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.Once Upon Far	By : keithcompany Category: Star Trek > Enterprise Views: 5201 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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More Disclaimer: This work is my own. Do not repost this story beyond the limits of the Fair Use standards of Copyright Law (quotes, examples, 'you gotta read this' excerpts, the usual).

I tend to work with size-themed fiction, which includes overwhelming control issues and outrageous differences in scale. Such disparate sizes between partners is not for everyone, so be warned.

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"Captain's Log, Mission Thirty Seven, Day Twelve.   The Enterprise has achieved orbit around the planet Sizzith.   This is something of a mecca for researchers. They boast some of the most extensive libraries in known space, and some very esoteric facilities for experimentation and investigation.
"For a price. While I'd prefer a more open exchange of information, especially with lives on the line, the motto here seems to be 'you get what you pay for.'
"Dr. Phlox and Commander T'Pol have been attempting to locate medical knowledge that might help fight the Kekks Plague affecting Utopia Planetia.
"We'll need some local currency to purchase any promising information, so Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato have been trying to identify a market for our technical knowledge.
"Commander Tucker is grooming the engines, making sure we waste no time getting any possible help back to Mars.   And now…we wait."
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Commander T'Pol would never admit to either condition, but she found Sizzith repellant and attractive.
The place almost reeked of scientific investigations, burgeoning databases and extensive curiosity. She could easily imagine the entire Vulcan Academy dedicating itself to centuries of effort merely cross-indexing the information recorded.
And yet, they not only put a price on knowledge, but they withheld critical information until the credit chip cleared. There was no search to know for the sake of knowing. Even seeing the index to the index of a database was a commercial transaction.
She moved through the crowds, ignoring the calls of the street librarians, brushing aside children offering 'data coder to pretty lady, many secrets, you buy my directory to biochemical warfare databases, yes?'
There was another possible source of pharmaceutical information down this street. The Vulcan moved quickly along the pavement. When her communicator beeped for her attention she stepped between two kiosks and answered.
"Commander T'Pol."
"T'Pol! Phlox found something!" an excited Archer called. "A medical supply workshop across the city has a breakdown of the plague. It's even got 'Kekks' in one of the footnotes. They have a cure and four vaccines."
"That is good news, Captain. Do we have the means to acquire this information?" The vendor on her left was eyeing her closely as a possible customer. The one on her right seemed to have dismissed her as 'just reading.'
"Hoshi sold a Klingon wolf pack cipher she broke last week. We're actually going to make a profit on this deal."
"Captain, while I appreciate the pride you must feel upon accomplishing that feat in this market, I must point out that the buying and selling of life-saving ideas is not in accordance with your stated desires of interstellar cooperation."
"Buzz kill," he said with a laugh. "Get back to the shuttle. Everyone's waiting on you."
"Captain, if the shuttle takes off now, you can beam me aboard with the transporter. I think the shuttle can make orbit in less time than it will take me to negotiate these streets."
"Okay. Trip?"
"Captain?"
"Get to the transporter, bring T'Pol up."
"Right away, Captain."
-----
The transporter effect cleared and T'Pol was whole once more. "Welcome back," Trip said as he shut down the device.
"Something is wrong," she said.
He looked her over quickly. "Not from what I can see. Do you feel okay?"
"It is my perspective." She reached a finger up to one eye and drew a line through the air, up to the tip of Trip's nose. She blinked as she calculated. "I am approximately 4.8 centimeters shorter than I was when we departed Enterprise."
-----
Phlox could find nothing wrong with the commander besides the loss of approximately one sixty-fourth of her mass.
"Enough to build a scale model of yourself about 50 centimeters tall," he joked.
"Assuming that this was an act of intent," she said as she stepped down off of the exam table, "what would anyone do with such an artifact?"
"Well, when I went looking for any other examples of this sort of event," Phlox said, "I told the computer to look up shrinking women, without thinking to restrict it to medical databases. " He paused, glancing at the doorway where the Captain and two of his department heads waited impatiently.
The doctor tilted his head towards T'Pol's and whispered, "You would be AMAZED at what humans have thought up on the subject. There was this one movie maker, Sally-"
"Is she okay?" Archer asked.
"Right as rain," the doctor said cheerfully. "Or, to be more exact in my metaphor, as right as a rain barrel that's been subject to some evaporation."
"I am fit for duty, Captain."
"Okay," he nodded. "Because as much as I want to stay here until we get to the bottom of things, lives depend on our getting home at high speed."
"Far worse things have happened to explorers, Captain," T'Pol assured him. "I will merely have to adjust the seats in my cabin and at my station." He nodded and led the way out of sickbay. They were underway in minutes.
Despite early concerns, there were no lasting difficulties associated with T'Pol's experience. Some crewmen in Engineering tried to bestow a nickname upon her, the Shrunken Vulcan, but it never caught on. The fact that any officer overhearing the phrase threatened truly obscene amounts of extra duty may have had something to do with that. Over the next few missions, questions over her missing matter became mostly a forgotten matter.
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About four years later, the Enterprise was returning to Earth for repairs. They had been sent on pirate interdiction and they had indeed found the pirates. Organized, numerous pirates.
The Enterprise had emerged victorious, but there was a great cost. They were met at the space dock by a medical team from the Vulcan detachment to Starfleet Medical Center.
Archer looked on as they carried out the still form of his science officer. The Vulcan ambassador to Earth stood silently until the team was out of sight.
"What happened?" he asked.
"She was hurt. Phlox says she may have died on the table. He can't… he tried everything, but she just never woke up. He can't find any brain activity beyond the bare functions keeping her alive."
They were silent for a moment.
"I understand, Captain Archer, that you once carried the katra of a Vulcan."
"Sarek, yes. And no, I didn't have the chance to carry T'Pol's."
"Please," Soval asked, "tell me exactly what happened."
"We ambushed a pirate ship by hiding behind a moon. Just before the end of the battle, our power-"
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"Power has failed in the forward starboard impulse chamber!" T'Pol shouted. Trip shook his head. Even in the midst of this chaos, she didn't scream, only raised her voice to carry.
"We'll have to jumper it out!" he shouted back. She nodded and turned to the equipment rack beneath the station she was using. The heavy jump cable was as thick as her leg.
She lifted it easily and slid it into position. An engineman grabbed the forward end and pushed the connection tight. She noticed that there was debris in the after slot and reached in to sweep it out of the way.
"We need that jumper now or we all die!" Tucker shouted, watching his control panel.
"Right, sir!" the human crewman shouted, his voice more than a little panicky. He shoved on T'Pol's connection. Her hand wasn't quite clear. She saw a bright blue flash.
She staggered backwards, hand clutched to her chest. But there was no pain. She looked down in surprise, to find that there was no burn. That voltage should have removed her hand to the elbow.
Then she noticed that her uniform had been removed. She wore only a loin cloth. It seemed unusually thick. She looked around to see if anyone else's dress had been changed.
She wasn't on the Enterprise. Strange equipment was crammed into the space around her. She had the sensation that it was a spaceship but she didn't recognize the design.
The panels of the powered equipment were all high over her head, with clear panels covering them. The covers looked to be added to the apparatus, not part of the original design.
The readouts looked to be in Denobulan. She couldn't make heads or tails of the indications, though. Maybe Sato could translate the control systems, but the readings seemed to be gibberish.
She took a few cautious steps around. There didn't appear to be any people about.
That was about the time she noticed the smell. She returned her attention to the loin cloth. It was a diaper. One that she had apparently been wearing for a while.
She set about more purposefully. Now she was seeking out a sanitary station, clean clothes and some idea of where she was and what she was doing there.
The space began to take shape in her head. It was consistent with most spacefaring races' cargo bays. It had been adapted to host more or less permanent installations of confused paraphernalia.
She was also beginning to suspect that all the panels were covered to prevent her from adjusting anything.
There was one door, a large gate ample for onloading and offloading materiel. It appeared to be locked from the outside. She pounded on it and called for any listeners. Or jailors, she thought to herself.
There was a shuffling sound beyond the door, a metallic clank and it opened.
Beyond it stood a huge creature, slightly more than three and a half times her own height. It was dressed, which argued towards intelligence. She just wasn't aware of too many intelligent giants in the known races. She gazed up at it closely.
"You appear to be a Denobulan," she said, "except for the extreme size. Is your race related to theirs?" She shook her head. Scientific curiosity would have to wait . "Never mind that for now. Where am I? Where is the Enterprise? How did I get to be here? And what did you do with-"
"You talk!" the being croaked. In a Vulcan, a voice that breathy would indicate great age. She forbore any snappy, human-like judgments. The creature then grabbed its chest, wheezed mightily and sank to the floor. "I'd always hoped…. You would… One day…." Once it was supine, it wheezed twice more, then stopped breathing all together. She stepped beside it and examined it for life functions. There were none.
"You couldn't have answered even one question first?" she snapped. Then she took a deep breath. Too much time among humans, she thought to herself. I'm better than that, dammit.
She curled a fist after the expletive. She was also better than that!
She passed a hand over the giant's face and closed its eyes. Then she looked at the passageway she found herself in.
It seemed to be a standard centerline personnel accessway, although built upon the same scale as the body behind her.   The cargo bay door appeared   to be the aftmost one. T'Pol moved forward. The door opened to her approach and she found a tool room. The tools were also for the giant and of no interest to her at the moment.
She started to turn away when one thing caught her attention. It looked to be a radiation probe built to match a pesteron detector. But form follows function, and all pesteron detector probes were useless unless they were made to a very specific size, based on the harmonic frequency of pesterite radiants. This unit was three times the working size.
It was made to match what she was used to, though. It even had the seal of Vulcan Standards and Means on the display. But that would be impossible. It just could not function at that size. She began to suspect that she was the victim of an elaborate hoax.
Then next two doors didn't open for her. The third was a sanitary facility. It probably wasn't the most logical priority, but she was actually feeling humiliation from wearing a diaper. She gratefully stripped it off and disposed of it in the waste receptacle. There was a stool in place that allowed her easy access to the standard biowaste receiver.
Sitting there, she contemplated the sonic shower. Extra controls had been wired in, and to a convenient level for her. She relaxed in the cleaning waves and considered her situation.
Someone was trying to convince her that she was the size of a child. The control panels had been affixed with safety measures appropriate to protect a mental deficient from endangering herself or the ship. Child-proofed, as it were. Tucker had described the process with some pride. She had merely said, "On Vulcan, we danger-proof the child instead." He'd been most irrational for some time after that.
She was to believe that she had been tiny and retarded for an indefinite period between the engine room accident and her sudden awareness.
The shower finished and beeped for covering options. "Disposable shipboard jumpsuit," she said, giving her size. The dispenser worked for a moment then ejected a garment. She snagged it as it went over her head, unrolling it to find it ridiculously large. She could sew up the ankle of one leg and use it as a sleeping bag.
That's when her mind offered up the memory of Dr. Phlox. "A scale model of yourself about 50 centimeters tall," he had said in his jovial, joking manner.
The pesteron detector, if authentic, would seem to indicate that someone, somewhere, had indeed produced the punchline.
"I fail to see the humor," she said, at least four years later. She wondered how long this body had been living here, the disadvantaged domesticated pet of the pilot, and what her capabilities had been.
She also wondered how her consciousness had come to inhabit the replica. She suspected that her katra was involved, but that usually required physical contact.
-----
A few hours later T'Pol had completed a search of the vessel. It was indeed a warp-capable craft, probably of Axanar construction. There was one room rigged as living quarters, scaled for the dead Denobulan. She could find no evidence of separate living arrangements for herself.
Almost all of the controls of the ship were child-proofed, either in the form of a physical barrier to one of her size, or made inert until a biomedical scanner allowed access. She could not even turn on navigation displays sufficient to fix the ship's location in space.
She did locate an antigravity sled and moved the body to cold storage. Death rites would have to wait for now. She had to design a lockpick. Something to convince the security system that she was a different species, gender and size than the scanner was looking at.
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.Once Upon Far