TITLE: Dear Annie
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Shuttlepod One."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: This is completely unrelated to my other Hoshi story, "The Fear." Oh, the coprolite story is true and belongs to anthropologist Aubrey Williams of the University of Maryland, College Park. If you don't know what coprolites are...you've never done archaeology . Thanks to Captain Average for the fast beta, so I could post this on my lunch hour!
DEDICATION: For Jessica, who is very far away and a damn good linguist. Stay safe, my friend.

************************************

Dear Annie:

I wish we could talk live, but between Enterprise's precarious connection to Earth and your usual inaccessibility--which country *are* you in these days?--I thought I should just go ahead and send an ordinary message. It'll catch up with you eventually.

I know you haven't heard much from me since the Enterprise lifted off, and that's because I've been busy and a little lazy. Adventure just isn't all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you. I know you thought being the linguist and comm officer on the Enterprise would be a wonderful experience for me, and in some ways you're right...but I've been bumped and bruised and bedazzled and bewildered so many times that I'm never sure if I'm coming or going.

All those stories you told me about your fieldwork in New Guinea? Hah! I'll give you those and raise you dead alien bodies hanging off meat hooks like a bizarre slaughterhouse. The time you were stranded in the Sahara with a broken comm link and three days of water? Please. I've got a story about a smelly Klingon ship with a deteriorating orbit and a lot of torpedoes going boom. I was so scared, I had to be saved by our resident Vulcan.

And I know you love to wow the undergrads with the story about collecting coprolites in a Mexican village while in fear for your life lest they mistake you for a witch...but we nearly lost our top three officers to the Andorians and then the Andorians saved them from the Coridians. You need a score card to keep track of who's who out here, and even that won't necessarily help.

The Vulcans are our allies, except for when they're not. The Andorians, well, we're not quite sure about them at the best of times. We liked the Xyrillians, except for the minor energy parasitism and the bit where they got our chief engineer pregnant. Yeah, you *do* remember correctly, our chief engineer *is* a man. Don't ask.

But the languages. Man oh man, that's what keeps me going. It feels like everyday there's a new language to translate, changes to incorporate into the Universal Translator (which isn't, by the way), and new aliens to communicate with. Or misunderstand, as the case may be.

But heck, we don't even fully understand the *Vulcans* yet, so how can I expect to completely understand these aliens we've known for a few hours? At least the Captain seems to know that, but those are the times I wish you were here. What a team we'd make! The aliens would never know what hit them.

So, that's my life out here in a nutshell. I'll bet you're wondering why I finally got around to writing you *now*, as opposed to in the last six months or so. I guess it's because of a recent experience, not something that happened to me, but that happened to two of my crewmates.

We nearly lost them.

And not because they were saving the universe from destruction, or otherwise doing something heroic. They nearly died on a routine mission because of something idiotic. The long and short of it is, they thought Enterprise had been destroyed. They got stuck in a shuttlepod off the beaten path of interstellar commerce, thinking they were going to die. They were hit by a...well, the Captain and Commander T'Pol haven't agreed on what hit them yet, but they were very low on oxygen.

And while they were preparing to die, we were blithely traveling along to the rendezvous, without the faintest idea what was going on. Malcolm and Trip came within a few hours of dying, and we nearly didn't find them in time.

It shook me up, I guess, how close I came to losing two friends, and I started thinking about you and the rest of the gang. I could die out here without ever seeing you again, some misogynistic farmer could kill you during your fieldwork, or Mark could fall into one of his pits.

Nearly losing Trip and Malcolm made me think about how much I value my friends, but how much I take you for granted.

I haven't figured out, exactly, what I'm going to do with this new awareness of mine, but I thought dropping you a line was a good start.

Here on the ship, I guess I'm going to take a little more time to get to know people. Of course, that shouldn't be too hard when it comes to Commander Tucker. You remember, he's the engineer you saw on the news and told me was "damn sexy." Trip's a sucker for a lady, and all I need to do is bat my eyelashes.

That makes him sound like a womanizer, but that's not what I mean. He's a sweetie, with quite the sense of humor, and a gentleman to boot.

I've known Jonathan, I mean Captain Archer, since well before this assignment, but even before he became my Captain (oh, that came out wrong, you know what I mean) he wasn't easy to get to know. And around here it's worse than academia! At least I could spend time with my students without it becoming a capital case. They take rank so seriously, which I find amusing. Well, we must allow the boys their games, right?

I'm not sure how easy T'Pol will be to get to know. She and the Captain seem to understand each other, but she's not exactly into girl-to-girl talks in the mess hall. I'll try, though. If nothing else, I can practice my Vulcan.

I think it's essential that we get to know T'Pol. Do you realize she's lasted longer on this ship than any other Vulcan on a human ship? We need to figure out what we're doing right. Or what *she's* doing right. Another reason I wish you were here.

Then there's Malcolm Reed, our armory officer. He's even harder to get to know. That man is more private than anyone I've ever met. Remind me to tell you the saga of the birthday cake, someday when we have a few hours. He makes T'Pol look like a chatterbox, I swear, but he can be charming when he wants to.

Don't make that face at the screen, Annie, I mean it. I know you, you read that last paragraph and immediately thought of Eric. Well, Malcolm is *nothing* like Eric, and I haven't forgotten the lessons learned from that debacle. I promise. Besides, I didn't even say I was interested in him. I mean, I'm not. Probably. I'll let you know.

There are so many others, Travis, Dr. Phlox...I want to get to know all of them. If something happens, I want to be sure someone will remember them. I want everyone to know that I would mourn their loss.

I didn't mean to descend into doom and gloom, so I'll stop now before I start updating my will. I should get back to work, in any case. We'll be in orbit around this new planet (new to us, I mean) in a few days, and the Captain wants his greeting prepared in advance. In their native language, of course. It's got some interesting fricatives and...oh, never mind, you'll want to know about their food preparation methods not their language. I'll try and get you some of the preliminary reports on them as well as the other species we've met.

Just in case my message to Mark doesn't reach him, be sure to ask "Found any gold yet?" for me in a really obnoxious voice. And tell Tracy her help with Vulcan has come in handy.

I miss you, Annie. Be well and keep yourself safe. I plan to have all my friends around until we're old and gray.

Love,
Hoshi

TITLE: Dear Annie (Letter #2)
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Fusion."
NOTES: Thank to everyone who took the time to say they liked Hoshi's first letter. Feedback does a body good . Thanks again to Captain Average for the beta.

******************************

Dear Annie,

As promised, here I am again, remembering to catch you up on the events of the day...month...whatever. I'm glad my last message reached you in good health, and I'm thrilled to hear your news about Sarit, she deserves all the good luck in the world! Tell her I said she'll knock 'em dead at Bar Ilan.

As for what's happening out here, well, I never knew that mapping could be so exciting. Not the job of mapping, exactly, but who we had helping us. Would be believe renegade Vulcans?

Apparently, they took off in this ship with the goal of integrating emotion with logic. T'Pol says this is pretty dangerous, and if even half of what the rumor mill and the official log say are true, T'Pol may well be right.

Of course, I was out of the loop for most of the goings on, what with no new languages to learn. But, when I wasn't helping with the mapping or routing calls to and from Vulcan and Earth, I did get a chance to speak to their comm officer, and I gave him some help in upgrading their communications capabilities.

Don't laugh, I did admit you were right about those extra electronics courses way back when. And they came in handy before this, remember? I *know* I told you about the incident with the donkey and the waterfall.

So, I chatted up their comm officer, and if seven months ago you'd told me I'd meet a Vulcan who could chat, I'd have laughed you out of the room. Their small talk abilities still leave a little to be desired, but I did learn a bit about them. They've got some intriguing ideas. Just imagine: the formidable Vulcan intellect matched with emotional range. And it seems like most of them are managing pretty well, although there's a rumor about one...but it's only a rumor.

The past few days have been a real roller coaster, though. Here we were, a batch of humans out in the middle of deep space, working with a ship full of Vulcans getting in touch with their emotions.

And, didn't *that* put the fox in the henhouse. (Oh, good grief, I'm starting to sound like Trip. I think it's the curse of the linguist, not only to pick up language, but to pick up dialect as well.) In any case, Trip described these Vulcans as "more fun than a barrel of monkeys" (although I'm pretty certain *that* was intended to be sarcastic) and had a grand time doing male bonding activities with their engineer. This included, my informants tell me, sitting around with Malcolm in the mess hall asking about Vulcan sex. Why they wanted to know, I leave as an exercise for the reader.

And they weren't the only ones acting odd. First, the Captain snookers T'Pol into spending time on the Vulcan ship, then he acts like a broody hen (see, there I go with the animals again, definitely too much time with a certain dashing engineer) when she starts spending time with one of them. Maybe he's the one who wanted to know about Vulcan sex. As far as I can tell, most of the male population of this ship is interested in Vulcan sex.

Do I sound a little bitter? I shouldn't be, I suppose. It's not as if T'Pol encourages them, and the lure of the exotic and the unattainable has always been strong for the male of our species. Look at Eric and whatshername.

I suppose the theme around here *has* been strong emotion of one variety or another. The Captain and I seem to be getting jealous, most of the men are polishing up their lust, the Vulcan engineer had a brush with regret according to Trip, and T'Pol is getting in touch with some emotion or other, but definitely not any of the good ones. I'm not sure what happened, but it left her in sick bay, and she's looked absolutely terrible ever since.

I'm worried about her, actually. I mean, this is the woman who came back from being held hostage by the Andorians and *then* by the Coridians and the only reaction was a briefly raised eyebrow and a comment about their "incivility." And after a few days with other Vulcans, she looks like she's seen the coming apocalypse.

I tried to talk to her--she's helped me with my claustrophobia, I wanted to return the favor--but I got a brush-off. I'll try to be around in case she decides to talk about it. I can't force her to talk to me, all I can do is worry.

All of this got me thinking about emotions. How did they evolve? What purpose do they serve? What exactly do Vulcans give up by suppressing their emotions? Sometimes, it seems like it might be nice to avoid embarrassment, regret, sadness, anger, irritation, but I'm not sure what I would do without joy or pride or that feeling I get in my stomach when speaking to a handsome man.

I guess that's the heart of the problem in Vulcan/human interaction: our emotions weave their way through everything we do. They don't control us (as the Vulcans seem to think), but they tie our lives together, they make our experiences more intense, sometimes in a good way, sometimes bad.

If I were Vulcan, Eric couldn't have hurt me so badly, but I also wouldn't feel the triumph when I save everybody's butts around here. If I were Vulcan, I would just meditate away loneliness, but I wouldn't feel the awe when we see a portion of space no human has ever seen before.

That's what being human is all about, isn't it? Trade-offs.

See, there I go getting all philosophical and dumping doom and gloom on you again. Probably residue from late night bull sessions in your dorm room. Well, make sure you give everyone my love, and if you want more detail on these Vulcans, let me know and I'll send you a copy of the long letter I sent to Tracy. I knew she'd kill me if she didn't get a full report. As long as she cites me in the inevitable journal article!

Speaking of Tracy, did you hear from Jake? Can you believe he and Misha have a baby? Those boys still seem like babies to me. I told them to take better care of the baby than they did of the goldfish.

Time to get some sleep, I think. Tomorrow *should* be quiet, since we're still en route to our next destination, but you can't take anything for granted in deep space.

I suppose that's half the fun.

Love,
Hoshi

TITLE: Dear Annie ("Rogue Planet")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Rogue Planet."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Why did the translator give the pig things an alien name, but only name the Wraiths with an English word? Consistency, thy name is not Star Trek. Thanks as always to the charming and talented Captain Average for the beta.
DEDICATION: Once again, for Jessica. Because I miss her and I worry about her and she is searching for the apparently unattainable: peace in the Middle East.

* * * * *

Dear Annie,

When a member of a telepathic species talks to another member of that species, what language do they use?

Sounds like "if a tree falls in a forest...," doesn't it? Well, I was *this* close to getting a chance to test it, but we had to get out of Dodge before these hunters...

But, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? The abridged version: we found these hunters from a species called the Eska on a rogue planet and at first, we thought they were hunting these pig-like things. That's what they told the Captain, T'Pol, Malcolm and me when we found them. Okay, when they found us.

Then, after I came back up to the ship--there were nasty, fluorescent bugs, need I say more?--Jon discovered they were actually hunting these things they called "Binna," which the translator rendered as "Wraiths." They are sentient, telepathic shapeshifters.

I have to write that again, just because it amuses me. Sentient. Telepathic. Shapeshifters. "Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it's stranger than we *can* imagine." I can't remember who said that--JBS Haldane? Arthur C. Clarke?--but I can't help but think life out here proves it.

To make a long story short, Jon communicated with one of the Wraiths and Dr. Phlox came up with a way to confound the hunters and once again we saved the day.

I dragged most of the story out of Trip later, and apparently Jon's encounter with these aliens started with him chasing what he thought was a young human woman in a nightgown. (We're all hoping that she was using her telepathy to draw him out, and that he wouldn't *normally* chase women through the woods, especially on alien planets that couldn't *possibly* have a human woman.)

It's all kind of complicated, but the woman he saw (besides obviously being one of these Wraiths) represented an idealized vision from his childhood. Trip says Jon was pretty weirded out by the whole experience, but I think Trip is the one who was weirded out by Jon's calm reaction to having his head messed with.

In any case, the experience of encountering these shapeshifters made me wonder if the Vulcans don't have the right idea with vegetarianism. (Yeah, I know, you've been saying so for years, and why didn't I listen to you?) In the short time I was on the planet, I ate some of the pig-creature, but what if it had turned out to be one of these shapeshifters? What if we'd accidentally eaten a sentient being? It makes me sick to think about it.

Malcolm and Jon were having entirely too much fun traipsing around in the jungle. The testosterone level got a bit high there for awhile, and I was glad to have T'Pol there to keep them from going completely over the edge. Then, Malcolm asked if he could join them on the hunt, and I was really disturbed by how eager he was to go along, even if he did promise not to kill anything. It's one thing to like things that go "boom" and another...well, I guess we're back to the vegetarian thing again.

I was happy to get back to Enterprise and away from the insect life (did I mention the borers?), but I worried about the team the entire time they were down there. That may be the worst part, waiting for an away team to come back.

Then they called to sickbay, saying they had someone wounded, and I wanted to scream. I didn't even think it might be one of the Eskan hunters, I was just imagining Trip, Malcolm, Jon or T'Pol bleeding to death in the shuttle. Scary. I felt a little better when Travis looked nearly as scared as I did. Well, he's got that hero worship thing going with the Captain, so I'm not surprised.

Do you remember that Dr. Sindel we both had a crush on as undergrads? I wish he'd been half as worthy of our hero worship, as Captain Archer is of Travis'. Although, for the sake of our stress level, it would be nice if the Captain wasn't so prone to wandering off by himself into dangerous situations. Malcolm's not the only one who wishes he were a tad less hands-on sometimes, but good luck with *that*.

Thinking of things we'll never succeed with, I can't stop thinking about the Wraith's parting words to the Captain: to keep searching for the unattainable. I don't know if that's what we're doing out here, but I'd hate to think so. Maybe it was supposed to sound noble, but it just sounds hopeless to me.

It strikes me as so fatalistic, but maybe I'd be fatalistic if I were part of a species that had been hunted for hundreds of years. Ugh, what a horrible thought, living on a planet that never sees the sun, and every few years a bunch of over-muscled, heavily-armed beings lands their ship and tries to kill you for a few days.

I wonder what the Wraith saw in Jon's mind that translated to the concept of searching for the unattainable. What *are* all of us searching for out here?

I guess I'm searching for more data, more languages, more understanding. That may be neverending, but it's not unattainable. T'Pol, well, she's hard to read, but I think she just might be searching for understanding as well, understanding about what makes humans tick. Difficult, tricky even, but not unattainable. The same is true for Dr. Phlox, I think he sticks with us for the occasional glimpse into the human psyche, or the alien psyche for that matter.

Jon, Trip, Malcolm, and Travis have always made me think they were looking for adventure, excitement, new experiences. Jon is living out his father's dream, exploring the universe and representing humanity. Trip wants to make his beloved engines work better, and find new toys to play with, like the Vulcan tractor beam. Malcolm wants to find things to blow up, I suppose. Travis just wants to go farther faster than he could on his home ship, see more than just a small corner of the universe.

That's really true for a lot of the crew. They're in it for discovery, for excitement, for adventure out here on the frontier of the known human universe. I'm not sure I'm quite as sanguine about the whole adventure thing, but I'm learning. I'm hanging in there, getting used to space travel, I suppose.

I've been missing you a lot lately, but I'm sure you're keeping busy, especially with Amanda in your life. She sounds really nice, but I wish I were there to check her out. Can't have someone hurting my best friend, can I? I know...I'll have Mark check her out for me, because he's *so* subtle. No, you're right, that would be cruel to her. I'll just have to trust you've made a good choice. (Which reminds me, send me some details on Jerry and Rowena's wedding. I didn't expect them to ever go through with it.)

Stay safe, don't follow any beautiful women into the forest (it would annoy Amanda), and keep in touch. I hope you find whatever *you're* searching for!

Love,
Hoshi

TITLE: Dear Annie ("Acquisition")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
PAIRING: Tu/S
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Acquisition."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Okay, I'm probably veering off canon here, but how could I resist writing this? Especially since TPTB won't, because they seem to start each episode with a clean slate, character-wise. And yes, I *could* have written a thoughtful and interesting letter about the deleterious effects of greed, but I didn't. Nyah nyah. Ferengi do not inspire profundity. As always, thanks to Captain Average for the beta.
DEDICATION: This letter is dedicated to the amazing and wonderful Josephine for convincing Trip to let her use the transporters long enough to get me a tape of this episode. May the universe provide you as much Trip-in-boxers as you want.

* * * * *

Dear Annie,

Just when I think I've gotten the hang of this space travel thing, everything goes wonky. And, before you ask, on the Enterprise, wonky *is* a technical term. And this time...wow, I'm not sure wonky covers the full magnitude of Trip's behavior, let alone the aliens. I hope you've got some free time, because this is a long story, even with lots of irrelevant bits cut out.

Once again I missed all the really exciting parts of our latest adventure, which, in this case, may be a good thing, since I'm neither the fastest nor the best shot on the ship. I slept through the excitement, in fact. Literally. These dreadful greedy little aliens tricked Trip into bringing on board an artifact that released some kind of knock-out gas. Since he was in the decon chamber, he stayed awake while the rest of us (except poor little Porthos) were out cold. (This may be a lesson to us about picking up strange and apparently abandoned artifacts.)

And while we were unconscious, who knows what the aliens were doing to us. I know I was moved off the bridge. Ick, it makes my skin crawl. Mainly, though, they were looting the ship of anything of any potential value.

The really strange thing was how vague Jon and Trip were about certain events. (Oh, I forgot to mention the aliens woke the Captain up to ask where our storage vault was, and Trip managed to wake up T'Pol. Trip says he tried to wake me up next, and T'Pol backs him up. No, that's not the really strange part, I'm getting there.)

So, I read the Captain's report and it was pretty clear how the three of them befuddled and confused and tricked these aliens. Except for one part, where he says that he and Trip were captured and Trip convinced them all to walk into a trap.

Somehow, he never quite explains *how* they got them to go. I was curious, so I asked Trip about it. Instead of a straight answer, he got the strangest look on his face and said, and I quote, "The Cap'n and I pretended to argue, and they bought it."

Since that was essentially all the report to Starfleet said, I asked what they argued over and he said, "Oh, over the most valuable item on the ship." Then, engineering conveniently called him away to check on repairs to the warp injector.

Well, you know me, incapable of leaving a mystery alone. I figured it was probably something silly, but it's not like those two to be evasive, so I couldn't resist picking at it.

I tried the Captain, but he politely referred me to the official report and Trip, and Trip was up to his neck in putting the ship back together.

T'Pol considered my question for a few long moments, then pointed out she was engaged in setting the trap while the two of them were with the aliens. "However," she told me, "I can tell you this species was most interested in acquiring two things: gold-pressed latinum and female members of the crew to sell in a slave market. In fact, I overheard the Captain attempting to convince them that I was not interesting enough to take."

You can just imagine my jaw dropping at that, can't you? Somehow, the Captain left that out of his public report, although perhaps it's in the classified sections. Well, at that point, I was *really* curious about what happened when T'Pol wasn't there.

I took a day to ponder, then I had a good idea. The Captain really only confides in Trip, but Trip sometimes talks to one other person: Malcolm. The two of them have become friendly since they were trapped in that shuttle together. It's not all sweetness and light, but they've found common ground.

And since Malcolm's also head of security, it seemed like they might have discussed the events in detail, right?

So, I tracked down our intrepid armory officer, and cornered him in the empty messhall last night. To make a long discussion short, I finally got the story out of him. I think he'd been dying to tell me, but he cherishes the firm belief that he is not a gossip.

Okay, we've finally reached the wonky part. Are you ready? Are you sitting down? Don't say I didn't warn you.

Trip and the Captain needed to fake a fight over something, so Trip accused the Captain of not caring about the crew. Since these aliens were going to take us to sell at a slave market, Trip said they couldn't have his wife. One of the aliens who'd taken a shine to T'Pol was rather alarmed *she* might be Trip's wife, but Trip said, no, his wife's name was Hoshi.

Malcolm really enjoyed watching my reaction. I was actually speechless, if you can imagine such a thing; speechless for a good two or three minutes. My jaw moved, but nothing came out.

Why me? There are a couple dozen women on Enterprise, and the alien even asked if T'Pol was his wife, and he could have just said yes. But at that moment, with weapons pointed at him, he thought of *me*.

The two of them staged a fight over how much gold I was worth--I couldn't bear to ask what the answer was--and Trip told the aliens they could take our gold as long as he got to keep his wife. I mean, keep me.

It was all play-acting, though, right? I asked Malcolm that, and the man had the gall to say "You'll have to ask Trip, won't you?" I think he is enjoying the results of this whole situation entirely too much, between getting to surprise me, and the Captain *finally* listening to him about implementing more security, especially around away missions.

Then, Malcolm left me sitting in the messhall staring out at the stars, trying to figure out how I'm feeling about this. It was just a gimmick, wasn't it? Something to distract the aliens? But Trip told me they were arguing over the most valuable item on the ship. He must have meant the female crewmembers. Not me. Right?

I shouldn't be feeling so...so warm and fuzzy about this. Especially since Trip's been avoiding me since then. Every time he sees me, he gets the same funny look and runs in the other direction. I think Malcolm told him I know what happened.

I can't believe how flummoxed I am over this. I wasn't even thinking about Trip in that way! Sure, we spend time together and he's a lot of fun, but he's not my type. You know that. I like guys like Malcolm, quiet and sensitive, a little shy.

But Malcolm doesn't seem terribly devastated over this (more like amused), so he can't have been mooning over me. I don't know that he stirs any strong emotions in me, either. But he's restful, which Trip most assuredly is not.

So--I ask my old friend who knows me better than anyone in the universe--why am I spending half my free time analyzing the behavior of the man I wasn't interested in while he was under duress? Have I just developed some strange form of claustrophobia? Space sickness? Temporary insanity?

Okay, I really need to go get dressed, my shift begins in half an hour. Love to everyone (especially Amanda).

Love,
Hoshi

TITLE: Dear Annie ("Oasis")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Oasis."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Geez, if Hoshi doesn't get some screen time soon, I'm gonna have to give up on writing these! And it took me about a zillion times longer to write this letter than usual because my Hoshi muse thought the whole episode was fairly stupid. I'm grateful to Captain Average for the encouragement, the beta, and a good suggestion for this letter (which I pretty much stole verbatim). Um, and a quick note of apology to downinnewyork for T/S shippiness...Sorry, dear.

* * * * *

Dear Annie,

Married only a little while and he's already cheating on me, can you believe it? Okay, I'm being melodramatic, considering Trip and I aren't really married, but you'd think the man would have learned his lesson from the time he got pregnant: Don't mess around with alien girls, they'll only break your heart.

I know you asked where Trip and I stand at the moment, and the answer is...heaven only knows. He seems to be taking the approach of pretending nothing strange ever happened, and if that's what he wants...well, there you are. I think you're right about why I find him appealing, though. The question remains, what do I *do* about it? I've never been one to chase a man, especially one who immediately went after another woman. I suppose I just read too much into a small incident.

I suppose it's not surprising that I was confused. Trip's relationships with women of *any* species are a bit odd. For instance, Trip and T'Pol have this strange not-quite-adversarial, not-quite-friendly, bickering thing going on.

In any case, Trip found himself an alien girl a few days ago, a pretty blonde thing and she was an engineer, too. No way for a simple linguist to compete with a woman who can talk engines with him.

And Malcolm managed to get himself shot, *again*. I know he's our security officer, but doesn't that mean he's supposed to know how to keep from getting shot in the first place? I'm starting to worry about him.

But it was a strange situation all around. We found this supposedly abandoned ship on an empty world. I say supposedly, because the merchant who told us about it also said it was supposed to be haunted. Yes, that's haunted as in ghosts, spectres, beings from the "other side." Color me skeptical.

But when the away team went down to scavenge some parts and material from this ship, they started seeing things the tricorders didn't register. Turns out there were these people living there, carefully hidden in a shielded part of the ship. They came out and scared the heck out of anyone who tried to loot the ship, thus creating the image of a haunted ship.

I'll skip the lies we were told originally and jump straight to the upshot: Liana (the aforementioned blonde) and her father, Ezral, were the only people actually living on the ship, all the other members of the crew were sophisticated *holograms*. They'd been living there for 20 years, since the ship crashed, with just the holograms for company. Kind of creepy, if you ask me.

So, instead of getting materials from the ship, the Captain ended up depleting our stores further, helping them to repair their ship so they could return home.

Somehow, this whole experience has left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I've been trying to figure out why. (That is, *other* than Trip mooning over Liana. I'm fairly certain I'm not that petty. Am I?) I think it has to do with honesty and trust.

It bothers me that Liana and her father lied to us over and over, but somehow nobody ever took them to task for that. It bothers me that Liana trusted Ezral to take care of her, but he marooned her on that planet. Instead of asking one of the ships that passed in the last 20 years for help, it took Trip yelling at him to get him moving.

I suppose that I should admire the Captain, Trip, and Liana for their ability to forgive and forget, but somehow I can't quite manage it. It seems like forgiveness should be preceded by some sort of regret on the part of the party who erred. I did manage to forgive Eric, after all, but only after he apologized for his behavior.

I'm also concerned that the Captain and Trip seem inclined to trust everybody we encounter, and Malcolm and T'Pol are inclined to trust nobody. I can only hope that they'll manage to balance each other out. (I'd be fairly pleased if I thought the Captain was paying more attention to Malcolm's security suggestions. I thought after the female portion of the crew was nearly sold into slavery, he'd learned a lesson, but apparently I was wrong.)

Speaking of "trust," apparently we can't trust Mark out without a keeper. I'm assuming you've heard about his little escapade in Oaxaca, and have teased him suitably for me. All the high technology available to him, and he manages to get lost within a 20 minute walk of the site? Unbelievable. If you get a chance, send him one of those kiddie GPS units for me, would you? You know, the ones that talk to you if you stray too far from your parents.

As for me, other than feeling a little disgruntled about Trip's odd behavior, I'm feeling a little claustrophobic on the ship again. Unfortunately, I'm also afraid to go down to any of the planets we visit, as well. Really, it reminds me of Dr. Gi's story about being caught in that revolution in El Salvador. You know, where she was afraid to stay, but afraid to try and leave the country? Now I understand the concept of being caught between Scylla and Charybdis better than I ever did.

Time for another lesson with T'Pol, perhaps. She really has been helping a lot, and she says I'm learning the techniques very rapidly (with "for a human" being the unspoken end to the sentence). It can't be soon enough for me, because I get the feeling it doesn't get easier from here on out.

Love,
Hoshi