The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - Chapter 6

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Sita Z

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

****

Chapter 6

If someone had asked Trip to describe the week that followed the ominous "informing of the crew", he'd have described as a rather surreal experience. Like he had expected, people stared and whispered - of course they did - but what was a lot more prominent was their untiring will to help. At times Trip started to feel like he was being smothered with attention everywhere he went, and as much as he appreciated their concern, sometimes all that kept him from snapping at them was his fierce determination not to let any of these "mood swings" show. According to Phlox, it was due to certain hormones that he felt like he was back in puberty - happy and relaxed at one moment and only a moment later itching to strangle everyone who dared to disturb him in his misery - but it didn't really make a difference to Trip exactly where these emotions came from. He knew he had to deal with them, and by making up his mind right in the beginning that letting himself go was not an option he managed to get by fairly well. There had been some incidents with hapless ensigns who managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but mostly Trip was able to keep himself from biting his staffs' heads off just because he felt like everyone was staring and laughing at him. And due to a remark by Lieutenant Hess he'd accidentally overheard - "Don't worry, Michael, he didn't mean it; my sister was the same when she was pregnant with her twins" - Trip struggled even harder to act like his hormones weren't driving him up and down the emotional ladder twenty-four hours a day. At some point Malcolm even asked him if that smile was glued to his face, or if he had discovered Chef's hiding place for his famous Kentucky Bourbon.

The fact that by now there was no way to hide the bulge anymore wasn't helping. Trip had started to wear baggy pullovers instead of shirts, hoping they would do a better job concealing the lump on his side, but even like that, it was starting to show. Nevertheless, Trip kept wearing the pullovers; it helped his self-confidence a lot not to have people steal furtive glances at his middle all the time, and besides, the thick material kept him warm. He often felt rather cold these days.

In the beginning, Trip had only half-heartedly done the exercises Phlox had prescribed; he preferred real sport rather than gymnastics, and the term the doctor had used – "prenatal exercises" – was enough to put a damper on any enthusiasm Trip might have felt for this particular kind of physical activity. Later that week, however, Trip started to do them more often, in the end every other day as Phlox had recommended. When he left Engineering after his four-hour shift his back was often aching and stinging and generally giving him hell, and he'd noticed that the exercises brought a certain relief when done regularly.

Even though he would have rather bit off his tongue than admitted it in front of the doctor, in the meantime Trip was rather glad Phlox had put him on half-time duties. When his shift was over he often felt like he was just coming from a ten-day hiking tour instead of four hours of engineering work, and on bad days he sometimes simply collapsed on his bed after work and slept through the whole afternoon, waking up in the evening and feeling tired enough to go right back to bed. Phlox said it was normal for him in his present condition to have a high sleep requirement, but at times Trip was beginning to get annoyed with himself. He'd never needed much sleep before, and it seemed like such a waste of time, snoring away on his bunk when there was work to be done in Engineering. Trip knew his staff consisted of talented engineers who were quite capable of keeping things up to scratch, but still he hated having to delegate his duties. It wasn't right for the Chief Engineer to spend more time in the land of nod than in his own department. His crew, he'd come to realize though, had a very different view on that matter. Often Hess all but ordered him to "sit down and take a break", and when there was any job to be done that involved climbing ladders or crawling through Jeffries tubes, some helpful member of his staff would appear out of nothing, snatch the hypospanner from his hand and tell him to go and supervise the repairs at the other end of the room. There seemed to be a lot of supervising that needed to get done lately. At times Trip felt like he was more of an observer than actual participant in his own department.

Aside from the general efforts to stop him from doing anything constructive and his increased need of sleep, the thing Trip hated most of all was the morning sickness. When Phlox had first told him he was probably going to experience symptoms like mood swings and feelings of nausea, he had thought it to be one of the doctor's weird jokes, not taking it seriously. When he'd awoken the first time, however, a taste in his mouth like something had died on his tongue not too recently and feeling like he never wanted to see food in his life ever again, he'd learned the hard way that Phlox wasn't given to joking about medical matters. In the meantime, he'd become used to it that the first thing he did in the morning was staggering into the head and saying a rather rushed goodbye to last night's dinner, but still, it wasn't a very nice way to start the day. And Trip, not a morning person in general, would have given a lot to get rid of that particular inconvenience.

Today had been particularly bad. First he'd overslept, awaking with a start only to notice that he had less than fifteen minutes left until his shift started. He'd jumped out of bed, only succeeding in making his head spin and his stomach give a lurch like he'd just taken a ride on a roller-coaster. He'd barely made it into the head, and when he'd taken a look at himself in the mirror afterwards, the pale, gloomy face that stared at him told him that today was going to be one of those days. And a particular nasty one, to boot.

Usually he would have skipped breakfast to make it to his post still in time, but Trip knew that if he did so now, he'd start feeling run-down and dizzy with hunger in no time. So he'd quickly stopped by mess-hall, fixed himself a sandwich, and had just been about to leave when he bumped right into Phlox. The doctor always left sickbay around this time of the day to have his usual rich breakfast, and when he'd seen the ham and egg sandwich in Trip's hand his eyebrows had climbed to an alarming height.

"Is this your breakfast, Commander?" he'd asked, sounding like it was the most heinous of crimes to have a sandwich for your morning meal.

Trip hadn't been able to come up with a good excuse in time, and so Phlox had discovered the truth, much to his annoyance, of course. He'd forced Trip to sit down and eat his sandwich as well as some "very healthy" muesli consisting of unidentifiable dried fruit that tasted like rubber, all the while lecturing him on how important it was for him to eat regular, nutritious meals. Trip knew, of course, that the doctor was right, and somewhere deep down felt guilty about his carelessness, but that particular morning he only wished Phlox would give it a rest.

When he left the messhall – still feeling tired and sluggish for Phlox had taken away his coffee and made him drink some fruit juice instead – his mood had reached its lowest level, and he had to grit his teeth not to snap at his crew who greeted him with worried looks and questions if everything was alright.

"I'm fine," he managed to get out in a fairly polite tone, "jus' overslept."

The concerned looks followed him all the way to the upper level, and after a while Trip couldn't stand it anymore, grabbing a microspanner and escaping to the remotest corner of the room where he busied himself with some long-due repairs on one of the Jeffries tubes. Concentrating on his work, Trip managed to forget about everything else, and he'd just started to feel a little better when Lieutenant Hess' exasperated face appeared at the end of the tube.

"Commander!" she said, sounding suspiciously like Dr. Phlox. "I told you Rostov can do those repairs on the Jeffries tubes. There's no need for you to climb around in here. You could fall and hurt yourself."

Trip needed all his self-control not to let an angry comment slip out. They mean well, he told himself firmly. They're not treating you like an incompetent half-wit on purpose.

He managed to plaster a smile onto his face. "Yeah, I know Rostov's scheduled for those repairs, but I thought I might get some of that done while I was back here anyway checkin' the stabilizers."

Trip noticed that he was all but apologizing to Hess, and sighed inwardly. If it were Malcolm running around looking like he had eaten a whole water melon at one sitting, none of the armory staff would ever dare to order their boss about, or tell him to stay away from the torpedoes so he wouldn't hurt himself. He must be doing something wrong. Or maybe it was just that menacing look he knew he would never be able to produce, no matter how hard he kept trying.

Hess shook her head, muttering something like "incorrigible", then climbed into the tube as well and reached for the microspanner. Trip, feeling that his reputation had suffered enough strain during the last few weeks, decided not to start a wrestling match with his second-in-command in one of the Jeffries tubes and let her have the spanner without offering any further resistance.

"Careful!" Hess cried out when Trip started to climb out of the tube, and immediately Ensign Kelly appeared at his side, supporting him as he lowered himself from the edge.

"How're you feeling, boss?" she asked, eyeing him concernedly as if she expected him to pass out cold any minute. "You look tired."

Trip knew he did. He was feeling tired, too, and it wasn't only the fact that he'd missed his usual cup of coffee. The simple act of climbing into and back out of the Jeffries tube had left him slightly out of breath, and even though he'd started work less than an hour ago, he felt ready to go right back to bed.

"I'm fine, Ensign." He smiled at Kelly whose doubting gaze lingered on him long enough to tell him that she didn't believe a word he was saying.

"Maybe you want to sit down for a moment and have Pam show you last week's efficiency reports," Hess called from within the tube. Kelly nodded in eager approval.

"Yeah, that'd be great, boss. There are... some minor schedule problems we need to go through."

Just how dumb do they think I am, Trip wondered, noticing from the corner of his eye how Hess gave Kelly the thumbs-up. Kelly had been taking care of schedule ever since they'd left spacedock, and she'd never before needed his help, let alone asked him to go through her reports.

"An aunt of mine used to do the same thing, y'know," he said as Kelly followed him to his desk, padds ready in hand. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. Trip grinned.

"Whenever she felt I was gettin' too hyper, she'd give me this colorin' book and tell me to go and sit down and not get up until I had colored at least two of those pictures." He took a seat behind his desk, looking up at Kelly. "Well, guess she didn't have any efficiency reports for me to go through."

Kelly had the decency to blush a little. "Now, boss, you know we'd never-"

"Yeah yeah, I know you'd never." Trip waved her off. "Well, lemme see those reports."

They spent the rest of the morning thoroughly re-working the Engineering schedule, and when Kelly finally put the last padd aside, Trip noticed that his shift was almost over. Kelly, also looking at the time, gave him one of her bright, sunny smiles.

"Well, boss, why don't you call it a day and get yourself some lunch. You look hungry."

"Ensign-" Trip began, reaching out for one of the padds, but Kelly quickly snatched it up before he could take it.

"You'd better get going, Commander. Chef made pecan pie for dessert, and if you don't hurry, there won't be any left."

She smiled at him encouragingly, all but shooing him to the door, and Trip noticed that all over the room people exchanged smiles and glances. He couldn't help but feel that there was a shipwide conspiracy going to get him out of Engineering as quickly and efficiently as possible, and he didn't like it. Bad enough that his own staff were treating him like... well, like an expectant mother, but it did seem like Phlox wasn't all that innocent either. Trip wouldn't put it past the doctor to talk to Hess and tell her to see to it that he spent most of his working time at his desk, or "supervising".

Closing the door of Engineering behind him, Trip allowed himself a moment's rest and leaned wearily against the wall. His back was aching something fierce, and again he experienced the slightly paradoxical sensation of feeling rather sick and ravenous at the same time.

He was just about to resume his way to the turbolift when he suddenly felt a small bump in his side. He knew what it was, and his hand automatically went to the bulge on his left, resting there until the feeling was gone again. Trip had never told anyone that he was starting to feel the fetus' movements now and then, not even Phlox, risking the doctor's wrath if he found out that Trip had been keeping medical details from him. He kept telling himself he wasn't telling anyone because he was embarrassed, or because they'd start asking awkward questions, but deep down inside he knew there was more to it. As humiliating and unnatural as the whole situation was, there was this one small personal thing he didn't feel like telling anyone about. Just because. A private thing he needed to share with no one, except maybe with the being that was growing between his ribs. She'd kick him, as if to say "Hey, I'm still here" and he'd react by placing a hand on his side, acknowledging her presence in a grudging yet good-natured manner. Trip knew he wouldn't be able to tell Jon, Phlox or Malcolm about it. He didn't want to. It felt right the way it was. By telling someone Trip suspected he'd lose that feeling of secret, almost guilty amusement he experienced whenever she nudged him, and to his surprise he realized he didn't want to lose it.

When he entered the messhall, the room was rather crowded, as always around lunch time. There were quite a lot of people waiting in front of the cupboards, and Trip got in line, feeling his empty stomach ache with hunger. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all, having only a sandwich and some rubber fruit for breakfast.

After he'd laden his tray with two tuna sandwiches, a serving of mixed pickles, a side salad (an allowance to the diet plan Phlox had put together) and a plate of pecan pie he started to look for a free table. He spotted one at the other end of the room, but that moment a voice called out from behind.

"Commander!"

Turning, Trip saw Hoshi and Malcolm sitting together at a table near the window. Reed was smiling in his usual reserved way while the young communications officer was grinning openly, waving at Trip and gesturing at a free chair next to her.

Trip knew Hoshi wouldn't take no for an answer, and so he turned around, carrying his tray over to her table. Hoshi smiled at him when he sat down next to her.

"Hungry?"

Trip couldn't help but answer her smile. Hoshi had a way of making people feel at ease, even when she was teasing them.

"Yeah, quite. And you know, there's nothin' like some really spicy pickles to go with pecan pie."

Hoshi snorted, and Trip saw a smile tug at Malcolm's lips. He'd realized in the meantime that there was no use in desperately trying to act like nothing had changed, like there wasn't a big round bulge protruding from his left, and Trip found that acknowledging the humorous aspects often was the best way to make his every-day life a little easier.

Gathering up one of his sandwiches, he looked at Malcolm. "How're the targetin' scanners holdin', Lieutenant?"

Malcolm's face grew rather gloomy, as always when someone mentioned the pet peeve of his life as an armory officer.

"They were running smoothly for two or three days after you'd rerouted the power grid, but right this morning they've gone out of alignment again." He sighed like a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "It's as if they were jinxed."

"Unlikely, Lieutenant," a cool voice stated from behind. They turned around to see T'Pol standing there, hands clasped behind her back and eyebrows raised in disapproval. "It is illogical to assume that magic powers are interfering with the equipment."

"I'm not," Malcolm stated indignantly, ignoring Trip's and Hoshi's grins. "It's just a saying."

T'Pol didn't seem very impressed. "At any rate, I believe I know what is causing the continuous malfunctions."

Malcolm's eyes grew bigger. "You do?"

"I believe I just told you so." T'Pol's eyebrows climbed higher on her forehead, and Trip felt sorry for Malcolm when he saw a blush creeping up the armory officer's neck. He knew Malcolm was rather intimidated by the Vulcan Subcommander's peremptory manner, and was always doing his best to avoid being on the receiving end of her cool, disapproving stares.

"So, what did you find out, Subcommander?" Trip asked, taking pity on Malcolm whose blush had reached his cheeks by now, and was rapidly engulfing his ears. T'Pol's eyes came to rest on him.

"I believe the malfunction is being caused by a slight energy flashback from the stabilizers, which are hooked up with the same power distributor. I noticed this morning when I was performing some scans that there were irregular power readings in some areas of the ship's systems. It did not take me long to discover their source."

Trip frowned. "But reroutin' the grid shoulda taken care of that."

"Not in this case, Commander," T'Pol produced a padd from behind her back. "To effectively clear the scanners' systems of any flashbacks it will be necessary to cut them off from main distribution here, here and here."

Taking another bite from his sandwich, Trip quickly skimmed through the areas T'Pol had recommended for modification. "Shouldn't take too long."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I would appreciate your assistance in this," she stated stiffly. "Perhaps you could meet me in the armory at 0800 tomorrow morning."

Trip, who hadn't missed the look of pure delight that had crossed Malcolm's face at the idea of repairing his beloved targeting scanners once and forever, picked up the padd and quickly estimated the time it would take to perform the modifications.

"Actually, why don't we go down there right after lunch and have a look at it." He looked up at T'Pol. "Shouldn't take more'n two hours, at the most."

"But you're supposed to rest, Commander," Malcolm, T'Pol and Hoshi chorused, and Trip couldn't quite decide whether to feel amused or exasperated.

"Look, I just spent the whole mornin' lookin' through Kelly's reports," he said, conveniently forgetting that only a few hours ago he'd felt ready to collapse on his bed and go right to sleep. "A little bit o' real engineerin' work is jus' what I need."

T'Pol still didn't look convinced. "Your shift ended fifteen minutes ago. As far as I know you're not supposed to work more than four hours a day."

Trip sighed. Why couldn't they give it a rest?"

"Look, I'm feelin' fine. And I bet the doc would agree with me that it is no problem if I stay on duty a little longer when I feel like it."

T'Pol regarded him with her eyebrows raised skeptically, and Trip felt a slight blush warming his face. It wasn't a lie, but to be perfectly honest, it came quite close to one. Phlox would never agree with any such thing, and Trip knew that. To his surprise, however, T'Pol didn't raise any further objections.

"Very well, Commander. I will meet you there in forty-five minutes."

Malcolm – Trip had never thought the Lieutenant capable of this expression – actually beamed with joy at the prospect of having his weapons fixed. Well, Trip thought, turning back to his lunch, now let's just hope that Phlox won't catch me, and everybody'll live happily ever after.

###

T'Pol's modifications turned out to be more work than Trip had initially assumed. They had to shut off most of the auxiliary power supplies to get to the root of the problem, and Trip spent at least thirty minutes finding a way of shielding the distributor so it wouldn't blow the whole armory to pieces while they were isolating its connections with the targeting scanners.

They worked quietly for several hours. Trip had to crouch down inside the console most of time and after a while, of course, his sore back muscles started giving him hell. He tried not to let it show, stretching and massaging his back when T'Pol wasn't looking, but it still slowed him down a lot. The fact that it was rather hot in their crammed corner wasn't helping; Trip actually considered taking off his pullover, but decided against it as he remembered how strangely lop-sided he looked when the bulge on his left wasn't covered up by a thick layer of clothing. So he tried to put up with the heat instead, and stopped from time to time to secretly wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Around this time of the day the armory was rather empty, as most of Reed's personnel had other duties to attend to throughout the ship, and the concentrated silence made Trip forget that he wasn't alone in the room, after all. T'Pol, of course, considered small talk to be illogical, and addressed him only when she needed help with her part of the repairs, but Trip found he wasn't feeling uncomfortable with her silence. After all those hours of "supervising", it felt good to get his hands on some piece of actual machinery and work without his staff hovering anxiously in the background. Trip got so engrossed that he didn't even feel the pain in his back most of the time, and registered the sound of voices talking on a more subconscious level rather than actually noticing them. Apparently some crewmen had returned to the armory, and were now checking the systems on the upper level.

Suddenly, however, some of the words being said penetrated Trip's rapt concentration. And they popped his bubble of peaceful contentment as if someone had poked him with a needle. He swallowed and closed his eyes, telling himself that there was no use in getting upset, that it was best pretending not to have heard, but there was no way he could ignore them. They were simply talking too loud.

"... and to tell the truth, I'm not really surprised, after all. Something like that was bound to happen sooner or later; don't get me wrong, but sometimes you get the impression that the guy is just plain stupid."

A muffled chuckle from the second voice. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I like him okay, but I couldn't picture Reed or the Captain being naive enough to get knocked up in some weird alien mating ritual-"

"For my part I don't believe a word of that." The first voice had taken on a slightly malicious tone. "Box of pebbles, my foot. He screwed one of those aliens, and they made up this crap about telepathic mind games so he wouldn't get in trouble."

A small pause. "Well, I guess he got into trouble, after all." Both sniggered, and Trip bit his lip, fighting the hot anger that was rising at the bottom of his stomach. Of course there would be talk like this, and there was no use in letting it get to him. Sticks and stones, he told himself, just forget about it.

Suddenly, however, there was a third voice, sharp and cutting, and Trip, crawling out from under the console, noticed in dismay that T'Pol had left her working place. He straightened up, his eyes following the direction of her voice, and his heart sank at the sight. T'Pol was on the upper level standing in front of Ensigns Barrie and Crane, both of whom were staring at her in shock, and she was talking in a low, icy tone Trip had heard her use only a few times before.

"Would you care to explain, Ensigns, what this utterly disrespectful and insolent display of insubordination I have just had the misfortune of witnessing was all about?"

As he tried to escape the Subcommander's icy stare, Ensign Barrie's eyes fell on Trip who was still standing at the foot of the ladder leading to the upper level, and his face turned even redder than before. Trip fervently wished T'Pol had never intervened in the first place; the whole situation was unpleasant enough as it was, and now that Barrie and Crane knew he had heard them, there was no way of pretending it had never happened at all.

"Well?" asked T'Pol, who still had her back to Trip, not aware that he was listening. "I am waiting for an explanation."

"Subcommander..." Barrie swallowed. "We didn't mean to... to offend anyone..."

"You did not?" T'Pol's voice sounded dangerously calm. "Not only did you accuse your senior officers of deliberately telling lies, you also spoke in a highly disrespectful tone of Commander Tucker, implying his actions on the alien ship were less than appropriate and downright irresponsible. I do not see how you can claim not meaning to offend anyone."

"Subcommander," Trip said quietly. As he had hoped, T'Pol turned around immediately. Trip met her eyes, shaking his head in an almost imperceptible gesture, and to his great relief she seemed to understand. Her voice, however, was as cold as before when she turned back to the two crewpeople.

"Ensigns, you are both relieved of duty for today. Report to your quarters immediately, and do not leave them for the rest of the shift. I will, of course, talk to Lieutenant Reed and the Captain about your behavior, and it will be up to them to decide on possible consequences." She paused for a moment, then took a small step backwards. "Dismissed."

Barrie and Crane trudged down the stairs, their faces hot and crimson. Barrie didn't look up when they passed Trip, but Crane shot him a quick sideways glance, and he could see that her eyes were bright with tears.

"Sorry, Commander," she whispered before turning away again. Trip only nodded, not knowing what else to do or say. He'd never before felt so miserable and awkward in all his time on Enterprise, not even after the disaster with the alien pollen. Watching the two ensigns leave the room, he had to bite his lip not to follow Crane's example and turn on the waterworks as well. Damn these hormones; they wouldn't even allow him to take a few nasty remarks without falling to pieces. He'd known people would talk like that and worse, so why couldn't he just shrug it off and act as if nothing had happened? It wasn't such a big deal, after all.

Noticing a movement behind him, Trip half-turned to see T'Pol coming down the stairs, her face a mixture of concern and still-present anger. Of course, her rigid features didn't express anything at all, but Trip had learned to read the emotions that sometimes showed in the Vulcan eyes. And right now they did definitely show.

"That wasn't necessary, you know." He said it very quietly, but of course T'Pol had no trouble understanding him. She raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed it was, Commander. Insubordination is a serious offense, and cannot be tolerated aboard the ship."

"But it didn't do any good." He bit his lip. "You should've ignored them. Now there's gonna be heaps of trouble, and no one'll be any the happier."

T'Pol was silent for a moment. "Commander," she said then, speaking in the quiet, measured voice that was so typical of her. "Do you suggest I ignore it when someone raises false and unjust accusations against a fellow officer?"

Trip stared at her. Only three weeks ago T'Pol had said almost the same things as Barrie and Crane, in a more refined, Vulcan way of course, and now she was showing honest anger towards people who were spreading gossip about him? He opened his mouth, meaning to ask her about it, when suddenly the door slid open again. And the sight of the person standing in the doorframe immediately took Trip's mind off everything else.

"Commander." Phlox's voice sounded deadly calm and controlled. The doctor was clearly furious. "Your shift ended more than three hours ago. Why, may I ask, are you here working on Mr. Reed's targeting scanners?"

Startled into telling the truth, Trip said the first thing that came to his mind. "I – I didn't think you'd find out, doc."

A moment later he could have kicked himself. Phlox' face was positively swelling with anger, and Trip realized his little remark had gotten him into even more trouble than he was already in. Assuming, of course, that this was possible.

"Commander," Phlox repeated slowly, and coming from him the word sounded more like a threat than a title, "do you remember our little discussion in sickbay a week ago?"

Trip nodded, staring down at his hands.

"And do you remember what I told you about your responsibilities as a parent?"

At that, Trip raised his head. The words "I'm not a parent" immediately sprang to his mind, but for some reason he kept his mouth shut.

"Well?" Phlox asked sharply, and Trip nodded again.

"I told you you were not allowed to work more than four hours a day, but you apparently decided you were the medical expert aboard this ship, and disregarded my orders despite the fact that you promised both me and the Captain not to do anything that could hurt either you or the child!" Phlox took a deep breath. "Do you know just how irresponsible that was?"

T'Pol looked at him, both her eyebrows raised so they almost disappeared under her bangs. "You told me the doctor had given you permission to extend your working time at own assessment?"

"Imagine that." Phlox came a few steps closer, his eyes glittering beadily. "And I bet you assured your colleagues that you were feeling perfectly fine, and that it was no problem at all to work a full shift. Didn't you?"

Trip didn't answer.

"Didn't you?" Phlox repeated a little louder, and suddenly Trip felt something in him snap. He'd managed to maintain control before, when Barrie and Crane had left the room, but now he'd just about had enough.

"Yes I did," he said, matching the doctor's raised tone and glare. "I did, okay? Happy now? Why can't everybody jus' give me a minute's peace without followin' me around or pokin' their noses into my business, or makin' up stories how I got into this damn fix? I didn't ask for it, okay?"

To his dismay Trip noticed that his eyes were getting blurry, and he angrily wiped the tears off. He didn't want anyone to think he was asking for pity; he just wanted them to finally leave him alone. T'Pol spoke up, talking in that deliberately calm tone she always used when things were getting too emotional for her tastes, and which never failed to drive Trip up the wall.

"There was a rather unpleasant incident concerning Ensigns Barrie and Crane. They assumed they were alone in the room, and spoke in a rude and disrespectful way of Commander Tucker and his... situation."

"You don't have to tell him," Trip snapped, and T'Pol's eyebrows climbed even higher.

"Calm yourself, Commander. There is no need to become agitated."

Trip was about to give a sharp reply when he felt Phlox' hand coming to rest on his shoulder. To his surprise Trip noticed that the anger had vanished from the doctor's face.

"Commander. You've had a pretty busy day, and I can imagine that you're feeling tired and irritated. Why don't we just go to sickbay, take a few scans, and then you can go and get some sleep. What do you say?"

Trip's first response would have been to shake Phlox' hand off, but at the same time he realized that most of the anger he felt was directed towards himself. Here he'd promised himself not to let himself go about these damn moods, and then he went and shouted at Phlox and T'Pol who were only trying to help. He took a deep breath, trying to speak in a normal voice as he answered.

"Sounds like a good idea, doc."

Phlox smiled, giving Trip's shoulder a slight squeeze before letting go. "There you go."

Following the doctor to the door, Trip threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

"Looks like we'll have to finish the repairs another time, Subcommander."

"Do not worry." T'Pol's voice was unusually soft as she answered. "Try to get some rest, Commander."

On their way to the turbolift Trip felt himself gradually becoming calmer, his upset emotions giving way to a feeling of shame. It hadn't been necessary to make such a scene, embarrassing both T'Pol and the doctor. It wasn't their fault some crewmen couldn't keep their opinions to themselves, and besides, Phlox was right to be angry at him. He'd broken his promise, pushed all other considerations out of his mind because he'd wanted to tinker around with some machinery. Casting a glance at the doctor's back, Trip thought that probably some kind of apology was in order. He sighed. Apologizing wasn't really one of his strong sides.

"Erm, doc..."

Phlox turned his head. "Yes, Commander?" he asked amiably enough. Trip cleared his throat.

"Look... I'm sorry I shouted at you. You were right about... those responsibilities, and I'm sorry I forgot."

Phlox nodded. "I'm glad you say so, Commander. It is crucial that you understand the importance of my medical orders, both to your health and the health of the child. And I understand this condition demands a lot of strength, physically and emotionally. So don't worry about getting a little emotional from time to time. It is to be expected."

Trip nodded. "No hard feelings, doc?"

Phlox smiled. "No hard feelings." Trip grinned with relief, but right that moment Phlox turned around again, and his face was dead serious as he spoke.

"I will, of course, confer with the Captain as to what disciplinary measure he thinks appropriate for your disobedience to my medical orders. Don't think you can get away with it, Commander."

Trip sighed. Yeah, definitely one of those days.

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