Seleya Hills 90210

Episode Three: Cloak and Dagger

An anniversary is coming up, causing the weekly ladies gathering as well as the weekly beer bash to be cancelled.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

"If it wasn't for the ears, I wouldn't believe that I'm talking to two Vulcans," Trip said exasperated. "I mean, if that idea had come from Malcolm…, but you?"

"If you look back at several such celebrations of the past, you will realize that the concept of 'gag gifts' based on a common theme is not necessarily a new concept," T'Pau insisted.

"So we did that before," Trip said. "But the scheme is all wrong. T'Pau, you of all people should see that."

"I believe my husband is well able to see the irony in getting presents for his alleged retirement on his fifty-fourth anniversary."

Trip sighed.

"But you do remember that Enterprise will be decommissioned the day after, don't you? The 'retirement' scheme has a sour after-taste if your ship is put into a museum the next day and you're the captain."

T'Pol and T'Pau thought about that for a moment.

"I believe in this case we shall modify the theme slightly. The original 'retirement' theme remains, but the gifts should also refer to the history of Enterprise's mission," T'Pol suggested.

"A funny look back," Trip mused. "That could work. But I'm still not sure that it won't backfire."

=/\=

Chief Kranz walked cautiously towards the meeting point with his MACO co-conspirator. Reaching the agreed spot near the transporter alcove, he waited a few moments before Master Sergeant Jean de Cortez stepped out of the shadows.

"Everything prepared?" the MACO asked.

"Yes. We're parked in transporter range of Space Station Centauri III. Their transporter room is standing by. Tucker has faked an injector problem, but we should be done as quickly as possible. Archer won't buy that Tucker needs an hour to straighten out a moody injector."

"OK," the MACO agreed with a nod. "Let's get the show on the road."

Kranz walked up to the transporter controls and pushed up the energy levers.

Accompanied by the typical whine of a matter transport, four crates materialized in the shimmering light. Kranz walked up to the platform and checked the delivery, while de Cortez made a small gesture which caused a group of MACO's to appear seemingly out of thin air.

"You people really ARE good," Kranz said, admiring the stealthy talents of the soldiers.

"Which one goes where?" de Cortez asked.

"This one to Engineering," Kranz explained handing one of the MACOs a key card. "Put it in Commander Tucker's office and return the keys to me."

Watching the four MACOs walk off with the heavy package, Kranz turned to the other two soldiers.

"This one goes to the science lab."

As before, they walked off leaving only Kranz and de Cortez behind.

"I'll take this one," the Chief instructed and grabbed a crate that had several slits on the top and bottom. De Cortez grabbed the last crate and followed Kranz.

=/\=

"Ugh," Henry Archer groaned as he woke prematurely from a deep sleep. Trying to get a bearing on his surroundings, he rolled over to glance at the chronometer, but before he could do so his field of vision was obstructed by a blond-haired head planting a clumsy and noisy good-morning kiss on his lips.

"You are worse than Mom and Aunt T'Pol," he sighed when he finally got a glance at the clock. "Why are you awake so early? Go back to sleep!"

"We must go to see that our package for Uncle Jon has arrived," the little girl demanded and climbed out of bed, dragging a rather reluctant Henry with her.

=/\=

Jon walked the corridors of his ship, as he had done so often over the last fifteen years, but it hadn't been the same recently. Not only was the ship to be retired to a plinth in just two days, but the absence of a tail-wagging companion added to Jon's malaise. When he’d died peacefully in his sleep four years ago, Porthos had left a hole in Jon's life.

Of course, the marriage to T'Pau and the birth of his precious son, Henry, had obliterated Porthos' status as the sole companion of the long-serving star-ship captain long before that, but there were situations in which the faithful little ball of fur was sorely missed. The long walks through the ship were one of those. Taking Henry with him on his walk would only earn him the wrath of little T'Mir for hijacking her troubadour, and taking both of them wasn't an option either. Their joint talent for unfortunate mishaps would make a stroll along the corridors the equivalent of entering Trip's department with a shirt saying "F*ck the Engines". It would just be begging for trouble.

Still mourning the absence of a walking companion, Jon bumped into someone as he changed direction at a T-junction.

"Are you trying to beat your son at his own game?" the blue obstacle in Jon's path asked in reference to Henry's body-check a few days before.

"Huh... oh, Shran. Sorry about that," Jon muttered. "Guess I was a bit distracted."

"Obviously, " Shran said with a smirk. "Saying good bye to your ship?"

"Something like that," Jon said. "It's hard to imagine that she's gonna be decommissioned after only fifteen years. Somehow it feels like she's being cheated out of many years of faithful service."

"At least you'll be able to visit her whenever you want. Something I can't say about my ship."

"Looking at it like that, you're right," Jon agreed. "Really, Shran, you should become a counselor, not an ambassador."

"I might be able to read you, pink skin, but I have no clue about most other humans. I've been married to Amanda for years now and she's still a complete mystery to me."

"Don't expect that to change, ever," Jon said with a laugh. "Men have tried to make sense of their ladies for centuries. They’ve all failed."

=/\=

Stealthily Agent T'Mir came up to the entrance of engineering's production workshop. Since parts were rarely produced from raw materials aboard the ships any more - after fifteen years in space, humanity and its Federation allies had more than enough space stations to get new parts from - this particular part of engineering had been all but unused for the last three years. Today, however, one day before Uncle Jon's 54th birthday, it was buzzing with activity. It would be a perfect place for Agent Henry to hide, so Agent T'Mir, obliged by their game to find and apprehend him, snuck a peek inside.

Her father, the ship's Chief Engineer, was standing with his back to the door and inspecting some sort of rod made from a dark, shiny wood. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, and Agent T'Mir snuck up to her parent, tickling him from behind.

Her male ancestor, in deep concentration and unprepared for a pint-sized agent tickling him, was so startled that he threw up his arms and let go of the rod, which went flying, hit and extinguished a ceiling lamp, before its deflected flight path brought it on direct collision course with Uncle Kov's head. BANG!

T'Mir froze when she saw the rather unexpected consequences of her sneak attack. Groaning, her father turned around and stared her down. "What did we tell you and Henry about playing 'Super Agents'?"

T'Mir took up her usual 'guilty-pout-staring-at-the-floor pose'.

"You will apologize to Uncle Kov and help him cool the bump on his head, got me?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said and trundled towards the slightly dented Uncle Kov.

"After that, you might just as well go to your room and start meditating already, because that's going to be your mother's verdict anyway."

"But I don't want to meditate without Henry," she complained.

"Don't worry," Trip said. "Knowing him, your Henry will soon try the same prank on your mother and his. Guess how that's gonna turn out?"

=/\=

Stealthily Agent Henry snuck up to the astrophysics lab entry. His two years of experience as 'Super Spy 00-Archer' told him that Agent T'Mir would hide somewhere with her parents. His lady was way too curious to pass up an opportunity to find out what her Mommy and Daddy were going to give his dad as a birthday present.

He had considered the two opportunities that were open to his blond-haired girlfriend and playground adversary. Believing that he knew all about his better half, Henry had decided that T'Mir would spy on the two resident Vulcan mothers in the science lab, since spying on two people in one go would be twice as effective as spying on Uncle Trip only. At least that's what he'd have chosen, were he playing the fugitive's role in today's game.

Entering the astrophysics lab, he quickly ducked below one of the desks. Nobody was inside, but the hideous screeching noises from the adjacent storage room told him that the lab was not completely empty. Due to the loud noises, nobody had heard the door opening and closing again.

Agent Henry silently questioned the logic of Mommy and Aunt T'Pol. If he could enter undetected, so could his father, and the surprise would be spoiled. Waiting for another 2 minutes, during which nobody scanned the room for trespassers, he silently inched closer to the open entry of the storage room.

Peeking around the door frame he saw Aunt T'Pol, a magnifying glass squeezed into her right eye, working on some sort of metal plaque with a laser. Too good an opportunity to pass up, thought the little wannabe-spy, and snuck up on her from behind. Just before she came into arm's reach, little Henry felt his feet disconnect from the floor, while his right arm shot up and he found himself hanging in the air, his wrist in the iron grip of his mother, who had shown her superior spy talents by sneaking up on him from behind.

Notified by the boy's yelp of surprise, his aunt turned around, and he looked into her disapproving face. She stared him down with what Uncle Trip had once called "The Eyebrow of Doom".

"Unfortunately for you, T'Mir has already been apprehended after a similar attempt at mischief," she lectured. "You may now go to her quarters, where both of you will engage in meditation for at least two hours. She is already waiting."

"You're no fun," Henry complained. "T'Mir's been caught, Uncle Trip used the bond telephone with you to rat her out and then Mom just spied on me with her big telepathic powers. Not fair!"

"While your logical deduction is commendable, your choice of words is not - three hours," he heard his mother announce from behind. She still held him dangling in mid air.

Henry groaned theatrically in frustration, as he was lowered to the floor again.

"I understand your frustration," Aunt T'Pol delivered dead-pan. "Three hours is fairly short. Four hours, then."

Without another word Henry trundled off in defeat, before any other reaction could cause the "Iron Moms" tag-team to extend their detention to a time that would make him late for his wedding with T'Mir.

=/\=

Chief Kranz put the finishing touches on the woollen blanket he had promised to make for the kids. Considering that it had been more than three hours since they dropped by last time to check if their present for the captain was still there, he could only assume that they had run into conflict with the matriarchal law again.

He wondered whether such a brilliant idea for a gift had come from the kids themselves. Despite all the havoc they wreaked, they were good kids, so it seemed likely. Little T'Mir especially was everybody's darling, which was not really a surprise. Even at this young age it was not too difficult to see that she would one day be a stunningly beautiful creature, and little Henry would have his hands full fending off all the guys with a stick.

Kranz had to smile when he imagined how all the other kids would feel in a few years, with the romance of the century thrown into their faces every day. Lovers' quarrels between couples had been rumoured to resolve within minutes after seeing the two kids dance up a storm during the weekly crew parties. Every other romance on the ship paled in comparison to the fairy tale of the two pint-sized youngsters.

Continuing his mental ramblings, Kranz missed Trip’s entrance.

"What's so funny, Chief?"

"Hey, Commander; I was just thinking about our resident love-birds and how they are overdue to check on their present. Guess they're in detention again?"

"That's the bet with the lousiest odds in Hoshi's gambling empire," Trip snorted. "Yeah, I'm here to check. They're threatening to stage a riot unless they're convinced that their precious present is still in one piece."

"Well, Commander, you may report that their present is still here and still carefully watched over around the clock."

"Nice to hear, Chief," Trip said and turned to go.

"Oh, Commander," Kranz asked before Trip was out the door. "Was it their idea or yours?"

"All theirs," Trip said with a smile of parental pride. "T'Pol and I were just needed to fill in the forms and to prepare T'Pau for what's coming."

"Thought it was something like that," Kranz said, grinning.

=/\=

The next day…

Jon checked his uniform again. Even though it was HIS party, T'Pau would never let him hear the end of it if he appeared with even a mildly dishevelled garment. He hated what was coming as much as the amen in church. He would open the door, a whole crowd would start singing "Happy Birthday",  and he would hope for a tactical alarm or anything else to save him from being the center of so much attention. Even to himself that sounded utterly ridiculous. As the ship's captain he was the center of attention by default.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the open button and stepped into the mess hall. True to expectation the crowd burst into song. Even the blue-skinned contingent participated in the ritual. Only the Vulcans did not sing, although Kov seemed to hum along merrily. The other Vulcans tried their best to emulate – to the best of their ability – a friendly face. To Jon's surprise however, the kids were missing. That had to be a first. Not having Trip’s latent telepathic abilities, he was the mute part in the bond with T'Pau, so he couldn't even ping her to find the reason for the kids' absence. His working theory was that they had done something sufficiently naughty for their mothers to exclude them from the festivities. The investigation would have to wait.

Once the singing was over, his senior officers started handing out presents.

=/\=

"Be careful," T'Mir demanded, as the kids made their way towards the mess hall. In a rare case of seeing reason, T'Mir had agreed to let Henry carry the delicate package. One sudden movement coupled with her strength and the surprise would turn into a nasty one.

Henry supported her decision by stating that no matter who actually carried it, everyone knew that it was their joint present, anyway.

=/\=

Trip felt very nervous. Settled with the task of Master of Ceremonies for the big present-giving, he knew that the theme the crew had agreed on could be extremely funny, but it also had the potential of utterly hurting Jon.

Taking the grand stage, he cleared his throat.

"Well, Cap'n, fifty four years, fifteen of them spent on this ship. It's time to settle down, isn't it? Most of us are doing the same, but the crew wanted to make sure that at least one of us is properly equipped for it."

Some dared to laugh and applaud and when Jonathan Archer started to grin, the whole crowd started to cheer.

"First is the logistics and supply department, which presents you with a selection of robes and pyjamas made from finest Triaxian Silk," Trip announced.

The crowd cheered as crewman Mary-Jane Kensington, one of Chief Kranz's assistants, dressed the captain in a long silken morning robe of deep blue colour, while Kranz put a large package, probably containing more such clothing, on the table.

"No such outfit would be complete without a set of ridiculously comfy slippers," Trip continued, accompanied by giggles from the crowd. "Therefore the medical department, in cooperation with Chief Kranz, presents you with these utterly, mindbogglingly, biblically comfortable slippers, made from genuine … err," Trip stopped and looked at his PADD. "Err,…, genuine Tribble fur. As always in situations that include Phlox and some sort of animal, you better not ask what it really is."

The crowd started laughing, loudest among them Phlox.

By now Jonathan Archer had turned into a source of amusement himself. There he stood, grinning like a Cheshire cat, wearing a long silken robe over his uniform and a set of furry slippers instead of his boots.

"Next is the security department," Trip announced, now feeling completely comfortable with mocking Jon's impeding 'retirement'. "You share a predicament with my wife and me. You are the parent of a mildly unpredictable kid."

The crowd erupted in hysterical laughter.

"Therefore, of course – first and foremost – you need protective head gear."

Before Jon knew what hit him, Malcolm had put an exact replica of the ridiculous beaded head-cover on Jon's head that he had once worn during an equally hilarious apology-ritual for the Kreetassans."

The long-time veterans started howling in laughter, while the other members of the crew – not knowing the exact importance of it – laughed along for the sheer hilarity of the Captain's appearance.

=/\=

Finally the couple had made it to the entrance of the mess hall, but they paused outside.

"You have better ears," Henry said. "Tell me when Uncle Trip gives the signal."

"Uncle Jon must look funny; they're all laughing," T'Mir giggled, her ear pressed to the door.

"We mustn't laugh when we see him," Henry said. "What if I drop the present?"

"We do what your mommy has told us – how to not show emotions," the girl suggested.

"You're better at that than me."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine."

=/\=

"Now," Trip proclaimed. "In the olden days, the man was supposed to be the king in the household. Now, that's gonna be a wee bit tricky with a wife who once ruled a whole dang planet…"

The crowd started laughing again, while both T'Pol and T'Pau raised an amused eyebrow.

"Even if you're not going to be Jon I of Seleya Hills, at least you'll have a throne, courtesy of Engineering."

Cheers erupted when Anna Hess and Misha Rostov unveiled a rocking chair made from mahogany wood and motioned Jon to sit down in it.

"You do that one day before we return," Jon mock-complained laughingly, in reference to his hilarious appearance, which made it hard for the crew to stop laughing at all. "I've been the captain for 15 damn years and on my last day nobody's gonna take me seriously."

"T'Pol will be acting captain anyway," T'Pau remarked drily. "As soon as we reach the solar system, you will dismiss your helmsman and fly manually yourself."

"You know me too well, wife of mine," Jon sighed theatrically.

"Now that we've established who the boss in the Archer household is," Trip announced with a giggle. "There's a personal gift from me."

Trip turned around and put an oval object – covered and obscured with a big cloth – in front of the Captain's rocking chair. "There will come the day, when Henry asks you about a lil' brother or sister. And to help you out with that, I present...," Trip took away the cloth. "This bowl o'rocks!"

The crowd went berserk. Even though only long-time veterans fully understood the joke, by now the crowd was in such a frenzy that they would have laughed about the duty roster. Jon laughed so hard he almost toppled over in his rocking chair.

Once Trip had chastised the crowd back to a mere frenzy, he continued: "Fourteen years ago, my wife uncovered a preposterous case of presumptuousness committed four decades ago by some 'Jonny Archer'. Evidence of it was hand-written in his astronomy book. Now, more than 40 years later, what was once presumptuousness becomes reality, so the science department decided to provide you with this," Trip announced and T'Pol handed over a small wrapped package.

Jon unwrapped the package and inside he found a polished brass door-plaque.

"Admiral Johnny Archer," he read out loud, his voice breaking with emotion.

Turning to T'Pol he asked: "You still remember that – after almost 15 years?"

Jon jumped out of his chair and wrapped T'Pol in a bear hug. Accustomed to the impulsiveness of their respective husbands, both T'Pol and T'Pau tolerated the gesture.

"You should know that by now," Trip delivered dead-pan. "You've been married to T'Pau long enough – they forget NOTHING. EVER."

Another round of hysterical laughter followed.

"Just so you don't think we're kidding here, folks," Trip said once the ruckus had subsided, "it's not a joke – he didn't know it himself yet until just now, because Gardner only told T'Pol of this – by this time tomorrow, if we're not late, Commodore Jonathan Archer will be Admiral Jonathan Archer, Head of Fleet operations!"

Frenetic applause filled the room and Trip tried to quiet the crowd down for the grand finale.

"There is one important item still missing here," he announced. "And if you're wondering, why the room isn't on fire yet or why Kov is still standing upright; It's because the Dastardly Duo has been waiting outside that door for the last fifteen minutes," Trip announced, pointing at the entrance. "I think we should call them in. Whaddaya think?"

The crowd started clapping rhythmically while Trip concentrated all his modest telepathic abilities to get a mental nudge through to T'Mir.

Just a moment later the door opened, and to much applause the two youngsters marched in, their faces so stoic it would have done their mothers justice. Expecting the usual grinning disposition of the kids, the crowd was so surprised that the applause died down immediately. Henry carried a woven basket with a bunched up woollen blanket in it, and the sudden silence in the room allowed a high-pitched yelp to be heard. The crowd froze.

Wordlessly, Henry gave the basket to his father, who looked at it in frozen shock. A small head emerged from the basket and a beagle puppy began to lick one of Jon's hands. All dams broke. For the first time in fifteen years the crew saw their captain crying.

T'Pau gently took the small basket from him and Jon squatted down to hug the two children ferociously, bawling in joy. He wasn't the only one. Just about every woman and quite a few men in the crowd were moved to tears. Even Shran squeezed away a tear, happy that except for Talas there was no Andorian present to see the momentary crack in his carefully cultivated tough shell.