TITLE: Making History
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just ask.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: The Enterprise crew ponders their place in history.
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: Malcolm's bit about the Captain, et al., is paraphrased from the musical _1776_ by Sherman Edwards and Peter Stone. My apologies to those esteemed gentlemen for stealing it, it was just...perfect. Thanks as always to Captain Average for the beta.

* * * * *

"Bartender!" Trip called. "Another one of these...whatever they are." He glared at Hoshi as she snickered at his eloquence.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a bar, but it was the closest thing the crew of the Enterprise had found on this planet. There weren't any bar stools--or tables, actually--just a bunch of brown cushions scattered on the floor, but they served alcoholic beverages and decent human-edible munchies, and that was all the crew really needed.

The ship was back in known territory for some desperately-needed rest, relaxation, and repairs, and the Captain had declared that for tonight, only a skeleton crew would stay with the ship. He pulled Trip away from the engines and even dragged a protesting T'Pol out of her quarters, and they'd ended up in this bar (for lack of a better word) with the rest of the bridge crew and Phlox.

They commandeered a group of cushions and settled in, each in their own fashion. Jon and Trip sprawled, laughing, across theirs, taking up the maximum amount of space. Hoshi was next to Trip, sitting in a relaxed lotus position, her hair loose and flowing down her back. Phlox knelt beside her, not comfortable in either tailor-style or lotus position; he was questioning Travis--who fidgeted his way through several positions--about various boomer customs.

Malcolm reclined gracefully on his cushion, listening to the conversation around him, but somehow managing to look poised to defend his crewmates at a moment's notice. Lastly, T'Pol sat between Malcolm and Jon, her lotus position much stiffer than Hoshi's. In fact, her every movement conveyed discomfort, unease, and a deep desire to be somewhere, anywhere else. She kept peering suspiciously into her glass, which contained tea, as if she were afraid someone had added a foreign substance to it while she wasn't looking.

The conversation meandered around, touching on food, politics, bad dating experiences (no one would *ever* forget Trip's story involving the circus clown and the broken turbolift), and in that strange way off-duty conversations have, it moved to the subject of fame and notoriety.

"It's sorta strange, bein' famous back on Earth," Trip said, tossing back part of a frothy turquoise drink. "I'll never get used to news articles written about me."

Hoshi laughed. "That's not a problem for most of us." She nibbled on a cracker. "Nobody ever remembers the little people who run the ship, the anonymous crewmen and ensigns. History will remember you, the Captain, and T'Pol."

A waiter delivered a tray of snacks and Hoshi's comment was momentarily lost in the shuffle of passing it around.

After taking a bite of a meringue-like cookie, Trip said, "Hoshi, you won't be forgotten by the history books."

"I'll be forever enshrined as the 'miracle ear.'" She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink (which was a somewhat bilious green). "If anyone even remembers my name, I'll be lucky."

Trip looked at Malcolm--who was grinning at the comment--and threw a cracker at him. "What about you? The history books won't forget the man who made our phase cannons work and kept our weapons running."

Malcolm snorted. "Are you joking? I won't even appear. It'll be Captain Archer did this, Captain Archer did that, Captain Archer did some other thing. Captain Archer smote the ground and out sprang Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol, fully grown and carrying Enterprise. Then, the four of them--the Captain, Tucker, T'Pol and Enterprise--single-handedly saved the universe."

The humans laughed, and Phlox eyed Malcolm curiously. "Is that a reference to an Earth text? I do not believe I have ever seen the Captain smote anything."

Jon choked on the drink he had just raised to his lips, and Trip helpfully pounded him on the back.

"Yes, it's a Biblical reference," Trip said, avoiding Phlox's eyes. "Um, don't worry about it."

Phlox looked reminiscent. "Ah, the Bible, I had a fascinating visit to the Vatican, where they explained-"

"So, Captain," Hoshi said quickly, "what will your place in the books be?"

Jon coughed one last time, then leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Let's see, when they talk about me, everything will be in capital letters: The Dream, The Mission, The Ship. I'll be nearly seven feet tall, as handsome as a god, and smarter than Einstein and Surak put together."

"You mean, you're *not*, Cap'n? I'm so disillusioned." Trip tried to look downcast, until Jon kicked his ankle.

"Well, Trip, what about you?" Jon asked. "How will you be remembered?"

"Definitely comic relief. When they talk about me, the tour guides will put on some godawful Southern accent that sounds like they're drownin' in maple syrup." Trip bore down on his drawl. "An' th' chief eng'neer was chiefly known fuh bein' Suthun."

T'Pol frowned. "It is pointless to predict what history will say, since we do not know what lies before us in our mission."

Travis finally spoke up. "And we'll be dead, too, but that's not the point, ma'am. Now me, I'll be the native guide, friendly but not too smart. Representing the brave but foolhardy pioneers of space." Malcolm threw a napkin at him. "Do not mock one of the pioneers, sir," Travis said with a grin.

Phlox smiled genially. "On my own world, history rarely discusses individuals, it focuses on the movements of large populations. So, I rather doubt I will appear. Enterprise most certainly will, though, as an example of how times are changing in our little corner of the cosmos. As for how Earth history will treat me, well, I don't believe it's generally very fond of aliens."

T'Pol frowned even harder. "Vulcan history is always strictly factual."

There were a few faint groans and several sets of beseeching eyes looked to Hoshi as their ship's expert on Vulcans. She sighed. "Sure it is, but what we're talking about is what the history books choose to talk about. I mean, they can't describe *everything* that happened, right?"

"Correct."

"Well, we're wondering which parts of our history they'll think are important enough to describe."

T'Pol looked dubious, but she nodded.

"There will be tours of a decommissioned Enterprise," Jon said.

Hoshi laughed. "Small children will drop chewing gum on the warp coils, and courting couples will neck in the Captain's ready room."

Malcolm groaned into his drink. "My phase cannons will be hopelessly outdated antiques."

"So will my warp drive," Trip said with a sigh.

"Hmm," Travis said, "there'll be a cafeteria and gift shop in the messhall."

"Don't say that anywhere near Chef," Hoshi said, rolling the dregs of her drink around the bottom of the glass. Trip took it away and waved for a refill.

Jon looked contemplative. "But what will they think about our mission? Will we be seen as explorers or conquerors? Will they remember our successes or failures?"

"Most likely a little of both," Phlox said. "Making history is rarely an unmixed blessing."

"I hate to think of Enterprise being just an old beat-up museum of a ship," Travis said.

Trip got serious for a moment. "There's always been an Enterprise. There will always *be* an Enterprise."

Everyone stopped and thought about that.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Jon said, raising his glass. Everyone hoisted whatever they were drinking, even T'Pol. He smiled at them: occasionally cantankerous, often stubborn, usually brilliant...they were his crew. "A toast to all the Enterprises, past, present, and future, may history treat us kindly. To Enterprise!"

"To Enterprise!" everyone chorused.

--end--