Permanent Warp

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Codes: Archer/T'Pol, PG

Summary: Enterprise meets the Quantum Leap episode Permanent Wave.

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Jonathan Archer, captain of the first Warp Five Beauty Salon, walked through the halls of Beautyfleet Medical. He looked scrumptious in his black leather pants that hugged his muscular thighs and buttocks. His sea-blue button-up shirt from a famous New York designer made him look all business, but with the top three buttons unbuttoned insured his playful side still showed. While he strode through the halls in his 500 credit boots, he reassured himself that his appearance was becoming of a Beautyfleet Captain. His nails were perfectly manicured, his face moisturized and closely shaven, his hair styled, and his skin scented with the right amount of cologne.

The doors to the IFU opened to reveal the interior- decorated in tasteful earth tones he noted. Admiral Forrest greeted him in a fetching navy blue suit that contrasted nicely with his gray hair.

"What's the situation Admiral?"

"A farmer in Broken Bow, Oklahoma found him. As you can see from his forehead, he's the victim of a botched plastic surgery job. Those bastards dumped him off in the middle of nowhere thinking he would die. He's a Klingot."

"Klingon," Soval, Ambassador from the Vulcan Beauty Command corrected Forrest.

Archer looked past the entourage of Vulcans, all dressed in the styles handed down from the father of Vulcan fashion and beauty Surak, to the Klingon inside the Intensive Fashion Unit.

Never had Archer seen a case more deserving of being the Intensive Fashion Unit. Clearly the man hadn't used moisturizer in his life. And look at those split ends. He was desperately in need of a deep conditioning treatment and a proper haircut. Archer's hand instinctively reached for his scissors, but he wasn't wearing his hairdresser's belt. The Klingon's sense of fashion left something to be desired. All brown? That was so 2070's. When the man opened his mouth to speak, Archer noticed his teeth. Gross. His breath probably smelled worse than his teeth looked. The appearance of the man's forehead saddened Archer. Some people shouldn't be allowed to practice plastic surgery.

"Your orders are to take Klang aboard your ship and give him a complete makeover while enroute to his home world-"

Soval interrupted, "This mission is foolish. Enterprise is not ready to launch."

Archer put his hands on his hips. For a species who preached a zen approach to beauty and fashion, Vulcans sure knew how to up his stress level. "We've been ready to join the interstellar beauty industry for fifty years. All you've done is tried to hold us back from getting our beauty license. Face it; you're afraid of the competition."

A statuesque Vulcan woman in form-fitting maroon robes with a intricate gold pattern stepped forward. Archer noticed the beautiful bone structure of her face. She would be stunning if she let her pinned up hair down and wore shades of make-up more suited to her.

"Humans are an illogical species. You lack the discipline necessary to make it in the international beauty industry."

"Undisciplined? I could out cut you any day."

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "That is highly unlikely."

Archer turned his attention back to Forrest. "We're ready Admiral."

"You still haven't picked a Chief Plastic Surgeon and a Hair Dye Specialist," Soval pointed out.

True. Archer had handpicked all of his crew, yet somehow he hadn't filled his last two positions. His Chief Hairstylist, Trip Tucker was a long-time friend. Sure, the guy seemed to be stuck in a sequin faze, but he could cut hair almost as good as Archer could. Malcolm Reed could wield an emory board like no one else he'd ever seen. Hoshi Sato was one hell of a receptionist. Travis Mayweather was a vetran of a pre-warp beauty ship, and a hell of a clothing designer.

Archer knocked on the glass of the IFU. "Come here. Are you the Dr. Phlox, former Denobulan plastic surgeon of the year?"

"Yes I am."

"I've seen your work. Impressive. How would you like a position as Chief Plastic Surgeon?"

"I'd be honored to take the position, if it's okay with Admiral Forrest."

"It's fine with me Jon."

Soval looked displeased. "You still don't have a Hair Dye Specialist." As a representative of the Interstellar Beauty Oversight Committee, I insist you take one of my officers with you.

"Wait just a damned minute. I'm not taking one of your spies with me. I won't have my trade secrets delivered into your hands."

"Doing that would get us kicked out of the Interstellar Beauty League, Captain... T'Pol is a graduate of the Vulcan Beauty Academy. She is one of our most capable hair dye specialists."

"Then why are you so eager to get rid of her?"

"Her temperament has caused friction between her and the staff of other Vulcan beauty ships. You would be taking her off our hands."

T'Pol shot a glare at Soval.

Archer looked over his new Hair Dye Specialist. He sighed. What would his father say seeing his soon working with a Vulcan?

"Do you want to serve aboard my ship?"

"What I want is irrelevant. I will serve my clients to the best of my abilities."

"Good. We ship out at 0800 tomorrow. Both of you bring your supplies, and don't be late."


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