Gigi Sinclair

Porthos missed him before I did. Three days after the Cogenitor incident, Trip and I hadn't engaged in more than the briefest of work-related conversations, and Porthos was lying around listlessly, half-heartedly playing with the rope toy Trip had given him and looking longingly at the cabin door. I, on the other hand, was watching water polo and wondering what was for dinner.

I meant what I said to Trip in my ready room, when I told him he didn't understand there were repercussions to his actions. It was true, and it wasn't the first time. Since the thing with the Xyrillians, Trip had been getting into trouble practically every time he left the engine room. If he wasn't getting pregnant or mugged or stranded in the jungle with members of alien royal families, he was tripping on alien pollen and trying to kill himself in a disabled shuttlepod.

Of course, I'd had my share of trouble, too, but that was different. Because I learned from my mistakes, and because I understood that my actions didn't only reflect on me. Trip didn't. And that was a real pain in the ass, because the person Trip's actions reflected most on was me.

Trip knew that I had gone to bat for him when Starfleet was staffing 'Enterprise.' What he didn't know was that I'd risked my job to get him his.

From the moment I was offered the chance to captain 'Enterprise', I pitched Trip as the ideal chief engineer. He sucked up at interviews and showed off in simulations, but I was the one who got letters of recommendation from every professor he'd ever had, who mentioned his name to every admiral and administrator in Starfleet, who told everyone I met that, before he died, my father had said Trip was the only man he'd want taking care of his engine. It wasn't true. Dad liked Trip, but he wasn't Dad's favourite engineer. He was my favourite engineer and my favourite guy. In hindsight that, and not absolute faith in his professional abilities, had been the reason I threatened to resign if Trip didn't join me on 'Enterprise.'

It was risky, all right. But I didn't know what else to do. Despite my campaigning, the Starfleet brass still favoured Commander Jim Garrett for the job. In my—admittedly biased—opinion, Garrett didn't have anything Trip didn't, beyond the fact that he was an African-American. The 'Enterprise' was a political mission as much as an exploratory one, we all knew that, and they were being very careful to staff the ship with just the right mix of minorities. The 'Black Asian Vulcan Queer' policy, the less refined admirals called it. With Jim Garrett, Hoshi Sato, Sub-commander T'Pol and Malcolm Reed, it seemed like they had their ideal bridge crew. That was still led by a straight middle-aged white guy.

A guy they hadn't expected to give them any trouble, until they gave me the final crew roster and Trip's name wasn't on it. I marched right into Admiral Forrest's office and told him,

"I don't have anything against Garrett, I just don't trust the warp five engine to anyone but Tucker."

"Jon, get real," was Forrest's answer. "Everyone knows he's your best friend. How would that make Starfleet look?"

"About as good as they'd look if I let slip about the 'Black Asian Vulcan Queer' policy."

Forrest just shook his head. "Come on, Jon. Garrett's got all the qualifications." Forrest listed them for my benefit. "He's older than Commander Tucker. He was a colonel in the army. He's got the goddamn Congressional Medal of Honour, for Christ's sake. And, if you want to be cynical about it, he's got three kids we can trot out for the cameras every time the public looks like it's forgetting about you guys."

"Then you can make him the captain." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. They stopped Forrest, though.

"What?"

No backing out now. "I mean it, Admiral. If Commander Tucker's not on that ship, then I won't be either."

I don't know how I expected him to react. I hoped he would throw himself at my feet and beg me to reconsider, but of course that didn't happen. Instead, he said: "I'll have to talk to the others. I'll let you know in a couple of days."

"Fine." I was proud of myself. I left the room with great dignity, and I didn't throw up until I reached the officers' bathroom. I saw Trip that night. He came to my place with a new vid-disc, a science-fiction porn film called "2001: A Space Orgy." When I looked less than enthused, he asked:

"Have you seen the staff list?"

"No." There was nothing else I could say.

"I thought it might be bad news," Trip smiled uncertainly. "And that's why you look sick as a dog."

Porthos pricked up his ears at the dog reference, and Trip leaned down to scratch him.

"I think I'm coming down with something." At that, of course, Trip decided he had to play nurse. We watched the vid-disc—an epic masterpiece of cinematography that gave new meaning to Arthur C. Clarke's monolith—wrapped up in blankets on the couch. He didn't leave until he'd tucked me into bed with a glass of water on the bedside table and an emergency bowl on the floor. That was typical of Trip, always thinking of other people. So much so that he never considered what people might think of him.

Or me. After the longest forty-eight hours of my life, Forrest called me to say that both Trip and I were going to be on 'Enterprise.' I called Trip right away and we went out to celebrate. He ended up with a pair of blonde twins called Jerri and Jenni, who had measurements greater than their collective IQ, and I went home alone, relieved. I stayed relieved right up until the Xyrillian incident when, much as I wanted to support Trip, I found myself wondering if Colonel Commander Jim Garrett with the Congressional Medal of Honour would have made the same mistakes.

The thought came up again after the incident with the Cogenitor. When Trip told me I wasn't responsible for the Cogenitor's suicide, I couldn't reply. Of course I was. If it hadn't been for me, Trip would have remained on Earth and Jim Garrett would have been up here instead, a fact that Admiral Forrest knew very well.

"I've spoken to the others, Jon. They think this is grounds for demotion. At least."

I nodded at the screen. "Yes, sir."

Forrest looked uncomfortable. "It's not just Starfleet. The Vulcans are less than pleased with Commander Tucker." That didn't surprise me. The Vulcan I knew was extremely pissed off with him. "There have been so many incidents. We've been wondering if he might be better off down here." I couldn't act surprised. I'd wondered the same thing myself. But it was Trip, and I had to stand by him. After all, how would it make me look if I advocated firing the man I'd threatened to quit for?

"Commander Tucker is an exceptional engineer."

"That's not what this is about. We need more than scientists on this mission. We need diplomats."

I rubbed my eyes. Not even I could pretend that Mr. Interfere First and Ask Questions Later (or Not at All) was diplomatic. "All the same, Admiral. Trip's very popular with the crew. It would damage morale if we sent him back to Earth."

"He's got one more chance, Jon. If something else happens…" He shrugged. "I won't be able to save him. And neither will you."

***

I switched off the water polo and glanced over at Porthos, who was still waiting forlornly for Trip to come and play with him. It was only natural, I guess. Trip was there when I brought Porthos home for the first time, and he'd been there ever since. Porthos practically had two fathers. Which, I thought, smiling a little, probably made him a more desirable crewmember in the eyes of Starfleet. Got to appease the minorities.

"Come on, boy." I stood up, fastening Porthos's leash to his collar. "Let's go for a walk."

It had been a while since I'd worked out. When I got to the gym, it was deserted, and I took advantage of the situation to set Porthos up on one of the treadmills. He didn't look overjoyed.

"Sorry, Porthos. You know what Dr. Phlox says." Porthos huffed a little at the mention of the man who had not only outlawed cheese in our quarters, but who had told me Porthos was getting overweight. I don't know how it could have happened, but Phlox was very insistent he needed to lose a few pounds. "Tell you what." I smiled at Porthos. "Do half an hour and I'll give you a biscuit."

Once he was trotting away, I got on the next treadmill. I started off at my regular speed, but when that nearly gave me a heart attack two minutes in, I slowed it down a bit. Obviously, it had been a while.

We'd been running for ten minutes when the gym door opened. Trip stood there for a moment, in shorts and T-shirt with a towel in his hand. Then he cleared his throat and said:

"Sorry, Captain." He turned around, as if to go. Which was ridiculous.

"I don't own the place, Trip."

"Right." Trip stopped.

"You're welcome to join me."

After a long pause, Trip walked over to a stationary bike and put his towel over the handlebars. As he threw his leg over the saddle, I caught a glimpse of muscular inner thigh. I started running a little harder, because I was getting used to the treadmill. No other reason. I was the straight middle-aged white guy.

Although, most of the time, I understood why Malcolm had such an obvious crush on Trip. Trip hadn't caught on yet, but when he did, I was sure he, eager to please as always, would jump into the sack with the lieutenant, never considering how that might affect their working relationship. Or how it might affect Malcolm when Trip found another alien woman willing to explore their cultural differences together. One more reason it would have been safer to have the married father-of-three Jim Garrett onboard.

"Porthos misses you," I said, after a good five minutes of silence. Trip looked up like he was surprised I was talking to him. "He's used to playing with you."

"I miss him, too." Trip finally answered. "We've…I've known him a long time. Feels real strange not bein' able to visit him."

"There's nothing to stop you. He'd love it if you came by when I'm on shift. He gets really lonely." I stopped talking when I realized we were discussing joint custody of the dog. "Or you could come when I'm there." He looked up at me with big eyes and, feeling like a sucker, I gave in. Again. "I miss you, too."

He stopped cycling. "You were right, Jon." "Of course I was fucking right", was the answer I wanted to give. But we'd been over that. Instead, I smiled and held out an olive branch. "First time for everything." He smiled, too. I got down, turning off Porthos's treadmill. He jumped off and ran over to Trip, who climbed off the bike and sat on the bench. I sat beside him, drinking from my water bottle.

Without knowing why, I was reminded of our time in the desert, another of our mistake-ridden away missions. I remembered finding a shelter—at least we'd retained that much common sense—and covering his body with mine when it was rocked by one explosion after another. I remembered that the only thing on my mind had been keeping Trip safe, getting Trip home. Making Trip drink my water when, yet again, he was too stubborn and too damn self-sacrificing to take it. He was impulsive, sure, and irritating, and embarrassing, and sometimes even dangerous, but he was still my best friend, and I still loved him.

"I'm sorry," I said, even though I wasn't, entirely. I'd only told him what needed to be said, but I guess I didn't have to say it like that. "I just don't want you to keep doing things that end up biting you in the ass." It wasn't good for either of us. Or the societies we encountered.

"I know, Jon." It had been a long time since he'd used my first name. There were tears in his eyes and sweat on his face and, just like that, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Reeling from this unexpected whim, I barely heard Trip say: "I'm sorry, too. I'm gonna do a whole lot better. I promise."

"You'd better," I said, when I realized he was waiting for me to say something. "If you screw up one more time, they're sending you back to Earth."

So maybe it wasn't the most sensitive way I could have broken the news. I was too busy wondering how I'd gone from understanding why Malcolm was attracted to Trip to being attracted to him myself. If it was attraction. Maybe, I thought desperately, it was just misplaced worry. Yes, that was probably it. That had to be it. Malcolm was our token homosexual. I was the straight middle-aged white guy. That's why I was in charge.

"What?" Trip, meanwhile, looked like someone had just told him he was illegitimate son of a Vulcan. "Jon, are you kiddin'?"

"The admirals aren't too pleased with you right now. Neither's the High Command."

"But…they can't fire me!" He sounded so vulnerable and—shit, there it was again! I looked away, determinedly staring at the floor. "I can't go back there, Jon. I can't…" He stopped and I looked up. He was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. "I can't be separated from you. I'll go nuts." He took his hand off Porthos and touched my arm. I watched impassively, like it was happening to someone else. This sure as hell didn't seem like me. Or Trip, for that matter. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about the Cogenitor, Jon. It's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life. But the worst part of this whole thing's been thinkin' I wrecked our friendship."

"We're still friends," I assured him. Hell, I thought, it wasn't like he was a bad guy or anything. He'd done it because he wanted to help, and that desire was so great it crowded everything else, like common sense, out of his brain. Even when he pulled his stupider stunts, like exploring the air ducts on that automated station where we nearly lost Travis, his motives were pure. You could call him stupid, or you could call him innocent. Just like you could call me a respected leader or a gazelle-anecdote-telling buffoon. It was all to do with perception.

And my perception at the moment was that Trip's hand was slowly making its way up my arm.

"I'm sorry I ruined your first contact."

"Doesn't matter." It had at the time, but now, losing the chance to acquire some Vissian technology was completely inconsequential. Everything was inconsequential, including blinking, breathing, and the fact that we were in a public place. Just like in the desert, at the moment, the only thing that mattered was Trip.

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

"It's OK," I assured him, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking me in the eye, "I didn't do this sooner."

Until about three minutes earlier, I'd never even considered what it might be like to kiss my best friend. Fortunately, Trip gave me the answer. It seemed like the type of question that would be very hard to shift once it took root in your mind.

It was, in a word, great. Trip was sweaty and unshaven. His stubble scratched my mouth and my hand got wet as I put it on his back. But I didn't care. Nothing had ever felt so good. I wanted it to go on forever.

Or at least until he opened his mouth. The instant Trip's tongue touched mine, I froze. In that moment, reality came crashing down on me. This was Trip, Trip was a man, and that wasn't me. God, what would people think? I pulled away.

"I'd better get going."

"Jon…"

"See you on the bridge, Trip." I whistled to Porthos and left before I could change my mind. I knew I'd hurt him, but, like the ready room talk where I'd told him of the Cogenitor's suicide, it wasn't my choice. I'd simply done what had to be done. If I'd started kissing him, then he would have wanted to move on to more than kissing, and that was something I knew I would never be able to do, not with him or any man.

***

For the next three days, Trip and I were back to speaking only on-duty, and only about professional matters. I told myself that I'd clear the air the minute we had some time to ourselves, but as soon as we were alone, Trip would make an excuse about work and disappear. I have to say, I wasn't completely devastated.

On the fourth day, Lieutenant Reed came to see me in my ready room. He didn't immediately salute, my first clue that this was going to be an informal discussion (well, as informal as Malcolm ever got, anyway.)

"Permission to speak freely, Captain," was his opening address, and, although I toyed briefly with saying, "Permission denied", just to observe his reaction, I gave in.

"Yes, Malcolm?"

"I'm concerned about Commander Tucker."

"Oh, yes?" I tried to sound impassive.

Malcolm nodded. "Since our contact with the Vissians, he has been…subdued." I interpreted this example of Malcolmese to mean "not running around with a harmonica in one hand and a drink in the other."

"And you find this worrying?" There was a plan forming in my mind.

"Very worrying, sir."

Just days earlier, I had forecasted doom if and when Trip finally noticed and gave in to Malcolm's attraction for him. Then again, I thought, just days earlier, I had been furious with Trip. I hadn't been sure I'd ever speak to him again, yet we'd ended up kissing in the gym. Situations changed. And maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it seemed like the most obvious course of action.

"I'm sure he'd be glad to hear you're so concerned." I gave him a knowing, paternal smile. "Why don't you discuss it with him?"

"I don't think the Commander would appreciate my interest." Malcolm sounded wistful and maybe, I thought, this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Trip wasn't a cheater. Once he was in a relationship, he was monogamous, and there was nothing to say he and Malcolm couldn't make a go of it. He might, I told myself, even be inclined to mind his own business if his business was Malcolm. I imagined officiating at their wedding and suddenly felt a lot better, about Trip and about myself.

"I think you're mistaken there, Lieutenant. Why don't you ask him to join you for dinner one night? I know he'd like that."

Malcolm looked at me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out what the hell I was talking about.

"Sir…" He finally began, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you suggesting that I ask Commander Tucker on a…date?" Just like him to play innocent, I thought. Of course, he thought liaisons with superior officers were terribly inappropriate.

"You can't tell me you don't find him attractive." Everyone onboard had seen the looks Malcolm gave him, not to mention the fact that Malcolm seemed content to follow Trip wherever he led.

Another eyebrow furrow, although this one made Malcolm look like he was wondering whether he would have to wrest control of the ship from me bodily, or whether I would surrender peacefully. "While I am sure Commander Tucker is attractive, Captain, I'm afraid I am not homosexual."

"What?"

"I am sorry to disappoint you," he apologized, apparently sincere.

"I'm not disappointed." But I was sure the admirals would be crushed to know that their "Black Asian Vulcan Queer" policy hadn't been fulfilled after all. Although Trip had been quite eager to kiss me… "Out of curiosity, Lieutenant, did you ever tell anyone at Starfleet that you were gay?"

"Certainly not." Malcolm drew himself up. "The only personal information I ever shared was that I'd been a Scout and a naval cadet and that, as well as martial arts, I use yoga, aerobics and ballet training help me maintain my peak physical form."

"I see." And, thinking of the less-than-open-minded admirals, I did.

"That aside, Captain, I am still concerned…"

"I'll talk to Trip." I'd been intending to all along, just as soon as I found the right moment.

The moment came a few days later, when T'Pol spotted a ship in the area and called us all in for a powwow.

"The Vulcans named the race the Amazonians after the legendary tribe of human female warriors," she explained, to start off. "The name by which they call themselves is unpronounceable to humans and Vulcans. Although if you wished to try, Ensign Sato…"

"That's OK," Hoshi said graciously. I looked across the table, where Trip was trying to look interested while actually looking kind of nauseous.

"They are a rigidly matriarchal society with little consideration for males of any species. There will be no male Amazonians on this ship. Indeed, few ever leave their communal homes on Amazonia."

"Great. A ship full of women." I smiled directly at Trip, trying to cheer him up. "Sounds like heaven, right, Commander?"

T'Pol gave me the eyebrow. "As I said, Captain, the majority of Amazonian women have nothing but contempt for males. I doubt you would find them attractive. As they also practice ritual lesbianism, I doubt they would be attracted to you. Or Commander Tucker."

"Should we invite them over?" I asked, properly chastized. I should have known T'Pol's briefing was no place to make jokes.

"There could be…difficulties."

I saw Malcolm's ears prick up. "Difficulties? What kind of difficulties?"

T'Pol glanced over at him. "The Amazonians have an extensive informational database. They are willing to share their knowledge with other species, but they do not take patriarchal societies seriously. If we were to emphasize the roles of our female staff, I believe a beneficial first contact could be achieved."

"You want to be captain, T'Pol?" I smiled at her.

"Unless you would rather disguise yourself as a woman, sir." She didn't wait for me to answer, although there was some distinct smirking around the table. Oddly enough, Trip, the one person who had seen me in drag (thanks to a drunken dare and a karaoke Halloween party), was the only one who didn't find it humorous. "I will also ask that Ensign Sato, Lieutenant Hess and Ensign Cutler be present at the meeting, as well as one or two of your female armoury staff, Lieutenant Reed."

"What are the men supposed to do?" Much as I needed a day off, I didn't really want to have it when a tribe of alien women was roaming the ship.

"I would not suggest that you attend. You will most certainly find the Amazonian views on gender relations to be…objectionable, at best."

"All the more reason I should be there. I'm not a child, T'Pol. I'm sure I can handle a little sexism."

T'Pol looked at me for a moment. "Very well, sir."

"I'll be there as well," Malcolm put in. "It's all very well to send a couple of ensigns along, but I'm the one responsible for this ship."

"Commander Tucker?" I looked over at Trip. "Will you be joining us?" The Amazonian ship was a monster. I could imagine the kind of engines it had. Probably enough to give Trip wet dreams for months.

"No, Captain." Trip replied. "If that's all, can I go now?"

***

I left Captain T'Pol preparing Chief Engineer Hess, Chief Communications Officer Sato and Dr. Cutler for the first contact and went down to Trip's quarters. There was no answer to my chime, so I used Trip's code and let myself in. Trip was sitting with his feet on his desk and his harmonica in his mouth.

"Hi," I spoke softly, but it still surprised him.

"Fuck!" He fell out of his chair, hitting his head on the deck. "Shit!" He rubbed his forehead. I smiled.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" On second thoughts, that probably wasn't the best thing I could have said.

Over the last week, I'd spent a lot of time thinking about the incident in the gym. Obviously, it had just been a momentary aberration, a brief slip. Trip and I had both been so relieved our friendship wasn't finished, we'd overcompensated by doing something neither of us would have ever done in normal circumstances.

I was happy with that reasoning, but it didn't explain why even now, a good week after Trip and I had finished our Cogenitor-inspired fight, I was still thinking about kissing him. Nor did it explain why, late at night when I was almost asleep, I sometimes found myself thinking about more than kissing.

Those thoughts returned with a vengeance when Trip stood up. He'd pulled down the top part of his uniform, and I could clearly see his muscles under his T-shirt. This was a new development for Trip. Before we'd left Earth, he'd been athletic, but his build was more Charles Kurault than Charles Atlas. It was only since coming on 'Enterprise', where there was nothing to do but watch movies and work out, that Trip had developed a physique.

And it was a pretty great physique, I had to give him that. I felt myself flushing a bit as Trip rubbed at his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall. I had always been a woman's man. I liked women. Curvy, soft, pliant women. I had no idea why I was suddenly getting aroused looking at Trip's hard, muscular and decidedly un-feminine body.

"Why aren't you coming to meet the Amazonians?" I blurted, before I could completely lose control and say something even stupider.

"I think that's pretty obvious, Captain."

"Trip." I hesitated a second, then put a hand on his shoulder, feeling his warmth through the thin material. "You've got to get back on the horse." I smiled and moved my hand a little, rubbing his shoulder. "Or the gazelle." He laughed, a sound I hadn't heard in more than a week. "If you don't do it now," I continued, "You never will and what's the point of being out here if you spend all your time hiding in Engineering?"

"At least I'll still be here."

"Come on, Trip." It was very important to me that Trip participate in this first contact. I wanted him to get his self-confidence back and, more than that, I wanted to restore my confidence in him.

"I can't, Jon." He blinked at me. "Please don't make me."

"Why did you kiss me?" I wanted to know if his reasons were the same as mine. Or if it was something else.

Trip sighed and rubbed his eyes, like he was tired. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Like everythin' I do."

"Do you…" I felt myself blushing again, this time out of embarrassment rather than arousal. "I mean, I've never thought about us like that." Although now that the possibility had been raised, I had to admit, it wasn't as repulsive as I might have expected.

"I know, Jon. I'm sorry." He sighed heavily. "Again." He looked at me. "You should probably just go, OK?"

Going was the last thing I wanted to do. The last time Trip had been upset like this, I'd dismissed him, sent him away instead of talking about it like a real friend would have done. Well, now was the time to be a real friend to Trip.

I moved in closer, putting my arms around him. He tried to move away, but I wasn't going to let him this time. Instead, I pulled him closer and leaned down.

It was even better than the first time, because I expected it. I wanted to kiss Trip, to make him happy. It wasn't my usual style, but I could put that aside for now. Trip needed me, and if this was what it took to get him to meet the Amazonians, then this is what I would do.

This time, I was the one who opened my mouth. Trip, who had been stiffly resistant until then, relaxed as he let me in. I felt a bubble of nervousness rise in my stomach, but I pushed it down. That was the point of exploration, wasn't it? To boldly go where you hadn't been before. I felt one strong arm come around me as Trip kissed back, his tongue checking out my territory just like mine was exploring his. This wasn't so bad, I realized. My body agreed. Quite independently, it pulled Trip's closer.

And was very surprised when it bumped against another erection. It wasn't something I'd come across before and, like any explorer, I had to decide whether to proceed or turn back. Fortunately, the decision was taken out of my hands when the comm trilled.

"Captain Archer, the Amazonian away team will be arriving in twenty minutes," T'Pol informed me. I pulled away from Trip, looking down into dilated, uncertain eyes.

"Jon…"

I ran a hand through his hair, to reassure him. In truth, I had no idea what would have happened if T'Pol hadn't interrupted. Sex with men wasn't my thing. But if Trip needed me…

"Let's go, Trip."

***

Vulcans don't exaggerate. I knew that, so I should have known that, if the Vulcans said a race was Amazonian, it wasn't hyperbole. The Amazonians were about seven feet tall, with dark brown skin, long hair that was either white or grey and ridges, smaller than a Klingon's but still noticeable, on their cheeks. Their uniforms were white jumpsuits and high-heeled boots that made them even taller. I hadn't looked up to a "woman" since that drag Halloween party years ago, and it was disconcerting to do so now. Especially when the Amazonians looked back at me like I was something Porthos had left in the corner of the turbolift.

"Captain Harbletor. Welcome to 'Enterprise.'" To give her her due, T'Pol seemed completely unfazed by the appearance of three beings more than a foot taller than she was. Malcolm, on the other hand, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "I am Sub-commander T'Pol. This is Ensign Sato of Communications, Lieutenant Hess of Engineering, and Ensign Cutler of the medical team."

Harbletor, who had three blue marks on the collar of her uniform that I guessed were pips, held out both hands to each of the women. Hoshi looked a little nervous, but she took them. After a double-handshake, Harbletor moved on to Hess and continued the introductions.

"This is my information officer, Vice-Captain Waitian, and our chief engineer, Mechanical Commander Norowel." The other two Amazonians, one with two blue marks and one with three yellow, moved down the line. All of them stopped when they reached Ensign Cutler, as if there was no one else in the room.

T'Pol had told Malcolm, Trip and I to stand slightly behind the women and keep our mouths shut (of course, her exact wording had been "It would be advisable for you to remain silent during our exchange"), but I'd never been good at that.

"Welcome onboard," I smiled at them, barely restraining myself from adding "ladies". T'Pol gave me a look, but it had nothing on the one I got from the Amazonians.

"You let them speak, Sub-commander?"

"Humans have a different view of gender relations, Captain. Males make a valuable contribution to their society."

The Amazonians exchanged glances, then laughed like T'Pol had just quoted the entire works of Oscar Wilde and slipped on a banana peel. I saw Malcolm gritting his teeth.

"We are well aware of the…contributions males can make."

"Although," one of the other Amazonians, Waitian I think it was, added, "On Amazonia, they don't need to get out of bed to make them."

"Surely," I answered quickly, because if I didn't say something, it looked like Malcolm was going to, "You can appreciate the diversity of our cultures? You are an advanced race, after all." Harbletor looked down at me, still smiling. "Qzetea, we are an advanced race, far more advanced than you, exactly because our males remain in their place. If we had left it up to them, we would still be scratching around in the dirt with sticks." Before I could ask Hoshi what 'qzetea' meant (from the way she said it, I figured it was probably the Amazonian equivalent of 'honey', or maybe 'toots') the engineer, Norowel, added:

"It is not their fault. Males simply don't have the intellectual ability to handle real responsibility. It's genetic."

"Perhaps we should adjourn to the ready room to discuss the informational exchange," T'Pol jumped in. It was a valiant attempt, but it failed.

Waitian, who obviously sided with her captain on this issue, replied: "Mechanical Commander, you are too generous. Males are genetically lazy. They lack the necessary drive to do anything of worth. These males are fortunate to be tolerated by Sub-commander T'Pol and the others. Rest assured," she looked between Trip, Malcolm and I, "You would not be so spoiled on an Amazonian ship."

If I'd thought anyone was going to lose it, I'd have put my money on Malcolm, who was grinding his teeth hard enough to crush diamonds. But it was Trip who said:

"And if you were on this ship, rest assured we wouldn't tolerate you. That is a complete load of bullshit. There's no difference between men and women. It took us a few hundred years to figure that out, but in my opinion, havin' men and women workin' together as equals is a hell of a lot more advanced than a bunch of—of chauvinists with a fancy database treatin' half their population like shit because they're a different gender."

Once again, he left before he could see the repercussions of his actions. In this case, though, it was good. I don't think it would have helped Trip to hear Harbletor asking T'Pol if she wanted them to teach the insubordinate male a lesson.

***

"Jon…"

"Admiral Forrest." I sighed. Once T'Pol had apologized for Trip and sent the Amazonians back to their ship, without getting the information we'd wanted, I'd come back to my ready room. T'Pol had to file a report about the incident. A report Forrest had obviously been waiting for, because she'd barely even sent it when he popped up on my viewscreen.

"It happened again."

He said it like it was inevitable, which really pissed me off. I sat up straight. "If you are referring to Commander Tucker, I would like to go on record as saying his reaction was extremely restrained. The Amazonians went out of their way to offend us."

Forrest was unmoved. "The sub-commander warned you that was a possibility. According to her report, she strongly recommended that the male staff not attend the meeting."

"You can't ask us to hide in the closet during a first contact because another species might be offended by our presence. It would be like…" I searched my mind, and finally came up with: "Asking T'Pol to hide the first time we met the Andorians."

"You knew what was likely to happen, and you still allowed Commander Tucker, a man who's already shown he lacks self-control, to end up in such a volatile situation." He looked at me sternly, like I was a misbehaving kid. I was in no mood to be told off. "Then blame me for it. While you're at it, blame me for everything Trip's done since we left Earth. I was the one who insisted he come along."

"I remember." Forrest looked back coldly. "Unfortunately, replacing the captain isn't an option at this stage. I'll speak to the other admirals and the Vulcan High Command, but if I were you, I'd tell Commander Tucker to pack his things."

Forrest cut the communication without saying good-bye, proof that I wasn't the only one feeling a little annoyed. I suddenly understood why Malcolm was so fond of his punching bag. I had to make do with hurling the water polo ball across the room. It ricocheted off the wall and hit me in the shins. Surprisingly, this didn't make me feel any better. I hobbled out of my ready room and headed for Trip's quarters.

***

He was lying on his bed with the lights off.

"Anyone you want me to track down when I'm back on Earth?"

Careful not to trip over anything, I went and sat beside him. "It's not your fault."

"Sure it is, Jon."

"They were asking for it."

"I shouldn't have given it to 'em."

"It's a fucking joke." I was furious, something Trip obviously sensed. Perhaps from the way I was gripping his sheets.

"I'm sorry, Jon. I know I can only say it so many times."

"I'm not mad at you." I wasn't. I was mad at Forrest for being such an ass, at T'Pol, for not trying—harder, anyway—to keep this from happening, at myself, for pushing Trip into it. "You just do…what you do." Whether that was right or wrong, it was Trip's personality, and Starfleet knew that. They'd done every psychological test under the sun before they'd hired him. Before I forced them to hire him.

"I don't belong here." "Don't say that." I looked down at him. "You want to help. You're exactly the kind of person who should be on this mission." As opposed to a clueless selfish jerk like me.

"Three years. I'm gonna miss you, Jon." I imagined three years of not seeing Trip at breakfast, of not talking to him at briefings, of not hanging out with him and Porthos.

"I'll miss you, too." That didn't begin to cover it. I wondered what I'd have to do to get myself fired, just so we could be together again.

"Jon." He looked at me with that same dazed look he'd had earlier, after we'd kissed. What the hell, I thought. If he had to leave, at least I could give him a proper good-bye.

"Trip." I lay on my back beside him. The nervousness was making a comeback. Quickly, before I could change my mind, I rolled onto my side so I could kiss him. That seemed like a nice, safe place to start.

We kissed for a while before Trip pulled away. "What do you want, Jon?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I want…" He waited. "I want to be like it was in the desert."

Trip looked confused. I couldn't really blame him. He smiled wanly. "Well, you can turn up the heat, if you want. And I guess Travis would shake the ship if you asked him to, but I don't think Malcolm would be real happy about that…"

I kissed him again, on the cheek this time. It had never been easy for me to explain what I felt. Especially when my feelings were as strong as this. "I mean I want to be able to…show you how I feel." In the desert, I'd be able to show Trip I loved him by protecting him with my body, by giving him my water, by bringing him home. I couldn't save Trip now, but I could still prove what he meant to me.

I pulled his zipper down as far as it would go, and pushed the jumpsuit off his shoulders. I made it halfway before it got stuck under Trip. That's the problem with these damn uniforms. They're next to impossible to get off with anything approaching finesse. Especially when you're horny as hell.

"Wait, Jon…"

"If I just…"

"I think I'd better…"

"No, I can…"

"Jon." Trip caught my hands. "Undress yourself, OK?" He smiled, more sincerely this time. "I want to do this before I get sent back home." He kissed me, just to make sure I didn't get offended, I guess. I was anything but. I turned away from him, sitting up and kicking off my boots while simultaneously taking off my T-shirt and undershirt. I added them to the pile of Trip's clothes already on the floor.

When I was down to my underwear, I stopped, seized by the same nerves that had gripped me the first time we'd kissed. What were we doing? Trip was a guy. Sure, I loved him, but I loved plenty of people I didn't have sex with. Trip was my best friend. Was it worth risking that to do this?

"Now I'm ready." Trip put his arms around me, his lips on my ear. I felt his chest hair against my back, a strange but not unpleasant sensation. "Somethin' wrong?"

"What are we doing?"

His tongue slid into my ear. "Whatever you want."

"Trip…"

He let me go. "If you're not comfortable, Jon, we can stop." He sounded the way he had when I'd told him about the Cogenitor's death. I had to change that right away.

"I'm comfortable, Trip."

"'Cause if you're just doin' this out of guilt…"

"It's not guilt." It wasn't. It was because I loved him and the only time I'd ever done a good job of showing him was when we were in the desert. "I love you."

"That doesn't mean you gotta sleep with me."

I looked back at him, at his big blue eyes, his uncertain smile. I hadn't known I was missing anything, but I knew this was exactly what I'd been searching for. Just like he had been the only person that mattered when we were on Zobral's planet, right now, he was the only person in the world, and I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anyone.

I heard myself growl as I turned and pushed him onto his back. It was different having a flat, hairy chest under me, but I didn't even think about that. I was too busy trying to lick every inch of his body.

Trip gave excellent blowjobs. That didn't surprise me. I was surprised, though, to find that it was even more enjoyable to give a blowjob myself.

It was like I'd never had sex before. Which, in a way, was right, because in thirty years of being more or less sexually active, I had never felt the way I did with Trip's cock in my mouth. It made me wonder why we hadn't done this sooner. Like ten years ago.

"Jesus, Trip." I lay with my head on his chest, one muscular arm around me. That was another thing that felt incredible. Trip was a little shorter than me, but he was just as strong, if not stronger, than I was. That had led to some interesting sensations, and it made me wonder about other ways we could have fun together. And I wasn't talking about arm-wrestling. Anymore.

"You OK?" He sounded anxious.

"It's…" I felt like I'd looked under the couch and found the puzzle piece I'd been missing for forty-six years. I felt like I could spend the rest of my life with Trip and be more than happy about it. I felt like I'd wasted so much time, and I wanted to make it all up as quickly as possible. I felt like I was in love, really in love for the first time in my life. But the old emotional aphasia struck again, and the only thing I could say was: "Great."

Fortunately, Trip seemed to get the hidden meaning. "Thanks. I was hoping to do that at least once before I die."

"Once?" That wasn't going to be nearly enough. "I'm afraid that's unacceptable, Commander."

Trip laughed. "I guess we can arrange a repeat performance or two before I ship out."

"You can't leave."

Trip sighed, and I felt his hand in my hair. "My fault, but not my decision. Or yours, Jon."

"Damn right. I'm never going to let you go." Not now, anyway.

"Tell you what. I'll find a nice house near the ocean and I'll be right there waitin' for you when you get back."

I imagined lying in bed with Trip while the waves lapped the beach outside. Seemed like heaven to me, but I couldn't ask Trip to wait three years for it.

"You don't have to. Wait, I mean." I would, of course. I'd had dry spells before, and anyway, in the space of one evening, Trip had spoiled me for other people. Having sex with them now would be like going back to ration packs after a five-course cordon bleu banquet.

"Are you kiddin'?" Trip raised his head. He looked tired, but he still managed a smile. "I've waited ten years for this. What's another three?"

"Ten years?" I sat up and, yawning, we rearranged ourselves so that we were spooned together under Trip's covers. "Why didn't you say something before?" I may have been blind, but Trip wasn't the kind to keep quiet. Usually, when he wanted to make a move, the only thing he waited for was a break in the conversation.

"I didn't want to risk our friendship."

"And now…"

"I didn't think we had anything left to lose."

I kissed the back of his neck. "I love you, Trip."

"Love you, Jon."

I pulled him closer, as if that would help keep us together.

***

We were still clinging to each other the next morning, when the comm woke us up.

"Mm." Trip squirmed a little as I pried my eyes open. The movement rubbed his groin against my stomach. I smiled a little.

"I could get used to waking up like this."

Trip grunted and I remembered our camping trips in Australia. Saying that Trip wasn't a morning person was like calling the Pacific Ocean a little moist.

He flung out an arm and hit the comm.

"Tucker."

"Commander Tucker, do you know where Captain Archer is?" Hoshi sounded worried. "I've got Admiral Forrest waiting to talk to him."

Trip looked over at me. "I can probably find him for you, Ensign."

"I'll put it through to his ready room." Hoshi paused. "Better tell him to hurry. I don't think the Admiral feels like waiting."

"OK."

Hoshi signed off and Trip put his arms around me. "If you don't hear it, it ain't real, right?"

"He'll just send it in a memo."

"You never read them, anyway."

"Of course I do."

Trip gave me a look. "I sent you a message a while back. Called 'Proposal to cannabalize nacelle housings in an attempt to improve flux capacity.'"

"Yeah, I remember that one," I lied.

"I guess you would. It was a photo of me in decon."

I choked. "What?"

"Security camera got it. Malcolm was thoughtful enough to send it along to me as a warning. I was alone and I got kinda…relaxed, if you know what I mean."

"I…" I gaped.

"I knew you didn't read them all." "Look, Trip, I've got a lot on my mind. I get dozens of messages every day…" That one, however, I was going to take out of the trash as soon as possible.

"It's fine, Jon." Trip stretched. "I need coffee. Go see when I'm getting fired, OK?"

I got to the ready room about five minutes later, hoping I didn't look like a man who had spent the night having wild passionate sex with his best friend.

Forrest wasn't in the mood for small talk anyway, so I didn't have to use my hastily made-up story that I'd spent the previous evening reviewing non-suggestive memos in my quarters.

"Nice of you to join me, Jon."

"I'm not on duty, Admiral." Which of course was a lie. A captain's always on duty.

"I've got one question for you, and I want you to consider it very carefully." He looked at me. "Do you think Commander Tucker is detrimental to this mission?"

My instinctive response was, of course, no. But that was what Jon, Trip's longtime friend and new lover, would say. Captain Archer had to take Forrest's question seriously.

Forrest took the question seriously, too. He didn't want me to answer right away. Instead, he told me to contact him within twelve hours with my opinion.

When he hung up, I went down to the mess hall to dig up some breakfast. Trip was already there, sitting with Hoshi and Malcolm. He was the centre of attention, the way he loved to be, Hoshi and Malcolm listening raptly as he told some story. When he came to the punchline, he played it for all it was worth, and it paid off. Hoshi and even Malcolm dissolved into laughter and Trip smiled, clearly gratified. He picked up his coffee cup and glanced up, catching my eye as he did so. I looked nervous, so I smiled as reassuringly as possible and went into my dining room. He didn't join me.

I saw Trip in Engineering later that morning. He didn't notice me at first. He was too busy leaning over the warp core and fussing like an anxious parent.

"Try it again, Rostov." Rostov apparently tried it again, but it didn't improve Trip's mood.

"Shit." He wiped his eyes, leaving a streak of grease on his cheek. "Come on, baby. What's wrong?"

Rostov disappeared, and I went over to stand beside Trip. "Probably worried her dad's going away."

He glanced over at me. "Not dad. Uncle, maybe."

"Favourite uncle, then."

"The one who lets her stay up all night and watch R-rated movies?"

I laughed. "You had better uncles than I did."

"Sure. Billy Joe used to give me and my brothers his back issues of 'Playboy.'"

"I bet your parents loved that."

"Hey, my dad was always fourth in line to read 'em."

I laughed and reached out to put a hand on Trip's shoulder. I really wanted to lean in for a kiss, but oddly comfortable as I was with the turn our relationship had taken, I didn't want to inflict it on the entire Engineering staff.

"What did Admiral Forrest have to say?"

"I don't think he's made up his mind yet." And neither had Captain Archer.

"In that case," Making sure no one was looking, Trip squeezed my hand then removed it. "I'd better get back to work. Can't leave her if she's sick." He smiled widely to let me know he was joking, then threw himself back into his work.

Trip was late for dinner, but he showed up, starving as always. I was pretty hungry myself, especially when I saw that Trip still hadn't wiped the grease mark off his cheek.

"Hey, I had a great idea today," Trip told me, between bites of lasagne. "We need a party. But not just any party." He grinned. "A come-as-your-favourite-historical-character party! Wouldn't that be terrific?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "Who would you be?"

"Einstein, of course." Trip considered it. "Or Zephram Cochran. But I don't think I have the outfit. Course, I could go as your dad, but that might get weird."

"Trip!" I shuddered as, involuntarily, I imagined us in bed, Trip taking his mouth off my cock to remind me, in his stern voice, that I wasn't allowed to go to water polo practice if I hadn't finished my chemistry homework.

"It'd be fun, though. I know Hoshi'd love it."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"You should. It'd be great for morale." He took a long drink of water. "If I'm still here, I'll organize it."

I looked at Trip, tucking into his lasagne like it was the greatest thing he'd ever tasted. He might not have been the most diplomatic man in Starfleet, and he could do really stupid (innocent, I reminded myself. Innocent.) things, but he was a damn good engineer and he was good for this crew. Captain Archer knew that as well as Jon did, and he explained it very succinctly in the message we sent to Admiral Forrest.

It didn't matter. The next morning, I got out of Trip's bed to find a message waiting for me. Garrett had been snapped up, but we were to await the appearance, likely within the next few days, of Commander Lesley Darwin-Meyers, new chief engineer of the 'Enterprise'.

We broke the news to the senior staff at the morning briefing. I told Trip I'd back up any reason he wanted to give for his departure. Health problems, sick mother, better job. But Trip wanted to tell the truth. Which was just as well, since, although I'd have gladly given it a try, I didn't think anyone would believe he'd been appointed Secretary General of the UN.

The crew were shocked to hear it anyway. Even T'Pol put up both eyebrows, and they stayed up while Trip explained:

"I've met Darwin-Meyers a coupla times. She's kind of a hard ass, but she'll keep you guys in line. If it's OK, Captain, I think I'll head down to Engineering now." He got up and left quickly enough for everyone to know that he was upset.

Malcolm stared blankly after him. "This is bloody ridiculous."

"Commander Tucker can't go," Hoshi's lip was practically trembling. I thought about calling Admiral Forrest to ask if he wanted to come kick Porthos and steal our good luck letters from world's schoolchildren while he was at it.

"There's nothing we can do about it." I cleared my throat hastily. "Now, if you'll look at your meeting agendas…"

But I'd already lost my audience.

"We have to do something," Malcolm insisted. "He's a bloody good engineer."

"And he's our friend." Hoshi agreed.

"Their minds are already made up. Believe me, if there was a way to change it…"

I didn't like the gleam I saw in Hoshi's eye. The one in Malcolm's frightened me. And the one in T'Pol's gave me hope.

After the meeting, I went down to Engineering to see how Trip was doing. At first, I couldn't see him. It was only when I came further into the room that I found my guy, up on the catwalk crouched by the engine.

"Trip." I folded myself down, sitting beside him.

"Captain." He glanced up. "What can I do for you?"

"Come on, Trip." Trip sighed, collapsing beside me. There wasn't anyone around, but I wouldn't have cared in any case. "They're really upset that you're going."

"Not as upset as I am."

"You'll be fine." One of us had to be, and it wasn't going to be me.

"I've got no one back there."

"Sure you do." I plastered a big, fake smile on my face. "You had lots of friends…"

"I had you and that guy who called me 'Chip.' And I think he's head of stellar cartography on Jupiter Station now."

"There's your family…"

"I'm not goin' near them."

"They'll understand, Trip." Trip's family was as great as he was. His mother was the only person who'd ever told me I was too thin.

"That's the trouble. My mother's understanding is a deadly weapon. As soon as I go back there, all I'm gonna hear is how I wasted myself on Starfleet, how I shoulda gone into biomedical research right off the bat, how I'm better off on Earth, until I wanna slit my wrists. Fuck, Jon!" Trip leaned his head against the warp drive with a little more force than necessary. "Dammit!" He rubbed the back of his head. Evidently, banging and swearing weren't cause for concern in Engineering. No one came to check on us.

"Trip, it'll be OK." It sounded like hollow reassurance, even to me.

"My family's here, Jon. You and Porthos. And the others. Hoshi, Travis, Malcolm, hell even T'Pol's comin' around. Back there, all I've got is a whole lot of people who are gonna know why I got the boot from here, and who are gonna treat me like I'm some kinda leper."

"You can take Porthos, if you want." I swallowed. "He loves you, and I know he likes running on the beach more than running on that treadmill." I didn't want to give up Porthos, but then I didn't want to give up Trip, either. And he was right. Even if it wasn't as bad as Trip imagined, he was still going to be stuck behind a desk in San Francisco while I was out exploring unseen space. He deserved a little comfort.

I looked over and was immediately seized by regret as I saw Trip's eyes welling up.

"Trip, I'm sorry…"

"That's just about the nicest thing anyone's ever offered to do for me." He put a hand on my leg and leaned over. "But you're gonna need him more than me."

"I…"

"I'm not the one who has to live with Darwin-Meyers."

"That bad?" I didn't know her myself.

"A five-star bitch." Trip smiled and inched closer. "Worse than that, she's an aggressive vegan. You'd better enjoy the meat now darlin', because you ain't gonna want a steak for the next three years."

Being kissed by Trip was, as I was learning, a fantastic experience whatever the locale. But, unfortunately, I had to admit the Engineering catwalk probably wasn't the best place to have sex. Which, as I'd also learned, was what tended to happen when Trip and I started kissing.

"Not the place, Trip." Reluctantly, I pulled myself away.

"What you gonna do, Jonny?" His smile widened, but it didn't seem entirely sincere. "Fire me?"

***

I knew from experience how hard it was to join a crew that had already been together for two years. It was even harder when you were replacing a much-loved senior officer. I had a lot of sympathy for Commander Darwin-Meyers. Until she arrived.

"You have received my meal requirements," was the first order out of her mouth. And it was directed at me.

"We have several vegetarians on board, Commander. The Chef's pretty good about accommodating special diets."

Darwin-Meyers looked at me like I'd just suggested she hunt down and eat one of the more unimpressive crewmen.

"I am not a vegetarian, Captain. I am a vegan. And it is not a special diet, it is a moral philosophy I look forward to sharing with you and the rest of the crew. I believe it will benefit you all to be enlightened as to…"

"Why don't I show you the Engines, Commander?" Trip interrupted. "You'll have plenty of time to talk about that stuff later." I shot Trip a grateful look as he escorted Darwin-Meyers out of the shuttle bay. He turned his answering wink into a rub of the eye as the Commander turned back to add:

"Have someone take my things to my quarters, would you, Captain?"

"And then," Trip smiled clearly enjoying the retelling of his day more than he had enjoyed living it. "She told Malcolm he's gotta submit all weapons proposals in triplicate six weeks before he needs an answer, and that any changes need her personal approval before he can give them to you. Cited chapter and verse in the Starfleet protocols."

"I bet that went over real well." Commander Darwin-Meyers had been onboard for eight hours, and I was already getting a headache.

"He looked like he didn't know whether to be pissed off or turned on."

"I'd go with pissed off, personally." Darwin-Meyers wasn't good-looking enough to be worth the pain, and I was learning I really liked meat. Especially Trip's.

Trip moved so he was kneeling behind me on the bed. I'd been in the process of changing when his horror story had distracted me, so I was only in my underwear. Not that this bothered either of us.

Trip had been given two days to get Darwin-Meyers up to speed before the shuttle was going to take him back to Jupiter Station. As soon as we'd shared that with the staff, Hoshi had insisted on putting together a going away party for him. I gave her free rein and told her I didn't want to know anything about it until the day. I was still hoping Trip would be able to stay. Having to organize his going away party would have poked a rather large hole in the nice, cozy bubble of denial I'd been living in for over a week.

"Good," Trip replied, putting his hands on my shoulders and beginning to rub. "I'd hate to think you made a habit of sleepin' with your chief engineer."

I leaned back towards him. "Not a habit, exactly." It wouldn't be for a while, anyway. "We have a party to go to, you know," I reminded him, as his large, warm and very talented hands moved lower.

"Do we have to?"

"Hoshi went to a lot of trouble."

"And I've got two more nights with you. Hoshi can go to hell." Trip didn't even fool himself. Twenty minutes later, after a very pleasant yet highly distracting shower, Trip and I arrived in the mess hall.

To find the entire crew in their underwear.

"Commander Tucker!" Hoshi bounced over in her blues as he and I stood, frozen in shock, in the doorway. It was the first time I'd ever seen Trip speechless, but I was in no position to enjoy it. I was just as dumbstruck.

My surprise turned to shock when I saw Phlox in what could only be described as a pair of leopard-skin boxer shorts.

"Wh…I mean, what did I…" Trip stammered eloquently. I chose not to notice how hard he was staring at Hoshi. And Hess. And Malcolm.

"We want you to remember the good times you had here." Hoshi stretched out her arms and, for a brief moment, I wondered if Trip's eyes were going to pop out. And if Phlox could do anything about it in his current state of dress. "Like when you saved us all in your underwear."

I'd always felt kind of paternal towards Hoshi. Looking at her in her skivvies in a non-medical context made me feel like a dirty old man. Not to mention that it made me feel guilty towards Trip, even though he was clearly enjoying his eyeful. I averted my gaze and ended up staring at one of the toilets Trip and his team had knocked together when we'd been trapped on the catwalk.

"All of the good times," Hoshi grinned, following my eyes.

"Holy shit," was Trip's reaction as he saw the toilet. And those hideous robes we'd worn when we met the Akaali, and a clump of vines on the far wall that were obviously supposed to represent the jungle where'd he'd been with Kaitaama. In the Biblical sense.

Trip glanced over at me when he saw that one. I smiled at him to let him know it was OK. I hadn't been jealous when he'd slept with her. I'd never even considered Trip like that at the time and, while I had made a show of being annoyed, I'd understood more than I let on. People respond to life and death situations in different ways. Trip had responded by reaching out to the only person nearby when it happened. I could only be grateful he hadn't done the same with Malcolm when they'd been stranded on the shuttlepod.

"Thanks a lot, Hoshi. Everyone. This is…just great." Trip sounded a little choked up. I put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Right away, he took my hand in his and moved closer, putting his other arm around my waist. I stiffened, and not in a good way.

"Trip…" I looked around, but the underwear-clad crowd were talking amongst themselves. Phlox came over with a brightly-drink with a paper umbrella, which he handed to Trip. He didn't even acknowledge the fact that we were cuddling in public.

"Don't worry, Commander," he smiled. "I can assure you there's no danger of being robbed by gender-bending muggers here." He went off again, and, still holding my hand, Trip dragged me over to the buffet table, laden with pecan pie, steak, catfish and ration pack meatloaf.

"What are you doing, Trip?" I hissed.

"Letting everyone know that Kaitaama was a brief moment of insanity." Blue eyes looked up at me nervously. "And Liana, and all the rest. Is that OK? I mean, I know I'm gettin' out of here, but you've got another three years…"

"I don't mind." I didn't. And that's saying something, because an affectionate smile was usually my public limit. "Really." I smiled at him and picked up a chocolate chip cookie. Chef really had gone all out for the occasion.

"Good. I like showin' off."

"I know."

"And I won't have many more chances." With that, he pulled me in for a long, passionate kiss. When he finally let me go, I glanced around quickly, not knowing whether to be disappointed or relieved when no one seemed to be taking any notice.

"Ah, Captain. Commander Tucker." I turned at the sound of a familiar voice. T'Pol surveyed the room like she was observing a formal state dinner. "I was unaware there was a dress code." She considered this. "I could remove my uniform, if it would assist in the establishment of a festive atmosphere…"

"That's OK, T'Pol." Trip grinned. "Thanks for comin' at all." Obviously, I wasn't the only one relaxing my usual standards. This was by far the most civil thing Trip had ever said to her.

"I would not have wished you to leave the ship without informing you of something."

"Shoot."

T'Pol looked at him evenly. "While your methods are often ill-considered and illogical, you have always been a devoted crewmember with a great deal of concern for this mission. Working with you has not been…entirely unbearable."

"You say the sweetest things, T'Pol." Trip laughed and knocked back his drink, but not before I saw tears in his eyes.

At one of the many interviews I'd had before being appointed to 'Enterprise', I'd been asked if I considered it appropriate for a captain to get 'festive'—by which they meant drunk—with his subordinates. I'd given the question as much thought as possible, given the fact I was nursing a five-alarm hangover after a binge with Trip the night before, and the answer I'd come up with was, no. Because it was what they wanted to hear.

In reality, I believed that a captain should be seen as human, and, as long as he didn't disgrace himself too much, enjoying a drink with the crew was part of that. Although it was lucky that Forrest and the others weren't around to see Trip and I, five or six cumulative sheets to the wind, kissing like a couple of teenagers next to the "Xyrillian punch" (hard liquor served in baby bottles I hadn't know we'd had onboard.)

Fortunate, too, that Forrest wasn't there when Travis brought out the party's pièce de résistance.

"If you have to leave, Commander," Travis, clearly a practised drinker, barely even slurred. "You've got to eat this first." He put one of Chef's best hand-thrown pottery bowls on the table.

"Whassat?" Trip, who had shed his uniform during the course of the evening, leaving him in T-shirt, shorts and boots because his "feet were cold", leaned heavily on me, which wasn't a good idea. I stumbled into a wall. It took a crewman I didn't recognize and likely wouldn't once he was in uniform, to right us.

"Blood soup. Complete with essence of the male." He giggled. "You ain't gonna get that in San Francisco."

"Maybe at one of those expensive sushi bars," Hoshi added. Trip took the lid off the pot and stared into it, then looked at me plaintively.

"Do I have to?"

I tried put my hand on his shoulder, missed, and ended up petting the crewman instead. "Trip," I removed my hand from the man's bare shoulder and put it on the table instead. "The burdens of command are great, no more so than when they force you to put the wellbeing of the crew above the wellbeing of a personal friend."

"Izzat a yes?"

I raised my glass to him. It was nearly empty, again. Didn't know how that kept happening. "The good of the many outweighs the good of the few."

"Indeed, Captain," T'Pol weighed in, nodding seriously. "Spoken like a Vulcan." Since Trip had talked her into trying a light beer, I'd noticed a slight pinkish tinge had appeared on her usually sallow skin, and she had fractionally loosened her usually skin-tight uniform. For all I knew, that was the Vulcan equivalent of a lampshade on the head.

"If I upchuck y'all are cleanin' it up," Trip said, before taking the pot in both hands and chug-a-lugging to the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd.

I was proud of him. He only gagged a little. When he brought the bowl down, there was blood soup all over his face and a wisp of male-essence tissue hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh my God." The renewed cheers almost, but not quite, drowned out the shrill voice of Commander Darwin-Meyers. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, staring at us like she'd walked into a William Golding novel.

"Commander!" Trip grinned at her, revealing bloodstained teeth. "Come an' join us." He took one of the few remaining plates off the table. "Foie gras?"

She stood, gaping, for a good minute before turning and running out of the mess hall. Trip shrugged and handed me the bowl.

"Cap'n?"

"Thanks, Trip." I downed the remnants of the soup and was immediately pulled in for another kiss. "Can't beat essence of the male, huh?"

"You said it, darlin'." Even drunk, I could tell that Trip's stage-whisper was audible on Mars. "But yours is way better."

***

"Stop movin' the goddamn bed."

"I have to get up." My bladder was quite insistent on the subject.

"Then get up already. I feel like I'm on the goddamn Q.E.3."

In as fluid a motion as possible, I climbed out of my bed. It wasn't fluid enough for him, apparently. He rolled onto his back, shielding his eyes with the sheet. "What the hell did I drink last night?" "A bit of everything, I think." Porthos jumped out of his dog bed and trotted over to greet me. I rubbed his ears absently and tried to quell my own delayed nausea.

Trip grunted. "If I got you a phase pistol, would you kill me?"

"Only if you kill me too."

"Suicide pact. Sounds great."

I went into the bathroom. When I emerged, Trip had managed to pull himself into a sitting position and was sitting, bleary-eyed and ashen-faced, with Porthos on his lap.

"Hoshi's putting a call through."

"From who?"

"Forrest."

In the two seconds it took me to cross to my desk, I made myself as presentable as possible. Which basically meant pulling on a shirt and trying to look at least partly alive.

"Good morning, Admiral."

This apparently took Forrest aback. "It's one o'clock in the afternoon, Jon."

"Yes." I agreed. "I was using military time." Forrest's furrowed his eyebrows, but before he could think about that one, I continued: "What can I do for you?"

"It's about Commander Tucker." I quashed the urge to glance over my shoulder at the bed. "He's staying."

"I…What?"

"He's staying," Forrest repeated, not sounding particularly happy about it. "Darwin-Meyers sent her resignation directly to me three hours ago. I don't know what you people did to her and I don't think I want to. Human Resources says she'll be in counselling for months."

"That's…that's too bad."

"I was all for bribing Garrett to leave the 'Copernicus', but the brass say Tucker's your man." And they were very right.

"So they finally realized he doesn't need to be the most diplomatic man on Earth to be a good chief engineer?"

"Not exactly."

"They saw that he has other positive qualities that enhance the mission?"

Forrest shook his head. "No."

"They saw," I grasped at straws, acutely feeling that the last straw I'd grasped at had been lodged in a king-sized margarita. "That Trip's making an effort to change his approach to first contacts?"

"T'Pol told us you're sleeping together. That's insurance for us, Jon."

"Insurance?"

"In case anyone ever accuses us of discrimination. Again. It's pretty hard to say we're anti-queer when we've got a gay couple as captain and chief engineer of our flagship."

"So Trip's only here to cover your ass?" Not that I minded keeping him, but I'd rather the only ass he'd had anything to do with was mine.

"That, and T'Pol gave us some story about him eating alien testicles or something?" Forrest shook his head. "And keeping them down? Twice? I'll tell you, the man who can do that can take care of my warp five engine any day." Exactly what I'd said.

"Thank you, Admiral."

He signed off, and I crawled back into bed with as little movement as possible.

It was a philosophical poseur, that was for sure. I opened my mouth to start the discussion about whether Trip wanted to stay knowing it was only because he was involved with me, when Trip interrupted crankily:

"Don't start, Jon. There's nothing immoral or questionable about it. I'm staying. End of story."

"But it makes you look like…"

"I don't care what they think. The people who know me know different. That's all that matters."

And, I realized, it did. A kindergarten lesson it had taken me forty-six years to learn.

"Oh." I blinked, then smiled. "Good." He lay back down, which I decided to take as an invitation. "You know, it is my day off. And now you don't need to brief Darwin-Meyers about the enignes…"

Trip sighed, like I was proposing a fourteen-mile hike in the Rockies. "Get me some of Phlox's hangover cure. Then we'll see."

I made it back from sickbay in record time, but it was still too late. Trip had gone back to sleep, cuddling Porthos. I climbed in beside them, putting my arm around Trip and leaving the hangover cure on the table for future use. The last thing I wondered, before I dropped off, was if '2001: A Space Orgy' was in the video library, and, if not, if I could get Forrest to send it to us.