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Immune - Chapter 2

Author - Trinneergirl
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Immune

by Trinneergirl

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

Chapter Two

Riding the turbo-lift to Engineering, Jonathan Archer was more angry than he could remember being for a long time. That most of his ire against Trip was irrational, didn't occur to him at first. But as he exited the turbo-lift and started to walk along Enterprise’s gunmetal grey corridors, the boiling rage cooled. Trip did have the right to take his Command exams without telling his Captain. He had earned the rank. It was the betrayal that hurt Jon the most. He and Trip had never kept secrets. Why hadn't the Commander told him what he meant to do? Jon could think of no reason and, in typical fashion, decided to have it out with his friend here and now. He opened the large metal door to the engineering section and entered, closing the portal behind him.

In front of him was the hub of Enterprise. The warp-five engine that Henry Archer had conceived and worked upon and which Trip had finished after Jon's father passed away. The huge engine, ovoid in cross-section, took up most of the space in the mighty room. Walkways and ladders took up most of the rest. Various engineering staff, their coveralls piped with red, tended this monster with wary affection. Like drones around a benign despot. All the benefits came from this thing, but it could kill them all, if it wished. It thrummed and throbbed like a thing alive.

Archer swept his eyes around the room, easily seeking the man he'd come to confront. It wasn't that Trip was tall, in fact he was just a shade under Archer's six foot one, but the Chief Engineer always stood out in a crowd. Trip's dirty-blond hair shone like a beacon under the lights. Skin just touched with a light tan, despite always being cooped up in space, was golden. The Commander's eyes were by far his most spectacular feature. The widely spaced, deep-set, gunfighter's eyes were of a cerulean blue. They were so deep in hue, so brilliant, that often you sank into the intense colour when you were talking to him to the exclusion of everything else.

Those dark-blue eyes were also startlingly intelligent, as was the brain behind them. Trip did a lot to hide this, cultivating his Southern US birthright into a country-boy persona that made many people underestimate him. But it wasn't only the beautiful eyes that made Trip stand out. There really was no two ways about it, Charles Tucker III was staggeringly lovely. From his handsome, expressive face, down through his long, slender neck, broad shoulders and chest, long, muscular arms, narrow waist, and hips, long, long, shapely legs, and narrow, sensitive hands and feet, Trip was gorgeous.

Marrianne Tucker, Trip's Mom, had decided that her boys were going to grow up with a Southern gentleman's accomplishments. Trip had excellent manners and because, in Marrianne's opinion, any true gentleman should be able to dance as well as he could do sports or roustabout, her sons were sent to a dancing class as soon as they could walk. The legacy of this was that Trip, as well as being the lithe dancer his Mom demanded, was just about the most graceful being Archer had ever seen. Keeping himself in peak fitness, Trip was in total control of every fibre of his body.

Not sure whether anger or grief was the emotion uppermost within him, Archer walked over to his second command officer. Through his long lashes, Trip had seen Captain Archer arrive. The younger man had been waiting for him to come, knowing all too well that the decisions he had made would have far-reaching consequences. He looked up to see the powerful, almost predatory, approach. Archer was tall, slim, and long-limbed, like Trip, but Jon was built on stronger lines and every inch of him screamed Alpha Male. The strong face, framed by sandy-coloured hair, with its high cheekbones and strong jaw was, if not as stunningly so as Trip's, as handsome as it was determined and that visage was pretty damned determined. The hazel eyes, which changed colour according to mood, were as steady, intelligent, and guarded as their owner. Command shone from Archer, his ability to inspire confidence in his crew a part of his immense self-confidence in his own ability. Not that Jon was arrogant, in fact he was occasionally susceptible to fits of conscience, guilt, and angst, which Trip knew how to encounter to pull his Captain back from.

Trip studied the eyes as Jon stopped in front of him. Moss green, shot through with glints of gold and as cold and deadly as ice. That meant that Archer was angry. Judging by the tightness around the lips, very angry. The gimlet gaze swept across the front of Trip's uniform and the young Chief Engineer felt like the three squares and the new, round pip were burning into the right side of his chest like a fire brand.

"Good Morning, Commander," Jon said pleasantly, just the faintest accent on the rank he now held.

Trip's heart sank and he swallowed in trepidation. He knew that affable tone only too well. He had chosen to do what he had done with his blue eyes wide open, but there was a real and genuine chance he wouldn't get out of this conversation alive.

"Mornin', sir," he responded neutrally. Archer gave one slight backward movement of his head, turned, and walked away. Trip sighed, handed his diagnostic PADD to Lieutenant Hess with a rueful look and followed his Captain out of Engineering.

Archer made Trip trail behind him all the way through the ship. When they reached the Captain's ready room and entered, Jon said, very quietly, "Stand to attention."

Trip did as he was ordered. Archer never even looked to see if his command had been heard or heeded. He sat and began to review all the data accumulated on his away mission with T'Pol. He just left Trip standing, ramrod straight. Commander Tucker hated this kind of ritual humiliation and of course Archer knew that. Trip waited, feeling the collar of his black undershirt seem to tighten round his dry throat, aware of the sweat breaking out in the small of his back. He understood that by coming to take him from his own area of command and bringing him back here to the ready room, Archer had deliberately made Trip know who was boss here. The prolonged wait, standing at attention, only reconfirmed the hierarchy. It was working. Obliged to follow Jon's orders, Trip's only choice was to stand there, waiting for the storm to break.

Given the option, Trip would have been pacing up and down, clenching and unclenching his long-fingered hands, occasionally raising one slender finger to nervously bite the cuticle around the nail. But the only options here were Jon's and Trip's only choice was to obey.

Finally, after an hour and fifteen minutes, Archer finished with his data clip and ejected it. He stood and walked passed Trip, picking up a storage box from the top of a filing cabinet and placing the clip in there.

"At ease, Commander," he ordered in a soft voice that ran shivers down Trip's spine. The younger man stood, feet the regulation hip distance apart, back straight, and head high, arms clasped lightly behind his back. Jon stood behind his Chief Engineer, going through the data clips. Trip could hear the sounds, but couldn't identify them and had to stand head up, eyes ahead, while they went on behind him. After seventy-five minutes of soul-destroying silence, this really was awful. Jon had a nice line in mental torture, Trip knew, but it had been a long time since he had done anything bad enough to piss Jon into using that expertise on him.

Archer replaced the chips on the metal filing cabinet, moved to sit back down at his desk and, leaning back in his chair, he scrutinised the face of his officer. Trip swallowed and surreptitiously licked his parched lips. Another long, long moment, then Archer spoke again.

"So, Trip. What gives?" he asked in the same, dulcet tones he'd used before. Not knowing what exactly Jon wanted him to say, Trip feigned ignorance.

"Sir?" he asked.

"When were you planning to tell me about your promotion?" Archer snapped.

"I... I don't know." Trip replied in his soft Southern US accent. "To tell you the truth I didn't think you'd be that interested, sir." Whatever Jon expected to hear it wasn't that. He blinked, taken aback.

"Sit down, Trip," he said in a much milder tone, the pain and hurt in his expression obvious. Trip took the proffered chair, loosely clasping his hands on the desk between them. "What are you talking about?" Jon almost pleaded. "Trip, we've been friends for nearly a decade. Of course I'm interested. I couldn't be happier for you, Commander Charles Tucker III. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me?"

"I did tell you," Trip revealed. "Three months ago. I'd just finished upgrading all the biofilter systems and I said to you, 'Captain, I've been thinking about taking my Command exams.' As I recall, you said, 'Maybe in a couple of years, Trip.' I've been ready to take my command exams for nearly four years and you know it," Trip broke off and took a deep breath to try to control his temper.

Archer did know it. He'd been preoccupied that day. He'd meant to talk about it to Trip later, but hadn't.

"Trip... I...," he began.

"You used to have respect for me, sir," Trip accused. "When this mission started you wanted me as your first officer. I had to stay a Lieutenant Commander to take that job on. So I agreed. Then T'Pol comes on board. 'Four days there and four days back.' You told me. 'Eight days, Trip and she'll be gone.' When you asked her to stay and pushed me down to be second officer, I didn't argue." The Chief Engineer shrugged. "Perhaps I should have. But I trusted your judgement. You promised to keep me in the loop. And I guess for a while you did. Then all I know his how you and T'Pol have made the decision and I'm shut out. You and T'Pol have gone on an away mission and I'm not worthy to be told why. No explanation, no reasons. I didn't know what I'd done wrong! But when I told you I was considering my Command exam, I finally figured it out." Jon was no further towards understanding his Chief Engineer's problem.

"Figured what out, Trip?" he asked, genuinely bewildered. Trip looked down at his hands, silent. "You have my permission to speak freely, Commander." The eyes that met his were ice-on-fire. Whatever it was that was worrying Trip, it went deep.

"I figured that working on the bridge with T'Pol would bring you closer. I figured that she would garner more of your confidence as time went on. I..." Archer blinked in surprise at the sudden, glittering tears in Trip's eyes. "I just never factored in that she would be able to persuade you over time that I wasn't good enough to be here on Enterprise." For a moment Archer wondered if Trip was suffering from some kind of persecution mania. But he had a terrible sinking feeling that the brilliant, emotional Trip had taken time and thought over what he was saying here.

"Go on," Jon encouraged.

"First it's you, me, and T'Pol," Trip continued. "She's pouring cold water on everything we're out here to do and you turn to me near every time for support. We talk in your quarters, you come to me on the Bridge for reaffirmation talks. I tried to be there for you every moment you needed me. Then, over time, all you wanna do is talk to T'Pol. I give you my opinion, it's just not as good as hers." The expressive brows raised. "I can't remember the last time you even wanted my opinion." Trip's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I tried to understand, Captain. She's with you much more, she's had all the experience and I have none. Sometimes when you make new friends the old ones... fall away. But I figured you'd always at least respect what I do." Trip looked the picture of misery.

"Trip. I do respect both you and what you do," Archer asserted. Trip angrily dashed a tear away from his cheek and gave a mirthless laugh.

"Right," he responded, sarcastically. "That's why you and Sub-Commander T'Pol decide between you to alter the Engineering personnel rosters, the repair schedules, and the shift patterns and I get to find out from Lieutenant Hess, with whom T'Pol has had a meeting." Trip slammed his clasped hands onto the table, once and stood, his anger obvious. He turned to face Archer. "Don't you think it would have been a good idea to tell your CHIEF ENGINEER!" Nothing was going to stop the volcano of Trip's anger now. "I have to find out that MY department is getting changed over my head, behind my back, by one of my lieutenants? How, exactly, does that make me look in front of my own staff? It was humiliating, sir! Second Command officer on board this ship and it's made blindingly obvious to everybody that I'm worth so little, in the Captain's eyes, that I can be cut out of the loop in my OWN DEPARTMENT!"

Like a light through the fog, Jon remembered what had happened. He had scheduled a meeting with Trip, which had to be cancelled when Trip had been lost on an away mission. The young man had managed to free himself from the aliens who had captured him, but he'd been seriously injured in the process. Archer had told T'Pol to put the new engineering department directives to work with Lieutenant Hess while Trip was gone. When he'd returned from bringing Trip back from the planet surface all thoughts of engineering upgrades had gone clean out of his head. Trip was so badly hurt the Captain had thought his friend would die. As usual Phlox had worked miracles and Trip's own propensity to bounce back meant he was up and on duty in no time. Archer was relieved beyond measure seeing his dauntless, always positive friend back and well. But the engineering upgrades hadn't ever popped back into his mind, so he'd never had that meeting with Trip. Seeing, hearing how it looked from Trip's angle made Jon ache for his friend.

Archer stood and went to Trip, who had moved over to the window, everything about his averted stance raw hurt. Archer explained the circumstances of the error and apologised.

"If only you hadn't been captured on Terrisan, none of this would have happened," he finished.

"I wasn't captured," Trip refuted calmly. "I was shot in the back and you left me behind." This struck a raw nerve in Jon. It was about the most painful decision of his life.

"Trip, you know we had to get Katara back to her people to avert the war."

"Would you have left T'Pol there?" Trip asked, his blue eyes fixed on the Captain. "Left her to the mercy of the Terrisians?" Archer couldn't answer. Trip waited for a long moment, then nodded as if confirming something to himself. "Didn't think so." He turned his gaze back to the warping starfield. After a while the gentle Southern US accent sounded again.

"So, like I said, I figured it out. Finally. You didn't want me to take my Command exams because if I passed I would outrank your precious Vulcan. That's when I realised you didn't think I was worthy to be your first officer. Not anymore. My efficiency statistics have gone up every month for the time I've been on board. I'm 98.2 if you care to look. In the same length of time the efficiency rating you and T'Pol have given me has gone from excellent, through very good and is now down to good." The pain-filled eyes fixed on Jon again. "When you persuaded Admiral Forrest to make me Enterprise Chief Engineer, you called me brilliant. Now I'm just above average. Maybe I should transfer out of here before I fall below the threshold."

For the life of him, Jon hadn't known that! He'd given T'Pol the task of giving crew ratings. 98.2 in efficiency statistics and she'd rated his performance as just good? What the Hell? Then Trip's final words hit him straight through in shock as they and their importance sank in.

"You want to leave Enterprise?" he asked, his voice catching as he tried to contemplate doing this job without the best friend he was fast realising he had taken completely for granted.

"Not want to, no," Trip replied. "If I get the rating I'm getting now, Starfleet will remove me as Chief Engineer. If you think, after all I've had to do to get this far, that I'll work supervised under Hess, you can damn well think again. Hess is a good engineer, but I'm the best in Starfleet by a country mile and you know it. I won't stay for that. I have to get out before the only job I can get in space is cleaning toilets in a cargo ship. We're set to rendezvous with a Vulcan ship in a month. Just tell me what you want me to do, sir. If nothing improves here, I'm gone."

"How do you want things to change?" Jon asked. "Please, tell me, Trip. How can I make this better?" Trip shrugged.

"I guess you have to discuss that with your first officer," he replied.

Archer wanted to be angry. To convince himself that Trip was trying to blackmail him. But he couldn't. He himself had let the situation here get so way out of hand that Trip had no choice but to do this. Commander Charles Tucker III was fighting for his career, his professional respect, his life here. Archer nodded.

"You'd let the Vulcans take you back to Earth?" he questioned.

"I wouldn't be going back to Earth," Trip replied. "I've sounded out the Science Directorate and they are willing to take me into their starship programme there on Vulcan." Archer was beginning to wonder if the surprises Trip had in store for him today would ever cease.

"Would Starfleet let the co-builder of the first human warp five engine go to Vulcan?" he asked. Trip smiled thinly, his ocean-blue eyes absolutely certain about their decision.

"It won't be their choice. Captain, if I leave Enterprise, I leave Starfleet."


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