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Sorry for the delay in posting the epilogue!

Epilogue

Trip tugged at his collar. It was so tight that he could hardly wedge a finger in between the fabric and the skin, and the hot sun burning down on the Court of Reception wasn't helping. He could feel sweat trickling down his back and neck. Damn robes. He tugged at the collar again, and there was a faint noise like stitches popping.

Jon, who was standing a few feet away, shot him a warning look and Trip quickly lowered his hand. He was fairly sure that somewhere in the Ng'wai protocols, there was a paragraph stating that it wasn't allowed to tug at your ceremonial robes during the Reception Ceremony, even if said ceremony seemed to take forever and took place in the sweltering sun.

Trip shifted his stance a little and looked back at the front of the court, where the Ng'wai priests were gathered around the Sacred Fire. Hoshi had told them that the Reception Ceremony included burning herbs and flowers from every country on the planet so the honored guests would be greeted by the scents of the Ng'wai homeworld. Trip would have appreciated the gesture, if the Ng'wai hadn't turned out to have several dozen small countries on each of their six continents. Every flower had to be conveyed to the Sacred Fire in a small basket and, to the chants of the priests, burned slowly until the wind had scattered its ashes.

The sonorous voice of the High Priest rose up again, and Trip watched as a pink blossom fluttered into the golden vat that contained the Sacred Fire. The flames flickered and began to devour the flower, accompanied by quiet alien chants. After more than two hours in this heat, Trip found that he was beginning to sympathize with the plants; he felt as if he himself were slowly being fried.

He glanced at Malcolm, who didn't seem to be hot at all, even though he was clad in the same heavy robes as the rest of them. His eyes were straight ahead, and somehow he managed to look dignified in spite of the bright blue streak in his hair, which started at his forehead and tapered off at the nape of his neck. His forehead was painted a dark orange, courtesy of Phlox' make-up skills. The doctor had had entirely too much fun preparing the away team for their visit to the planet, Trip thought darkly, remembering the doctor's delight as he had puttered about with make-up tubes and hair dye. When Trip had looked into the mirror afterwards, a zombie with a pale green forehead and black-streaked hair had stared back at him. At least his color code was fairly subdued; blue and orange Malcolm had suffered his share of ribbing on the trip down to the surface. Trip made a mental note to pin a photo of Malcolm in his "Armament Master" get-up to Tactical when they got back; that was, if he managed to take a picture of him without being killed. That ceremonial sword did look quite menacing.

Another round of chanting started, and Trip returned his attention to the front of the court. Hot and uncomfortable as he was, he wouldn't have wanted to pass up on the chance to visit the Ng'wai planet. The aliens had taken their time until they had allowed the "honorable guests" to enter their soil; long enough, in fact, for Trip and Malcolm to be reinstalled as Armory Officer and Chief Engineer in the meantime. The message from Starfleet Command had arrived only a few days ago; a curt, to-the-point note that Starfleet Medical had examined Phlox' reports and saw no reason why Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed shouldn't return to duty. Well, on condition that they continue their counseling sessions, but still, they were back in business, cleared to work full shifts and accompany the Captain on away missions. Trip wasn't sure how many strings Jon had pulled to keep them on Enterprise, and on second thought he didn't really want to know. He knew that he could do his job, even if a few headshrinkers back at Headquarters might think otherwise.

His team had welcomed him back with a little impromptu party in his office, and there had been rumors about a few pints of Guinness shared in the Armory on Malcolm's first day back, although the Lieutenant vehemently denied them. All the same, Trip knew that Malcolm was glad to be back; they both were. Things were back to normal; well, most things. There were the nightmares, and the times when he found a blank in his mind where some memory or detail was still eluding him. And he still hadn't come across a single meal that he didn't like. In this, he wasn't alone; a few days ago, he had walked into the messhall to find Malcolm chatting happily with Travis over a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Trip grinned at the memory. As for Travis, the ensign was all smiles these days, ever since Inga Carlsson had decided to stay on Enterprise as a Tactical Counselor.

The priests paused in their chanting, and Trip shifted his feet again. There couldn't be many flowers left; in fact, the table where they had been laid out seemed empty. The High Priest, an imposing elderly man whose hip-long gray hair was braided and adorned with colorful ribbons, raised his hands in a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire court.

"Welcome, honorable guests! May the scents of our world tint your visit with shades of harmony and show you that we wear the colors of peace!"

A gust of wind came up as he was still speaking. Flames flickered higher, and the smoke from the burned flowers and herbs was blown their way. Trip inhaled deeply, and found that he could indeed smell the vaguely spicy aroma of the many plants that had found their way into the Sacred Fire.

"Come closer, honorable guests!" the High Priest called.

Jon gave a slight nod to the rest of the team, and with slow, dignified steps led them towards the fire. They walked right into the billows of smoke and suddenly, there was a small explosion of sound next to Trip. He turned his head, and found Malcolm holding a hand in front of his nose, looking altogether quite shocked.

"Gesundheit," Trip said quietly, and Malcolm sneezed again, more violently this time, and again.

"Bloody hell," Trip could hear him mutter under his breath, and was hard pressed to bite back a grin.

Jon acted as if nothing had happened, even though the High Priest looked quite surprised.

"ACHOO!"

Trip glanced at Malcolm to find the Armory Officer in a very embarrassing situation, and quickly stepped over to put a folded piece of cloth into Malcolm's hand. His grandpa had taught him that a gentleman always had a handkerchief folded and ready, and right now, it was Malcolm's luck that he did.

"Here."

"Thanks," Malcolm muttered, now beet-red in the face. "Sorry."

"Is our honorable guest the Armament Master sound of body?" the High Priest wanted to know.

Malcolm nodded, his face buried in the handkerchief, and Hoshi added with a glance at the UT: "The Armament Master is sound of body and honored to be greeted by the scents of Ng'wai. He will be feeling better once our honorable hosts allow him to enter the Halls of Reception."

The High Priest accepted her explanation solemnly and extended a hand towards the entrance of the large palace adjoining the court.

"In that case, we shall not hesitate to guide our honorable guests to the meal table we have prepared for them."

"That's more like it," Trip said quietly to Malcolm as they followed Jon and the High Priest into a large hall, which was pleasantly cool after the hot court. A long table stood in the middle, laden with alien foods and, to Trip's relief, a number of beverages as well. He was feeling quite parched after standing in the sun for several hours. "Thank God for your allergies, or we'd still be out there."

Malcolm glowered at him, but before he could retort the High Priest raised his hands again. "Please, honorable guests, let us rejoice in the n'kar to thank theCreator before weenjoy our meal!"

"The ritual dance," Hoshi supplied to the team in a whisper, and Trip bit down on a sigh. Of course, the dance. They'd spent several hours in the gym before they'd finally gotten it right, and even Jon had to admit that if it weren't a ritual, the n'kar could easily be mistaken for a bunch of people hopping around doing the pee dance. Maybe Travis was right and the Ng'wai were taking the piss. If so, they were certainly being creative.

"But please," the High Priest continued, and Trip raised his head again. "If our honorable guest the Armament Master wishes to rest, he is welcome to sit down and recover his strength while the rest of us rejoice."

He waved for an attendant, who immediately hurried to the table and began to pour a cool beverage, while another one straightened one of the cushioned chairs. Malcolm was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, completely unconcerned by the sour looks from his fellow officers.

"The Armament Master is honored and grateful to our hosts for their kind consideration," he said as he walked towards the cushion chair.

Trip sighed as they assumed their starting position for the n'kar. At the same time, however, he couldn't help a small grin at the picture they must be presenting. Strange new worlds indeed... and even though he was aware that he was about to participate in some strange alien bunny hop dance, being sniggered at by one overly smug Englishman, he couldn't honestly say that he would want to have it any other way. It was good to be back.

"You can stop grinning now, you know," Trip said, but Malcolm only shrugged.

"It's the first time my allergies did me any good at all. That's worth celebrating in my eyes."

Trip couldn't help but laugh at that. They had returned from the planet about an hour ago, but had only just been released from decon; it had taken a while until Phlox had removed the thick layer of make-up from their foreheads. He had left the hair-dye, in case their presence was required on the surface once again.

All in all, the visit had been a success; the Ng'wai were delighted with their alien visitor's compliance with the Sacred Protocol, and had agreed to enter diplomatic relations with the "honorable people of the Faraway Blue Planet". At the moment, Jon was still on the surface working out the details with Ambassador Salmar.

Trip saw Malcolm tugging at his blue strands and grinned. "Looks good on you," he said, and when Malcolm glared at him added, "Just think of it as the Brit Punk look."

Malcolm doubled the wattage of his glare, and it was Trip's turn to shrug and grin. After weaseling out of the n'kar dance, the Armory Officer had been insufferably smug and deserved a little teasing in return.

In the meantime, they had arrived at Trip's quarters. Trip glanced at his friend. "Care to join me for a beer? There's somethin' I've been meanin' to show you."

Malcolm nodded. "Sure."

Inside his quarters, Trip went over to his kitchen unit and opened the small refrigerator. Sharing a drink had become a habit for them long ago, and Trip knew that contrary to the stereotype, Malcolm liked his beer considerably below room temperature. He took out two cans, handing one of them to Malcolm, who had taken a seat on Trip's couch.

"Thanks." Malcolm leaned back, sighing as he took the first swig. "I needed that."

Trip nodded and lifted his own can to his lips. "Amen to that." Although the Ng'wai beverages had turned out to be quite good, they couldn't hold a candle to a cold beer.

Malcolm drank a little more, then set his can down on the table. "What was it that you wanted to show me?"

Trip took a padd from his desk and handed it to Malcolm. "Here."

Malcolm accepted it curiously. "What is it?"

"Scroll down the page."

Malcolm did, a frown appearing on his face as he read. "A prize for radiation discoveries, from Harvard University... Trip, this must be a hundred years old."

"It's from the year 2057, to be exact," Trip said. "Awarded to one Tobias Reynolds for developing a revolutionary method of insulating dangerous radiation."

"Tobias..." Malcolm's eyes widened. "Not Toby!"

"The one and only," Trip said. "It seems that his condition improved so much in the new asylum that they allowed him to start correspondence courses. Well, I guess one thing led to another after that."

Malcolm shook his head. "So he eventually built his own ray neutralizer."

Trip laughed. "Suppose he did."

"Good for him."

Trip nodded. "Yes," he said. "Absolutely."

The End

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