Shore Leave

Title: Shore Leave
Author: Ginny Powell
Rating: NC-17
Setting: Enterprise, first season
Archive: Sure, just tell me.
Feedback: Of course! wmginnypowell@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is owned by Paramount. The rest is just a product of my fevered imagination. If you know a way I can profit from this, tell me – I’m gettin’ nothin’.

Summary: Trip finally gets a little R&R – will he have to spend it alone? (What do you think?) Not related to the TOS ep.

Chapter 1

“Either you get off the ship right now, or I’ll transport you off,” Archer warned his Chief Engineer. The Captain’s voice had taken on its most commanding tone, since the usual friendly tone he used with Trip had proven ineffective. The Enterprise had finally returned to Earth to refill her supplies and give her crew a break, but in the three days they’d been in orbit, Commander Tucker had yet to leave the ship.

“But Cap’n,” Trip protested. He was laying on his back, half inside an access hatch, a tool in each hand, staring up at the rather imposing sight of Captain Archer with his ire up. It was a difficult position to argue from, but he had to try. “I need ta -”

“That’s an order, Commander.” The two men stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Then, finally, Trip wavered. With a sigh, he sat up. Archer, seeing he had won, softened his stance. “Go and have some fun, Trip,” he said, with a friendly squeeze of his officer’s shoulder. “That’s an order, too.” And he walked away, smiling.

“Yes, sir,” Trip said sarcastically to his Captain’s back. With a tremendous sigh, he tossed the tools into the tool box beside him, heaved himself to his feet, and began to trudge toward his quarters to grab some gear.

Anyone watching him might think he was headed to a funeral, perhaps his own, instead of a long-awaited visit to his beloved home planet. Ordinarily, Trip would have been eager to make his big entrance back home, see his parents, play the hero with his high school buddies, heck, just eat some fresh food. He’d often imagined just what he would do first when they finally made it back. But never had he imagined he’d have to do all those things alone.

There was no girl waiting in this port for his triumphant return. No showering of kisses awaited him, no hugs, no tears. Unless you counted his Mom’s, and he didn’t. No, things couldn’t be as he’d imagined them upon embarkation. And so he had chosen to hide himself amongst the work that Enterprise needed, to tell himself, and everyone that would listen, that she needed him, that no one else could treat her like he could. She. Enterprise had become bestbest girl. How utterly pathetic. With another sigh, he palmed open the door to his room.

A few minutes later he emerged, heading for the launch bays to hitch a ride dirtside. He had changed into a white shirt and a pair of khaki pants, his only civilian clothes, in the hopes that they would put him in the mood for this little excursion. But itn’t n’t helped. His feet still dragged. He barely exchanged two words with the other passengers in the full shuttle. They didn’t seem to notice, chatting away excitedly about their own plans. He was sorry and at the same time glad to find no one he considered a close friend on board. No one to invite him along on some fun outing, but no one to ask him uncomfortable questions, either. No one to stop him when he wandered off the landing pad with absolutely no idea where he was headed.

He’d spent about a quarter mile wandering aimlessly when he found himself before an information terminal. The practical part of his brain pushed him to at least find a place to eat lunch. So he walked up to the terminal. A page of news and events was showing, and just as he was about to touch the “Restaurants” button, a headline caught his eye. “Latest Breakthroughs in Warp Technology – a Seminar.” Several names were listed as speakers, including a Dr. Charlie Gamble in the afternoon. Gamble. The name seemed familiar. Trip was sure he’d seen it before, perhaps on previous warp tech papers. It might be interesting. And the location was nearby. But he’d missed the morning session. He was still wavering when he read the next line: “Luncheon provided.” Another glance told him said luncheon was going on right now, and suddenly he had a destination.

It didn’t take him long to find the place. Stepping into the cool dimness of tuilduilding’s lobby made him feel even more at home, reminding him of Enterprise. Then his stomach reminded him of the real reason he was here, and he headed for the buffet table.

“Oh, ‘scuse me,” Trip said to the man who pushed his way in front of him to get to the crowded table. The man didn’t respond, but just grabbed some food off an almost empty tray. Trip shook his head at the man’s rudeness as he looked over the food. It was pretty slim pickin’s. A glance at the wall chronometer showed him why – the talk would commence in five minutes. If he wanted anything, he’d better hurry. Finding a plate, he began to heap on anything he could find. He was just reaching for some sort of dainty little dessert, the last on its tray, when his hand collided with another.

“Sorry,” he hurried to say, as he heard a female voice with an English accent say “Pardon me.” He turned to see his rival for the bonbon, and found himself speechless. She was beautiful – a few inches shorter than him, fit but still curvy – just the way he liked ‘em. He was surprised; Tech seminars generally weren’t the best place to meet babes, but apparently this one had been a good idea after all.

“Please,” she was saying, stepping back. “You take it. I’ve already had three, after all, and you seem hungry.” She gestured at his now overflowing plate and smiled a bit shyly. When he just continued to stare at her, she glanced away and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Her hair was a thick, glossy black, Trip noticed, pulled back in a style that was at once elegant and no-fuss. It contrasted well with the shell pink of her skin.

“Uh, no, please, you take it,” he managed to say, shaking off his trance. Picking up the tidbit, he offered it to her on his open palm. “Sweets for the sweet, as they say,” he quipped with a winning smile. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it, but he couldn’t help himself. She was mesmerizing. He had definitely been in space too long.

Gratifyingly, she took the sweet with a “Thank you” and popped the whole thing in her mouth. He stood watching her until he realized they were blocking the line and took a step back. She moved with him.

“So, you think the talk’ll be any good?” Trip began, aware he hadn’t much time and having no other topic at hand. “I’ve never seen this Dr. Gamble speak before.”

“Oh, I hope it will be quite interesting,” she responded. Was there a twinkle in her eye, or was Trip’s imagination getting away with him? “You’d better eat up, it’s about to start,” she added. Trip obligingly chose a tidbit at random and shoved it in his mouth. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go freshen up.” And she turned to leave.

Trip swallowed hastily. “Wait!” he called, and was glad to see her turn to look back at him. “Shall I save you a seat?” he asked hopefully.

She smiled, and he thought he saw that twinkle in her eye again. “I’ll find you,” she said, and then she turned and continued on her way.

“I guess I’ll take that as a yes,” Trip mumbled to himself, slightly unnerved by the shortness and yet the intensity of their conversation. Then he began shoveling food into his mouth.

A few minutes later, he was sitting in an aisle seat, his small bag of personal effects discouraging anyone from attempting to sit beside him. His head turned in a continuous, but fruitless, search for his mystery woman. I can’t believe I didn’t ask her her name, he berated himself, not for the first time. She said she’d find you, the optimistic side of his personality told him. There’s still time, the talk hasn’t started yet. Then the lights went down. Damn. With one more sweep of the room, he turned toward the stage with a sigh.

“Good afternoon,” some Einstein wannabe was intoning dryly from the podium. Why did every researcher in his field seem to be an old, white-haired, poorly dressed geek, Trip wondered. It was bad for their reputation. Trip went back to scanning the room, hoping his raven-haired goddess was just late, as the host continued to drone on. Eventually he heard the name “Dr. Gamble” and a smattering of applause. He turned back, thinking at least he’d get to see the talk.

And was struck dumb for the second time that day.

Well, at least that explains why she didn’t sit with me, Trip told himself. She’s Dr. Gamble.