Enterprise fic: "Not the Scottish Play, for sure and certain" (for Fififolle)
.
Title: Not the Scottish Play, for sure and certain.
Author: Keenir.
Written for: Fififolle. Happy Birthday.
(if this is not what you had in mind, I don't mind trying again)
Characters: Hoshi, Malcolm; Elizabeth Cutler, Trip, Travis, OC Scarpachi.
Author's Note: Scarpachi may or may not be related to the TNG character who had a crush on Data.
Summary: From talk about Primeval to a confrontation that ends peacefully, this is less than an hour in Hoshi’s life.
Disclaimer: I own none of them, save Scarpachi, whom I am willing to share.
crossposted to Archive of Our Own {here}.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On ENTERPRISE:
“Just tell me when the new series comes out,” Travis said. “I need new episodes of The Dinosaur Show.”
“The dinosaur show?” Trip repeated. “You mean Primeval?”
“What is wrong with you?” Ensign Scarpachi asked him, nearly slapping him upside the head. “You never say the name.”
“I thought that was The Scottish Play,” Trip said.
“Both, actually,” Crewman Cutler said. “I want to see how they bring Stephen back this time.”
Hoshi shook her head. “How many times has he died? Can’t they let him rest in peace? Like they did for the ARC - they never brought that back.”
“After fifty-seven series,” Travis said. “Besides, Stephen hasn’t always died. Sometimes he just took a walk.”
“Or was impregnated,” Scarpachi said, “or kidnapped, or turned into the captive god of a population descended from human-Vulcan hybrids.”
“Scariest four-season arc ever Travis said. “’Specially for a Boomer.”
Hoshi kept at the edge of the group, of the room, of the conversation. She had been planning
Malcolm’s birthday present for weeks now, and was waiting until tomorrow to give it to him.
“Speaking of captive gods, where’s the Ambassador?” Trip said. Ambassador Nedsetor had been appointed by the Sohapi, whose world Enterprise orbited right now.
“Probably taking another tour of the ship,” Scarpachi said. “That’s all he seems to do, and god forbid anyone say No to him.” She looked over at Cutler and asked, “Almost time for the movies?”
“Do I get to come this time?” Trip asked.
For once, Scarpachi didn’t make any innuendo such as ‘only by yourself.’ Instead she said, “That would defeat the purpose and kill the tradition. And what would a ship be without tradition.”
“A nice place to live,” Trip said.
Hoshi shook her head once she and Elizabeth were walking away. He’s a ‘the Third’ and yet doesn’t grasp naval or military tradition, Cutler thought to herself.
What she said was, “I’ve got the complete three-season set of The Greatest American Hero,” Elizabeth said to Hoshi as they walked down the corridor together, planning what they would do - it was an unofficial tradition onboard for any women serving on Enterprise to attend a Girls’ Night Out. “Or we could watch something I just got - it won’t be broadcast for another year and a half, but my mom has a chum from University who sent us the latest reboot of Sherlock.”
“Another remake?” Hoshi asked.
“This one doesn’t have any CGI,” Cutler said, “so I’m told.”
“So its just Holmes and Watson in their altogethers?”
She nodded.
“Maybe we should invite T’Pol,” Hoshi said with a smile.
“How obsessive do Vulcans get if they see someone they fancy?” Cutler asked. And between Holmes’ brains and Watson’s whole package…
“How would I know?” Hoshi asked. “And ‘fancy’?”
She shrugged in answer to that last part. “Just trying it out. And I thought since you hang out with the senior staff more than -”
Hoshi held up one hand, her ears catching on a sound…on a series of sounds. Sounds spoken in the distinctive - if slightly Irish-sounding - voice of Ambassador Nedsetor.
Cutler knew when to hush up.
Hoshi’s mind parsed the sentence being spoken, breaking each word down into its parts:
[singular, I ][2nd person]
[now & always] [am doing]
[love, admire, long for] [now and always]
[before the feet of] [ I so do]
[Hoshi] [recipient]
Why was Ambassador Nedsetor telling Malcolm this? Hoshi wondered. Before, in the past, she would have run to her quarters and buried her face in her pillow, or pulled Cutler along and drowned her sorrows in the movie.
But now, oh no, now Hoshi made herself step over and open Malcolm’s door.
And very nearly clobbered Malcolm in the head with the door, that was how close he was leaning to the door itself. If Enterprise had had normal Earth doors that swing, Malcolm would have been lying on the floor by now.
Ambassador Nedsetor was standing along the room’s far wall. “Afternoon, ladies,” he said, bidding them welcome. “Something I can do for you?”
“Nothing comes to mind,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. The ambassador looked exactly like the most manliest and studmuffin of any centaur in Earth mythology ever could have aspired to - the difference being that Nedsetor’s manparts were tucked away inside. Not that that stopped the gossip mill of Enterprise and tongues from wagging, discretely of course.
“I heard you,” Hoshi said.
“You did now?” Nedsetor asked.
“I did.”
“What’d ya hear?” he asked, a broad smile on his face.
“That you love me,” Hoshi said.
“No offense, lass, but you’re not my type,” Nedsetor said.
“Human?”
“Nae.”
“Brainy?”
“Nothing I like more than braaaains,” he said.
“Then what?”
“You’re taken.”
“I…what?” Hoshi asked, her mind abruptly blank.
“Hoshi,” Malcolm said.
She turned to face him. “Malcolm, I…”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Malcolm said. “I figured what better way than using a language new to the both of us.”
“Surprise,” Elizabeth said behind them.
“Yeah,” Malcolm said, never taking his eyes off Hoshi. “The Ambassador told me the right 1st Person word to use, and then he gave me the rest of it…”
“…Which I overheard,” Hoshi said. “Oh Malcolm.”
They hugged, which grew into an embrace.
Cutler was starting to feel awkward, like someone seeing something they shouldn’t.
Nedsetor was entertained by both the couple and Cutler’s reaction.
Malcolm looked at Hoshi, his nose telling him there was something new. And he whispered to Hoshi, “Do I smell pineapple?”
Hoshi nodded. “You do,” she said. Pineapple soap lotion - the edible variety. You have no idea how much I lathered this morning, Malcolm. But I know you’re worth every bit. Though today’s was just to see how long the microfilm clings to my skin.
Sparing a look at the others, Hoshi said, “Not to be rude, but - you two, out. Now.”
Nedsetor nodded and would’ve tipped a hat if he had been wearing one - he went through the motions anyway.
“Have fun,” Elizabeth told them. As much as she wished she had won Malcolm, she could not and would not begrudge Hoshi’s victory - he loved Hoshi more anyway, so it balanced out.
Watching the two of them necking together as the door closed, Harper said, “Oh you two will be as fine together as Connie and Harry.”
And that’s a great thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Note: yes, Nedsetor may or may not be Ned C. Tor from The Irish-American Magnet…definitely the same actor in the roles.
Title: Not the Scottish Play, for sure and certain.
Author: Keenir.
Written for: Fififolle. Happy Birthday.
(if this is not what you had in mind, I don't mind trying again)
Characters: Hoshi, Malcolm; Elizabeth Cutler, Trip, Travis, OC Scarpachi.
Author's Note: Scarpachi may or may not be related to the TNG character who had a crush on Data.
Summary: From talk about Primeval to a confrontation that ends peacefully, this is less than an hour in Hoshi’s life.
Disclaimer: I own none of them, save Scarpachi, whom I am willing to share.
crossposted to Archive of Our Own {here}.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On ENTERPRISE:
“Just tell me when the new series comes out,” Travis said. “I need new episodes of The Dinosaur Show.”
“The dinosaur show?” Trip repeated. “You mean Primeval?”
“What is wrong with you?” Ensign Scarpachi asked him, nearly slapping him upside the head. “You never say the name.”
“I thought that was The Scottish Play,” Trip said.
“Both, actually,” Crewman Cutler said. “I want to see how they bring Stephen back this time.”
Hoshi shook her head. “How many times has he died? Can’t they let him rest in peace? Like they did for the ARC - they never brought that back.”
“After fifty-seven series,” Travis said. “Besides, Stephen hasn’t always died. Sometimes he just took a walk.”
“Or was impregnated,” Scarpachi said, “or kidnapped, or turned into the captive god of a population descended from human-Vulcan hybrids.”
“Scariest four-season arc ever Travis said. “’Specially for a Boomer.”
Hoshi kept at the edge of the group, of the room, of the conversation. She had been planning
Malcolm’s birthday present for weeks now, and was waiting until tomorrow to give it to him.
“Speaking of captive gods, where’s the Ambassador?” Trip said. Ambassador Nedsetor had been appointed by the Sohapi, whose world Enterprise orbited right now.
“Probably taking another tour of the ship,” Scarpachi said. “That’s all he seems to do, and god forbid anyone say No to him.” She looked over at Cutler and asked, “Almost time for the movies?”
“Do I get to come this time?” Trip asked.
For once, Scarpachi didn’t make any innuendo such as ‘only by yourself.’ Instead she said, “That would defeat the purpose and kill the tradition. And what would a ship be without tradition.”
“A nice place to live,” Trip said.
Hoshi shook her head once she and Elizabeth were walking away. He’s a ‘the Third’ and yet doesn’t grasp naval or military tradition, Cutler thought to herself.
What she said was, “I’ve got the complete three-season set of The Greatest American Hero,” Elizabeth said to Hoshi as they walked down the corridor together, planning what they would do - it was an unofficial tradition onboard for any women serving on Enterprise to attend a Girls’ Night Out. “Or we could watch something I just got - it won’t be broadcast for another year and a half, but my mom has a chum from University who sent us the latest reboot of Sherlock.”
“Another remake?” Hoshi asked.
“This one doesn’t have any CGI,” Cutler said, “so I’m told.”
“So its just Holmes and Watson in their altogethers?”
She nodded.
“Maybe we should invite T’Pol,” Hoshi said with a smile.
“How obsessive do Vulcans get if they see someone they fancy?” Cutler asked. And between Holmes’ brains and Watson’s whole package…
“How would I know?” Hoshi asked. “And ‘fancy’?”
She shrugged in answer to that last part. “Just trying it out. And I thought since you hang out with the senior staff more than -”
Hoshi held up one hand, her ears catching on a sound…on a series of sounds. Sounds spoken in the distinctive - if slightly Irish-sounding - voice of Ambassador Nedsetor.
Cutler knew when to hush up.
Hoshi’s mind parsed the sentence being spoken, breaking each word down into its parts:
[singular, I ][2nd person]
[now & always] [am doing]
[love, admire, long for] [now and always]
[before the feet of] [ I so do]
[Hoshi] [recipient]
Why was Ambassador Nedsetor telling Malcolm this? Hoshi wondered. Before, in the past, she would have run to her quarters and buried her face in her pillow, or pulled Cutler along and drowned her sorrows in the movie.
But now, oh no, now Hoshi made herself step over and open Malcolm’s door.
And very nearly clobbered Malcolm in the head with the door, that was how close he was leaning to the door itself. If Enterprise had had normal Earth doors that swing, Malcolm would have been lying on the floor by now.
Ambassador Nedsetor was standing along the room’s far wall. “Afternoon, ladies,” he said, bidding them welcome. “Something I can do for you?”
“Nothing comes to mind,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. The ambassador looked exactly like the most manliest and studmuffin of any centaur in Earth mythology ever could have aspired to - the difference being that Nedsetor’s manparts were tucked away inside. Not that that stopped the gossip mill of Enterprise and tongues from wagging, discretely of course.
“I heard you,” Hoshi said.
“You did now?” Nedsetor asked.
“I did.”
“What’d ya hear?” he asked, a broad smile on his face.
“That you love me,” Hoshi said.
“No offense, lass, but you’re not my type,” Nedsetor said.
“Human?”
“Nae.”
“Brainy?”
“Nothing I like more than braaaains,” he said.
“Then what?”
“You’re taken.”
“I…what?” Hoshi asked, her mind abruptly blank.
“Hoshi,” Malcolm said.
She turned to face him. “Malcolm, I…”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Malcolm said. “I figured what better way than using a language new to the both of us.”
“Surprise,” Elizabeth said behind them.
“Yeah,” Malcolm said, never taking his eyes off Hoshi. “The Ambassador told me the right 1st Person word to use, and then he gave me the rest of it…”
“…Which I overheard,” Hoshi said. “Oh Malcolm.”
They hugged, which grew into an embrace.
Cutler was starting to feel awkward, like someone seeing something they shouldn’t.
Nedsetor was entertained by both the couple and Cutler’s reaction.
Malcolm looked at Hoshi, his nose telling him there was something new. And he whispered to Hoshi, “Do I smell pineapple?”
Hoshi nodded. “You do,” she said. Pineapple soap lotion - the edible variety. You have no idea how much I lathered this morning, Malcolm. But I know you’re worth every bit. Though today’s was just to see how long the microfilm clings to my skin.
Sparing a look at the others, Hoshi said, “Not to be rude, but - you two, out. Now.”
Nedsetor nodded and would’ve tipped a hat if he had been wearing one - he went through the motions anyway.
“Have fun,” Elizabeth told them. As much as she wished she had won Malcolm, she could not and would not begrudge Hoshi’s victory - he loved Hoshi more anyway, so it balanced out.
Watching the two of them necking together as the door closed, Harper said, “Oh you two will be as fine together as Connie and Harry.”
And that’s a great thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Note: yes, Nedsetor may or may not be Ned C. Tor from The Irish-American Magnet…definitely the same actor in the roles.