SUMMARY: Ensign Tim Drake takes workaholic to a level even the Enterprise has never seen before.
CONTINUITY: Ha! Obviously this is an alternate universe. There is no Batman and Tim was never Robin.
DISCLAIMER: Tim Drake belongs to DC Comics (although they don't deserve him). Everyone else belongs to Paramount (although they don't deserve them either.
NOTES: Written hastily for the Timfinity challenge because I had to. Points to anyone who catches the random X-Men movie reference that Tim wouldn't let me take out, because he's geeky like that. Thanks to Avi for a last-minute piece of technobabble and to Illmantrim for the beta.
T'Pol didn't frown, of course. If she didn't frown when Commander Tucker made a snide remark about Vulcans, she surely wasn't going to give into the emotional display over a new member of the crew.
Although this particular ensign was certainly very young.
Granted, all of the humans on Enterprise seemed young to a Vulcan, but nonetheless, Ensign Tim Drake was young and he looked even younger in person. His credentials and abilities, however, were impeccable and there was no logical reason for her to object to his posting to her department. And as the most well-rounded member of her team, it seemed equally logical for him to work directly with her, rather than being assigned to a more narrowly-focused department.
Enterprise's crew seemed flabbergasted by his youth, which made her feel obscurely better about her discomfort. Ensign Sato was the only one unfazed by the newest ensign's age, and she appeared determined to integrate him with the rest of the crew.
T'Pol sipped her mint tea and observed the conversation a few tables away.
"C'mon, Tim," Sato said, poking him with her elbow, "it'll be fun."
"Thanks, Hoshi," Drake's smile seemed forced, "but I've really got to finish the analysis of the shield harmonics of the Dyrillian ship, in case we encounter them again."
Cutler's back was to T'Pol, but T'Pol suspected the crewman was rolling her eyes. "You're telling me you haven't finished it yet? I don't believe you. The way you work, it was probably done within the hour."
Drake's face turned red. "Uh, well, the preliminary analysis, sure. But I-"
Sato and Cutler laughed and Mayweather looked up from the meatloaf he'd been poking at. "Hey, guys, leave him alone. Just because he doesn't want to be dragged to tonight's movie doesn't mean you need to bug him about it. I'm not going to the movie, either."
Drake shot Mayweather an obviously grateful glance. "How about if I promise to go to the next one?"
Mayweather laughed. "Don't promise that until you find out what the next movie is."
"Good point."
Sighing, Sato shook her head. "Fine, work through the evening. But I'm not giving up."
"I'd be surprised if you did." Drake grinned down at his plate.
T'Pol wondered if she was supposed to encourage her staff to socialize instead of working. That seemed...counterproductive. She sighed, realizing she would likely need to speak to Doctor Phlox about this.
A few days later, as T'Pol arrived for alpha shift, Drake spoke before she'd even cleared the turbolift door. "Sub-commander, have you ever seen energy readings like this?"
An eyebrow rose as she considered asking how he'd known it was her without turning around, but she dismissed the question as irrelevant. "What is the provenance?"
He jumped out of the chair, already typing furiously at the bulkhead console as she slipped into the seat. "They turned up on the farthest sensors several hours ago. Commander Tucker thinks they're an artifact of imperfectly aligned sensors, but I'm not certain."
T'Pol studied the readings, calling up Drake's notes. She nodded in absent approval at their organization and detail, a portion of her brain wondering if she could train the rest of her staff in this skill.
"I believe you are correct, Ensign. These are most unusual and I do not believe our sensors could be causing the fluctuations."
Drake was obviously repressing a grin. "What do we do now?"
"I will take these readings to the Captain to see if we can change course in order to investigate further. According to this log, you have worked two consecutive shifts on the bridge in a non-emergency situation, so you will go to your quarters and rest."
His face fell. "But Sub-commander-"
"That was not a request. It was an order."
"Yes, ma'am." Shoulders drooping slightly, Drake trudged to the turbolift.
"And Ensign?"
"Yes?" He turned, face blank.
"Excellent work. I will be certain to let the Captain know."
His face lit up. "Thank you, Sub-commander!"
Behind her, T'Pol heard Ensign Sato shift in her seat. "That was very nice of you."
"I was not trying to be 'nice.'" T'Pol said, turning. "I have merely noted that many humans work better when receiving more positive reinforcement than is required for a Vulcan crew."
"Mmm-hmm." Sato nodded, her lips twitching.
T'Pol narrowed her eyes at the comm officer and turned back to her work.
It took three days to crack the mystery of the readings, but the resulting alien contact was satisfactory to all sides. Ensign Drake received a commendation from Captain Archer and an apology from Commander Tucker, although he seemed to value the latter rather more.
Despite the best efforts of Ensign Sato, young Ensign Drake was most often to be found hovering over a computer or experimenting on a mysterious substance found during an away mission. His reports appeared in her computer during ship's day and ship's night, with little relation to which shift he was actually working.
Doctor Phlox advised her-to her great relief-to leave the situation alone for the moment.
T'Pol stood in sickbay, through long practice ignoring the attempts of the Pyrithian bat to escape its cage. "Are you certain?"
Phlox turned from the task of feeding his menagerie, smiling brightly. "If he shows sign of strain from overwork, we can act then," he said. "Presently, my diagnosis is that he is an eager ensign more interested in proving he deserves a place on this ship. Forcing him away from the work just now might not be in his best interests, especially since he seems to enjoy it so."
T'Pol inclined your head. "Thank you for your counsel, Doctor. Please advise me if you see any change."
"Certainly, Sub-commander." Phlox smiled at her and turned back to his work.
If the doctor felt there was no reason for concern, it was only logical that she turn her energies to more urgent issues. And yet, she still felt there was something she was missing. Commander Tucker would call it Vulcan's intuition and be amused, but T'Pol didn't plan to mention her thoughts on the newest ensign to anyone else just yet.
T'Pol and Commander Tucker leaned over a console, T'Pol staring steadily at the readings that scrolled by, while Tucker fidgeted and muttered to himself.
"That's just not...whoa, momma, that's incredible." He tapped a few buttons and leaned back to shout up at the mixed engineering and science team climbing over the alien vessel they'd salvaged only hours before. "Somebody head aft and give me another sweep. I've got what looks like a glitch, but I can't be sure."
"Aye, sir," several voices chorused.
T'Pol didn't raise her head, but she was unsurprised when Ensign Drake called out. "Routing data to your screen, sir."
"The readings are the same," she observed after a moment. Tucker said something under his breath which she chose to ignore, instead addressing Drake. "Ensign, please move three and a half meters to your left and recommence scanning."
A theory began to form from fragmentary data and if she saw the readings she expected, she would order... "Ensign." Her voice was calm, showing none of the surprise she felt.
"Uh, yes, ma'am?"
"Why have you begun a chronoton sensor scan?"
A short silence. "I was anticipating your next order. Was I incorrect?"
It would be helpful, she thought, to see his face, but to order him off the alien ship was too drastic at such a moment. "You were correct, Ensign. Carry on."
Tucker shot her a glance and seemed about to ask something, but he was distracted by a strange sound from the ship. "What the-"
"Get down now," T'Pol shouted, her hands already flashing over the console. She barely registered the form of Ensign Drake assisting her and Commander Tucker.
Hours later, threat neutralized, the crew had headed off to well-deserved sleep. In the dim lights of the launch bay, even T'Pol's sharp eyes almost missed the figure that crouched on a catwalk overlooking the ship, occasionally making notes on a padd.
"Ensign?"
"Yes, Sub-commander?"
"May I ask why you remain here?"
"I was thinking. Sorry to have disturbed you. I'll just-" He jumped up and put a foot on the top of the ladder.
"Ensign Drake."
Drake froze, then turned, almost at attention perched on the catwalk. "Yes?"
"How did you anticipate my order? I was not even certain what we were seeing until the ship powered up."
He looked entirely too calm for a junior officer being interrogated by a senior. Almost Vulcan in his calm. "I've read mission reports about the Suliban ships," he said, "and the emissions looked like an early version of those. I simply guessed that you would want to confirm this by-"
"Those reports were classified," T'Pol said.
"My warp dynamics professor got us access to very classified materials," Drake said, meeting her eyes. "We didn't ask and we all had high clearances by that point."
"I see." She studied him, but could see none of the signs most humans displayed when they were lying.
"Was that all, ma'am?"
"Yes. I am certain your report already awaits me." She allowed a certain irony to tinge her words.
"Of course. I was just curious to learn more."
She nodded once, acknowledging curiosity as a valid explanation for his presence. "You will have that opportunity. In two shifts."
He nodded back and clambered down the ladder, disappearing out into the corridor before she could think of any further questions.
"Good night, Sub-commander." His voice drifted back through the closing doors.
For a long moment, she stood contemplating two mysteries: the one that stood before her and the one that had just exited the room.
Shaking her head, T'Pol turned to the odd Suliban ship, wondering if she was becoming fanciful in her aging. Perhaps the humans were having a bad effect on her cognitive abilities.
T'Pol hesitated, her fingers poised over the console in her quarters. Fanciful or not, it simply would not do to leave a mystery uninvestigated.
She opened the personnel records of Ensign Drake, reading them again and finding-as she had when he came aboard-nothing to alarm her or excite her curiosity except his age.
Reading them through a second time, she began to see what had been in the back of her mind-he was too perfect. The ensign depicted in these records fit the Enterprise's needs too exactly to be chance.
She began to dig deeper into his background, beyond the educational and scientific aspects that had concerned her until now.
She waited until the end of the next shift to call him to her quarters. He seemed undisturbed by the summons, and she wondered if that was his excellent facial control or if he had somehow tracked her investigations.
She saw no reason to bother with preliminaries, since neither of them needed or appreciated them. "How did you come to be posted aboard Enterprise?" she asked, as he stood at attention in the center of the room.
Drake's face did not change, his blue eyes steady, watchful. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Ensign, that I found it odd that one so young as you was posted to Enterprise, but I never thought to question the decision. Nor did I think to question the fact that you look even younger than the age in your records."
"Has my work been unsatisfactory, Sub-commander?"
"Of course not. Do not attempt to evade the issue. Why were you posted to Enterprise?"
"Do you always ask questions to which you already know the answer?"
"As you well know, I never do." She tilted her head and considered him. "I do, however, ask questions when I lack enough data to be certain and I require confirmation."
Drake blinked. "You couldn't find the answer in Starfleet's computers?"
"I found evidence, but not a conclusive answer." She paused. "I was unable to find a method of confirmation that would not alert Starfleet to my search. Your computer skills are even more impressive than I realized."
"Thank you, Sub-commander." He nodded, accepting the accolade as his due. "Ah, then I take it this means you don't plan to report me to Starfleet?"
"For altering the records of your age and assigning yourself to the ship? No, I do not. I will, however, have to inform Captain Archer."
Drake sighed. "He won't be happy."
"He may choose to inform Starfleet."
"I know." Drake sighed again and stared down at his toes.
"How did you convince Silor to train you? I would not have thought that the Vulcan Science Academy's chair of computer sciences was eager to teach a human."
A smile tugged at the corner of Drake's mouth. "I persuaded him through logic." Drake was still looking at the floor, but T'Pol suspected he was seeing something else.
"Logic?"
"I convinced him it would be illogical to waste my abilities. He was only on Earth for a year, but it was a very educational year for me. After that...well, once I had the computer skills, everything else fell into place."
"I am also curious," T'Pol began, waiting until he looked up again, "as to your motivations."
"Why'd I do it?"
"I believe that is what I asked."
Drake suddenly grinned at her. "A challenge, Sub-commander. There wasn't a challenge on Earth to match what I could find out here. And you needed me on your team."
T'Pol gave into the urge that Ensign Tim Drake had prompted ever since his arrival on Enterprise: She frowned at him. "Pardon me?"
His face reddened, but he stood his ground. "I've read every report to Starfleet on this mission-including all the classified ones. You need the very best out here if this ship and this mission are to succeed. Your team needs my help."
Slowly, she nodded her head. "Perhaps we do, Ensign. Only time will tell."
-end-