sour look at the younger man. “Are you enjoying this, ensign?”

“Well … you don’t get baths on any ship I’ve ever served on, sir, and you have to admit that this is a good one.”

The door opened and another pair of women trooped in to join the first and Tucker instinctively sunk lower in the water. OK, so they were pretty but they had hard stares too and he was feeling vulnerable right now.

“Out!” The order from the first woman was preemptory and the two men hauled themselves out of the steaming water, Tucker with a great deal more reluctance than Mayweather.

“Hmm.” One of the newcomers was circling the dripping humans. “Well, we can certainly make something of the young one; he could even become an attraction. This one,” she halted facing Tucker. “Why was he taken on?”

“They came as a pair.”

“Well, unless he performs better than he looks, we’ll probably have to pass him on.” Until then she hadn’t acknowledged Tucker’s existence but now spoke directly to him. “Do you perform well?”

“On the harmonica?”

“Stupid too. We’ll have to try him out, I suppose.” She turned away with an approving look for Mayweather and the other woman approached.

“Perhaps with clothes the initial impression might be improved.” She too evidently preferred the look of Mayweather. “But for you as few clothes as possible.”

Distinctly fed up, Tucker tried again. “I dunno know what you think we’ve agreed to but there’s been a misunderstanding. If you’ll just let us contact our ship …” He stopped talking and backed away as the first woman raised her punishment stick suggestively.

“Good, you can learn. Now, you will dress in the clothes my colleague provides and be taken to your permanent accommodation.”

Reed’s solution to the extraction of information from reluctant bar staff was to go undercover, which naturally involved some serious pub-crawling and even a little drinking since his ingenuity couldn’t stretch to a plausible reason for remaining sober. His drinking partner, one of the armoury team, got even more into the swing of things and very nearly earned himself a reprimand for flirting on duty before Reed’s natural suspicion kicked in. Just how likely was it that a man would be accosted by two women at once, who seemed completely uninterested in competing with each other? It could be a cultural thing, of course, but in Reed’s experience all females were competitive. Then a caressing hand slid around his neck. “Are you here all by yourself?”

Archer, T’Pol and several more from Reed’s security team were lurking discreetly outside the bar and stiffened when a positive bevy of females emerged, appearing to be holding up a dead-drunk pair of undercover Starfleet personnel. Archer stiffened in instinctive disapproval then relaxed; there was no way Reed would have behaved unprofessionally so he was either acting or being coerced. A small figure stirred beside him. “Since Lt. Reed has clearly succumbed to his baser instincts, should we not remind him of his duties?”

“I think you’re doing Malcolm a disservice, T’Pol. Let’s follow them.”

Following certainly proved instructive. After a couple of hundred metres, the staggering group turned into a clearer area near the shore where a small spacecraft waited. Archer didn’t hesitate. “Stop them.”

There were a couple of burly men in the vessel but they weren’t armed and neither were the women and it quickly became clear that they were unused to resistance. It took only seconds to secure the vessel and release the prisoners who promptly collapsed. “Malcolm?” Archer shook his armoury officer’s shoulder to no effect and T’Pol gave the man a disgusted look.

“I believe he is inebriated.”

“He didn’t have time to get in this state.” Reed was clearly unconscious and Archer subjected the nearest woman to a display of human aggression. “What did you give him?”

“Just a drug.” She wasn’t paid enough to protect her paymaster. “It won’t do him any harm.”

“Where were you taking them?”

“Stellar Nights.”

“You’re going to have to explain that one.”

She looked shocked. “You’ve never heard of Stellar Nights?”

“We’re not from around here.”

“But it’s the most famous brothel in this sector.”

Archer did a double take. “Then why do you have to kidnap men to take them there?”

It was the alien woman’s turn to stare in non-comprehension then understanding dawned. “You think …? Oh, no! The customers are women. Our society has always looked after its women.”

“Fine.” Archer could feel T’Pol breathing down his neck – metaphorically speaking. “Did you take two men there last night?”

“Yes.”

“These two?” He held out the PADD containing pictures of Tucker and Mayweather and the woman smiled automatically.

“Oh, yes. Well, one of them, anyway.” She pointed to Mayweather. “I definitely remember him.”

“Thank you.” Archer stepped back, motioning his people with him. “We’ll be in touch.”
Looking a little uncertain, the group of would-be kidnappers edged towards their spacecraft and Archer withdrew further. “Well, sub-commander, I don’t think you need worry about Trip. It seems he’s not too popular here.”

“We should have secured that vessel and used it to approach the perpetrators of this … service.”

“It might come to that, T’Pol, but I checked the planetary laws when we arrived. Prostitution’s legal and I don’t want to offend the government.”

“I was not aware that your views on kidnap and slavery had changed.”

“They haven’t, T’Pol, but this time I don’t think our people are in any danger.” He pulled out his communicator. “Archer to Enterprise.”

“Enterprise.”

“Hoshi, there’s a ship just taking off from close to my position. I want you to track it to its destination.”

“Ay, sir. We’ve already got a lock.”

“Good. We’re returning to Enterprise now. Have Phlox meet us in the launch bay.”

“Is everyone all right, captain?”

“Well, let’s just say that Malcolm appears to have drunk something that didn’t agree with him.”


Being faced with a large plate of something that looked edible was usually enough to cheer Tucker out of a bad mood, but this particular plate was not doing the trick. He pushed it aside after only a few desultory mouthfuls and glowered at Mayweather who was tucking in with enthusiasm. The younger man sensed the scrutiny and looked up. “Aren’t you hungry, sir?”

“No. Not when I’m dressed like a … bunny girl.”

“It more of a …”

“I don’t wanna know!” He shifted and tried to adjust a strap. “It’s damned uncomfortable.”

“The leather’s not too good either and there’s a lot less of it.”

“Why don’t you find this totally humiliating, Travis?”

The helmsman thought about that one for a moment. “I guess because it just seems like a joke. Captain Archer’ll soon get us out.”

“If they can find us.” Tucker gestured vaguely at one of the windows that showed a scene that was definitely not on any planet he had ever seen; it looked like a moonscape. “I wish I thought T’Pol was gonna find it funny.”

“I thought you said you weren’t scared of the sub-commander, sir.”

Tucker glared at Mayweather and then up at the woman who approached the helmsman.
“Travis? You’re to come with me.”

He was willing enough but Tucker tried to intervene, still in the role of senior officer. “What do you want with him?”

“Training. Don’t worry, you’re next.”

Watching the pair walk away, Tucker groaned and ran a hand through his hair, disarranging the carefully coiffured style. Where the hell was Archer? He really didn’t want to be left alone in a room with thirty other scantily dressed men, all smelling as if they had been through a scent bath – as they probably had – and he really, really didn’t want to have to attend a training session, because he didn’t think they were going to offer instruction in advanced warp theory.

Phlox was able to counteract the drug that had been administered to Reed and his colleague, although the Englishman wasn’t too pleased to find himself in the shuttle bay. “What happened?” he demanded as Archer gave him a hand up.

“You were doped, lieutenant – or should I say duped?”

“How? I was watching those girls, sir, and I’d swear they never touched the drinks.”

“They probably had an accomplice behind the bar.”

“Did it help locate Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather, sir?”

“That’s what we’re about to find out. Let’s get up to the bridge; T’Pol should already be onto it.”

The science officer was bent over her scanner when the two men reached the bridge but she straightened as they approached. “The vessel’s destination was a small moon orbiting the fifth planet of this system. Having a location fix, I was then able to detect the presence of a small, subterranean base there.”

“Deliberately concealed?” Archer queried and the Vulcan reluctantly shook her head.

“I believe not. There was simply no reason to take note of it before.”

Reed had been studying the results of the scans. “It shouldn’t be too hard to penetrate the base. There’s only one main entrance but we can rappel down the maintenance shafts here and here. If the sub-commander can locate Trip and Travis within the facility, then a small team can extract them.”

“I have detected human life signs within the complex,” T’Pol confirmed calmly. “If one assault team creates a diversion, the other can reach Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather. Orbital bombardment of the landing facilities would also be desirable to render pursuit impossible.”

“We’re talking a brothel here, T’Pol, not a hostile fortress. I know Trip’s inside but I think there are easier ways of extracting him than full frontal assault.”

“Sir,” Sato joined the conversation, “I’ve been checking out the public information about that place.”

“What have you got?”

The communication officer joined the group around the science station, bringing a PADD with her. “Once you know that ‘Stellar Nights’ exists there’s plenty of information available. You can even check out the merchandise.” She started to hand the PADD over, caught T’Pol’s eye and hurriedly pulled back, skipping a couple of pages. “Ensign Mayweather’s advertised as ‘coming soon’. I checked the employment laws too and it seems that all it takes to seal a contract is a thumbprint. You don’t have to be conscious to have your thumbprint taken.”

“So you think Trip and Travis could be legally employed in this brothel?”

“It’s possible, sir. Without their cooperation, of course.” T’Pol was still giving Sato a hard stare. “But Carhea employment law is very strict. Even if we could prove that they didn’t consent, the contract would still be binding.”

“How long are these contracts?”

“Five years minimum.”

“Well, I’m not prepared to be without my chief engineer and helmsman for the next five years. Let’s see what talking will do. Hoshi …”

“Sir, maybe we could buy them back.”

“You’ll have to explain that one, ensign.”

“A contract can be bought out and the employee transferred to the new holder of the contract.”
“That sounds promising. Put me through.”

“One problem, sir.” Sato assumed an apologetic expression. “The law only applies to natives of Carhea. Female natives.”

“Then deception will be necessary.” T’Pol’s tone left little room for debate. “I will request Dr Phlox to alter my appearance and open negotiations.”

Archer regarded his first officer doubtfully. “I don’t think so, T’Pol. You’re personally involved in this one.”

“I assure you I am not.”

He frowned and extracted her from the group for a little private conversation. “T’Pol, last time I checked, you and Trip were dating. In my book, that gives you a personal interest when he goes missing.”

“I do not allow private concerns to affect my professional duties.”

“Then you can put it down to my own prejudices that I’m not going to allow you to negotiate. Sorry, T’Pol,” she had started to protest, “but that’s final. Hoshi,” he turned back to his communications officer, “have you got enough background to device costumes and a cover story for us to approach this brothel to buy Trip and Travis?”

“I think so, sir.” For a moment, Archer thought he detected a predatory gleam in the woman’s normally demure countenance. “Will you be coming along, captain?”

“Absolutely.” He must have imagined that a wicked smile started to form as Sato turned back to her station. She was a trusted and responsible officer, just like Tucker … make that Reed.

It was a couple of hours before Mayweather returned, an extremely smug smile on his face and an ostentatious necklace of gold and crystal around his neck. Tucker scowled at him. “Haven’t you ever heard of non-cooperation, ensign?”

“Well,” the young man shrugged, unable to lose the smirk, “I didn’t think I was doing any harm.” His smile became wider. “In fact …”

“Don’t! Don’t even consider saying what you’re thinking, Ensign Mayweather.”

“Aren’t you taking this a little seriously, sir?”

The door opened to allow in the woman who had previously taken Mayweather away. She smiled approvingly at him then turned a resigned look on Tucker. “You, come with me.” He scowled back and remained seated and she frowned. “You prefer pain? That can easily be arranged.”

“I am not gonna do what you tell me. I wanna contact my ship.”

For a second more she regarded him steadily, checking his resolve, then shrugged indifferently and returned to the door, but not to leave. At her command, two large and muscular individuals appeared and she indicated Enterprise’s chief engineer. “Bring him.”

Tucker struggled but it was clearly pointless; the other men were twice his weight and used to dealing with recalcitrant customers. Common sense eventually meant he submitted to being dragged away and shook his head at Mayweather’s silent offer of support. The helmsman had a punishment stick leveled at his chest and Tucker knew that after one of those things hit you, you were out of commission for quite some time.

He was brought to a much smaller room than the communal sleeping room and pushed towards the large bed while the two bouncers took up position either side of the door and the woman halted in front of him. “I am your trainer. In here you may address me as Leahoh. Do you have prior experience with women?”

Tucker crossed his arms over his mostly naked chest. “I am not gonna answer that one.”

“I will take that as a ‘no’.” He glared, twitched but remained silent. “Then we will start with the basics.” She let her dress slide from her shoulders to reveal a mammalian and mostly familiar form. “Do you know anything of female anatomy?”

“Look,” Tucker was finally goaded into speech, “let’s get something straight. Travis might have seen this as a game but I don’t. I’ve been kidnapped, imprisoned and electrocuted and I am not gonna cooperate with whatever sick procedures you’re following. And besides,” he cast a contemptuous look over the woman’s body, “I’m in a relationship and she’s one hell of a lot prettier than you!”

The impassioned speech made no impression on the woman except to increase her impatience. “As you have been told before, you have no past. Prior relationships are irrelevant. You will cooperate or be punished.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to punish me, won’t you?”

She moved closer, expression grim. “Fool! Is your life worth so little to you?” She saw him react to that and smiled thinly. “Oh, yes, I will kill you. Will you perform?”

Tucker glared back, too angry to reflect on whether cooperation in this instance really did constitute a fate worse than death. “No!”

“Very well.” Leahoh gestured and Tucker was once again taken in an unbreakable grip by the two bouncers while she resumed her robe and produced a punishment stick from a fold, adjusting the end. “Remember that you have brought this on yourself,” and Tucker screamed as she applied the stick to his chest.

Archer refused to appear on Enterprise in the costume Sato had deemed appropriate, so had to struggle into it in the confines of Shuttle Pod 1 and even then was reluctant to move out from behind the shelter of an equipment rack. “Ensign Sato, are you positive this is necessary?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.” The young woman managed to keep her amusement to herself. “You did insist on coming along, captain.”

“That was before I knew I was going to be dressed as a …”

“Personal attendant. I’m sure you’ll be fine, sir.”

“If anyone laughs, I’ll consider it conduct unbecoming and press charges.”

“I promise Sub-Commander T’Pol and I won’t laugh, sir.”

The embarrassed man sidled out from behind the sheltering equipment and was subjected to an appraisal from the two women. T’Pol registered her indifference to her captain’s appearance with a raised eyebrow and returned her attention to the pilot’s board while Sato smiled encouragingly. “I think you look very attractive, captain.”

“If you find the sight of your captain dressed in a few strips of leather attractive, ensign, I think you have a serious problem.”

Mayweather jumped up in alarm when Tucker’s body was tossed into the dormitory, looking accusingly at Leahoh as she waited in the doorway. “What have you done to him?” He was dragging the helpless man to a bunk; Tucker appeared incapable of doing anything but groaning.

“He has experienced the consequences of non-cooperation. The effects will wear off in a few hours. Once he has recovered, Travis, remind him that next time the consequences will be fatal.”
Looking down at the shaking engineer, who was clearly in a bad way, Mayweather started to revise his opinion that this was just a good after dinner story. He was, after all, quite keen on being rescued and any time now would be good.


Sato swept into the reception area of Stellar Nights with an assurance at least twice the size of her diminutive person, causing something of a stir although she didn’t deign to notice it. Instead she halted in the centre of the spacious room and waved a regal hand at the man behind her. “Find me whoever’s in charge here.”

“At once, lady.” Again Archer had to suppress his suspicion that Sato was enjoying herself a little too much even if he had to admit that she was rather magnificent in her self-appointed role. Her entrance had attracted the notice of the management and a smartly dressed woman was already approaching. He made a show of ushering her over.

“You are?” The manager wasn’t easily taken in but Sato’s façade didn’t waver.

“Very rich. I want to buy some of your men. This one,” she idly indicated Archer, “is past his best.”

“Hmm.” The other woman’s skepticism was wavering in the face of potential profit. “We can certainly offer younger options. What are your requirements?”

Sato smiled – Archer hadn’t known she could look so predatory – and snapped her fingers at him. Obediently, and making a mental note not to invite his comm. officer to breakfast again unless he was chaperoned, he presented the PADD. “My mistress wishes to buy this one.”

“Ah, our newest performer. I’m afford his price might be out of your reach. He’s already created so much interest and we haven’t even put him to work yet.”

“Then you haven’t had the expense of training and clothing him,” Sato observed sweetly, “and I don’t appreciate speculation about the capacity of my bank account. I want to see him.”

The alien woman hesitated but money was money and this young woman looked as if she had a great deal of it. “If you’d care to wait somewhere more comfortable, I’ll have him brought to you.”

“Oh, no, I want to see him as he is, not after you’ve spent time primping and polishing him.” Sato’s voice hardened. “Now.”

There was another hesitation and then a nod. “Then follow me.”

Sato swept after her but not before shooting Archer a triumphant wink. The plan was going well.

Mayweather was growing increasingly worried about Tucker, who hadn’t shown any sign of improvement in the last hour, when the door opened again and a woman who looked remarkably like Hoshi Sato sailed in. At least, she would have looked like Enterprise’s communications officer if that lady had been in the habit of wearing elaborate hairstyles, ostentatious jewelry and silk. When Archer appeared, however, Mayweather was forced to conclude that rescue was imminent, even if he had never expected to see his captain dressed like an escapee from a bandage movie.

“You,” the finger of the alien woman who had accompanied his colleagues pointed firmly at Mayweather, “stand up.” He obeyed and she continued, “You can see that he is a fine young specimen and well trained in the bedroom arts.”

“Could I have a demonstration?”

Mayweather goggled at Sato but the other woman was already shaking her head. “Not before purchase, but you can return him if you’re not entirely satisfied – and provided he’s not damaged in any way.”

“Hmm.” Sato was circling Enterprise’s helmsman. “He certainly seems adequate. Yes, I’ll take him. Now I need another one, nothing special, just capable of simple tasks.”

“I’ve a friend, ma’am,” Mayweather suggested promptly. “He’d … Ah!”

The alien glared down at the doubled-over man. “Do not speak unless addressed.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Sato tipped Mayweather’s head up with an imperious finger under his chin. “I like spirit and loyalty can be useful. Where is your friend?”

“On the bed, ma’am.”

“I trust he’s not lazy?”

Mayweather considered answering but thought better of it when he saw the alien woman’s scowl; the correction stick had been on a mild setting but it was still unpleasant. “He’s been resisting training. I’m afraid we couldn’t consider selling him at present.”

Sato wandered over to inspect Tucker for herself, alarmed when his eyes barely focussed on her. “I’ll take him anyway. I know someone who can take him in hand.”

“Really, madam, he’s most unsuitable.”

“Then his price will reflect that, won’t it?”

Mayweather was desperate to ask questions but common sense and a stern look from Archer kept him from blowing his colleagues’ cover while they were still in the building and then there were other concerns – like avoiding furious Vulcans. Archer and Mayweather had to carry Enterprise’s chief engineer to the shuttle pod and Tucker collapsed as soon as they set him down; Archer would have been suspicious that he managed to collapse into T’Pol’s arms if he hadn’t been quite convinced that Tucker was incapable of independent movement.

The Vulcan glared at the blond head resting on her breasts and then at Archer who was hurriedly pulling on his jumpsuit - Sato was still smirking at him - having waved Mayweather to the helm. “What is wrong with him?”

“They punished him for non-cooperation, sub-commander,” Mayweather offered. “Some sort of electrical discharge.” He lifted the shuttle from the launch pad, glad to feel the controls under his hands again, even if he was still dressed like a hooker.

Archer rummaged in a locker and produced an emergency med. kit. “If you put Trip down, T’Pol, it might be easier to work out what’s wrong with him.” She shot him a killing look but eased the stricken engineer to the deck, although Archer noted that she continued to stroke the man’s damp hair as he ran a scan. “Looks like Travis is right. According to this, he’s suffering muscle spasms induced by exposure to a high voltage.” He slotted a couple of drug capsules into the hypospray. “But the auto-diagnostic facility says he’s going to be fine.”

“I never doubted it.”

Archer grinned at the cool, indifferent tone and went forward to give T’Pol some privacy in which to fuss over or to nag her lover as she felt fit. “So you chose cooperation, Ensign Mayweather?”
“Well, sir, it wasn’t doing any harm and we knew you’d find us and …”

“Relax, Travis, I think I can absolve you this time around.”

“Did you really have to pay to get us out?”

“Afraid it’ll be docked out of your pay? Fortunately for you, ensign, Lt. Reed was able to set up a false account in Ensign Sato’s name. Since they didn’t pay for you in the first place, we didn’t think they’d object too strongly to a bouncing cheque.”

“So, Travis,” Sato leant across and fingered the man’s necklace, “what made you such a big hit?”

He grinned at the view of space in front of him and maintained a modest silence.

Tucker gave an inarticulate moan of protest. “Don’t stop.”

“You are taking advantage of your disability.”

“No, I’m not.” Cautiously the engineer shifted onto his side to regard T’Pol hopefully. “Phlox said massage’d help.”

“I have been massaging you for the last thirty two minutes.”

“And I feel better. Do it some more.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You enjoy it a great deal too much.”

“Who wouldn’t? A hot sexy woman rubbing her hands all over me …”

“You do not deserve such enjoyment.”

“Excuse me?”

T’Pol looked severely at the engineer. “Only you, Charles, could contrive to be recruited into the local sex industry whilst on shore leave.”

“That’s not fair! It was Travis’ fault.”

“So he claims.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“For some reason, Ensign Mayweather feels a certain loyalty towards you. He may have … economized … on the facts.”

“I can’t believe you think it was my fault! I let them hit me with those punishment sticks because I wasn’t gonna betray you.” His eyes narrowed in speculation. “You do believe me, don’t you? You’re just trying to make me feel guilty.”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“I dunno. Unless,” and he pulled her towards him, “you want an apology.”
“An apology would be acceptable.”

“I’m guessing that’s a physical apology?”

“Since you were clearly at fault … yes.”

“I was not at fault! You were. You should have come with me.”

“Charles.”

“What?”

“Apologize to me.”

“OK, OK. But then I want an apology back.”

“I will consider it – if you still have sufficient energy.”


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A whole mess of folks have made comments

As always, another great story... What happened to them were soooo funny. Only he can get into that kind of trouble on shore leave. He was also faithful to T'Pol, great story. Looking forward to more.

Lucky me, I get to be the first one to comment!!

Very, very nice! I love how you keep T'Pol in character while she demonstrates her affection for Trip. And great idea having Mayweather such a main part of the story! Thanks for this!

Soooooo funny and yet so Trip. I loved it. I'm trying to picture Archer in his leather but i'm laughing too hard!

That was SO good, very funny. I'm trying to visualise the Enterprise men in their brothel outfits (pant, pant), and loved the way Trip stayed faithful to his beloved T'Pol.

And yes, he was really milking it at the end, getting her to run her hands over him...if she needs a stand-in...

I had such a laugh with this story. The whole impossibility of it all had me in stitches and having Travis as the exotic beefcake was great fun. I also liked how T'Pol tried to play cool about Trip being taken but gave herself away. Thanks for a most enjoyable story, and Hoshi was wonderful. I can just imagine that gleam in her eye as she got in character. Ali D :~)

Great story! Very funny! Love the idea of Archer dressed up that way!! LOL. And the idea of the furious Vulcan!

If you'll allow me one suggestion, it would be fantastic if you could put some asterixes or gaps between the change of scene - I got quite confused at times. A new line is just not enough - it took some time for me to notice it had changed!

Thanks. This was very funny, and I love the way you write Trip and T'Pol. They are such a pair!

I loved this story! How ironic that Trip, who is usually considered quite the hunk, was thought to be unattractive on this planet. I also liked the way Trip blamed T'Pol for the whole thing because she wouldn't come with him. Travis viewing it all as a lark, and Hoshi getting into character so fast...the list goes on. The images you conjured up in my brain are priceless.

great story!!!

eh, kinda stupid

So T'Pol didn't like Gone With the Wind? Oh well, nobody's perfect. Great story!

Read this after a rec on the HoT board. What a lot of fun. Great lines, faithful Trip and Jealous T'pol. I really enjoyed it.

ROFL!! That was great. The last lines are perfect. Hilarious! Thank you!

Loved it! My favourite part was Sato. Very well written language and movement.