Retrieval- Ch. 2

Retrieval
By zealousgirl

Rating: PG-13, general
Disclaimers in Chapter One

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CHAPTER 2

The Shuttlepod

Trip walked quickly along the corridor towards the launchbay. He was grateful that it was early in the morning and that he had not met anyone on his way. He was getting used to the clothes he had to wear but he wasn't too sure about the 'enhancements' that the doctor had made.

He opened the doors and entered the apparently empty launchbay. Walking towards the shuttlepod, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window of the craft. He stopped a moment to ponder. He had always been blond but had not been this fair haired since he was 5 years old. And if he had ever come home with hair hanging halfway down his back like this, his dad would have skinned him alive. Trip did however like one of the most recent changes to his appearance - the pointy ears. He lifted his right hand up and gently stroked his ear; he smiled as he remembered the last time he had caressed a similar ear in the decon chamber over 1 year ago.

"Commander, if you could please defer pampering your vanity, we need to leave as soon as it is possible." T'pol's voice echoed from inside the shuttlepod.

Trip grinned. She could see him although he could not see her. He would have to remedy this situation.

He entered the shuttlepod and froze. Standing in front of him was the most exquisitely beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her hair was the color of butter and fell to below her waist in thick waves. Her cheeks were slightly bronzed. Her eyes sparkled. And although it was the same taffeta- like material, her turquoise blue dress was form fitting, highlighting every curve of her slight frame.

"Are you unwell, Commander?" She was slightly apprehensive as his complexion had paled and he had not moved for nearly ½ a minute.

As if startled out a dream, Trip blinked several times, shook his head and breathed a long sigh. "Sorry, T'pol. What was that?" He noted her slight expression of concern and confusion. "Never mind. You just. . . uh. . . surprised me a bit. Are you ready to head out?"

"I have completed the preflight check and the Captain has given his permission for our departure."

"OK then. Let's go." Trip then sat down at the controls and prepared for the departure.

As she took the seat next to the commander, she contemplated, 'why had he not asked for more details before accepting this assignment.' She looked at Trip in an attempt to ascertain his feelings on this.

He quickly glanced in her direction, gave her a quick smile, and then went back to entering data into the console in front of him. Without a word, they started the shuttlepod's engine and set off.

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A few minutes after clearing the shuttlebay doors, T'pol got up and went to the back of the shuttlepod. Trip could hear her rummaging through one of the storage containers. He smiled to himself. 'I can play the silence game as well as anyone. I'll just let her tell me what the hell is going on, when she's good and ready.'

T'pol was moderately unsettled by, and yet grateful for, the commander's behavior. Usually, he would have demanded more specifics before agreeing to help her out. Even if the Captain had made it an order, this would not have impeded his protests. He seemed to have just accepted the situation without question, which caused much bewilderment for her. She tried to figure out how best to tell him and how much he should know. She concluded that the 'where' would be the easiest to start off. She would deal with the 'why' later.

T'pol returned to her seat. Trip tried not to show his amusement at the fact that she now was holding 2 plates in her hands, both with generous servings of pecan pie on them. 'So, she's trying to butter me up. It must be something really big.' He turned towards her, eying the pie. Still he said nothing. His grin was gradually widening.

"Commander, I would like to express my gratitude for your assistance with this. . . personal endeavor." She hesitated for a moment, then handed him one of the plates and a fork. "I am aware that you likely were awoken prematurely, and did not have time for nourishment. I hope that pecan pie for breakfast is satisfactory."

Trip thought he detected a slight upturn of the corner of her mouth, signaling a failed attempt to smile. He responded by cutting a piece of pie and placing it in his mouth. He still did not make a sound. He was enjoying this whole situation too much to ruin it by talking - at least, for now.

T'pol started, "I am certain that you are curious about where we are going and what we are going to do once we arrive. You are also wondering why I have agreed to have you accompany me."

Trip nodded.

"You have likely guessed that this private matter is related to the relatively recent annulment of my nuptials. When Captain Archer refused to allow me to deal with the latest developments on my own, I felt that you would be the only acceptable companion since you are the only crewmember aware of my situation. I do wish to maintain my privacy as best as I can." T'pol stopped, seemingly to catch her breath. She was speaking much more quickly than she was accustomed.

Trip broke his silence. "OK, T'pol. So what happened and what are we going to do about it?"

"I received a transmission from my parents last evening. Although we are no longer betrothed, I am indebted to Koss, and to his family. They have requested that I complete an errand for them, as I have the most off-world experience. They need me to find something of value that has been lost."

Trip stared at T'pol as she spoke. Although she had chosen him for this venture, she was being extremely vague. Normally, he would have been insulted, but Trip knew he had to be patient and that eventually she would open up.

"So, why do I look like a pixie?" Trip asked, in an effort to lighten the mood.

"Excuse me commander? What is a pixie?"

"Oh, forget it. So, who are these Scanirans anyway?" He pointed at his hair and ears.

T'pol began to explain in her standard methodical tone, "They share a common ancestry with Vulcans. However over the last few centuries, we have had strained relations with them. They possess certain abilities that are not conducive to our way of life."

"So, they don't like Vulcans. Wow, there's a real shocker! No wonder we are going undercover. I'm guessing that this is what they look like." Trip motioned between T'pol and him.

She responded with only a nod.

He was starting to get impatient. "Well, there must be more to this. What are we looking for? How did it get there? And, are we going to have problems getting it back?"

"With all due respect Commander, I would prefer to not divulge too many details." And with that last comment, T'pol turned towards her console and returned to reading the information on the display in front of her.

Dissatisfied, Trip stood up and moved towards her, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whatever she was reading. Unfortunately, it was written in Vulcan. Trip stood behind her for a minute, peering over her shoulder.

Finally, he said, "That's all you are going to tell me! You know what? I have been extremely patient with you. I know that this must be extremely important, but I need more if you expect me to help you." He spun her chair around so that she now faced him, both of his hands resting on her shoulders.

"I am sorry Commander. But I have my reasons not to tell you exactly what is to transpire." She searched his facial expression, hoping to detect acceptance of this explanation.

Trip did not appear satisfied. He continued to stand, stooped over her, his hands on her shoulder, his eyes fixed on hers.

Reluctantly, she ensued with a further clarification. "The Scanirans are highly telepathic, especially with regards to emotions. I am certain that I will be able to control my emotions such that they will not be able to detect my intentions. However, should you know the full details, your emotions may betray you and we may be unable to accomplish our task."

"Hold on, T'pol. They can read minds? Well, what would stop them from reading my mind and find out that I am not actually a Scaniran? Or for that matter that you are Vulcan?" Trip responded smugly.

"They do not actually read thoughts, just emotions. Over the past year I have gained some insight into how you react in certain circumstances. I am concerned that should you know what we are attempting to retrieve that you will become more emotional. Please, accept my explanation for the time being. I am trying to limit the risks of failure. I am also concerned for your--" T'pol did not finish her sentence. She looked at Trip pleadingly, hoping that this last comment would be ignored.

Trip shrugged his shoulders, and then sat back in his chair. He looked at his console and noted that coordinates had already been inputted. It would be another 29 hours before they arrived. What was he going to do in the meantime?

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