Missing Scenes from Season Three - Impulse

SPOILERS: "Impulse" and "Rajin" and it may not make sense without them.

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek belongs to CBS/Paramount.  "Impulse" was written by Jonathan Fernandez from a story by Jonathan Fernandez and Terry Matalas.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two missing scenes here, actually -- one pre- ep and one near the end.  And many thanks as always, reviewers and beta jT.  Also, thanks to all at Triaxian Silk who tried to help me identify the movie from T'Pol's nightmare; ultimately I decided it didn't matter.

 "This isn't working any better than it did the last eleven times," Trip said, quickly shutting down the attempt before they could blow up another set of equipment. 

T'Pol shut her own equipment down and turned a cool look on him.  "Agreed."

Trip began to pace in the small space they had set up on E deck.  "Maybe this was really just another prong of their attack.  One, send Rajiin to spy on us.  Two, use the creepy chemist to see if we'll blow ourselves up, or maybe just drive ourselves mad trying to do something that can't be done."

 "I can find no errors in the equations.  Perhaps this fairly primitive equipment is not finely calibrated enough to maintain the proper protocols."

He scowled.  "Don't suppose you've got some nice, finely-calibrated Vulcan equipment stashed somewhere that you could share with us?"

She just raised an eyebrow.

Trip leaned against the table in their makeshift lab and folded his arms.  "Obviously, there's a reason people will kill and enslave each other to mine real Trellium-D ore in this Expanse.  If it were really that easy to just synthesize it, they wouldn't bother."

"Do you believe we should tell the captain it is time to give up our attempts?" she asked.

Damn.  Did he?  "He'll be really disappointed."

"I believe he is already somewhat disappointed."

That was undoubtedly true.  Archer had even stopped asking for status updates on the project. 

Trip was thankful they hadn't traded anything more valuable than a case of spices for this damned recipe.  Not that Chef saw it that way, of course.  Trip was still getting dirty looks from the galley.  And Chef hadn't made pecan pie even once in the last month.  And Trip could swear he'd purposely started making his chili bland, even though Trip knew for a fact that there was still an ample supply of cayenne in stasis.  He sighed.  "Your staff hasn't had any brilliant ideas, I take it?"

"Ensign Rao said he thought it looked a bit like alchemy - which he then explained was a failed attempt over many centuries to turn base metals into gold."

Trip snorted.  "In other words, we've been had."

"He did suggest that this tradition had at least helped build a useful base of knowledge and practice for the discipline of chemistry which would follow.  Perhaps this will serve a similar purpose for us, especially if physical laws indeed function differently here in the Expanse."

"Perhaps," Trip said.  "Personally I feel like we're just beating a dead horse.  I think it's time to take a break." 

There was a slight pause, possibly for her to process his figure of speech, before she said, "Perhaps an hour of neuropressure . . ."

"I mean a real break.  As in, let's call this quits.  We can always come back to it if one of us has an epiphany in the middle of the night or something."

"We are still having dangerous encounters with spatial anomalies."

"Well, frankly, I think at this point we'd probably be better off if you focused your efforts on detecting and avoiding them than trying to come up with what is looking a hell of a lot like a mythical substance." 

She stared at him for a long moment.  Finally, she nodded slightly.  "Agreed."

They worked quietly, packing away supplies and equipment.  He was going to miss working with her.  He suspected that might be a big part of why he'd delayed accepting reality.

As for her - well, her reluctance to quit was probably just an example of dogged Vulcan determination, nothing more.

He wondered if there was something else he could come up with for them to work on together. 

Or maybe he could get movie night going again.  Before the Xindi attack she'd actually begun to attend those voluntarily once in awhile.  Sometimes she'd even sit with him and eat his popcorn.  And since Chef was one of the biggest movie buffs on the ship, it might be a good way to get back in his good graces, too.  Besides, the whole crew was getting cranky.  They could all use it.

x x x

T'Pol stared up at the ceiling of sickbay.  Archer had refused to do what was logically required: leave her somewhere so the forward hull could be insulated with Trellium-D and protected from gravimetric distortions.  It was a grossly irresponsible decision on his part, though the thought of being dumped all alone in the middle of the Expanse was also quite horrifying - but then her emotions were still in tumult, racing just beyond her control, blowing about unpredictably like leaves and brush in a storm.

"How's she doin', doc?"

Commander Tucker.  Her heart leapt: He'd come to see her.  But did she want him to see her like this?

"T'Pol is recovering well, Commander.  But as I told the captain, it will be a few days before she is fully recovered."

"Can she have visitors?"

Yes, she thought.  No.  Yes, please.  Send him in now.  No, don't!  Torn by conflicting impulses, she all but moaned in frustration.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Phlox said.  "She really needs some rest in a calm environment."

"I can behave," Tucker said.  "How about just a short visit?  She's going to miss movie night.  I just wondered if she wanted me to patch it through here for her."

"That might be too much stimulation right now."

"It's a very light comedy," Tucker said.  "She can always turn it off if she doesn't like it."

"Well . . . I'll ask her."  Footsteps came her way.  "You're awake," Phlox said, smiling down at her.  "Did you hear our discussion?"

"Yes," T'Pol said, gripping her blanket.  She had been sweating so much as her body purged itself of toxins that Phlox had given up on providing her with dry pajamas and resorted to absorbent bedclothes instead.

Tucker followed right behind Phlox, which made Phlox frown in irritation. "How ya feeling, T'Pol?" Trip said, with a brightness that seemed slightly forced.  "Any better?"

"Yes, somewhat," she said stiffly.  She suddenly wondered just how much Tucker had seen of her . . . before . . . when she was completely out of control. 

"So what do you think?" Tucker said.  "Up for a movie?  It's called Road to Zanzibar. An old Hope and Crosby flick . . . you'll find it extremely illogical.  But it's something to do, right?  You can analyze it for Human patterns of irrationality or something."

"I don't know," she said, honestly enough. 

"Well, let me give you the synopsis, and then you can decide," he said, and looked meaningfully at Phlox.

Phlox scowled.  He said, "Five minutes, Commander," and left.

"So, it's what they call a road movie," Tucker said.  "There's a whole series of them, and they're always  about these two idiot guys who are buddies and rivals and always end up chasing the same girl."

She stared at him in utter incomprehension.

Tucker came closer.  "You sure you're all right?"  He'd lowered his voice.  "I'm sorry about the Seleya.  Cap'n told me you served on her yourself - even knew some of the crew."

That loss did ache, when she allowed herself to think about it.  "There were many fine crewmen aboard, but they were . . . no longer themselves."

He sighed.  "I guess it's a damned good thing we never managed to synthesize any Trellium-D, huh?"

She frowned.  "The captain is wrong not to avail himself of such a useful substance during such a critical mission."

"Yeah, well - you're pretty useful during a critical mission, too.  I would have made the same decision he did."

"It would be much better for the ship if I had left when the High Command told me to."

"Don't be ridiculous.  You get us out of all sorts of scrapes.  Not to mention you're keeping me going.  You gotta know that sleep-deprived chief engineers can get into all sorts of trouble.  I probably would've blown up the warp drive by now if you weren't here."

"I doubt that."  Her throat felt thick, choked with emotion.

"Anything I can do for you?" he asked softly.  "Maybe sneak in a little neuropressure while Phlox isn't looking?"

She shook her head.  His touch would be a comfort, but far too stimulating in her current state.  Besides, Phlox would return any second.

Tucker smiled sadly down at her.  "Well, I guess I'd better let you rest.  Do you want me to patch through the movie?"

Her eyelids felt heavy.  She did need to rest.  "Perhaps another time."

"Fair enough.  Anyway, if this one goes over well, we'll run the whole series."  He briefly squeezed her hand and his voice turned a little husky.  "Feel better."

She nodded and let her eyes drift shut, all her being focused on the faint psychic echoes of his touch - embarrassed, hesitant tendrils of concern and warmth and affection that were distinctly Tucker.

It felt like water in the desert.

And oh she was thirsty.