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“I recommend we conclude this survey within the hour. Our ship’s sensors detected a supercell forming due east of here, approximately thirty-two clicks.” T’pol recommended as she pocketed her communicator. Ensign Sato had just alerted her to the oncoming system.
“The radar indicated that this region would be clear skies for at least another day.” Archer frowned, taking an inquisitive glance up at the sky. “When did Hoshi pick this up?”
“Evidently its formation was abrupt. The radar indicated a change only fifteen minutes ago, but it was only a rainstorm at first. Ensign Sato immediately hailed me when she checked it a second time.”
Archer sighed and cast a glance down the grassy hill to where their shuttlepod sat. T’pol got the impression that he was unwilling to abandon an away mission just as it had begun, but knew the risks of staying down on the surface.
“Let’s contact Travis and Crewman Rossi.” Archer nodded, “they shouldn’t have gone too far. We can meet up with them.”
T’pol scanned their surroundings as Captain Archer flipped open his own communicator. A gentle breeze made the blades of grass weave together in picturesque serenity. The skies were blue, but T’pol noticed the first layer of cumulonimbus in the distance.
“I suggest we make haste.” T’pol urged him. Archer gave her an impatient nod, still muttering into his communicator.
“See that treeline?” Archer asked her, pointing downhill in the opposite direction of the shuttlepod. “They’re taking samples down there. Let’s go look for them.”
T’pol held up a hand to stop him. “It would be prudent for you to prepare the shuttlepod. I will search for them.”
“Are you sure?” Archer asked her, a fleeting glint of worry in his eyes.
“The storm's motion is rapid and unpredictable. It may even be upon us by the time we reach you. And the longer we wait, the more dangerous it will be for us to pilot the shuttlepod.”
“It could tear the shuttlepod apart.” He sighed, starting down the hill. “We may also have to consider deploying the docking anchors…In case it does get to be that late.”
“I will be swift.” T’pol assured him, stalking off in the opposite direction. She could smell the ozone and geosmin floating in the breeze. A subtle warning of what was to come, if one couldn’t see it with their own eyes. She reached the trees and paused for a minute, listening. Ensign Mayweather and Crewman Rossi were nearby, she could faintly register their voices. She continued into the mossy verdure, following their muted utterances. The sound of thunder cracking on the horizon quickened her pace.
“Ensign?” She called into the undergrowth.
“Over here!” Mayweather responded promptly. T’pol suppressed a sigh of relief and went to meet them.
“A storm’s on the way?” Rossi questioned.
“Yes. We must hurry.” T’pol replied shortly. “The Captain is ready with the shuttlepod.”
“I’m just finishing up here.” The Crewman nodded, pulling her pipet out of a shallow puddle in the ground. A louder clap of thunder shook the ground, jerking all three of their gazes to the sky. Lightening strobed the skyline and the anvil of the supercell jutted ominously into the blue atmosphere.
“We gotta get out of here, like now, Crewman.” Travis said firmly, but sympathetically. T’pol herself understood the Crewman’s invested scientific drive, but it was not logical to spend a moment more in harm’s way.
Rossi pocketed her samples and the trio weaved through the trees and back towards the hills. At that point the wind had picked up considerably and tree branches were oscillating around them, one of them even whacking against Travis and knocking him onto his rear end.
“Travis!” Rossi called over the crescendoing reverberations of wind, thunder, and raindrops beginning to pelt the earth. She stopped to turn around but T’pol stopped her, grabbing her arm.
“Proceed to the shuttlepod Crewman!” T’pol shouted, “we will be behind you.”
Rossi hesitated but fled when T’pol gave her a commanding stare. Then she turned on her heels, crouching over to assist the Human back onto his feet.
“You should’ve gone too,” Travis panted, taking her arm as an offering for stability. “Time’s wasting.”
“It would be improper for a superior officer to abandon a Crewman in distress.” T’pol insisted, looking in the direction Rossi had gone with contention. She wondered if they could safely make it back now that the storm had arrived and was worsening. An open field invited the danger of being struck by lightning or picked up by a potential tornado.
“I don’t suppose you’re having second thoughts on returning to the shuttle. Because I know I am.” Travis observed shrewdly.
“Perhaps I should not have sent the Crewman on her own either.” T’pol remarked in a moment of uncharacteristic regret. “It might have been safer for us all to remain in the forest.”
They huddled against a tree, though little could be done to prevent them from getting soaked and windswept, even in the shelter of woodland.
“I will contact the Captain. At this point in time I believe it to be more logical for us to wait for the storm to pass. The storm has a rapid velocity. Perhaps we will not have to wait long.”
Travis nodded, brimming his eyelids with his hands to prevent rainwater from falling into them. Already their uniforms clung to their skin, saturated with tepid rainwater. T’pol flipped over her communicator, fruitlessly shielding it from the rain with her hand. It was waterproof, at any rate. That did not make it any less prudent to protect it from water, lest the water somehow seep into the internal components through the casing.
“T’pol to Captain Archer.”
“Where are you two?” Archer immediately demanded. “Rossi just got here.”
“Ensign Mayweather fell. I remained behind to assist him. I believe the storm is too threatening for us to attempt to return to open space now.”
“Is he alright?” He asked, immediately worried for the young Ensign. T’pol exchanged glances with him, and Travis nodded.
“I’m alright, sir. Just a little muddy.”
“We’re not leaving until you two turn up. Not that…it’s safe for us to go anywhere now either. We’ve tethered the grapplers into the ground, that should keep the wind from blowing us around.” Their Captain explained with a regretful sigh.
“We should find somewhere safer for us to hide too.” Travis added, verbalizing T’pol thoughts for the second time that day. “There was a cave not far from here. It’s a tight fit, but better than sitting around and becoming prunes.”
T’pol thought to question Mr. Mayweather on what dried plums had to do with being saturated by rainwater but immediately registered the answer to her nonessential curiosity. The tendency for skin to wrinkle when soaked.
“Be careful out there. I’m going to see if I can get in touch with Hoshi. Get an estimate on how long until this system blows over.” Archer muttered with some audible hesitance to close their communication line. But he overcame it quickly with motivation to resolve their situation. “Archer out.”
“Ensign, do you have a torch?” Questioned T’pol as she squinted through the darkened brush. “Vulcans have poor scotopic vision. Humans are more adept with sight in reduced lighting.”
“We have better night vision?” Travis questioned, fumbling through his many pockets to find his flashlight. “Huh. I almost thought there was nothing we did better than you guys.”
T’pol sighed inwardly. “You must do a more thorough comparative analysis, then.”
Travis clicked the light on and offered her his arm, squinting against the relentless blustering around them. “I guess I’ve just been getting used to feeling like an underdog. Even compared to the rest of my, Human crewmembers.”
“Are you afflicted with feelings of inadequacy?” T’pol asked with genuine curiosity as she let him lead the way.
“Sometimes.” Travis admitted, giving her a sideways, confused look. Interactions between the pair of them had been few and far between since Enterprise’s launch, and it had been strictly professional. He was surprised she was asking him something on a more personal matter. “I don’t know. To tell you the truth, T’pol, I don’t know that I fit in very well. And all the others seem to have larger skillsets than I do. I’m just the pilot, you know?”
“You have much to offer, as I have witnessed you offering it.” T’pol replied evenly, narrowly missing tripping over a tree branch in the low lighting. “You assisted Commander Tucker with a project I have no personal knowledge of. And I do not believe any other crew member was qualified to help him.”
“That coolant duct in the starboard warp nacelle.” Travis remembered in awe, “there was a problem with the EPS grid’s conduit into the duct.”
“I reviewed your logs regarding the issue to assist Commander Tucker in drafting a report to the Captain. But my knowledge of Enterprise’s EPS Grid is not sufficient enough for me to have done the work myself.”
“That almost sounds like a compliment, Subcommander.” Travis smiled, though she heard it more than she saw it.
“It was intended as one.”
“But that’s stuff I have to know for my job anyways. I have to know some basic warp mechanics because I work with it, even up on the bridge.” Travis admitted, undoing some of the confidence the Vulcan had instilled in him before.
Before T’pol could say anything more, lightning struck a nearby tree. It immediately burst into flame, becoming a wild spectacle of sparks and velvet tendrils of smoke. An ominous crackle creating a concerto of the contrasting solo sound of wood shattering and the whole orchestra of the storm around them.
“Timber!” Travis cried, scrambling to pull them out of harm’s way. Both of them slipped on the mud as they dodged smoking splinters, diving into the mire. T’pol crashed into a nearby boulder, letting out a poorly-suppressed cry of surprise. Travis had his own share of distress, landing awkwardly on one of his wrists and cringing when it made an appalling cracking sound.
“Are you okay?” He called out to her, brushing some muck out of his eyes with his uniform sleeve.
“I believe…” She huffed, pausing to get her bearings for a moment, “my shoulder may be injured. Are you unharmed?”
“Ugh…nope. Eh, it’s nothing serious.” Travis shouted to her, feeling his wrist. It did not feel like anything was broken, but certainly was sprained.
T’pol peered up at the decimated tree and was satisfied to find that the fire had already been put out by the rain. It would have been unfortunate if they had found themselves in the midst of a forest fire as well, albeit a short-lived one given the frequency of the rain.
“Thankfully our shelter is just right there.” Travis uttered positively. He gathered his flashlight and clambered to his feet. Once they were reunited he led her into it. It was a small crevasse between four or five boulders and just barely fit two people. Rossi had been there earlier, looking inside for any insects or growth she could take samples of. There was a bit of lichen, but mostly just cold stone. Travis placed his flashlight on a small indentation in the rock behind him, strategically placing it so it could provide some overhead lighting.
“How badly did you hit your shoulder? Does it hurt?” He asked her, taking in her appearance in the low lighting. He, platonically, acknowledged how pretty she looked now despite the splatters of mud indiscriminately splotching her uniform.
“Considerably.” She admitted, though she was loath to be vulnerable.
“Let me see…” Travis began, hoping he had remembered to bring it. He reached into his thigh pocket and was relieved to find the waterproof pouch there. Phlox had admonished them in the past for neglecting to bring first aid with them on away missions. “Looks like we’re in luck.”
T’pol watched with a raised brow as he pulled it out of his pocket, inclining her head approvingly. He smiled in gladness for his past self having thought ahead for once. He could sometimes be guilty of the same impulsivity T’pol was constantly warning Captain Archer and Commander Tucker about. But he had learned his lesson. By now he had suffered his fair share of consequences. His injury on Risa was the first thing that came to mind.
“Here um…let’s sit down. I can put some balm on your shoulder. I think I’ve got some bandages and ibuprofen in here as well.” Travis said abashedly. He was certainly not a doctor, granted most of the crew had to go through first aid training.
They both sank to seated positions, T’pol crossing her legs and facing out into the storm and Travis on his knees. She peeled the top half of her uniform off to reveal the angry, festering bruise beneath. In the beginning of Enterprise’s mission, Travis might have been embarrassed to see so much of her bare skin, but decontamination had gotten them all a little more comfortable with the notion. Though by now Phlox and Commander Tucker had engineered a more efficient process and no longer did they have to strip and awkwardly gel themselves up.
Travis unzipped the pouch and found the materials he required. A compression wrap, aloe vera balm, and nonsteroidal antiinflammatory pills. He would have to use the smaller wrap for his wrist later. He unscrewed the cap and scooped out a small dollop. Then he gently spread it over her injury, careful not to irritate her tender muscles any further.
“I find it curious that you have difficulty integrating in the crew’s social environment.” She commented, sounding rather perplexed. Again Travis was shocked to find her being more personal with him. She had been difficult for most of the crew to get to know—much less him. Granted he hadn’t gone out of his way to pressure her to interact with him.
“There’s one thing I know you and I have in common, Subcommander.” He supplied contemplatively as he rubbed the rest of the gel in. “We’re both not from Earth.”
“You are referring to your upbringing on a cargo vessel.” T’pol stated, tone unreadable. Travis nodded.
“Yep. I’m more familiar with Draylax and Vega than Earth. Spent more time exploring their surfaces whenever we landed for deliveries.”
“In my observations, you appear to fit in excellently. You are outgoing, have an exceptionally positive attitude, and regularly participate in social functions. I have not encountered a crew member with anything negative to say about you.”
Travis chuckled, handing her two of the pills before unwinding the bandages. “I appreciate it, T’pol, really, I do. But none of that is mutually exclusive with isolation. There’s an angle you’re not looking at it from.”
He began wrapping her shoulder. “I’m Human, sure. Was raised by Humans. But when people talk about Paris…the Mediterranean sea. The way the moon looks when it’s full. I can’t relate to any of that. You know, I’ve never been in a house before? People talk about their homes and I can’t relate to any of it. I’ve always had the stars outside my bedroom window. I’ve always had dinner in a mess hall. The feeling of an engine beneath my feet. Most of the crew assume I can relate to them–but I get funny looks when I don’t understand some of the most basic aspects of the Human experience on Earth.”
She peered at him over her shoulder, unreadable thoughts swimming over her eyes. Then she turned away from him quickly, as though she were trying to hide something.
“Then we do have something in common.” She conceded, a faint trace of some emotion in her agreement.
“It gets lonely.” He sighed, finishing the bandaging.
“It does.” She admitted. Travis went wide-eyed.
“I find my work on Enterprise to be gratifying. But I find it…difficult to fit in. And seldom has any member of the crew truly attempted to understand me. I am looked at as a Vulcan, not as T’pol. Similarly you are looked at as Human, but not as Travis Mayweather. And surely our species are aspects of our identities. But most of the crew fails to consider how we deviate from cultural norms.”
Travis felt his heart fall. He had witnessed some of her difficulties but had never truly considered that it affected her deeply. He never imagined that anything affected her deeply, it seemed so very ‘un-Vulcan’. And yet, it made sense. He understood that Vulcans felt emotions even deeper than Humans. And from there Travis felt even worse—he knew his isolation felt awful. Did it feel even worse for her?
“I wish I would’ve considered that sooner.” Travis mumbled apologetically, looking away as she pulled the top of her uniform back on. “Maybe we would’ve had this conversation already and you wouldn’t have spent all that time not feeling seen.”
“I could have remedied it myself. I could have explained it. But I was not certain anyone would truly listen.” T’pol countered gently, looking at him now with a certain interest. “Our similarities have enlightened me.”
“Friends?” Travis prompted her, flashing a small smile. She raised a brow. “I know, I know.” He nodded, “friendships take time to build. But you have to start somewhere.”
“Friends.” She agreed, eyeing his wrist. “I believe your injury could benefit from some attention.”
“It’s nothing I couldn’t take care of myself.” He shrugged.
“I believe that friendships are reciprocal in nature. Allow me.” T’pol said, tone more warm than he had ever heard her before.
The rain began to grow lighter and lighter and the planet’s star began to shine through holes in the clouds. The darkness faded away and the rain turned into dewdrops falling from the trees. T’pol communicator chirped, and she flipped it open, eager to return to the ship and change out of her sodden uniform.
“Archer to T’pol.”
“Go ahead.” She replied.
“You two alright?” Archer questioned with that same worry in his voice as before.
“We are mildly injured, but otherwise unharmed.”
“Soaked. And muddy. I would very much appreciate a change of clothes, sir.” Travis added over her shoulder.
“We’ll come looking for you.” Archer said hastily.
“You’d better check the radar before you do, sir.” Travis joked before the communication line closed.
T’pol and Travis exited the crevasse and exchanged glances as the sunlight warmed them. T’pol considered the sudden change in her outlook caused by such a short storm–and a conversation with Travis. And conjectured that perhaps the others could learn to understand her as he had.