Seleya Hills 90210

Episode Two: Fix it with a Hammer

A/N: If you're interested in seeing/hearing what I had in mind for the music performed during the crew party, go on a youtube and search for the following songs performed by a band called "Schiehallion": "Donald McGillivray", "Battle of the Prestonpans", "For These Are My Mountains".

Trip woke up to the feeling of a dozen plasma relays blowing up in his head. Noticing the absence of wife in his arms, he rolled over to rectify that situation. He should have remembered that he had crashed on Jon's couch last night, but since he didn't, he face-planted on the cold floor when he fell off the sofa with a loud thud.

Of course, such misadventure would not be complete without being seen in such an undignified position, so luck had it that just in that very moment Jon trundled by on his way to the bathroom.

"You running for Pope?" he quipped nonchalantly. "Certainly got the floor kiss covered."

"Funny... very funny," Trip groaned, trying to wrestle his wobbly legs into obedience. "How long have I been out?"

"A good 12 hours," Jon noted. "Prepare for a lecture from your wife for working 36 hours again. Look at the bright side, though. You were out after the first few ales. You're probably the only one of us who has his head on straight today."

"Doesn't feel like it yet," Trip muttered. "Feels like someone stuffed a dead possum in my mouth."

"The morning breath from hell," Jon said, disappearing into the bath room.

=/\=

"News from Gardner?" Trip pointed at the PADD in Jon's hand as he came out of the bathroom after a shower and a change of uniform, activities which made him feel like a member of humanity again.

"No; Marital orders," Jon replied with a head-shake, pouring Trip a coffee. "We are to leave the quarters in pristine condition and I'm ordered to make sure that you put your uniform in the laundry basket instead of leaving it on the floor again."

"You mean to say T'Pau was not happy that we left your home looking like a battle field last time?" Trip asked with a sarcastic tone.

"Yeah," Jon agreed equally amused. "A little tactical alarm is really no reason to skip the cleaning up part, is it?"

"Can't really imagine yet how it's gonna be to remain dirt-side," Trip said, while sipping his coffee. "I think I'm gonna miss the life we've been having the last 15 years."

"You'll miss being shot at?" Jon asked with an incredulous look.

"Maybe not that. But... I can't see myself being the type for living in a house in a fancy neighborhood as a doting hubby."

"What's going to change?" Jon asked. "We all will have our jobs, our kids will continue to wreak havoc, and we sure as hell won't give up our weekly beer bash. And you will continue fiddling with your engines."

"That isn't decided yet," Trip said.

"It is," Jon disagreed. "I wanted to wait for the daily briefing, but I can tell you that you'll be head of the Constitution class project, Captain."

Trip's eyes went wide and his grin threatened to break Phlox's standing record. "I'll be damned!"

=/\=

T'Pol took a look at the bridge crew once Captain Archer left her in charge after the daily briefing. Commander Reed was working on his tactical station, and she knew it was mainly diagnostic work. Enterprise had been in Federation space for several days. The tactical alarm seven days ago had been the last time that his expertise was needed. For an officer with his expertise and distinction the rather repetitive tasks while flying in friendly space must have been challenging his patience, but fortuitously his wife Talas 'kept him on his toes', as Trip would describe it.

Trip himself was seated at the Engineering console keeping an eye on the various read-outs. Although T’Pol did not approve of the overly long work shift that had left him almost two days without sleep, she had decided against berating him. He had spent the last 15 years caring for the mechanical device, and although Enterprise was the oldest of all the surviving NX-class ships, it was by far the fastest of them, an achievement that was mostly her husband's work. Probably sensing her mental ramblings, he shot her a grateful look.

Her look fell on Hoshi. Not for the first time she noticed the longing glances that were exchanged between her and her husband, Lieutenant Mayweather. She found it somewhat strange that two people who were married and shared quarters would look at each other as if they had been separated for a long period of time. Even after 15 years living with Humans, she still found new and unknown nuances in their behaviour. Confronted with the strange looks between the two lieutenants, she decided that a mental consultation was needed, even though she had agreed with her husband to keep 'bond-speak' – as Trip called it – to a minimum during duty hours.

Husband. I need your help.

Startled by the unexpected mental nudge, Trip looked up at her.

What is it?

Hoshi and Lieutenant Mayweather are exchanging looks as if they had been separated for an extended period of time. Could that be an indication of problems in their marriage?

Don't think so. I think I saw them canoodling in the lift yesterday when Hoshi 's shift was... Wait a minute... Can you route an access channel to the duty rosters to my console?

Of course.

=/\=

"What'cha think?" Trip asked, presenting his choice of clothing to T'Pol after a long shift on the bridge.

"It is an agreeable choice," T'Pol approved. "But it may cause disagreement with T'Mir."

Trip sighed. "Let me guess. Henry is wearing a blue shirt, too."

"Indeed. You know that she does not look favourably at her 'old father' wearing the same attire as her chosen."

'Old father, my ass," Trip snorted, sensing the teasing in T'Pol's reply.

"Y'know, I'm sorta worried," he said, while taking off the shirt that would bring down the wrath of his kid upon him. "I mean, if it goes on at that rate, we're soon gonna walk in on something when Henry stays with T'Mir during our weekly beer bash. They're like an old married couple already."

"They do not yet engage in physical intimacy beyond 'cuddling' and kissing," T'Pol explained. "But since they develop close to human rates of maturing, it is to be expected that this might change in 4 to 5 years."

"Oh, dear," Trip groaned, while presenting an alternative choice of shirt colour.

"Your attire looks agreeable. We should go now or the festivities will conclude before we arrive."

"Lead the way, darlin'"

=/\=

Trip loved Thursdays. It had been a Wednesday when a massive human fleet had finally blasted their Romulan adversaries into surrender during the bloody battle of Cheron, an event which had led to the most raucous victory party in Starfleet history the next day. Trying to rebuild the crew's spirit after years of bloody war, Captain Archer had made the crew party a weekly affair, with a tremendous impact on crew morale.

As they were nearing the mess hall, loud singing could be heard.

Donald has foughten wi' reif and roguery
Donald has dinnered wi' banes an' beggary
Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery
Meeting the Devil than Donald McGillivray
Come like a tailor, Donald McGillivray
Come like a tailor, Donald McGillivray
Push about in and oot and thimble them cleverly
Here's to King James and tae Donald McGillivray.

"Looks like McElroy commandeered the stage again," Trip said with a chuckle.

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed. "This type of music seems to be very popular with the crew."

"No wonder," Trip snorted with amusement. "Nothing goes better with a few beers than a good Scottish tune."

"You should know, husband," T'Pol replied with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Donald's the caller that brooks nae tangledness
Whiggin' and Priggin' and a' newfangledness
They maun be gane - he winna' be baukit man
He maun hae justice or faith, he'll tak' it, man
Come like a cobbler, Donald McGillivray
Come like a cobbler, Donald McGillivray
Beat them and bore them and handle them cleverly
Up wi' King James and wi' Donald McGillivray

They were nearly there, when the mess hall's door opened. Hoshi darted out and passed them without sparing them a look.

"Was Hoshi crying?" T'Pol asked.

"Looked like it," Trip said sending a worried glance after a rapidly retreating Hoshi.

As they entered the Mess Hall they saw dozens of couples dancing to the music, forming a big circle. In the middle of the circle a blissfully grinning, spit-and-polished Henry Archer was twirling an equally happy T'Mir Tucker around, eliciting ooh's and awww's from the other dancers.

Trip covered his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Shit, I know what's wrong with Hoshi. Come!"

Having dragged T'Pol out of the mess hall, he waited for the door to close, so they wouldn't have to shout at each other over the loud music.

"No wonder Hoshi freaked," Trip sighed. "Seeing our kids happy like that must get to her."

"I do not understand." T'Pol said.

"Look, Hoshi and Travis are the only ones of us not having kids yet, and I know Hoshi wants a whole truckload o' kids."

"Do they have fertility problems?"

"I don't know, but I do know that they can't have kids if they can't hop in the sack. I've checked the duty rosters. For almost four weeks now at least one of them has been on night duty. The only free nights were the weekly bashes, when Hoshi is with you girls and Travis is with us guys. You know them. Both would never neglect their friends."

"It is unfortunate that Ensign Carmichael was injured, which requires double-shifts for the remaining helmsmen," T'Pol noted. "But I do not understand Hoshi's distress. We will arrive in Earth orbit in 10 days time. Shouldn't she then have more than ample time to 'hop in the sack'?"

"Darlin', you've been with us Humans for 15 years now. Have you ever known us to be logical?"

"Certainly not."

"See?  And women are illogical even by human standards," he said, winning him a disapprovingly raised eyebrow. "I bet you anything that Hoshi's ovulating right now. That she could try again next month is certainly not on her mind. Not when she's horny as the neighbor’s cat and sees our kids dance up a storm. What's she supposed to do when she barely ever sees Travis? Sit on the curbstone with spread legs and hope for cross-pollination?"

T'Pol looked at him in confusion.

"I think you should look after Hoshi. She's probably in her quarters bawling her eyes out. I'll keep an eye on the kids, and tonight we'll think about a way to give 'em a few hours over the next couple of days."

"Agreed," T'Pol said and took off in pursuit of Hoshi.

That afternoon, what a' was done,
I gade to see the fray, man;
But I had wist what after past,
I'd better staid away, man:
On Seaton sands, wi' nimble hands,
They pick'd me pockets bare, man;
But I wish ne'er to dree sic fear,
For a' the sum and mair, man.

Petty officer first class Marty McElroy was molesting his guitar, roaring the last verse of the crew's favourite "Battle of the Prestonpans" into the microphone when Trip re-entered the mess hall. Couples on the dance floor expressed their gratitude with loud ovation, while an out-of-breath T'Mir dragged Henry along as soon as she had spotted her father.

"Daddy...," she said. "Why... was Aunt Hoshi... so sad? She ran away."

"I know, princess. Hoshi is sad because she couldn't dance today," he lied. "Travis had to work a lot lately, and when he was at home Hoshi had to work. She misses him."

"Can't Daddy give him a day off?" Henry asked, shaking his head.

"That's not so easy. One of our pilots is in sickbay, and we haven't got enough people to fly the ship."

"Not true," Henry insisted. "Daddy can fly, too. He's the best, and Aunt T'Pol can fly, too."

"You know, Henry," Trip said, as the light bulb went off in his head. "You're right."

T'Mir started to giggle.

"Y'know, Daddy, in the morning after you all have your meeting Uncle Jon always visits the people in Sickbay and Mommy is the boss on the bridge. She could send Uncle Travis and Aunt Hoshi away to have a day off."

"Great idea, Princess," Trip beamed. "Let me check with your mother."

The kids stuck their heads together and started whispering about their master plan to get Aunt Hoshi and Uncle Travis a day off, now and then eliciting a giggle from either kid.

"Okay, you rascals," Trip said after a lengthy telepathic meeting with T'Pol. Assuming a mock-official posture, he addressed Jon's son. "Henry, I have a job for you. Tomorrow at 0830 you report to Doctor Phlox to receive instructions for your mission."

"Aye, Sir!" Henry said, and assumed the 'at-attention' pose.

"Um, Sir?" he said after a while. "Can T'Mir help, too?"

"Of course," Trip said with a smile, raising a warning finger. "But what Phlox says is the law. Got that?”

"Aye, Sir," the kids giggled in unison, before T'Mir dragged Henry back to the dance floor. McElroy had just started to croon her favourite song "For These Are My Mountains".

=/\=

"Got the hammer?" T'Mir giggled as the two kids rode the lift up to the bridge.

"Yep," he answered giving her a knowing grin.

When the two youngsters walked onto the bridge they were met by two sets of parental eyes; both T'Pol and Trip stared them down.

"T'Mir, Henry?" Trip asked with a mock scowl.

"Um, when Uncle Jon allowed us on the bridge," T'Mir said, "I think I lost my pendant. Can we look for it?"

"Agreed," T'Pol said. "But be swift."

Both kids nodded and dove below Hoshi's console, pretending to search the ground.

=/\=

Hoshi felt a small hand tapping her calf and pushed her chair back to look under her console, where Henry and T'Mir, crawling on all fours, sent her broad grins and winks.

Hoshi covered her mouth to prevent the rest of the bridge crew from seeing her smile. Her eyes followed the kids as they crawled on towards Travis' console.

"Um, Uncle Travis, can you move your right leg?" Henry asked. "I think I saw something."

"Sure, little man," Travis acquiesced amusedly and moved his right leg a few inches closer to the edge of the console.

"No, Uncle Travis," T'Mir protested. "You do it like this."

She folded his right leg over the left one, while Travis exchanged amused looks with the rest of the bridge crew. While he was still wondering why Talas was standing with Malcolm even though her shift was not yet scheduled to begin, he missed when Henry fished one of Phlox's reflex hammers from his pocket and whacked just below Travis' knee cap, just as Phlox had instructed him to do. His patellar reflex being in top condition, the pilot's leg shot up and slammed into the underside of the console.

"Ow! Why, you little..."

Before Travis could engage in more swearing, T'Pol stepped in.

"Lieutenant Mayweather seems to have injured himself. Lieutenant Sato, please escort Lieutenant Mayweather to his quarters. Your stations will be covered for the rest of the shift. Lieutenant Commander Talas, please man the communications console."

"Aye, ma'am."

A grinning Hoshi lead a slightly confused and hobbling helmsman to the turbo-lift, while two pointy eared heads appeared from under Travis's console and were met with laughter from the bridge crew. T'Pol allowed herself a satisfied eyebrow-lift before taking Travis's seat.

=/\=

Captain Archer, who had actually been Commodore Archer for the last two years already but hadn’t yet gotten used to anything but the rank he had held for almost 13 years, walked out of the lift onto the bridge and noticed what was wrong with the picture immediately. His first officer, who was expected to keep the big chair warm, was sitting at helm controls flying the ship, and unless Hoshi had become really good at holding her breath, she was not supposed to be as blue as the occupant of her chair. Taking a minute to process the situation, he addressed T'Pol.

"How long?"

"Captain?"

"How long have their schedules not overlapped?"

"Twenty four days," T'Pol reported, knowing that Archer had seen through her little scheme.

"Tell them to take the day off tomorrow, too," the captain ruled. "But one thing you should know, Commander..."

T'Pol looked at him expectantly.

"You're in my seat. I'm driving," Archer announced and took the seat that T'Pol quickly vacated.

"I've been wanting to do that for 15 years," Archer said with a chuckle, and disengaged the auto-pilot.