Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! She‘s our fearless shepherd…or something like that, anyway…
Well, hello, July 29! Fancy meeting you here, as my life clicks over on another year filled with lovely chaos…
Riiiggghhhtttt…happens every year, at this time. And, since I’m not one for birthday parties or fussing (too close to July 25, which is important to me for very different reasons); and since I might not get to many WIPpets till after the weekend, because Camping (Yay, CAMPING!!!!), aI thought I’d give you all a gift, instead of the other way round…
Here you go!
Yup, I DID draft over 75K in 17 days….*pinches self; then looks at word counts again, to be sure* More than that; there are more than a few good words and meaty parts to develop – and I’ve still got a ways to go…
But I’m taking it easy, for the rest of the month, to play with other things, like:
- my kids,
- our friends,
Oh, and did I forget?
- Today is July 29, 2015.
- I was born at 6:59am, July 29, 1969. Obviously, I have an affinity for the number 9….
- Which also happens to be 3 squared – and three is my favorite number. =D
- So, by the power invested in my by WIPpet math and being the Birthday Girl, I add 9+3 to give you a dozen sentences.
Before you read on, a disclaimer:
I don’t own Star Trek (I’m really not sure anyone truly can, at this point, despite what legal documents may say), and I have no intention to attempt to make any money off my favorite Vulcan and the brave human who dares to love her. It’s just that they keep dragging me into their lives, and they’re both rather intransigent about it…
For those keeping track, this story comes from my discards from last year; in its original form, it was backstory and development for this poem. I brought it out of the trash bin a few weeks back, and you can find the other installments of this story, which I’m revising piecemeal as I go, by following these links:
For those too busy to click those links, here’s the deal –
Captain Jonathan Archer approaches the Situation Room, and hears Trip and T’Pol having a standoff about sitting. Jon intentionally ‘doesn’t notice’ all the little intimacies between his second and third in command, but he does notice that T’Pol seems exhausted – too exhausted even to butt heads with her favorite human sparring partner. Trip’s giving her some kind of massage, and, very unexpectedly, T’Pol seems to find comfort and solace in the contact, even in public, and on duty.
We pick up from these lines:
Vulcans weren’t humans; T’Pol was entitled to her own brand of grief. And all the better, if she’d let Trip support her even a little – helping people was just his nature, and had been as long as Jon had known him.
All Perfectly Normal
Jon decided to let well enough be well enough, and not notice the way Trip put one leg out behind him, using his foot to hook the chair. Or T’Pol’s uncharacteristic relaxation; she clearly found whatever the engineer was doing ‘agreeable’. Was this that neuropressure they’d started, back in the Expanse, when Trip couldn’t sleep?
He wanted to ask, but he remembered in time that the Vulcan discipline was considered intimate. If T’Pol needed it enough to accept it here, in the Situation Room, it would be foolish and maybe even unkind to point out to her that he knew it.
Instead, he acted like all this was perfectly normal. “All right then – what have we got for today?”
“Plomeek broth,” Trip said, as Hoshi came around the corner with a steaming cup presumably filled with the traditional Vulcan breakfast. “And the chair – didn’t think I forgot about that, did you?” He wrapped his arms gently around the First Officer; now both Jon and Hoshi were working hard at not noticing, so they looked at each other, darting glances to the other two as Trip maneuvered T’Pol into the chair. “There, now, that feels better,” he told her, as though he knew it was true. “Now, with the Cap’n’s permission, you’re going to have some breakfast before you fade away into nothing.”
Will T’Pol stay in the chair?
Will the Captain OK her impromptu meal?
Will T’Pol eat, even if he does?
Is Trip going to be sorry for being so presumptuous?
I’ll be posting the next few lines from this scene for #8sunday, if you’d like to learn more…