Jupiter Aligns for Mars

Chapter One: Jumpin' Jupiter

Focus: TnT. Okay, the beginnings of the Federation are in it, too.

Summary: This tale will not make sense unless you have read Forks in the Road . Our heroes are headed to their new home, and taking over the dysfunctional Jupiter Station is quite the challenge. Special thanks to Kotik for beta services. I finally wore out Cogito who is undergoing reconstructive cognitive function therapy. Kotik seems to just need an extra beer. Also my apologies and thanks to pdsldl just in case. The story “The Journey” may well have some unintended influence on this one. I encourage all to read that tale.

Special Note: I could not find a picture or diagram of Jupiter Station in canon during the proper timeframe. The series always showed the earth orbit repair/re-provisioning facility. So I made one up.

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Malcolm was positive his father would have been aghast at the change of command ceremony conducted aboard Jupiter Station. He was just as certain that T’Pol found it quite agreeable. Lt. MacGregor had formed his security forces and quartermasters into a semblance of an honor guard, while he and Trip had done their best to imitate senior officers. No one had been in dress uniforms, and Admiral Yamashita had kept it brief and departed as soon as the formalities concluded.

Now they were in conference room 8-3 waiting for Donal to join them. He had wanted to get the security sweep back underway and T’Pol had agreed. “Congratulations, Captain,” offered Malcolm. She nodded her head to him with a stoic expression, although Trip's giddy expression rather ruined the seriousness of the moment. Finally a smiling Malcolm turned to Trip. “Can’t you just straighten up for a moment?”

“Nope, I’m so proud of her I could bust.” They both grinned at that. T’Pol raised an eyebrow in response and they both lost it. Fortunately, by the time Donal joined them in the conference room composure had returned.

Once the lieutenant was seated, the newly minted CO asked him to begin his report. “Captain, we are 45% through the Class One security sweep,” began Donal, bringing up a sequence of images on the vid-screen as he spoke. “Green means inspected and cleared. We have been following Commander Reed’s plan. This conference room is clean. All finished residence quarters are cleared as well. You have your choice of three executive suites.” He gave her a PADD indicated levels and numbers. “I recommend 8-33 for your quarters, ma’am,” he said, pointing to the entry on the PADD and clearly struggling to hold back a smile. “We have single officers quarters for fifteen; crew quarters for fifty. We have ten days emergency rations for thirty people plus whatever is in the galley. The power systems have been reduced to just life support and secondary systems.”

She turned to Trip. “Commander Tucker, recommendations?”

“I’ll go take a quick look, but assuming everything’s fine I'd like to get my second aboard right now along with a few chiefs, and get this place powered up. After that we bring the non-construction folks aboard as quick as we can get ‘em.” Her focus moved around the table to Commander Reed. “Your priorities, Commander?”

Malcolm turned to his second. “Do we have adequate security until we bring on construction personnel, MacGregor? How many of the current group do you recommend we keep?”

“No, sir. I need four more enlisted and an officer. And if Admiral Yamashita will let us keep them all, I think you'll be quite pleased.”

Malcolm turned back to T’Pol. “I see the security sweep as our main bottleneck in the short term. Nobody can start working in an area until it's been swept, and we've already got people breathing down our necks. That's only going to get worse as we start ramping up the other departments. I recommend that we make security personnel our first priority. We need to be self-sufficient, too. Have you made a decision regarding Chef?”

“I asked for him pending security clearance, and was told he was cleared. Apparently Starfleet security has been quite proactive. They do not wish to make any exceptions. All personnel will be cleared prior to their interviews. I have received clearance status on our original personnel requests. All our proposed candidates are approved and cleared. Bureau of Personnel forwarded many additional names where we had blanks.” She paused “Should I expect any backlash?” she looked at Trip, but Malcolm spoke first.

 “No, ma’am. Starfleet personnel are anxious to rid our ranks of any who supported Terra Prime. I have been informed that the few discovered so far have been quickly discharged with prejudice. No one wants any trace of that stain to remain.”

“Good, what other priorities do you recommend?”

“Communications, stewards and quartermasters. I recommend we get Chef here ASAP. He will probably want to make changes to the galley and mess area. At the moment it isn't suited for much beyond lunch. We'll need the Biloxis as soon as we can get them.”

“Forward the results of your interviews to me for approval. I will attempt to expedite Chef’s arrival. I have no desire to subsist on emergency rations. It appears we have a lot of work to do.”

#####

As he headed down to engineering Trip began bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had been excited on their approach to Jupiter Station, but now it was his. Well, T’Pol’s, but that was close enough. He’d never really looked at the facility in detail. It had a flat bottom and slightly domed top; two large slightly curved sides and shorter ends each with a pronounced outward curve. The berthing station holding Challenger was on what he considered the starboard side. From station layouts he knew it had numerous fabrication areas and cargo bays to support construction.

He figured the port side was supposed to be a duplicate version, but had never been finished. T’Pol had agreed with him that that was the place to put the Biloxis. All it was doing now was providing shuttle bays on level 3. He was going to build the two new berthing stations on the bottom of the station. These would be for the new ship; he chided himself for not coming up with a class name yet. He had also obtained permission from the captain to modify the interior atrium. The station had fourteen decks. The lower two held the physical plant for the facility. The interior was open from the third deck to the top. He wanted to add another deck at level 5 and move the galley, the mess hall and quartermaster stations up there. Malcolm had embraced the concept: it would make security much easier to manage.

Malcolm had proposed, and the captain agreed, that all future “new” arrivals would be restricted to the “stern” end of level 3. The offices and conference rooms were on the “stern” end above the docking ports starting at level 5. Most of the space remained unfinished. The “bow” end held all the living spaces. After satisfying hmself that engineering was operating properly, he joined T’Pol on her way to look over the former commanding officer’s quarters.

Their new home on level 8 was expansive. It appeared that the former managers of Jupiter Station had spared no expense in their comfort. The captain’s suite had a living room, a bedroom, a small conference room, an office, a kitchenette, a walk in closet, and two bathrooms. It didn’t match the official drawings of the station, as apparently no one had bothered to update the as-builts. It had enormous viewports in each exterior room complete with automatic blinds. They had already taken a quick tour of the other executive suites and, while not as opulent, they made Captain Archer’s former quarters look like a closet. The single officers’ quarters were at least double the size of those on Enterprise. Trip was wondering how they got away with it, then remembered that rat bastard Gardner. T’Pol pulled him into an embrace as his anger flowed into the bond. “What is done is done, Adun.”

“I hope we can find some clean sheets, although I'm not sure I want to sleep in that bed, T’Pol.”

“T’hai’la, based on what I see I am confident that there will be multiple sets of bed linen. It will be pleasant to sleep in a king size bed again.” They quickly put their meager possessions away and changed the sheets. Trip moved to the office while T’Pol finished making the bed. “Tucker to Reed.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can we receive shuttles yet?”

“Yes, sir, the shuttle bays are cleared and operational.”

“Alright, let your boys know that we're gonna try to get Kelby, Chef and” … he broke off to call over his shoulder, “T’Pol, who else is on the first shuttle?” Trip felt her annoyance and watched Malcolm struggle to hold back a smile as T’Pol joined him.

“Commander, please come to our quarters.” The screen went dark.

“What did I do?” Trip stammered.

“Nothing, Ashayam.” Surprisingly, he knew she was serious.

“Then why the annoyance?” She opened her mind to him. Trip immediately felt his wife’s desire for him, her pleasure at finally having a “home” and a mischievous undercurrent that involved a long shower.

“Oh.”

###############

Malcolm's jaw dropped open as he entered the suite. “And I thought my quarters were excessive,” he muttered under his breath.

T’Pol motioned him into their conference room. “Malcolm, when you are in here you may assume it is casual. May I conclude you are not prepared to receive multiple shuttles?” He nodded.

“We're ready to receive them, but we only have one shuttle available. The round-trip time is killing us.”

“We appear to have considerable influence at the moment. Would you prefer we operate our own shuttles? Lt. MacGregor’s report indicated that there are two currently on board. We only lack pilots.”

She turned to Trip, quelling his objection before he could voice it. “No, you have too much to do here.” He ignored Malcolm's smirk. Her intentions for him came through the bond quite clearly and told him that the double entendre was intentional. Life just kept getting better and better.

Malcolm broke into the silence while Trip was distracted. “T’Pol, we didn't include pilots on our list, but I can pilot a shuttle. Do you have another list of folks ready for pick up?”

“I believe we can put one together quickly.” Malcolm left their quarters a half hour later with a list of people and pick up times. As soon as they were alone again, Trip turned to his mate.

“Honey, I believe you have dirt on your left shoulder blade.”

She moved into the smaller bathroom with Trip on her heels and twisting in the mirror said. “I do not see any.”

“It’s right here,” said Trip as he unzipped and pulled her uniform down, nuzzling her shoulder. Clothes went flying as they squeezed into the stall shower.

#####

Trip met Kelby at the docking port three hours later and extended his hand. “Great to see you, Daniel. This way. Hi, Chef,” he called over his shoulder as an afterthought as they headed away.

They entered engineering conference room 7-3 and the door closed behind them. Trip waved his guest to a seat, and took a seat of his own.

“I want you here, Commander.”

“Dan, please, sir.”

“Okay, Dan. Before we go any further you need to know that you have been completely vetted by Starfleet. If you hadn’t passed, the shuttle wouldn’t have picked you up. Everyone goes through the process.” Trip got more serious. “My wife, Captain T’Pol, runs this facility. If you have any problem with that, this interview is over. I won't hold it against you, but that's just the way it is.”

Kelby looked at Trip in astonishment. “You married T’Pol? You lucky bas…”

Trip smiled in relief. “Yup.”

Trip watched Dan’s face morph from astonishment to a big grin. “Congratulations, sir.” He stood and shook Trip’s hand, but the grin faded to confusion as he sat back down. “Why do you want me, sir?”

“It’s Trip, Dan. Ya got a raw deal on Enterprise, and part of it was my fault. Look, you did a great job once we got rid of the Orions.”

“Sir?” He had heard the rumors of what had happened on the bridge, but unsurprisingly the official reports had been vague about exactly how the Orions had finally been overpowered.

“It’s classified.” Trip started laughing. “Anyway, the important thing is that Jupiter Station is under new management. I'm looking for a second, and I think you're the right man for the job. You want in?”

“Yes, Trip, I do. Thanks for the second chance.”

“It’s not a second chance, Dan. If you think of it like that you’re toast. It’s life; ya just keep pickin’ yourself up and movin’ forward. The only thing you can ask yourself is: Am I doing the best I can? If so, then you’re either good enough or you’re not. I think ya are. That’s why you’re here. We’re going to launch ships here, and on time. There’s a war coming, Dan, and we’re not ready. Starfleet wants us to get the NX program back on track. For the time being I’m going to take first shift; you’ve got the second. But we gotta get that sorted out quick. Help me find our replacements. We have a brand new ship to build. It’s an Andorian designed hull built by the Tellarites with a Vulcan engine. Interested? Oh and the simulations say it’ll break warp 6.3.”

Trip watched Dan’s jaw hit the table. “You can’t be serious.” Trip just nodded. “When do I start?”

“You just did.” Trip hit the comm. “Captain T’Pol?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Please forward the transfer orders for Commander Kelby.”

“Welcome aboard, Commander.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” The screen went blank.

Trip slid him a PADD. “We need senior petty officers. Take a look at my list and tell me who ya know and who else we should steal.”

#####

Chef had accepted the job within minutes. Malcolm had given him a rough idea of the station staffing plan and then walked him around the galley and the mess. He also let him know that there would be Vulcans, Andorians and Tellarites living on the station in the future and to include them in his requirements. Then Malcolm informed him what little victuals they had on hand. Chef scoffed, pulled out a well worn PADD and let Malcolm know he would take it from there. Malcolm guessed he had been dismissed.

After returning to his office, Malcolm felt a bit weird having offices rather than a station on the bridge. Well, at least he was still in space. In addition to Chef and Kelby he had come back to the station with a couple of engineering chiefs and three stewards. He had them cooling their heels in a visitors lounge. He figured he had one more excursion in him today if the next group was in place. He hoped that T’Pol had arranged for a pilot to be in the group. That thought reminded him of a loose end that needed tying up. He pressed the comm button.

“Reed to Captain T'Pol.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Chef has accepted; he is currently assessing the galley and mess. I apologize if I have jumped the gun.”

“Protocol is unimportant in his case. I will forward his orders to the Bureau of Personnel.”

“I would like to release the engineers to Commander Tucker and the stewards to Chef. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have another group ready for pick up?”

“Yes, seven: a pilot, two comm officers and four engineers.” She sent him lists and locations. “I will contact Chef and inform him to forward his requirements directly to me. I do not wish to delay proper meals.”

“On my way, Captain.”

#####

Donal was exhausted; he and his crew had only slept fours hours a day since taking over. He was in his office reviewing his mail when Malcolm informed him he was making another personnel run. They liked to think of them as friendly smash and grabs.

The station population was growing quickly. He had not fully fathomed Malcolm’s plan for the security sweep until now. Somehow he had anticipated the probable sequence of expansion and had those disparate areas cleared first. It had enabled them to close off the yet to be swept spaces from wandering crewman without impeding anything.

His security sweep was nearing 55% completion. They still hadn't found anything, but truth be told they hadn’t gone into the areas where he would have placed devices. Progress would slow down now until he got more people. Their duties had expanded; the station was coming to life. His comm rang. “Lt. MacGregor.” It was the CO.

“Yes, Captain?”

“You may anticipate a barge with cargotainers at 0500 hours for Chef. Please make the necessary arrangements to receive them.”

“With pleasure, Captain.”

“I concur, Lieutenant. I, too, find the E.R.P.s inedible. T’Pol out.” He laughed. It was no surprise that she knew what an Emergency Ration (Prepackaged) was, but he wondered how many alternative derivations of the name ERP she knew. He had originally chafed at being removed from Enterprise. But now, somehow, he felt like this would be a far better assignment, perhaps because his new superiors had all been out there, for years.

######

Trip, Kelby and the chiefs had worked out a temporary duty schedule and decided it was safe to boost the station’s power. The chiefs had given him more names to review and had shook their heads over a couple that Trip had suggested. He was going to press T’Pol to get at least ten more engineers tomorrow so they could start building the umbilical cords for the Biloxi’s. He also figured that Chef would require his services, and decent food was high on everyone’s list.

He was headed back to their boudoir when he felt T’Pol’s shields slip. She had been hiding her exhaustion. He increased his pace. He also set a clear message through the bond. Husband’s prerogative, you have five minutes left in your official day.

He felt her attempt to argue, but she was too fatigued. He had taken the green lift up to level 8. Both the captain’s office and quarters were on that level. There were lifts situated in each interior corner, currently called green, yellow, blue and red. He added that to his list of things to discuss with Malcolm.

He stepped into the corridor, noting the layer of transparent aluminum which defined the boundary wall between the exterior spaces and the atrium. An easily traversed walkway around each level looked down onto the open third deck. All perimeter spaces opened onto the corridor. He had wanted to take in the interior as he walked around to his quarters. T’Pol stepped out of her office as he passed, and the pair strode around the cavernous structure, absorbing the view together.

As they entered their quarters, Trip headed off to the larger bathroom. He stopped in the doorway and smiled. Life was getting awesome. Whoever the clown was who had been the previous CO sure enjoyed his comforts. There was an enormous Jacuzzi tub. He quickly calculated their water ration and guessed it was about three or four day’s worth to fill it. He’d talk to the captain about bumping their allocation, figuring he had some influence. T’Pol apparently sensed his mirth and joined him. “With the reduced number of individuals on the station, our usage should have no impact.” She raised an eyebrow. “I recommend we commence testing hot water capacity.”

As they lay soaking in the water, Trip felt some strange emotions through the bond. Unable to identify any of them except some sadness, he proffered the classic male question: “Whatsamatter?” After receiving the standard female response, a shrug, he began to massage her shoulders and back. He sent query after query to her mind until she finally broke.

“Trip, I do not wish to live on Vulcan again.”

“Why not?” Trip sputtered decidedly confused.

“Vulcans are far more likely to be prejudiced towards us …,” she turned around, “... and our children. Humans are far more tolerant.”

He almost missed the last part, his eyes focused on the view. “You want children?” He had been afraid to hope that she might.

“I want your children, Ashayam. It is not my time yet, but it should come in the next few years. I have wanted to tell you this.” Trip drew her close and hugged her. “Charles, Vulcans may seem to offer approval, but we are generations away from true acceptance. I do not wish our children to grow up there.” He did the math and figured about 120 years. Ouch.

He tried to interpret the shards of emotions he was getting. The underlying theme seemed to be home. That was it. Her mom’s house hadn’t really counted – it carried too many memories. She had probably picked up some of his own thoughts as they returned from Vulcan. His parents' home in Florida was gone and he hadn’t seen the new one. Besides, he had lived in one form of allotted housing or another for the last ten years. Even these new quarters were Starfleet issue, but they had been given to them both. He made a mental note to start unpacking. T’Pol nosed him in the neck. He ran his fingers down her back searching for some specific nodes. The gasp and the bond told him he found them.

They emerged later a bit cold and pruney. After drying off, he redressed, wishing he had some clean clothes to put on. I as well, T’hai’la. He checked his messages and found one from Malcolm. 'We put all your boxes in the suite next door, entry code 1234. Chef made something edible with what he was able to find. There is also some Plomeek Broth.’

Trip checked the time. The note was only 30 minutes old. He slipped his boots on, grabbed his wife and went next door to collect the clothing boxes and duffels.

They swapped their re-used garments for clean jumpsuits and headed to the mess hall. It was configured into a wide open affair with round tables. Chef had found a rope and some stanchions to establish a boundary. They grabbed some food and a table. Malcolm soon appeared with a couple of PADDs. “Captain,” he nodded at T’Pol and turned to Trip. “Commander, I couldn’t find you so I gave the engineers to Kelby.” He returned his focus to T’Pol.  “I’m satisfied with the comm officers; I double-checked with Hoshi on the way to pick them up. She said they’re good. The pilot had been in the former CO’s doghouse for objecting to some of his deliveries.” Trip smiled to himself. “He gave me another name to check out. He slid a PADD towards T’Pol, and turned back to the engineer while she read it.

T’Pol looked up saying, “Commander Tucker, were you aware this facility had three shuttletugs?”

“No, but it makes sense. They’re a huge help moving cargotainers around. We’ll probably need a few more pilots sooner or later. I wonder what else we’re gonna find.”

Trip sent through the bond. You can handle the paperwork in our quarters. Why don’t you go meditate for a while? Husband’s prerogative. T’Pol sent him thank you through the bond, excused herself, and left.

“How’re ya holdin’ up, Mal?”

“I must admit this is exhilarating. I miss Hoshi terribly, but this is quite the challenge. I never realized how much a first officer has to do. Thankfully I don’t have to evaluate the former staff. What’s on your list for tomorrow?”

“I need ten more engineers. I’ll have the list sent to you tonight. No particular order. How many shuttle flights do you figure for tomorrow?”

“Three; and I don’t plan on flying. That gives us eighteen more people unless we can keep one of the pilots.”

“What about their gear?” Trip had just remembered that part of the process.

“We’re telling them to bring a week’s worth of clothes with them. If we keep them, we’ll start shuttling them home to pack up their kit. Starfleet told me they’ll bring it out in containers.”

“Has Chef thought about my idea of adding a level for him?”

“He agrees. He also has this list of equipment he wants. Oh, and the comm ports have been turned back on.” Malcolm slid Trip a PADD. “Can you have Cargo bay 1-1 and 1-2 cleared for use? We need them.”

“Let me go find Kelby and see how the new guys are doing. Have we rejected anybody yet?”

“So far, so good.”

“Okay, Mal, you'd best knock off soon. We have a lot of long days ahead of us.” Giving the Englishman a final clap on the shoulder, Trip headed for the door figuring the future held long days, and hopefully some long nights.