T’Pol – the tale of the seven year itch.

The tale, of course, begins on the NX-01 Enterprise, in the year 2151. It is an era of discovery for the humans that surround T’Pol, the lone Vulcan on the first warp-5 ship built by the young species. At first, T’Pol finds these humans to be overly emotional, foolish, and naive...but slowly discovers that under their immature surface, humans are in fact a species worthy of admiration - for though they are at times reckless, they are also courageous, imaginative, and tireless in their efforts to succeed and push the boundaries of their knowledge. And unlike many of the Vulcans T’Pol knows, these humans have a very endearing quality - they have faith of the heart. Faith that, as a species, they can beat the odds. They can travel through the reaches of outer space, discovering new worlds, new species, new civilisations....but more importantly, they can discover themselves on levels they never knew existed.

A year into this journey, T’Pol begins to feel the first effects of a phase her species experiences every seven years. She senses what is happening to her body, now more aware than ever that she is the only Vulcan on the ship. No-one knows what she is going through, except possibly the ship’s physician, Dr Phlox. T’Pol feels something she hasn’t felt in a long time - not since childhood. An emotion. What’s the name those human’s give it? Fear? Trepidation? Something like that. She is afraid...afraid that nobody will understand that it is simply a part of Vulcan life. Humans feel this way all the time...or so they say. But for a Vulcan, it is stronger. It isn’t just a longing. It’s a need. Without appropriate...treatment...this phase in life can kill.

Upon waking one morning, T’Pol senses the urges inside growing stronger. She knows she must tell someone soon, before the full onset of Pon farr begins. She also realises that, with no Vulcans on board, or even in the same sector of space, she will have to find a solution involving the humans. A disturbing thought indeed, considering how lacking in strength and stamina humans males are, when compared with the average Vulcan. It might require the assistance of more than one crew member. As unappealing as it might seem, a menage-a-trois may be the only way to fulfill these urges. Not thrilled with the idea of a neurochemical imbalance being the cause of her death, T’Pol knows that all options must be explored.

There are two men on the ship that T’Pol trusts most. Jonathan Archer, their captain, and son of a long-term campaigner for the warp-5 engine, is one. The other is the ship’s chief engineer, and second in charge of the Starfleet crew, Commander Charles Tucker III, known affectionately by most of the crew as “Trip”. Both had proven they were worthy of her trust in the past, and T’Pol knew it would be them she would rely upon again. They were the two most logical choices. Knowing that the three of them would be eating dinner together that evening, T’Pol decides to discuss things with them then, and get on with her day.

That night, the conversation at dinner is quieter than normal - T’Pol wonders if perhaps these humans have more telepathic ability than they let on. If she didn’t know better, she would think that both Archer and Trip could sense that something was “up”, as they would say. As she finishes her meal, T’Pol decides it’s “now or never”. She quietly puts down her cutlery, and pushes her plate aside. Archer and Trip look up at her - they seem to be almost expecting her to begin a serious discussion. More serious than usual, that is. “I’m uncertain as to what I should begin with,” she quietly starts. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” states Archer. “We can tell something’s up T’Pol, might as well get it out in the open,” adds Trip.

T’Pol feels slightly reassured by their reactions - they are clearly ready to listen to her, and obviously want to help, if they can. She hesitantly begins, “It is something quite personal, as I am sure you have guessed, and I would appreciate your...discretion...in this matter...”. “Of course,” “Sure” - they both agree, which T’Pol of course knew they would, it being one of the reasons she was speaking to them in the first place. “Have either of you heard of ‘Pon farr’?” she asks. “Ah...I’ve heard a little,” says Trip, “Isn’t that when your libido kicks in or something?! And it’s only like, every seven years?”.

“That is correct Mr Tucker, Pon farr is the Vulcan urge to mate, and it is a phase which we experience on a seven yearly cycle, from the time we reach adulthood. In fact, a neurochemical imbalance develops, which can only be rectified through...well...through...” T’Pol loses her cool composure, becoming agitated. Archer intercedes, “I’ve heard a bit about this too T’Pol...and from what I’ve heard, this ‘neurochemical imbalance’ over-rides your system, you basically lose control of yourself, and if you don’t...” Archer clears his throat and continues, “If you don’t mate with another Vulcan, the neurochemical imbalance can kill you, can’t it?”.

“Indeed, Captain, well put,” T’Pol says. “Plak-tow is the part of Pon farr which roughly translates to “blood fever” in English. Plak-tow is the state of mind in which a Vulcan undergoing Pon farr, the mating drive, becomes oblivious to anything not related to winning one’s mate. Vulcans experiencing Plak-tow can be quite violent, and when experiencing Pon farr, they may stop eating and sleeping if unable to return home to take a mate.” “Whoa, and I thought us humans had it bad at times!” exclaims Trip. His tone changes, “Hey, hang on a second, you can’t expect us to turn around and go back to Earth just so you can find a Vulcan to mate with, ‘cause there ain’t any in this sector of space...”

“No, Mr Tucker, I do not expect the Enterprise to turn around and go back to Earth, that would be unfair on my shipmates,” says T’Pol simply. “Then what are you gonna do, just let the neurochemical thingy kill you and leave us without a science officer?!” Trip was starting to get worked up. “That ain’t fair on us either y’know!” “I suspect that might be why she’s telling us this Trip,” interjects Archer, “She has an idea that would get her back to normal without affecting the rest of the ship”. “Your assumption is quite accurate Captain, I do have an...idea...that would ‘get me back to normal’ as you put it, while minimising the number of crew affected in the process,” replies T’Pol. “Minimise the number of crew affected, you say - well what the heck is that supposed to mean, T’Pol? Obviously it means someone is gonna be affected, and my guess is it’s gonna be me an’ the cap’n, since we’re the ones here hearin’ ‘bout your mating drive or whatever you wanna call it,” Trip was still blustering.

“Commander Tucker, might I suggest you calm yourself and let me explain?” says T’Pol in a soothing voice. Trip nods, settling himself back into his seat. “Okay,” he says, “explain your idea...but it better be a good one”. “Trip, that’s enough,” adds Archer, “this can’t be easy for her”. “Indeed it isn’t Captain. The biggest problem, after the sheer lack of male Vulcans in the sector, is that human males have neither the strength nor the stamina of the average Vulcan male. And before you interrupt, Commander, that is not intended as an insult. I am simply stating the truth. Vulcan males are stronger than the average human, and have significantly better stamina. That goes for everything, mating included. Or so I have been told.”

Trip interrupts, no longer able to contain himself, “So what you’re saying is, that none of us on the Enterprise is man enough for you...so why are you telling us all of this?”. “Well, that’s where it gets complicated Commander,” T’Pol answers, “ONE man may not be enough, but TWO just might...” “A...a...what did they call it last century?!” asks Trip. “Well, on Earth a century ago, they might have called it a threesome,” answers Archer. “You’re suggesting a threesome?” Trip asks T’Pol incredulously.

“Well, if that is the name you wish to give it, yes. The French would call it a ‘menage-a-trois’ I believe - a love triangle, if you will. That, somehow, sounds less...vulgar...than ‘threesome’, but the semantics of it aren’t what’s important. The fact is, neither of you, nor any other man on the ship, would be able to survive a one-on-one encounter with a Vulcan in Pon farr. Or, at least, that is the information I was given before departing Earth, I do not know from personal experience.”

Trip is beginning to smile. “So what you’re basically saying is that, so you don’t die, you wanna....mate....with both me AND the Cap’n....at the same time or one after the other? Y’know, this is getting interesting...I gotta ask though - why us?!” “I wondered when that question might be asked,” says T’Pol. “To answer both your questions, it would be one then the other rather than both at the same time, and I selected the pair of you, because, quite simply, you were the two most logical choices. I trust both of you, you trust one another, and you both trust me...or at least, I hope you do.”

Archer finally makes comment. “Well, I think I speak for the both of us when I say that if we didn’t trust you we would have sent you packing by now, back with one of the many Vulcan ships we’ve seen out here. And we definitely don’t want you dying, but are you certain this is the only option? I know you probably wouldn’t suggest it if it weren’t, but are you sure you want to do this?” He looks a little concerned - for both himself and T’Pol. Trip, on the other hand, is now grinning like a Cheshire cat. T’Pol speaks up again, “Believe me Captain, I have considered what few options there are, and this is by far the most reasonable toward the crew, as well as the most practical, considering the circumstances.”

“So when’ve you gotta do this, T’Pol? Is it coming up soon?” asks Trip, sounding almost excited. “As a matter of fact, Commander Tucker, I am experiencing the early stages of Pon farr as we speak,” T’Pol replies, noticing the eyebrows on both men go up as she says it. “So to answer your question - within the week, preferably within the next couple of days - before the neurochemical imbalance gets too bad.” “Well how about right now?!” asks a delighted Trip, who we all know has had his eye on T’Pol since day one. “Don’t jump the gun, Trip,” says Archer, “we don’t know what it’s going to involve yet.”

“I assure you Captain, from what I’ve been told, it’d be basically the same as normal for you, though due to the human lack of stamina, you would simply have to....switch over....at some point,” answers T’Pol. “So who’s gonna go first and who’s gonna go second?” asks Trip, “and whose quarters, and when are we gonna do it?” “Well, for someone who was so objectionable to the idea a short time ago, Mr Tucker, you certainly seem eager now. I would recommend my quarters, as it is neutral territory to the both of you, and the optimal timing would be tomorrow evening, after dinner. As for who will go when, I will leave that for the two of you to decide between yourselves. I, however, am now going to meditate and then sleep. I suggest that both of you get a good night’s rest, and do not over-exert yourselves tomorrow. Good night.”

As T’Pol leaves the room, she contemplates what the following evening will bring. Archer, surprised and nervous, glances over at Trip, who looks as though he could bolt after T’Pol at any second. They both decide to head to their respective quarters also, and heed T’Pol’s advice.

The following evening, after a light day of work - mostly analysing comets and space dust - the trio gather for dinner at their usual time. T’Pol surprises Archer and Trip by wearing a simple blue tunic, rather than her usual patterned catsuit. A slight smile plays across her lips as she sees Trip’s delight and Archer’s nervousness. After dinner, they retire to T’Pol’s quarters, where Archer, then Trip, help to keep T’Pol alive.
(And if you think I’m gonna tell you THOSE details, keep dreaming, I’m trying to keep this to what could conceivably happen in the series, not some XXX-rated porn flick.)

The next day on the bridge, Hoshi pipes up and says, “Okay, what’s up with you three?! T’Pol, you look like you’re positively glowing, while the Captain and Commander look like they’ve been in a bar-room brawl. What on Earth happened last night?” “It’s more like what happened on Vulcan last night Hoshi, but believe me, you don’t wanna know,” replies Trip. “Well said, Trip,” adds Archer.

Suddenly, T’Pol says, “Jon, Charlie, you may want to take a look at this... There’s a Vulcan ship off the port bow”.

Everyone on the bridge looks at T’Pol, then at each other, as if to say “SINCE WHEN WERE THEY ‘JON’ AND ‘CHARLIE’?!”

THE END.

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