Missing Scene: North Star

Chapter 1

Author's Note:   I always wondered what T'Pol would say to Malcolm about shooting her at the end of the episode, "North Star."  Here's my answer. As usual, I couldn't leave well enough alone, so I added a bit more to the story. I do hope it meets with your approval. Thanks to jT  as usual. She is a doll.

"Storm coming," said Trip

"Who will it hit?" asked Malcolm.

""Well, she is glaring at you," said Trip

"Oh, oh."

"What did you do Mal?"

T'Pol walked up to the table and sat down. That was unusual as she always asked if she could join them before sitting down.

"You shot me, Lt. Reed," She said.

"I had to," said Reed.

"You shot her?" said Trip.

"Yes, he did," snapped T'Pol.

"Why?" asked Trip.

"Well you see, this guy had her with his arm around her shoulders and a phaser to her head. He said that he would shoot her if anyone tried anything, or something like that."

"So you shot T'POL?" asked Trip.

"Yes, it was the only way I could think of to stop him," said Malcolm.

""Where was Archer? He usually finds a way to save the day," said Trip.

"'I have no idea," said Malcolm.

"What happened after you shot her?" asked Trip

"He looked stunned," said Malcom.

"What did you do then?"

"Well, I shrugged and shot him."

"Certainly, you could have found another way than shooting me," said T'Pol.

"What did you do then, Mal?" asked Trip.

"I took her back to Enterprise and into sickbay."

"That was considerate of you," said T'Pol, although her tone did not seem to agree with her words.

Trip started to giggle

"What is so amusing about me being shot, Commander?"

"It sounds like a cliché," said Trip.

"Cliché?" asked T'Pol.

"Yeah, in a lot of movies and TV shows of mid-19th century. This scenario was used so much, it became a cliché. There would be a bad guy who had the female lead that way, and he would shout, 'No one move or she dies!'"

"How would this be resolved?" asked T'Pol.

"Oh there might be somebody to the side who would shoot the guy, or someone would walk in, grab the villain's gun hand and wrestle with him. The girl would get away and the bad guy would be subdued. Sometimes the bad guy would drag the girl to the hall, let her go, and run away."

"Why did he let her go?" asked Malcom.

"Guess that's the way the writers wanted it," said Trip.

"This does not excuse you shooting me," said T'Pol. "Why weren't you on the surface, Commander? You might have helped Lt. Reed."

"Cap'n ordered me to stay on the ship," Trip answered. "Why were you on the surface? I would think that the Captain would have taken some security guys and a few MAACOs in case of a fire fight."

"He wanted me on the surface," said T'Pol.

"You know those guys were shooting metal projectiles at you and him. The both of you could have been killed, and then I would be in a mess," said Trip.

"You? How?" asked T'Pol.

"Well, with both of you dead, I would have to come down to the surface, take care of matters, and then bring your bodies back to Enterprise. Though, I don't know what I could do with them other then launch them towards the nearest Sun. Then I would have to complete the mission. I would have been "busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest."

"That scenario is illogical and impossible," said T'Pol

"Improbable, I guess," said Trip.

They had been focusing on one another, and T'pol looked around. No Malcolm.

"Where is Lt Reed?" asked T'Pol.

"Guess he thinks that discretion is the better part of valor."

"What does that mean?"

"That he disappears until you cool off."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then: "So you were explaining about clichés," she prompted.

"Oh yeah. One guy uses a certain plot device, another picks it up, others do too, and soon it is done all of the time, until it becomes a cliché."

"Oh, is that the only one?"

"No, there's a lot more."

"Such as?"

"Oh, the interruption."

"Interruption?"

"Yes, a guy and gal are about to say what they really feel about one another, and the telephone rings or the door bell. That interrupts them, and they don't get back to their discussion until the end of the Show. Sometimes other things interrupt, but it is the interruption that counts. It always is when something important is going to be said or to happen."

"And this occurred often?"

"In just about all the films in the late 30's and early 1940's."

"And there are more such clichés?"

"Yes, there is the misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?"

"Yeah, a guy really likes a girl, and he thinks that she likes him. He goes to say so, and she is talking to his best friend in a very friendly manner. He thinks that she likes the best friend better, so he wants to stay away from her so he won't bother them. She likes him and wonders why he is avoiding her. She keeps asking his best friend about it. The guy has decided that he wants to tell her anyway, and comes up to see her talking to the best friend again. He then thinks that she is in love with the best friend. It is always finally cleared up in the end, and the guy and girl go off together. Best friend reveals he is engaged to another girl anyway."

"I supppose that could possibly happen."

"There are some others like "the car won't start." But it would take too long to describe to you. However, if you are interested, I have a large monitor on my computer, and I can get Hoshi to arrange to have some old films or TV shows sent to it. We could watch them. I could get some popcorn, or even better, I can get chef to make us a nice dinner with pecan pie for desert. What do you say? Popcorn or dinner?"

"To see cliches?"

"Yes, you will love them. I promise."

"I would prefer dinner to popcorn."

"I can get Chef to fix one of your favorite meals."

"How long would this take?"

"Well, you come to dinner at six, and after dinner, we watch the films and shows from seven until, oh say, eleven. That will give us time to watch some complete scenes."

T'Pol hesitated. Finally: "It is agreeable."

"Good, I will see you at six. I will have Chef set us a table in my quarters, and we can serve ourselves. Then you can sit in the easy chair, and I will pull up my desk chair next to you to answer any questions you might have."

"Thank you Commander, I look forward to it. I will learn a bit more about humanity this way."

And I will learn more about a beautiful Vulcan, thought Trip.

Trip walked out of the dining hall and hurried to his quarters. He went to his stash of bourbon.

He drank Archer's booze when they watched water polo, but he hoarded his bourbon.

"He picked out a bottle of 20-year-old sour mash bourbon. He left his cabin and walked to the galley.

He showed Chef the bottle.

"Who do I have to kill to get that?" asked Chef.

"I want you to make a special dinner for a special friend," said Trip

"OH, what friend?"

"Commander T'Pol."

"I guess I can get some fresh vegetables from the hydroponics deck, but it will cost you."

"What?"

"A pint of that stuff you have in that bottle."

"Shit, okay."

"I will make a cold cucumber soup and a large salad with lettuce, tomato, cucumber, radish, and carrot."

"Pecan pie for desert too."

"All right. What do you want to eat?"

"Some ravioli stuffed with vegetable and some of the soup and a small salad."

"Done."

"Have it in my quarters a bit before six and HOT. Have a table put up and chairs."

"What about a steward?"

"No, we can serve ourselves."

"It will be ready just before six then."

Trip handed him the bottle. "Don't start drinking until you have finished what I asked for. I don't want you blotto."

"I won't."

Trip left the galley, got into the lift, and got out on the Communications Center floor. He walked in and saw Hoshi.

"Hoshi, I need a favor."

"What kind?" she asked.

"I need you to have some TV shows and one horror movie sent to my computer in my quarters."

"We can do that. Why those?"

"Going to show a friend some clichés."

"Friend? What friend"

"T'Pol."

"So you're good friends?"

"We might be after tonight."

"We may not be able to get those after all."

"You just said it would be easy."

"That was before I heard about the friend."

"How does that change things?"

"What is in it for me? Since you stand to profit from this, I should get a little something too."

"Hoshi, you're extorting me?"

"NO, of course not. Just looking out for my interests."

"HOSHI!"

Hoshi smiled. "Gotcha. I will have those things sent down to you as soon as we can get them gathered."

"Can you have them by six tonight?"

"Sure, piece of cake."

"Thanks, I owe you."

"Remember that."

It was an elated Trip who waited in his quarters for T'Pol to arrive. Dinner was on the table. All that was needed was T'Pol.

The door chime rang.

Trip answered the door and T'Pol entered his quarters. She was dressed in a Vulcan robe. She looked radiant.

"You are very lovely tonight, T'Pol"

"Thank you, Commander"

"We should have dinner while it is hot," said Trip

He led her to the table. Against the wall, Chef had put a long cart with serving dishes containing dinner. In front of that was a table and two chairs.

Trip pulled out T'Pol's chair, slid in under her when she sat. T'Pol raised herself a bit and pulled the chair forward a little. Trip sat down across from her.

Chef had gone all out. There were cloth napkins in rings. Trip noticed the service was very good, dished Archer might use to entertain a visiting Admiral. Well, it was Chef's ass not his.

Trip looked at the cart. Below the top was a shelf containing the soup bowls, salad bowls, plates, and dessert plates-two of each.

He took out a soup bowl, lifted the lid from the tureen. Trip stir the soup before ladling out a generous serving for T'Pol and himself. He picked up the soup spoon and took a mouthful of Soup. He watched as T'Pol did the same to see her reaction.

She looked at him.

"Cold Cumber Soup."

"It is delicious. Why doesn't Chef serve it in the Captain's mess?"

"Maybe Archer doesn't like it."

Trip watched as T'Pol consumed her bowl. He ate steadily too. When she finished he said: "There is enough for us to split and have a little more."

"Please," she said holding out her bowl.

Trip gave T'Pol the major portion of the remaining soup and himself the rest.

Trip looked at T'Pol while she ate. She ate daintily. She was so beautiful when her face was in repose like this. He drank in her beauty like a starving man.

She is Intelligent, exotic, beautiful, and desirable. The kind of woman you always see on the arm of a powerful man. She is not for me. I am just a glorified mechanic.

She has pointed ears, unusual eyebrows, green blood, light bronze skin ... and is the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

After they finished their Soup, Trip put the dishes on the bottom shelf and took out the salad bowl for T'Pol.

"Can you hold the bowl while I put Salad in it?"

"Of course."

Trip filled her bowl and his small plate.

"What is that odor?" asked T'Pol

"Smells like Italian dressing."

"I always have salad without anything on it. I wasn't aware that Humans put something on their Salads"

"Try it. I think you'll like it."

T'Pol took a tentative bite. It has a different flavor"

"Yes, vinegar, oil, and spices."

"I must ask Chef for some in future."

"There are other dressings too: Russian, French, Caesar, ranch, blue cheese."

"So many?"

"Yup, I think you would like some of the others too. Tell you what, I will ask Chef to give me a small salad every evening in the Captain's mess and ask him for a selection of dressings. You can sample them then."

"That is agreeable"

Trip took out a plate, lifted the lid off his ravioli and took a portion. Not too large, he thought, Don't want her to think I am hungry hog.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Ravioli pasta stuffed with vegetables in a tomato sauce. Would you care to try a little?"

T'Pol looked dubious but then said, "I should taste as many Human dishes as I can this evening."

"Good." Trip took the other plate, put a small portion on it, and handed the plate to T'Pol. She took a sip of carbonated water to cleanse her palate and took a bite as he watched. A look of surprise came over her face.

Well, well. You can show an expression. You just have to be surprised, Trip thought.

"It is savory."

"Yeah. A pasta is made of flour and water and there are mixed vegetables in each one. The Tomato sauce gives it the savory flavor."

As Trip ate, he watched T'Pol. She concentrated on the ravioli, finishing the plate, and then turned again to her salad. In a minute she asked, "May have some more of the Ravioli if there is enough left for both of us."

"Certainly," Trip took her proffered plate and put a very generous portion of ravioli on it without protest from T'Pol

As T'Pol was finishing her ravioli, Trip said: "Save some room for the pecan pie"

"Pecan Pie?"

"Desert, with tea and coffee."

"Of course. I will remember that."

They finished the meal. Trip cleared the dishes, took two desert plates and the pecan pie, put them on the table. The Pie had a pie Server next to it. Chef had sliced the pie in to eight wedges. Trip put a slice on each plate. He then took out the cups and saucers and poured tea for her and coffee for him. He found the sugar bowl. It had a small pair of tongs clipped to it. There were cubes in the bowl. He put in two. He wanted to say, "Just as I like my women: hot and sweet," but thought better of it.

They ate their pie, and then Trip said, "Might as well sit and enjoy our tea and coffee."

T'Pol looked around the room. "That thing on the shelf," she said pointing to his diving Helmet.

"Hard hat diving helmet. Used to be scuba gear divers wore a rubber suit, iron shoes, a belt with lead weights and that helmet. They got their oxygen from above through a hose attached to the helmet. Also a radio was attached. It wasn't easy walking in that outfit, but that was all they had.

"Scuba?"

"Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus. Comes from old U.S. Navy jargon."

"Have you ever used this breathing apparatus?"

"Scuba lots of times, but never a hard hat."

"Why do you keep one then?"

"I like it."

"Do you have any other artifacts from Earth in your quarters?"

Trip hesitated, "Just a minute. Stay sat down I will be back in a sec."

He went in to his bedroom, opened a drawer and took out something. He walked back to the table and sat down. He had a knife inside a scabbard in his hand.

"Bowie Knife. Eighteen inches long. Thirteen inches of blade and five inches of haft." He took out the knife. The blade shone in the light.

T'Pol looked at it. Strange it has a beauty to it.

"Yes, it is beautiful. This is just a replica. The real one is back on Earth with my family. My oldest brother was supposed to get it from my great uncle when he died, but he didn't want it so I got it. The blade of the real one is supposed to be made of Damascus steel. This one is made of the finest metal alloys available today."

"May I see it?" asked T'Pol

Trip handed it to her. "Careful it has a Hell of an edge. Very sharp. Watch the top front four inches."

"What is that on top it is a different color metal?"

"Brass, soft metal. Meant to catch and hold an opponent's blade."

"Do you fight with this knife?"

"Well, actually it is very good to have in the wilderness, for skinning an animal for meat. Cutting wood, branches, things like that. But yes it can be used for fighting. I heard of a mountain man fighting and killing a full grown grizzly with one of these. He was pretty torn up himself though."

"But would you fight another Human with one of these?"

"If I had to defend myself, yes."

"Why do you want one here?"

"Actually I want two. I plan to get a belt made for away missions . . . with a holster for a phaser and one of these attached to the belt. It would come in handy if I was ever stranded on a strange planet. I plan to fix the haft so you twist off the top and there is a compass, Screw off the compass and inside the haft will be a stone to home the blade. Also fish hooks and a long line that could be used to snare small animals."

"That would be logical."

"Well at lest it would give me a chance if I was stuck on a planet"

T'Pol was turning the knife admiring it.

"Would you like one of those too?"

Trip could tell by her eyes that she wouldn't want one to kill with, but she might want to wear one with her uniform.

"Why two?"

"The other one, I would keep one in my quarters. If we are ever boarded a Phaser and one of these could make a hell of a difference."

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

"Yes, purely for defense."

T'Pol handed back the knife.

Guess what you are going to get for Christmas? Two of these and I will teach you how to use them. If any MAACO or Security guy tries to teach you first, he is going to be scrubbing deck plates for the rest of the mission, thought Trip

Trip took the knife, put it back in to its sheath. "Just a minute," he said

When Trip returned he commed the galley. "Can you have three stewards come right away to pick up the cart and the table and chairs?"

"Yes, sir," came the answer. "Right away."

A few minutes later the door chime rang. T'Pol said, "Excuse me," and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Smart woman. She doesn't want the stewards to know who I am having dinner with, thought Trip. He opened the door to his bedroom so the stewards could look in there too. "Come in," he said.

The stewards entered, they looked around as they put the chairs on top of the table. They carried the table and pushed the cart out of the door, which Trip closed. He knocked on the bathroom door. "They are gone."

T'Pol came out of the bathroom.

"Let me put the easy chair and my desk chair side by side, and we can look at the clichés I promised you. I can answer any questions you may have."

They watched the clichés that Trip had bookmarked ahead of time, so they wouldn't have to sit through entire shows. T'Pol made comments and asked questions. It was nearly eleven when they finished. T'Pol was in the easy chair. She was leaning against the back, completely relaxed. Trip was leaning toward her from his desk chair. She was looking up at him.

"When you showed me the cliché "the car won't start," why is it that the car wouldn't start when the villain was about to capture the woman, but afterward the hero rescued her, her car started right up?"

"That is the way it was in those horror films then."

"The interruptions and the misunderstanding could be possible, but they seem difficult to believe."

"Think about it. Have you ever been interrupted that way?"

"I shall have to meditate on that."

Trip wanted more than anything to take her in his arms. She was so appealing the way she was leaning against the back of the chair so relaxed.

T'Pol stood. "I must go. It is late, and you need to sleep."

"No, I don't need that much sleep, honest."

T'Pol walked to the door, turned and said, "I understand that it is polite to return a gesture like this invitation tonight. Perhaps I can have Chef prepare a typical Vulcan meal and you might select a film to view. Next Saturday night?"

"Not sure Chef will do that without some encouragement."

"Encouragement?"

Trip knew he was blushing. "I wanted the dinner tonight to be very special for you, so I bribed Chef with a bottle of my best hooch."

"Hooch?"

"Yes, My best Bourbon. You might need something equally valuable."

"I am afraid I do not have anything like that. Not even Vulcan Ale."

"You can have a bottle of my Bourbon. It will be for a good cause."

"You will do that for me?"

"Sure will. I can bring the bottle to you a few days before you need to give it to chef."

"Then it is agreed. Thank you."

Trip knew he could totally kill everything great about the night if he did what he was thinking, but the words slipped out anyway: "There is an old Earth tradition. If a guy shows a girl a good evening, and she is really enjoying herself, she might show her appreciation by kissing him good night."

"A tradition?"

"Yes a very old one."

"I would not want to violate tradition," said T'Pol stepping near Trip.

Trip threw caution to the winds. Might have to kiss tomorrow goodbye as well, but I am going to kiss her right now.  He took her in his arms, lowered his head, and pressed his lips against hers.

She responded. It was a long tender kiss. They broke as if by mutual agreement. Trip continued to hold her.

"Did that honor tradition?" asked T'Pol.

"Yes," breathed Trip. His head swirled, but he was in heaven.

T'Pol touched his arms and he dropped them away from her.

"Then I must say good night. Next Saturday?"

"It's a date."

She left, and Trip walked into walls on his way to the bedroom. He stripped, put on his pajama bottoms and went to bed. His dreams were the best he ever had.

Finis