The BLTS Archive - Three Truths: Hoshi's Truth Fourth in the 1000 Raps series --- Spoilers: Two Days and Two Nights Comments: If anyone would like to borrow any of these aliens, go right ahead. there are 3 Truths; each one can be taken separately, yet they hinge together, like a series-within-a-series, if that makes any sense). the title is taken with great respect from _"The truth must be told, however harsh it may be; it may redden your eyes, but it won't blind you."_ by the Ivorian writer Ahmadou Kourouma's 1968 book 'The Suns of Independence'. (yes, I found this in the same book as the other quotes). This takes place only a few days after the events of "Little By Little." --- SICKBAY --- "You're pregnant," Dr. Phlox informs me. "I believe the word is 'congratulations'." Pregnant? But the last time I had-- "You're sure?" He nods like most humans do, probably a deliberate gesture. "Quite sure. Either you are pregnant, or you have a most unusually-shaped tumor." Shape? It was only a few days ago! How could it have a shape already? If anything, it should be just a little sphere of cells...right? I couldn't help but blink confusion. "Shape?" I ask dumbly. Another human-type nod. What does a Denobulan-type nod look like? "Oh yes. If you'd like, I can run an exam to determine the genetic donor." 'Genetic donor,' not 'father'? A reminder that humans aren't terribly odd to him...or maybe we are--to him. "Thanks," I tell him; "but no. I've got a good idea of who the father is." He just--no, it's not a shrug...not sure what he just did with his neck. "If you change your mind..." he offers while I get off the examination bed. I nod back. "Out of curiosity, how far along did it look like my pregnancy was?" Not even a scrunch of his face as he thinks. Can his face scrunch? "Based on what I know of the human gestation cycle," Dr. Phlox tells me, "almost three months." Three months. THREE MONTHS?!!? I know my legs wobbled a bit, and my hands reached back for the bed. I think I'd better hop back up on it. "Maybe you should run that check," I say, my voice quiet and distant-sounding, "just in case." He nods, but doesn't say anything. --- Nearly An Hour Later, MESS HALL --- I sit alone. I'm glad for little favors, like Dr. Phlox having asked Malcolm for his professional opinion--regarding the best neckties for an upcoming date with Elisabeth Cutler. "Stud?" asks an alien mollusc at a neighboring table. If it weren't for the fact that they can walk around on dry land, the Hssk'khr look like the extinct Ammonites of Earth--correction, like a reconstruction of those ancient shelled cousins of the squid. Right now, several Hssk'khr are crowding around a table where Commander Tucker is explaining the rules of some obscure card game. I look back to my drink. It was nice of Chef to make me a milkshake. Maybe I can just lose myself--figuratively--in the foam that sits atop the shake. Just stare hard enough, Hoshi, and the outside world is reduced to nothingness...or so the perception will be. Just me and the shake. Not a bad idea...All I have do do is let my eyes unfocus... But in that pairing, there's still me. Me...and the fetus. There are only three worlds I ever slept with anyone on: Earth, Risa, and Asker's World which we left a few days ago. Risa was a little over a year, assuming my calendar's still accurate, given everything that's been happening since leaving Earth. And Earth...the last time I slept with Malcolm--before Asker's World--there was three months before Captain Archer'd asked me to join his crew. "Your pardonings for disturbing your meditation," I'm told. I let my eyes regain their focus, and look up from my drink--at a parrot beak with tentacle sideburns. A Hssk'khr. "It's okay," I say. "I was finishing up anyway." "There exists a question in my mind," it says--if they have genders, I can't distinguish them. "Might you answer it, since another species has failed to answer it." "Go ahead," I say. "Are there other forms of entertainments viable to the human species, aside from cards?" "Lots," I say. "Of thats, I am aware. When I inquired as to the nature of some of these 'lots', the one I was asking--changed colours. Became very red in the dorsal appendage." Unlike the squids and octopi of Earth, the Hssk'khr don't seem able to change colours. "Did you ask SubCommander T'Pol, or Dr. Phlox?" While I don't think the SubCommander would blush or let her ears turn red, I don't know what colour the Dr.s face would turn. "Neither of those were consulted. Only Commander Tucking had been asked." Then why did you just... "Actually, pardons for saying, but Commander Tucker and myself are members of the same species." I suppose it's a welcome change from humanoids on planets who assume that the Captain and SubCommander, for example, are from the same planet. The beak hangs open, the smaller tentacles go limp, and its eyes unfocus. Then it collapses, the sound of its coiled shell clattering against the floor. Dear Lord, I think I scared it. I just hope it wasn't scared to death. The other Hssk'khr walk over from the card table to confront me. At least they don't try to invade my personal space. "What has occured?" asks one. I tell them what I and their comrade had been discussing--and they start to go limp as well. But the others recover from the shock. "But pardons for saying, you look different," says another Hssk'khr. Yep, theory proven. "Physical variation," I say. They make sounds roughly equal to "aahhhh, I get it" in their language. "Are all the--bipeds residing within this cosmic submarine the same species?" asks a third one. "What of the quadraped?" asks a fourth. Oh I can see it now, they walk up to the Captain, and ask how his brother Porthos is doing. This could take a while. --- Several Hours Later, SATO QUARTERS --- Blackness. The inky depths. Then I feel the comforting massage of my shoulders by--by Malcolm. Nobody massages like my husband. I manage to open one eye at a time. "And what do I owe the pleasure of this?" I ask, trying not to purr like a demented housecat. "Just wanted to see if I was out of practice," he tells me, his voice in lowered tones. Too late, Malcolm sweet, your massages always wake me up...but in a good way. "No, definately not out of--well, your style's the same," I correct myself. Most of me hopes that he hasn't had anyone to practice on during our stay on Enterprise thus far...and part of me wouldn't blame him if he'd succumbed to temptation somewhere along the way. "That's good to know," he says, continuing to rub joints I didn't realize were in need of a little rubbing. I let him continue for a few minutes more, each of us enjoying the silent contact with one another. It's really been so long..."Malcolm?" I say, hesitantly. He has to know, but I don't relish how he might react. "Hoshi?" he answers, his tone querying. "I'm pregnant," I say. Malcolm's hands don't squeeze me in surprise, or let go either--they just remain in one place, an abrupt pause of the massage. And, against my fears, I tell Malcolm about what happened on Risa...and what Dr. Phlox told me. There's nothing from Malcolm. No change in touch, or any words from his mouth. "Malcolm?" I ask, afraid. "I won't leave you," he tells me, his tone lacking any hesitation or self-doubt. "If you'd still have me, I'd like to help you raise this child." I sniffle, feeling like I'm about to cry. Relief, that's what I feel right now. --- The End