Interlude- Ch. 4

Interlude and Fugue

By vandiver49

Summary: Anything you can do, I can do better.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.

This story takes place after “Singularity"

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Chapter 4

The pounding of her footsteps permeated her ears as she quickened her pace. In her mind’s eye she was running across the searing plains of Gol, her skin bathed in the brilliance of the crimson sunlight. But in actuality T’Pol was light-years from her home, her steps carrying her nowhere as she ran on the treadmill. She was in considerable thought, but not about micro singularities or spatial anomalies. No, T’Pol’s mind was focused on the singular pursuit of how best to avenge Commander Tucker’s impromptu surprise birthday party in her honor.

A cheer went up from across the other side of the makeshift gym, garnering T’Pol’s attention. Her workout complete, she decided to take a closer look at the athletic endeavor that had enraptured so many. As she made her way through the standing audience, she spotted Hoshi and the rest of her companions from the previous night.

“Oh, hey Sub-Commander, how are you doing?” Hoshi inquired.

“I am well.” T’Pol replied casually, “all things considered.” Her annoyance with the Chief Engineer’s latest hoax was still quite palpable. There was supposedly even a picture circulating around the ship that had captured her visible surprise.

With the subject all but breached, Jackie decided to go ahead and ask the obvious question. “Forgive me for asking Sub-Commander, but how was he even able to surprise you?” Readily aware of how keen Vulcan senses were.

“Did it have something to do with your nasal inhibitor?” Cutler absently interjected, but T’Pol was quick to point out the flaw in her assumption.

“The inhibitor, despite what the name suggests, only suppresses my olfactory system. I still should have been able to smell the cake, a roomful of people or the burning of the candles. I am also unsure of how I was unable to hear the noise emanating from the Mess Hall, until it was too late.”

T’Pol’s confusion led Crewman Kelly to a revelation. “I think I know how.” She bemoaned remorsefully, “Commander Tucker gave me the rest of the afternoon off yesterday, while I was taking reading on the environmental controls. He probably put something in the atmosphere that increased the nasal inhibitor’s properties. That, coupled with the alignment of a couple of grav pumps and generators…”

“Would effectively render my heightened senses useless.” T’Pol concluded.

“Well, we’re all sorry we couldn’t make it, but happy belated birthday.” Jackie offered.

“Your absences were noticed.” T’Pol stated, curious as to why they failed to show.

“Well, lets just say Commander Tucker decided to ‘exact’ a little revenge on me.” Hoshi started. “He downloaded some virus into my language sub-routines, practically corrupting to entire database with colorful southern colloquialisms. Spent all night trying to clean it up.”

“He got me too.” Liz added. “I spent all evening chasing Dr. Phlox’s stupid bat around sickbay. Its nearly impossible to catch that thing at night.”

“I couldn’t have come anyway; I ended up having to relieve someone on watch who got sick.” Jackie supplied.

With the mystery concluded, the women returned their focus back toward the contest before them.

“They are playing basketball correct?” T’Pol asked.

“Yea,” Hoshi answered, “it’s almost over. The score’s 9 to 7 skins.”

Her answer segued perfectly into T’Pol’s next query. “Why are only half of them wearing shirts?”

“So they can differentiate between the teams.” Jackie responded.

The skins team consisted of Commander Tucker, Crewman Rostov and Lieutenant Reed, while the other team was made up of the Captain, Ensign Mayweather and Crewman Novokivich. Being First Officer, T’Pol prided herself on her knowledge of the crew, but one of the players on the court presence was somewhat unusual. “I did not believe Lieutenant Reed was fond of sporting contests?” She stated.

“I didn’t think he was either, but I’m sure Commander Tucker had something to do with that.” Hoshi replied, her attention still on the game.

“I did not think you were fond of them either.” T’Pol added.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m just here enjoying the view.” Hoshi shamelessly replied.

T’Pol said nothing in response; she couldn’t help but silently agree. All three of the shirtless contestant had well defined physiques, but there was one in particular who caught her attention. He was currently in possession of the basketball, dribbling it gracefully with his right hand while he directed his teammates with the other. He was being guarded by his best friend, though one couldn’t tell from the conversation they were having.

“Give it up old man, you know you can’t guard me.”

“Nope, just a threat.”

And with that, the Captain made an attempt at the ball, but Trip quickly crossed it between his legs, sidestepping Archer’s play. From there he leaped into the air, rising gracefully as he cradled the ball in his palm. He his shot was away well before gravity reasserted its hold over his body, the ball kissing gently off the backboard before falling through the hoop. He then cast a smug look back at the Captain.

“I told you so.”

“Just check the ball.”

The Captain guarded Trip as play resumed the skins’ team was one point away from victory. Trip passed the ball to Rostov, who after a couple of aimless dribbles passed the ball back to the Commander. Again, the Captain pressed his defense, causing Trip to post up on the wing.

“C’mon, Cap’n. At least try to stop me this time.”

“You want defense, fine. What did you get your girlfriend for her birthday?”

Trip looked over his shoulder and glared at his Commanding Officer with disdain. He figured he had put the entire breakfast episode behind him with his impromptu surprise party for T’Pol. But obviously, the Captain didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

Regaining focus, Trip quickly tossed a no-look pass. On the receiving end was Malcolm, who was cutting to the hoop unabated. He threw the ball up towards the rim, an uncoordinated effort that would ultimately provide winning results.

“Game.” Was Trip’s parting shot to the Captain, leaving him to stew in defeat as he left to congratulate his teammates. T’Pol quietly watched the entire outcome unfold; to the exclusion Ensign Sato’s prodding.

“T’Pol? What are you up to?” Hoshi asked, breaking the Vulcan out of her trance. “I’ve seen that look before Sub-Commander. What are you about to do?” She continued.

Though Hoshi knew T’Pol would never betray a single emotion of her own volition, she could have sworn there was a sinister twinkle in the Vulcan’s eyes. “You shall simply have to wait and see.”

And Hoshi did. She watched T’Pol walk out into the middle of the court and right up to Commander Tucker, which wasn’t all that surprising. But what the Vulcan did next was in a word, stunning.

“Commander.”

“Oh, hey T’Pol, you enjoy your surprise party.” He joked.

“Indeed. But as the Captain pointed out, I failed to actually receive a gift from you.”

Trip blushed momentarily as he realized T’Pol had been eavesdropping on the taunting, but otherwise maintained his composure. “Really, is there anything in particular that you wanted?”

“Yes, I’d like to challenge you to a game of basketball.”

“C’mon T’Pol, be serious.”

“I am Vulcan Commander. I am always serious.”

Trip quickly realized her ruse for what it was for, and he refused to be baited. “Give it up T’Pol. I really didn’t take you for being such a sore loser.” He responded, handing her the ball.

T’Pol waited patiently as Trip walked towards the exit, until he was a sufficient enough distance away that T’Pol would have to raise her voice to be heard by him.

“Commander!” She boomed, her voice resonating around the room. “So there is no confusion. Is the reason you do not wish to play me because you’re afraid you might lose to a Vulcan, or because you might lose to a woman?”

Her tactic was successful as Trip stopped in response. Every eye in the Cargo Bay was now transfixed on him, patiently waiting his answer. Others decided to be far much vocal with their opinions. “You know Commander,” The Captain started, “I can understand if you don’t wanna play her. I mean she is a big bad Vulcan after all. So if you’re scared, just say you’re scared.”

His comment was simply the first salvo of a series of catcalls and heckles cajoling him to accept the Sub-Commander’s challenge.

T’Pol simply waited with refined grace as she knew what his ultimate decision would be. For if there was one truly universal discovery that she had made while onboard Enterprise was that be it human or Vulcan, the male ego was easily manipulated.

Turning on his heel, Trip stormed back onto the court. “Fine,” he seethed, snatching the ball from her grasp, “first one to seven wins. Make it, take it.”

Pleased by her manipulation, she decided to needle Trip a little more. “Commander, I was under the impression that you were a ‘southern gentleman.’ Does not such an appellation require you give me the ball first?”

Trip scowl only intensified as he was forced to relinquish the ball based on something as arcane as ‘Ladies First.’ But he resolved that it would be of little consequence, as he planned on dispatching T’Pol with due haste.

T’Pol wasted little time attempting to score, calmly cocking her arm back and resting to ball in the palm of her hand. Unfortunately she neglected to take into account her superior strength as the ball careened of the backboard with a thud.

Trip bubbled with laughter as he went to retrieve the lose ball. T’Pol quickly positioned herself between him and the goal. A quick assessment revealed that her stance was too rigid and terse for a successful defense. A simple ball fake caused T’Pol to lean out of position, affording Trip an unabated path to the basket.

“One.” Trip announced as his lay-up fell gracefully through the net. He headed back toward the top of the key allowing the ball to causally roll to T’Pol’s feet. “Check.”

She acknowledged his request, annoyed with her gross miscalculation. Trip renewed by his good fortune, rattled off two jumpers, increasing his lead to three. “You realize this was a terrible idea right?” He gloated, dribbling the ball in front of her with confidence.

T’Pol refused to yield so easily, setting up once again in defense. She was intent on learning from her previous error and concentrated on Commander Tucker’s hips instead of the ball. Her adjusts paid off, deftly stealing the ball from him during an attempted crossover. Capitalizing on her good fortune, T’Pol quickly drove to the hoop for an easy lay-up. With her renewed efforts, combined with Trip’s lackadaisical defense, allowed the Vulcan to tie the score at three apiece.

As T’Pol returned to the top of the key, she was surprised by the number of on-lookers that were actually cheering for her. A fact she felt compelled to point out. “It appears the crowd seeks to witness your demise.” She stated, bouncing the ball in his direction.

“That because everyone loves an underdog. Even one that’s got no chance to win.” He replied, checking the ball back.

T’Pol decided to try her luck again with another set shot, believing that she had finally determined how much strength was required at her present range. But just as the ball began its arc towards the goal, Trip leapt high in the air and with but a few of his fingers deflected the shot.

T’Pol quickly repositioned herself as Trip retrieved her errant shot. He appeared as though he would attempt to drive by her to the hoop, but instead headed to the low post. Trip attempted to inch his way closer to the basket as he tried to back T’Pol down. He soon realized that he wasn’t making any headway. While she might be slight in form, T’Pol still possessed the formidable strength of her people.

Realizing the futility in his attempt, Trip opted to take an alternative shot, a baby hook. Unfortunately this shot wasn’t really apart of his repertoire, as evidence by his shot missing the mark.

Grabbing the rebound, T’Pol sprinted out to a respected amount, turned and made her first distance shot of the contest.

Though embolden by her success, T’Pol’s next would miss its mark, her shot rushed due to Trip’s dogged defensive efforts. The two continued to trade possessions, struggling to score at every opportunity. Eventually, T’Pol managed to gain the upper hand as the score was currently six to five.

The crowd was at now at a fever pitch, cheering wildly as T’Pol checked the ball to Trip. The desperation in his eyes was readily apparent; the idea of losing to her in a game that was his dominion was obviously unpalatable. Which, after yesterday was just the way she wanted it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong Commander, but I seem to recall you informing me that I had ‘no chance’ of winning. Do you wish to retract this statement?” T’Pol chided.

Trip’s only response was a grunt coupled with a harsh check of the ball back to her, as his humor for the situation long since evaporated.

As soon as the ball was back in her hands Trip closed to distance. T’Pol, her course of action already determined, immediately jumped in the air for what she hoped would be the game winning shot. Trip, intent on getting another block, met her action.

In basketball parlance, the phenomena is known is hang-time. The uncanny ability exhibited by some individuals to violate the laws of gravity at their leisure, allowing them to seemingly ‘hang’ in the air what opponents must perceive as an eternity. And much to the disbelief of Trip and everyone else in the gym, it appeared as though T’Pol ranked amongst these fortunate few. Though the difference between the two contestants consisted of mere centimeters, it was enough as T’Pol attempt left her hand unabated.

It was a rainbow of a shot, arcing high towards the rafters before finally descending to the hoop. Yet the shot fell true, the game winner was quite literally ‘nothing but net’.”

The cargo bay exploded in cheer, the crew apparently unable to comprehend the ramifications of what had just occurred. T’Pol however was fully aware of the meaning as she walked up to a stunned Trip and whispered these words in parting…

“I believe Commander, the correct appellation is ‘game, set and match’.”

It was likely that Trip’s growl of frustration reverberated throughout the ship.

Chapter 5

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