PRIVATE JOURNAL, LT. MALCOLM REED

We were one and all shocked, of course, by the sudden arrival of our fourteen crew replacements. Seems the XGP OS-1, while useless for return journeys, is ideal for one-way trips. As an officer with a technological background, any such waste is an affront to me, so the cannibalization process took perhaps longer than the Captain would have liked. But I will not see any ship as disposable. The relays, while no longer useful for handling warp stability, are more than ideal for increasing our main cannon's range and accuracy, if only by seven or so percent.

They have to be a hardy lot, these new ones. They have to have heard that their predecessors either went insane and killed one another or were killed by Orion Pirates armed with portable guillotines, no less. Yet as often happens, one stood out from the rest. She was not a replacement. She was the proper and dedicated Science Officer we'd been wanting since before we left. And she knew Captain Archer rather well.

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Archer's eyes went wide, as though staring at an imaginary childhood playmate made real.

"Paula Napolitano? You left the Vulcan Science Academy to be here?"

All eyes were on her, attracted, jealous or merely appreciative. Hers was a Mediterranean beauty, yet seemingly tinged with something otherly. Her figure was no more accented by her standard jumpsuit than anyone else's would be, yet as it often went, that simply made her 'full' figure all the more prominent. When she smiled, it did not seem forced or labored. It did however, seem like she was indulging a forbidden art.

"Don't look so surprised, Jonathan. Giving me a quarter to go away only worked when we were kids, after all."

There was a hug between the two. Most asked later said it did not seem a lover's hug.

"Hey, that was only when I had a date, and only when you started acting like we should be dating."

"I got over you, Mister 'Four-Years-Older'. But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you, or that I'd pass up something like Enterprise just to avoid you."

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JOURNAL

They were plainly delighted to be in one another's presence. Yet oddly, I would never say that the Captain had to be reminded of where her face was. Like there was an invisible line that both stood between the two and yet bound them as well, sex plainly did not seem to be on their minds, at least for one another. One of the crew that had, in previous weeks, sought the Captain's attention, got it without so much as a raised eyebrow from Lt. Paula Napolitano. In fact, I'd venture to say she seemed happy for him. Nor was the Captain put off by the many eyes upon her. Gingerly inquiring about her general background, I found out why.

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Archer nodded.

"Paula and I grew up together. Dad said I should treat her like 'a first cousin not removed', whatever that meant. Her parents--I never met them--died when she was four. No. I take that back. Dad and Lady T'Pau simply said that they were responsible for her not having any parents. I guess some research mission went wrong. But she was always around, and I hated or loved her, depending on the day, hour, whatever. When I went to Space Fleet Central Primer, she stayed on Vulcan. I hadn't seen her since. We're both the same kind of intense when it comes to our careers. And competitive? It seemed at times like the whole universe hinged on us beating each other at something."

"She is quite fetching, sir."

"Don't let those pectorals fool you, Malcolm. She developed them solely to beat me out. Or she would have, given a choice."

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JOURNAL

Several oddities there. Obviously, the professional relationship between the late Doctor Archer and the soon-to-be enthroned Sra Sra of Vulcan is a thing of legend, and led to most of the great understandings between our two worlds. It was often prefixed in text with 'Were she not a Vulcan, certain inferences might be drawn.' I would draw no such inferences about the Captain and Ms. Napolitano. Perhaps Doctor Archer's talk of 'cousin not removed' had it all pegged, though it is a very odd turn of phrase. Men and women have a very strange relation to one another, at times. For example, a string of commentary that would quickly have a man labeled as an eternal pig--is for some women, simply girl talk.

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Hoshi raised a finger.

"Well, all I'm saying is, if she turns around too fast, whoever's standing nearby could get an eye put out."

Reed rolled his eyes, but Sato kept right on.

"Don't look at me like that. I've heard she has to wear a grav-harness, just to maintain balance."

Reed kept drinking his coffee, hoping to survive without having to offer his own comments.

"Malcolm, c'mon. Tell me the deck-plating doesn't shuffle as she goes."

Giving up, he looked Sato square in the eye.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, and why are you doing it to yourself in front of me?"

She grimaced a bit.

"That obvious, huh? I think its all schoolgirl stuff, bubbling up. I never had a guy make as cruel a comment as some girls did, when I didn't go Paula's way. We call all of you for little boys, but I wonder what that makes us. As for why I'm dumping it on you, you creep? I still haven't forgiven last week, after you walked in on me in the shower!"

"Hoshi, how many times must I apologize?"

"You keep on apologizing, Malcolm, til I believe you're sincere. Let's face it, you saw something you wanted, and you grabbed it, and you squeezed it."

"You've never minded before."

"You always asked before. Malcolm, what's mine is mine."

He shrugged.

"But your shampoo is the only brand that makes my hair settle properly. Tell me, how are you doing otherwise?"

She looked down.

"Its so damned odd. With Space Fleet Central's obsession with water conservation, the desensitizing program is nearly brainwashing. It takes someone really extreme for me to even notice, while in the shower. Its that way for everyone. But when those Orion bastards tried to strip me, I wasn't surrounded by 'tens of brothers and sisters'. Do you know that no one outside the shower has seen me even slightly undressed? My comm-duties have eaten my social life alive. I feared being found dead and naked. And I didn't know which was worse, in my panic."

Reed knew this. Had talked with her about it. The desensitizing program was a marvel of propaganda, one that worked well on ships limited by available space and by water-storage capacity. Sonic tech, so prevalent on Earth, was, like long-range visuals, still a problem on current ships. One almost tended to say that if no one had seen you outside the shower, they might not know you at all.

"Do you still feel the need to shower with others present?"

Hoshi nodded.

"Its just that if anyone else is present--Cutler, Travis, you--even the Captain and Paula--I feel safe. Nude in there, I feel like I have armor. But my jumpsuit still doesn't feel secure, and its been weeks since the Orions came."

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JOURNAL

Before she broke off, Hoshi told me of her seeing the Captain and our new Science Officer there. Again, with the program, there's been no rush to catch a view of her. That shower is a sacred line, and no one crosses it.

Apparently, they were splashing each other. Water, soap--until a push-up contest broke out. Not alluring, to hear Hoshi tell it. But child-like, bordering on childish.

The only one making any lewd comments was our imprisoned former helmsman. I can't wait to see him put off. Yet the business of a space cruiser quickly puts paid to comments not needed, flesh not seen, and beauteous young ladies who don't realize their own worth.

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The planet's surface was scanned, and the readout confirmed. Archer pointed.

"Mister Reed? Think you can have that derelict stripped down, and quickly?"

"Sir, we'll rapidly hook the ship up, fall on it with our backs into it, and leave an empty covering blowing in the breeze. We may need some extra shirts, though."

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JOURNAL

With that sort of work ahead, Hoshi quietly informed me that she was glad to stay behind, and keep her hands clean. Paula Napolitano, however, wished immediately to go with myself, Travis, and Mister Tucker. Her figure was not in question. What she could offer the ship was, and I think everyone was anxious to know this, herself included. Yet what we found down there defied mere science, at least at first.

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The man they had found in the derelict had that expressive kind of face that would likely show through, even if most of his features had been absent. But they were not, and he seemed cross.

"Well, obviously, your sensors are wrong, and this is not a derelict. Our shield has kept us out of the view of most. We may have to improve it, now."

Tucker raised a hand.

"What if we could get you back home? Your homeworld's well within our range, and its on the Vulcan charts."

While Ezral and the others pondered this, Mayweather pulled Tucker and Reed aside.

"These people."

"What about these people, Travis?"

"I'm not sure--if they're really all here."

 Despite her remove, Napolitano somehow heard this.

"An odd thing to say, Ensign."

"Yet I stand by it, Lieutenant."

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JOURNAL

He had good reason to stand by it, as we all found out. Most times, it was quite subtle. A seeming lack of footfalls, after all, can merely be a practiced quiet. But a true near-lack of such footfalls is the stuff of legends. A scanned waste-depository unit accounted for only enough to have been produced--by two. So with food systems. So with air filters. We saw the largish crew all about us. But the ship itself said very well that it had only two tangible residents. A confrontation with Ezral was to no end.

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"Are you saying that we're all ghosts, living our past lives out on a dead ship? My people have a strong belief in a mental afterlife, Mister Tucker. Our latent telepathic abilities in some ways surpass the active ones of Vulcans. So I take what you are saying with great exception indeed."

Reed tried to intercede. Mayweather still seemed a bit put off by the spectral hypothesis the situation raised. Napolitano seemed to be analyzing the events around her.

"Ezral, all Mister Tucker is saying is, we can't account for certain events aboard your ship."

Ezral pointed at his daughter Liana, standing next to Tucker.

"Mister Reed, please ask your Mister Tucker just how real my daughter is!"

Liana frowned.

"Father, you said when I chose my first event, you wouldn't be upset."

Ezral seemed to calm.

"I--I am pleased that you have-picked. But we've been alone so long, here. I just assumed you'd choose from here."

One of the members of the derelict's crew ran up, wielding a knife. He slashed at Napolitano, but only grazed her hand. Tucker bound it up, yet stared at the wound briefly, before knocking the attacker back. The attacker pointed.

"Ezral, I think that you should choose to have them off here!"

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JOURNAL

With Tucker's handkerchief binding up Napolitano's wound, we indeed withdrew to the shuttle. So many ciphers, and we without a scrap of paper to work them out on. Which is not to say we didn't try.

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Mayweather.

"Maybe this planet keeps the memories of those people that have crashed here. A trick of the magnetic fields."

Reed.

"Maybe that ship is their mental afterlife. Latent telepathy can be shocked or prodded into bringing about near-miracles."

Tucker.

"No maybes. Its holography. That Ezral has got the mother of all hologram-generators in that ship. I'll be damned if I know where it is, though."

Napolitano.

"We searched all corners of that ship, and were permitted everywhere. Besides, this species and planet are known to and traded with by Vulcans. Technology has been properly described as a genie. If he had this, his people would have greater. As would every people and species we know of."

Tucker seemed annoyed.

"Paula, isn't it odd for someone from--or raised on--Vulcan, to reject the most logical argument? Those people are advanced holograms. We can't find the center of it because its being protected in the exact same way."

Napolitano seemed only slightly defensive.

"Charles, let me tell you one thing about logic. It has failures. Blind spots. A willingness to let the simplest truths slide by it, all in the name of propriety. That is what I learned on Vulcan. I knew one truly logical person. He left to become your Captain."

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JOURNAL

Her tone remained even. But she was bitter as hell. How odd. There may be Vulcan bigots, but they'd never express it so you'd know. Indeed, the queen of Logic, so to speak, was her aunt of sorts. Captain Archer himself told me that one should not expect anything but shaded words from T'Pau. So what was it she expected, but did not get? And for that matter, when did she and Tucker go to a first-name basis?

In any event, she gave forward with a theory that proved to be spot-on. We walked back to Ezral's ship.

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"Please just go. We've made a life here. We-may not wish to go back."

Paula Napolitano fell to her knees, spread out her arms, and looked at Ezral.

"You and your daughter will be safe with us. You've been a good father. You kept her safe. But you know that its only by leaving that she will be truly safe."

The people and crew around them began to fade out, never to return. Liana felt faint, til Mayweather steadied her.

"Father?"

Ezral grabbed at his head. But he was smiling.

"Keeping you safe--is all I've ever wanted. Safe from--everything."

He fainted at last, and Liana held him.

"I don't understand. Where did they all go?"

Tucker tried. The concept was hard for him to fully grasp.

"Your father loved you. But he was afraid. Afraid of what sometimes happens to folks in isolation."

Napolitano actually smiled, and again it seemed somehow wrong for her.

"He seized upon his fear, and created a world from his latent telepathy. As you became a woman, he tapped further and further into these abilities. This gave him outlets for his needs, and you the hope that such lay ahead for you."

Liana seemed put off, as well she might be.

"He created a fantasy world and trapped me in it."

Paula spoke with conviction.

"No. He was a good father. He wanted to acknowledge, but not abuse you. A true fantasy would have had him pretending you were someone else's child--or not acknowledging you at all."

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JOURNAL

We are to meet up with members of Ezral's homeworld's space patrol. They will take he and Liana back. Best news is, this syndrome was not entirely unheard of, and Ezral may be able to fully recover from the collapse of his illusion.

Hoshi seemed comforted by the tale of a man who placed his daughter's comfort well above his own libido. Captain Archer seemed delighted by Paula Napolitano's safe return. She and Tucker seem to be keeping company with each other. The new Bridge officer has proven a brilliant addition. People have been rescued, and a puzzle solved. A new couple has emerged, and two old play-chums are happy as happy gets.

So why do I still feel as though I'm missing something?

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In Tucker's quarters, they kissed.

"Sorry about Liana. See, there's only been two times my shower-desensitizing training has failed me. One was when Cutler and another lady were goofing, lathering each other up. Nothing but fun, but it threw me. The next time--was when I saw you. Liana caught some of
that."

She kissed him anew.

"She did not complain. Nor will I. Yet you have questions. I can tell without even touching you."

Trip put aside his pocketed handkerchief, the one used to bind Paula's wounded hand. The one splattered with splotches of green.

"Darlin', they can wait."

But they would not wait forever.

TBC...in LOC : Fallen Hero