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.Once Upon Far	By : keithcompany Category: Star Trek > Enterprise Views: 5202 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Enterprise. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Success was intermittent and haphazard. T'Pol gained access to the intership communication bands early on, but only to receive.
From the sporadic transmissions she picked up, she determined that she was in orbit around a sparsely populated mining colony. There were no hails demanding her to given an account for herself. No one entering or leaving orbit seems the least concerned with her presence.
No planet name was ever use, the pilots spoke to any of three ground-control officers by familiar name. The names indicated Earthlings and Tellarites.
She also managed to gain access to an exhaustive archive of Klingon opera and Denobulan epic poetry. It helped her little, but the associated clock was in Denobulan. It allowed her to calculate the stardate.
She had woken up in this body about a month after the power surge had presumably destroyed her own.
Or at least, her original own body. Whether this one was a replica, subset or could be considered her original body was a philosophical question she had neither the time nor the inclination to determine.
Then she found herself imagining Archer shaking his head. "You're ducking the question, T'Pol," he would say. "Maybe you say you don't care about determining it, because you can't determine it. Not anymore, not in that tiny brain you have."
Her time among humans had opened her eyes to the rationalizations of her own people. Vulcans could and did craft large and valid defenses of actions they took that withstood scrutiny. But all too often, no one asked why they needed the defense.
She paused in her attempts to gain control of the craft and meditated. She recalled T'Klass's Premise of Surak and translated all four hundred stanzas of it to German. She counted the vowels in the result, determined the cube root of that number, then cubed that value, resulting in the original number as a sumcheck.
She then translated the German to English, or nearly so, and recited the final output backwards.
She found no flaws in her memory, performance or calculation. Her fear of diminished intellect, as expressed in an imagined comment from her Captain, was assuaged. She returned to her tasks.
T'Pol did realize it was childish, but could not help saying, "So there," to her imagined critic.
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After a few days, T'Pol managed to get limited control of some of the consoles. Whoever the owner of the ship had been, he seemed only to be worried about her doing accidental damage. The security system could easily have been made more difficult, perhaps by using two scanners from different angles.
As it was, she was getting adept at swinging up onto the console, aiming her projecting umbrella until the security light went green, then diving for the panel she desired.
She'd gotten tired of snagging her homemade clothes on the switches, dials and her improvised scaffolding. Now she went without.
She opened the personal log of her late host by accident. She was trying once more to defeat the lock on the navigation computer when her foot slipped. She kicked a toggle and a deep, slow voice started to issue from the speakers.
"-xt journal entry. Research efforts continue to be fruitless with the latest settings of the subspace filter." She stood frozen, holding her lockpick steady and listening intently. "I'm thinking of moving to a more isolated planet, seeing if I can increase the power and gain better results.
"My little pet takes no notice of the experiments, but she does notice my mood at each failure. Tiny runs to my side every time I sigh, and will not leave until I lift her up for a cuddle.
"It seems rather selfish on her part, but I do feel much better by the time I put her down. I can't tell if that's part of her design or a happy coincidence.
"Well. Setting course for the mining planet, Seyqa IV. That should be isolated enough for my research, but not so isolated as to be subject to pirates. Entry ends."
The possibilities of a subspace filter fired T'Pol's imagination, but a significant portion of her intellect fixed on the term 'pet.' She started searching entries.
Rather than concentrating on the research proposals or experiment results, she aimed for the advent of Tiny.
She scrolled back four years.
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Chippugh Journal of Mobile Experiments in Non-Physical Armoring of Space Traveling Vessels.
Entry 1:23:QY004
A passing ship from Earth has made two gifts to me, one of which may become a burden. I have determined that they operated a matter transporting device while my deflector screen was in operation.
They were in orbit and transporting an individual up from the surface.
The Trox was in a higher orbit, so the deflector field was not physically between the two points involved, but apparently in subspace, directions are more problematical.
The field flexed, power surged and all the system safeties engaged. I had to grope around in the dark to establish lighting once more.
When I did, I discovered one of the gifts. A very tiny female stood in the center of the test area. She stared around in curiosity as I approached. There was no response to any attempt to communicate with her verbally. When I touched her, she screamed and ran. I lost her among the test equipment and projector arrays.
I searched but could not locate her for over three hours. The only reason I found her then was because she was caught on the end of a stanchion. Her sleeve was pinched in the hinge. She tugged on it and cried.
She looked so pitiful. I tried to make soothing sounds as I approached but she just whined and tried harder to escape.
I held her tightly by one leg as I worked the sleeve free. She struggled, and seems very strong for her size, but I was still able to keep my grip.
I carried her to the dining alcove and gave her food and drink. She ate happily enough, and started to relax.
As she consumed what I'd given her, she suffered me to examine her and her uniform. I was able to identify her species as Vulcan, though I thought she was a child at first.
I also found identifying instruments in and on her clothes that were of Earth manufacture. I recalled seeing an Earth registry among the transponders in orbit.
I left my tiny passenger on the table and went to the cockpit. I tried to hail the Earthers, but they had departed from orbit while I was searching out the child.
I couldn't imagine why they would have done such a thing if they were missing a passenger, especially such an underage one. Most sophonts are rather obsessive about locating lost children. The question of why they would subject a child to matter transport or the dangers of space travel made it even more puzzling.
There was a noise behind me, and I found my tiny ward standing there, looking at all the displays with frank curiosity, and not a little delight and wonder. Such things shouldn't have been surprising to a veteran of travel on any ship.
That's when I started to really wonder more about her presence on my ship than her history. The experimental armor had clearly plucked her out of a matter transport, but hadn't gotten all of her. Her mind was missing.   Maybe the interference had scrambled her memories? I led her back to the autodoc.   She followed happily enough, but resisted being put into the bay. I finally had to restrain her. Then I set the scans to learning all I could.
That's when I discovered that she was a mature Vulcan. She was fully grown but slightly below a third of the height that her genetic profile indicated.
I'd gotten a fraction of her.
The Earthers had gotten significantly more, and may not even have noticed that part of her was missing.
"They might not have," T'Pol muttered. "But I certainly did." She took a deep breath, which moved the lockpick. The journal stopped playing. She considered her options, then jumped to the pilot seat and then down to the floor.
She had not noticed an autodoc and wondered what information it might hold.
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Chippugh Journal of Mobile Experiments in Non-Physical Armoring of Space Traveling Vessels.
Entry 1:23:QY103
The tiny woman burst out of the autodoc once I finished my scans. She scampered around the bay while I perused the results.
It seemed my energy armor design was actually an antennae into subspace. Something of a filter or subspace version of a drift net. I easily thought up three applications for planetary security, and seven for interstellar piracy.
Caution was indicated here. Ironically, once I came to that conclusion, my incautious attitude towards the Vulcan nearly did me in.
She had found the control panel for the cargo bay we were in. I heard the jettison alarm sound. I had just enough time to grab the curious little woman and make it through the exit. She had been standing still, terrified by the jettison alarm, or I'd never have had a chance.
The door sealed behind us and the entire bay was launched. We were in a high enough orbit that I could have recovered it. Except my spacesuit was in that bay. I lost extravehicular capability along with my autodoc. I could only hope that my research would produce profits before either of my heart conditions became lethal.
I sat in the window bay, holding the female in my lap, and we watched the bay dwindle as it spun down to the planet below.
Such things were commonplace here. They would just assessed a fine to my account. A hefty fine.
I turned her around to look her in the face. I swear that she looked apologetic for a moment as we gazed at each other.
"Just a tiny mistake, huh?" I said. "I let you go, you find the three buttons necessary to kill us both." I sighed. She sighed as well. "I guess I'm going to have to child-safe the ship. That's going to take a while." I set her down and pat her butt. Her nose twisted up as I did.
Turns out that she had lost more than memory or the power of speech.
After a few days, I had reasonably mapped out her abilities. She can feed herself, if I leave out food. She can wash herself, on the days she figures out the simplistic shower controls I rigged up. She just hasn't always had the initiative to wash herself, an odd trait for the normally fastidious Vulcans.
And she only rarely makes it to the sanitary on time. After a few little mistakes on that score, we stopped trying to master the zippers and seals of her uniform. I've programmed the clothing dispenser to provide a sturdy, absorbent covering of her elimination features. She wears those until she or I notice the smell.
Every other control in the ship, though, I have had to protect against her witless curiosity.[/i]
"That explains the autodoc I cannot locate," T'Pol mused.   It pained her to have apparently spent four years unable to keep herself clean. It pained her more to realize that her name had been Tiny Mistake for that period.
She scanned for more entries concerning her 'adventures' with the physicist. Most were simple comments about something else Tiny Mistake had done, most of them lightly destructive or humorously dangerous. One series of entries mortified her.[i]
Chippugh Journal of Mobile Experiments in Subspace Filtering.
Entry 2:3:QW194
Tiny has become rather active of late. Even for her. She has stopped sleeping in her little basket and demanded room on my pallet.
I think maybe she is regaining her self-identity, and wants to sleep 'like people' instead of like a pet.
Entry 2:3:QW223
I could not have been more wrong. Tiny Mistake is not after my bed, she is after me. Two nights after we shared a pillow she burrowed under the blankets and sought out my reproductive features. It was not childish curiosity, she knew exactly what she wanted and where she could get it.
I rolled out of the rack, horrified. All this time, Tiny has been something between a child and a pet in my eyes.   Now she was naked and beseeching me to… Oh, I can hardly say it. But as a scientist, I must face the facts. Tiny Mistake wants to mate with me. She will not take no for an answer.
She pleads, silently, in the most heartbreaking way. She reminds me of my second wife, who could never understand anyone not wanting to have sex. Time, company, imminent danger, exposure to weather and physical infirmity meant nothing to her when she was in the mood.
Tiny, though, not only wants it but appears to need it. She grows more desperate with every hour.
At one point, she must have suspected that I rejected her because of her smell. She sniffed herself, cried, then ran and took a sonic. She followed me around, after, offering me a chance to sniff her armpits and see how clean she was.
I laughed. She always laughs with me, even when I'm laughing at her.
In moments I was paralyzed with huge gulps of laughter. She laughed along with me, alternating sniffs of her pits with gestures of pushing the sonic button.
Then suddenly she dove for my lap and grasped me. I fought her off, but it almost cost me my… Well, she has a firm grip, let's say. And her nails need trimming again.
Entry 2:3:QZ001
Tiny Mistake has not eaten a thing in three days. My rejection of her advances seems to have made her lose all interest in life.
Forsaken Demons forgive me, it may actually be that Vulcan lives depend on sex. I may have no choice in this matter.[/i]
T'Pol was alive, so she suspected that she had managed to seduce her protector.
She spent quite a bit of time translating the dates of the entries. She had not been through Pon Far during the last four years. Nor had she been subjected to any condition that simulated or stimulated a false Pon Far as she had soon after joining the Enterprise.
It was possible that the replication process had altered her biology in some way that accelerated or randomized her cycle. If she couldn't get control of the ship before the next one, she might die without an appropriate partner.
Of course for a Vulcan, that death was almost preferable to sex with an inappropriate partner. She tried not to think about the body in the freezer, or what she might do if she was desperate enough.
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.Once Upon Far