Chapter Text
Thy'lek Shran stared at the note from Jonathan Archer in disbelief. His left antennae began to twitch.
He was indebted to Archer – again. He had told the pink skin that he would repay him in any way he could. By 'any way' Shran had of course meant aid in battle or sharing intelligence or… something. Something other than dog sitting.
Archer wanted him to take care of his dog. His dog.
Shran had last encountered such a beast when his parents hosted a merchant who had somehow acquired a dog as a pet. A pet? He had been only a young boy then, but the memory still loomed large in his mind – tiptoeing past the guest bedroom to escape the notice of that enormous slobbering beast and its barks and growls and those horrible teeth.
He snapped back to reality and chided himself. You were a child. Hardly more than an infant, he thought. The dog had only seemed massive, and, well, terrifying.
But why did the human captain have a dog? Why not a fluffy rabbit? He had read about rabbits, and they seemed like a rather charming possibility. Or ferrets? Or even a cat?
Well, that was just wishful thinking. Shran reached for his ushaan-tor and practiced a few strokes to make himself feel a bit better. Yes. He was a commander of the Imperial Guard, not a child.
But still… Archer kept one of those? Inconceivable.
Shran continued reading. So it was only for a few days while Archer was negotiating with a species that had been found to be almost universally allergic to certain Earth animals. The human would be arriving – tomorrow?! – to deliver the creature.
Shran logged into the database of Imperial Guard in the vain hope of finding the tactical information he needed to prepare for this mission, but the database knew nothing about dogs (an enviable situation, Shran decided). But this was not good. This was not good at all.
He was heading into battle with hardly any information about the enemy's – er, human pet's – weaknesses, military tactics, or even general characteristics, other than that it was terribly proficient in psychological warfare. Shran could only hope that it would not prove to be so skilled in combat.
The next day:
"Commander Shran! It's good to see you again – and, for once, in peaceful circumstances."
The circumstances, Shran thought, were very much a matter of opinion. The dog stood slightly behind Archer, looking thoroughly harmless and rather smaller than Shran had envisioned. This demeanor, however, was likely a ruse to trick Shran into lowering his shields and powering down weapons and would probably be followed by a surprise attack. He had seen such a strategy many times and was somewhat comforted that the creature didn't seem to be a particularly inventive tactician. Archer himself appeared oddly relaxed, perhaps ignorant of the imminent threat.
"Of course! And this is the dog?" Good. Keep the conversation natural and avoid any unnatural emphasis of the word dog. Make it think you're falling for its trap.
Archer grinned. "Yes indeed. Porthos, this is Commander Shran – he'll be taking care of you for a couple of days."
Archer was speaking to the dog, so it was definitely an intelligent lifeform, as Shran had suspected.
"I see. Would you care for a glass of our excellent ale before you go?" Excellent. Be courteous, even in such a state of adversity.
"I wish I could, but I'm already running late. We're helping with a border dispute – I can't provide many more details, it's classified – but we keep hearing from Starfleet Command that both parties are really stubborn and refuse to budge. Sound familiar?"
"Slightly." Vulcans are obnoxiously stubborn, naturally, but Andorians? Never. "Although I would describe our species instead as… persistent."
"Of course. Well, Porthos gets fed twice a day, and don't give him any cheese no matter how much he begs for it."
Shran wondered what this cheese was – perhaps some sort of weapon or ammunition? That would certainly explain why the creature wasn't allowed any.
Archer continued, "I'm quite sure he will enjoy exploring Andor – he's always enjoyed walks." More like intelligence-gathering missions, in Shran's view. "Well, I'd better head back to my ship. Everything you'll need is in this box, and I'm sure you'll have fun with Porthos."
That was certainly one way of putting it.
Archer handed Shran the box of supplies and gave Porthos a final scratch behind the ears. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow."
"Good luck with your negotiations, human."
"Thank you, Commander." Archer hurried off.
Shran walked the dog back inside knelt next to it. The human had done something to the creature – patted it or something – and this had excited it somehow. Or at least its rear appendage had started wiggling. On one hand, if Shran attempted such a maneuver it might alert the dog to the potential of a future attack, but it might also provide some badly needed insight into the dog's responses to stimuli and danger. And so Shran extended his hand to the creature ever so slowly.
He just about jumped out of his blue skin when the creature sniffed him. Its proboscis was unexpectedly wet, which on a mostly icy planet was definitely unnerving. However the dog didn't seem menacing yet, so Shran forced himself to continue the mission. He touched the thing's head, right behind the ears, and scratched it just a bit.
The creature still looked perfectly harmless, surprisingly enough. Shran continued to pet it. And then the dog looked right at him, pricked up his ears, and started that weird flapping thing again with its tail.
For a moment all Shran could see was that merchant's dog in all its terrifying glory – but no. This time the dog was looking back at him like a new friend. The dog (Poppy? Porpoise? Something with a 'P', curse it!) wasn't looking for surrender, it was looking for more scratches.
Well, that could be arranged. "Just know," Shran growled, "that I'm supposed to be writing a mission report right now. But fine. If I didn't know better I'd say you're too cute to turn down."
That night:
Shran had spent the day making friends with a creature of his nightmares, and it had been a thoroughly confusing experience. He hadn't been bitten or mauled or maimed in any way, and in fact the dog almost seemed to like him. All good things, of course, but the whole experience was somewhat exhausting. He'd deal with Portia again in the morning when he was rested.
He was about to head to bed when he heard a faint noise. Paradigm was slumped by the door, looking rather dejected and whimpering periodically.
Shran found himself desperately wanting to fix the situation. What was wrong? He'd fed Porcupine, given him some water, taken him for a short walk outside, and generally paid far more attention to the creature than he had intended. But the dog was sad – terribly sad. It was missing Archer, Shran realized.
"You want Archer – that crazy human? What on Andor do you see in him?"
Pachelbel unleashed another mournful whine.
"Right, right, fair point. I'm too attached to him myself. Seeing as we have that at least in common, maybe I can substitute for the time being."
He picked up the dog – somewhat gingerly at first, but it didn't seem to mind very much – and carried it back to his bedroom and gently deposited it at the foot of his bed.
"Well, here you are. I'm going to sleep – this means that you have to keep your little mouth shut. And stop looking so pleased. I'm only doing this for some peace and quiet."