Welcome,welcome, welcome! Happy December, everyone! May the last month of your year be filled with, love, laughter, sharing – and all the joy your soul can hold, and then some, so that it flows out from you and embraces others.
To help that wish along, I’ve created an Advent calendar. It’s as non-denominational as it can be – because it espouses the concept of IDIC – Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.
Every day, all month, I’ll post a short story. These are freewritings I wrote as part of my preparations for another project. They’re rough and imperfect; I’m only going to correct for spelling and grammar. But each one is a little gem in the making…
If you read and comment, I’ll add a paragraph to this story. If you suggest a prompt, I’ll find a way to use it.
OK, time for a quick briefing:
Spoiler zone ahead! If you were to want to start watching a show that was canceled a decade ago, and you don’t want to know what happens – well, this could be a good post to skip. I’m looking to delight, not to spoil.
The base art for the calendar elements of this post was created by Annalise S. Burton, and is used with permission and compensation.
I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or the franchise that conceived them. These stories are offered as a gift, without expectation for any compensation. Of course, comments, rhapsodizing ramblings, and honest feedback of all kinds are always welcome!
And now, to the calendar…..we lift the tab, and….we find a story I’m rating PG-13 for suggestiveness. Please bear that in mind before forging on.
Phlox quickly scanned the information coming in from Decon; no alarms had been triggered by the returning landing party, and he was quite busy with the Captain, who was half-coherent, and rather unwilling to submit himself to the beneficial services of the osmotic eel, who was in turn unwilling to attach to a host who thrashed.
Still, he didn’t trust the systems on this human ship; not yet. He’d scarcely had time to begin cataloging his database of pathogens, and this species, so new to the vagaries and surprises that came with deep-space commerce, was utterly unprepared in that regard.
He pressed his hypo to the Captain’s neck, checkingthe readouts on the wall display while waiting for the human’s resistance to be overcome by the sedative – a most determined species, Terrans, and not easily thwarted –
He almost missed the indicators scrolling past as Jonathan Archer made one more half-lunge, and Phlox needed to take hold of his shoulders to stop him from falling off the biobed.
When the man’s muscles went limp at last, he went to the comm. “Mister Reed, Miss Sato, and Mister Mayweather, you’ve cleared bioscan.”
“Hey, what about me and T’Pol?” Commander Tucker protested, at the same moment that the Vulcan woman said, “I must report to the Bridge, Doctor. I am in command.”
“The hell you are – ”
“The possibility that you’ve been exposed to an unknown pathogen interests me far more than the command structure of this ship. Commander, Sub-Commander, I apologize for the wait, but I will need you to strip down to your undergarments and enter the scanning field for further analysis. You may do so separately if you wish.; however, if you would like to expedite matters, the sensors will have no difficulty in differentiating your readings. I will assess your conditions as soon as I’m done here, and we will proceed from there.”
It was nearly the truth, he reflected, as he cut the connection on more protests from both, T’Pol’s no less insistent for being considerably quieter and calmer than the human’s.
He wondered if they would remain so, if she learned that the ‘potential pathogens’ to which he was referring were one another’s genetic material, in the form of saliva, as well as pheremonal and hormonal activity that indicated clear and currently frustrated physical arousal – and a marked hyperactivity in areas of her own brain that seemed tied to both arousal and connection –
Or that each of them carried, in their minds, the other’s brain wave patterns, at a level that would be impossible for them to have achieved, even intentionally, in the time they had been aboard Enterprise together.
A fine mystery. Perhaps, one day, they would offer him the solution; Phlox had a sense for these things, and guessed it would make a fine story. For now, though, perhaps they would find some common ground – and an easing of their mutual unresolved tensions, if they were given a few moments, a specific type of social lubricant, and privacy.
He was smiling as he walked from Sickbay to Decon. Perhaps neither humans nor Vulcans were aware of it, but Denobulans were known on several worlds as brilliant matchmakers. Of course, some matches simply made themselves…
Will Phlox ever get to hear the story behind those brain scans?
Are Trip and T’Pol as frustrated as he thinks?
What type of lubricant does he have in mind?!
How will they respond?
Will they figure out what he’s up to?
And what the bleep’s an ‘osmotic eel’, anyway?
What happens next?
Well, that’s where you come in. Remember,if you read and comment, I’ll add a paragraph to the story. If you want to know more, I’ll explain a bit of the premise behind the story, or you can watch the series pilot, “Broken Bow”.
To review other stories in this advent calendar series, beam over to these coordinates.
On that note, if you don’t want a spoiler, or if you’re not in a place where a little naughtiness is appropriate, saving this videoclip for later might be a good idea… I’d rate this one R for Reasons! ;D