Disclaimer #1: Star Trek Enterprise and all of its characters is the property of Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.

Disclaimer #2: No actual animals or shuttlecrafts were injured in the making of this story. Honest.

Author's Note: An answer to Stephen Ratliff's 'Bad Title' Challenge.

Many thanks to Seema for her usual excellent beta.
Any Porthos In A Storm
By Rocky

T'Pol hesitated outside Captain Archer's quarters, feeling vaguely like an intruder even though her presence was strictly in keeping with her commanding officer's instructions. "I am a scientist, not a dogsitter," she'd protested when Archer had first asked her to look after Porthos while he attended a diplomatic conference on Eiggod Prime.

"You won't have to do very much," Archer said, his eyes focused on the water polo match playing out on the screen. "Yes! Great save!" Porthos, who was lying next to his master on the bed, gave a short bark, as if in agreement. Archer chuckled and patted the dog affectionately. "Just stop by here twice a day to make sure he's fed and his water dish isn't empty. It will only take a few minutes."

T'Pol conceded it was a reasonable request; Porthos could not be expected to go without nourishment during his master's absence. "Why not leave him in Sickbay for the duration, as Dr. Phlox is already caring for a number of other animals?"

Archer shook his head. "Ever since that time he was ill, Porthos doesn't react too well to being in Sickbay." Porthos uttered a series of high-pitched yips. "You like staying home, don't you, boy?" The Captain lowered his voice. "Besides, Phlox is a little, shall we say, 'rigid' when it comes to certain aspects of Porthos' care."

"You mean his diet," T'Pol said, unimpressed by Archer's confidential manner. "The doctor is entirely correct. Events have repeatedly borne out that Porthos' constitution does not react well to cheese--"

"Please, T'Pol," Archer said quickly. "It's only three days. Will you take care of Porthos for me?"

"Surely there are others on board who would be more than happy to--"

"He likes you," Archer said. He nodded toward the dog's rapidly thumping tail. "See that? He doesn't light up like that for just anyone!"

"Very well," T'Pol said, suppressing a sigh. "I will see to Porthos' wellbeing while you are gone." She gave them both a stern glance. "But I will not feed him cheese."

Captain Archer's shuttle, with Ensign Mayweather piloting and Lieutenant Reed along to provide security, had departed exactly 4.2 hours earlier. A rapidly moving class 2 ion storm had necessitated T'Pol's presence on the bridge and thus prevented her from seeing Archer off--as well as forestalling any additional last minute instructions involving Porthos' care, much to her relief. Now that her shift was over, however, it was illogical to delay the inevitable any longer.

T'Pol entered Archer's cabin, bracing herself for the canine's usual exuberant greeting. She was a bit surprised when none was forthcoming. Perhaps Porthos was asleep? She advanced further into the room and verified the dog bed was empty. So was the bunk. A more detailed search of the cabin ultimately led her to the conclusion Porthos was nowhere to be found.

T'Pol thought rapidly. Perhaps Ensign Sato had taken Porthos for a walk. The ensign had on several occasions voiced the opinion it was not healthy for Porthos to be 'cooped up' in Archer's cabin most of the time, that the dog required more exercise. Yes, that was the most logical explanation--except for the fact that T'Pol had just left Sato on duty on the bridge.

Where else could Porthos be? T'Pol strode over to the comm unit.

"Sickbay," said Phlox, a few seconds later. "What can I do for you, Sub-commander?"

"I am calling about Porthos."

"Why? Is he ill?"

"No. That is," T'Pol corrected herself, "I do not know. I have been unable to locate him."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Phlox said cheerfully. "He may simply be hiding. Pets do that, you know, when they feel lonely or abandoned. Doubtless he's reacting to the Captain's absence. But he'll turn up eventually when he gets hungry. After all, there aren't that many places for him to go on board the ship!"

"Thank you, Doctor," T'Pol said and terminated the connection. Phlox's words hadn't reassured her, but she dutifully set out the bowls of food and water, wrinkling her nose at the pungent odor emanating from the kibble.  

"Porthos," she called. "It is time for you to take nourishment. You are no doubt hungry and thirsty."

There was no response.

"It will not avail you to continue playing this foolish game. The Captain will not return for another two point eight days. You cannot remain in hiding, without any sustenance, for the duration."

She bent down and peered under Archer's bunk. No Porthos. Nor was he in the clothes closet, or the head.

T'Pol found herself in the rare situation of having no idea what to do.


"Commander Tucker."

Trip was half-hidden in the bowels of an open console on the upper platform of Engineering. At the sound of her voice, he jerked his head up automatically. "Ouch! Damn it!" He rubbed his forehead, wincing, and gave her a baleful look. "What is it, T'Pol? I'm kind of busy right now. That ion storm is playing havoc with our communications, not to mention a half dozen other systems, and if I can't stabilize this set of relays--" He waved his arm in an sweeping arc around him that was most expressive.

T'Pol climbed to the upper level, stopping a few feet away. She felt a bit foolish but began explaining her dilemma. "The ship is not so large that one quadruped, however small, could have been misplaced," she finished. "I have traversed every single deck of the ship and made numerous inquiries among the crew, but no one has seen Porthos. I require your assistance in locating him."

Trip had been growing visibly uncomfortable as she spoke. "You won't be able to find Porthos anywhere," he blurted out.

"How do you know?" T'Pol said in surprise.

"Because I think I killed him."

T'Pol was rendered momentarily speechless. "Why would you do a thing like that?" she finally managed to ask.

"It was an accident."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Continue."

Trip focused  his gaze on the open instrument panel before him, doubtless finding it more satisfactory than meeting her eyes. "I was working in the transporter room earlier. Had the console open, was right underneath the main power banks--you know how it is. I felt someone or something tugging on my boots, and when I poked my head out, was surprised to get my face licked." Trip tightened his grip on his hyperspanner, seemingly unaware his knuckles were turning white. "I figured the Captain must not have secured his cabin door when he left and Porthos managed to slip out. So I tried to grab him by the collar and take him back where he belonged, but Porthos must've thought I was playing a game and kept on darting just out of my reach."

"Go on."

"I was getting more annoyed with each passing moment, I had work to complete, then was due back in Engineering, lots to do and no time to play. I was also tired and hungry and cranky--I've been pulling double shifts and knew if I took any time off now, there went any chance of taking a break for some food later. So in a fit of anger I--"

"Murdered the captain's dog?"

"No!" Trip said indignantly, laying his tool down on the floor. "I threw a pair workgloves--the heavy tri-vinyl ones--at him, hoping he'd go away. But Porthos thought it was a game and started chewing and slobbering all over 'em. So I decided to ignore him. Went back under the console, still heard little yipping noises every now and then coming from the direction of the transporter platform. All of a sudden, there was a power surge--probably due to the damn ion storm--and I had to quickly get out from under there and sever the circuits before the whole thing blew. Just as I got my head free, there was a bright flash. When my vision cleared, there were fried relays everywhere. More work for me to do! It was only later I realized I hadn't heard any barking for a while." Trip took a deep breath. "Porthos was gone."

"You mean to say he was-- "

"--barbecued," Trip said gloomily. "Or maybe he got lucky and the transporter activated and dispersed his molecules into space." Trip sighed heavily. "Either way, he's gone."

T'Pol pursed her lips disapprovingly. "There must be another explanation. Porthos can not be dead. Perhaps he merely slipped out of the room while you were otherwise occupied."

Trip shook his head. "There was a smudge of organic residue on the transporter platform, right where he'd been standing." He swallowed. "I also did a scan of all the lifesigns on board Enterprise. No dog."

T'Pol thought rapidly. "When did this occur?"

"Right around the time the Captain was supposed to leave."

"Why did you not report this incident?"

"Everybody had their hands full with the ion storm--"

"And afterward? Or were you perhaps going to wait for Captain Archer to come back and say to him, 'Sorry, I inadvertently killed your pet canine?'"

Trip flinched. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Surely you did not think he--or anyone else, for that matter--would fail to notice the dog's absence," T'Pol went on inexorably.

"No," Trip said miserably.

"Captain Archer is very attached to Porthos. This will distress him a great deal."

"I know, I know!" Trip shouted. "Believe me, you're not telling me anything new!"

T'Pol mentally took a step back. "All right. What is done is done," she said slowly. "Recriminations serve no purpose at this point."

"I just hope the Captain will eventually forgive me," Trip said as he picked up his hyperspanner once more.

T'Pol thought that was highly unlikely but the look of utter misery on Trip's face stopped her from saying so. Instead, she said, "The Captain is used to losses among his crew. After all, when you were severely injured during the mishap with the warp experiment and the polaric field, Captain Archer was upset--"

"That's right, I almost died…" Trip said, his voice trailing off and then his whole demeanor changed abruptly. There was a note of excitement in his voice as he said, "But you managed to save me."

"Yes, Dr. Phlox used a Rysarian desert larva to create a mimetic simbiot --"

"T'Pol, you're a genius!" Trip said and kissed her soundly on the lips.

T'Pol was taken aback but before she could say anything, Trip grabbed her hand. "C'mon, we're going to Sickbay!"


Phlox listened politely if a bit confused as Trip explained what happened to Porthos.

"And since you were able to use that mimetic simbiot thing to bring me back--"

"I did a transplant to save your life, yes," Phlox interrupted, "but you weren't actually dead yet. And Porthos is gone, not even a body left. The small bit of organic residue in the transporter room--assuming it even came from Porthos--does not count." Phlox held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Commander, but there is nothing I can do."

"Sure there is," Trip said patiently. "You can create a clone of Porthos--not to heal him, but to replace the original."

The other two stared at him as if he was crazy.

T'Pol found her voice first. "That is a terrible idea," she said.

"It's a terrific idea," insisted Trip. "Give me one good reason why this won't work."

"You can't just expect one dog to replace another," Phlox said, running his hands through his hair distractedly. "I remember well when my first Ankarian batfowl died when I was a boy. I was inconsolable. My parents bought me a new one, but it was never the same." Phlox cleared his throat. "Perhaps having another dog will eventually make the Captain feel better, but he will still be very upset over the loss of the original."

Trip put his hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Who says he'll know it's a replacement?"

"What do you mean?" T'Pol asked sharply.

"It's a clone," Trip said, as if it were obvious. "So it should be just like Porthos. For all intents and purposes, it will be Porthos. No one but us three needs to know any differently."

Phlox exhaled impatiently. "My dear Commander Tucker, even clones aren't identical copies!"

"But they can be awfully close, right? You all told me lots of times how much Sim was like me. He even had the same memories I did, had the same likes and dislikes, so why should Porthos 2.0 be any different than the 1.0 version?"

"Commander…"

"Come on, Doc, I know you can do it! Just think of the poor Captain--hasn't he had enough problems lately, enough losses over the years? Can't you spare him, just this once?"

Phlox gazed at Trip's obstinate expression for a long moment. "All right," he said grudgingly. "For the record, I'm doing this against my better judgement."

"Now you're talking!" Trip said happily. He watched Phlox poke distractedly in various cabinets. "What do we need to do?"

"First of all, I'll need some DNA of the original," Phlox said as he wrestled a large vat onto the workbench and began filling it with a green liquid.

"We're on it," Trip said, preparing to hustle T'Pol out the door.

T'Pol opened her mouth to object to her co-conspirator status. Instead, she found herself saying, "How are we supposed to accomplish that?"  

Trip smiled. "Let's go to the Captain's cabin and have a look around."

Phlox nodded. "Exactly. A well-loved chew toy, or perhaps a few hairs…"

As soon as they entered Archer's quarters, Trip made a bee-line to the doggy bed in the corner, narrowly avoiding overturning the water bowl. "Hmm, this looks pretty clean. I don't think we're going to find anything we can use--"

T'Pol recalled the last time she had been in this room with both the Captain and Porthos present. "Try the Captain's bunk."

"Bingo!" Trip said a few seconds later.

"However, you had best make sure those hairs belong to Porthos and not the Captain," T'Pol said acidly, "or else the resulting clone will not achieve your desired results." She eyed the black and white strands in Trip's hand, coarser than human hair and the wrong color for Archer besides. "Those should be satisfactory."

Despite T'Pol's misgivings, the cloning process appeared to be going smoothly. Within two hours, a canine embryo was growing in the specially equipped tank Phlox had set up in a recessed alcove. When T'Pol and Trip entered Sickbay the next morning, they were greeted by a small beagle puppy, eagerly barking and wagging its tail.

"Ain't he a cute one?" Trip said, bending down and rubbing the puppy's head affectionately. He was rewarded with a lick on the cheek. "I still can't believe how fast the whole thing went."

"The process was fairly rapid for you as well," T'Pol remarked.

Phlox took the puppy from Trip's arms and carefully placed him on the biobed, preparatory to running another scan. "Since dogs have a shorter gestation period, not to mention maturation after birth than humans, Porthos 2.0, as you call him, should be at the proper stage within another half day. At that point, I'll give him a counter injection to stop the rapid growth."

"What happens after that?"

"Then all metabolic activities should proceed at normal rates, just like the original." Phlox gave them one of his wide, unsettling grins. "Just try not to misplace this one."

Trip breathed a sigh of relief. "The Captain is expected back tomorrow, so everything should be in place." He turned to T'Pol. "We're actually gonna be able to pull this off!"

"For your sake, I certainly hope so," she said.

T'Pol gave Trip a sidelong glance as they waited in the shuttlepod bay. "You would be advised to keep your nervousness concealed, Commander," she said.

"Who said anything about being nervous?" Trip said defensively.

"You have been rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet for the last eight point three minutes," T'Pol said. "I believe the term is 'fidgeting.'"

"Oh. Sorry." He gave her a weak smile. "Shouldn't they be here already?"

"Ensign Mayweather reported that Shuttlepod One was on its final approach to the ship," T'Pol said. "Therefore, they should be docking within the next two point seven minutes."

"It'll be good to see Travis and Malcolm again, and of course, the Captain." Trip swallowed. "I hope we did the right thing."

"It is a little late to have second thoughts regarding your course of action," T'Pol said, a bit more severely than she intended.

Trip nodded, and then despite himself, began shifting his feet restlessly from side to side. "You know, I was considering bringing Porthos 2.0--dang, I'd better stop calling him that or I'm going to slip up--I was considering bringing Porthos along to greet the Captain."

"Why didn't you?"

"Thought it might look a little suspicious. I mean, we haven't done that any of the other times the Captain's been away."

T'Pol was saved from having to reply by the klaxon announcing the arrival of the shuttlepod.

Turning in a graceful arc, the small craft dropped neatly onto its landing pad. There was a brief delay, and then the hatch swung open. Captain Archer emerged, followed immediately by Reed and Mayweather.

"Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign, welcome back," T'Pol said as she and Trip stepped forward. "Was your mission a success?"

Before Archer could answer, to the surprise of everyone in the welcome party, a dog came bounding out of the open shuttlepod as well.

It was Porthos.

"What's that dog doing here?" Trip blurted out

Archer laughed. "As I was leaving the other day, Porthos followed me to the shuttlebay--didn't you, you rascal?--and he looked so sad at being left behind that I decided to take him with me. But you knew this already," Archer added. "I sent a message from the shuttlepod, once we were underway. I would've done it earlier, but it was all very spur of the moment and we had a schedule to make to get to the conference on time."

"We never received any message," T'Pol said carefully.

"You didn't?"

T'Pol exchanged a look with Trip. "Interference from the ion storm must have prevented it from reaching us."

"I hope it wasn't a problem," Archer said, glancing from one to the other. "You weren't worried about him, were you?"

"What, us worry?" Trip managed to say.

"Good." Archer bent down. "What do you say, boy? Want to go home? I'm sure you've missed sleeping in your own bed as much as I have." Reed and Mayweather picked up their bags and followed the Captain out of the shuttlebay.

As soon as Archer was out of earshot, T'Pol turned to Trip. "Why did you not say anything?" she demanded.

"Well, why didn't you say anything either?" Trip shot back. "I didn't notice you volunteering any information."

T'Pol nearly sighed. "More immediately, we have a problem. A very large problem, to be exact. In approximately eight minutes, Captain Archer is going to enter his cabin and find he is in possession of a second canine. There is no way of predicting how he--or the animals, for that matter--will react."

"Think we should try to head him off at the pass?" Trip offered desperately.

T'Pol shook her head. "No. It would not be advisable--nor possible--to attempt to keep him out of his cabin indefinitely."

Trip nodded unhappily. "I guess all we can do is wait."

The comm unit signaled at that precise moment. "That was sure fast," Trip muttered. "What'd he do, run all the way there?"

T'Pol gave him a look and then crossed the room swiftly. "This is Sub-Commander T'Pol." Both of them startled visibly upon hearing Phlox's distinctive tones in response.

"I'm glad I caught you, T'Pol. Is Commander Tucker with you as well?" Phlox said.

"Yes, I'm here," Trip said. "Look, Doc, can this wait? We're a little busy right now--"

"What may we do for you, Doctor?" T'Pol said firmly over Trip's objections.

"I was going over the records of our recent 'experiment', and I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you both."

"Just what I need," Trip moaned.

Phlox paid no attention to the interruption. "You see, something, uh, happened when I slowed the clone's growth down to a normal rate."

Trip closed his eyes. "He's dead, isn't he? Whatever it is you did made it impossible for him to survive and now he's dead. That's what we get for trying to play God." He turned to T'Pol, "Oh, Lordy. You think it will be better or worse for the Captain to discover a dead dog in his quarters?"

T'Pol didn't have to think twice. "Worse. Definitely."

"No, no, Porthos 2.0 is healthy enough," Phlox hastened to reassure them. "No one is in danger of dying."

"Except us when the Captain figures out what we've been up to," Trip said under his breath.

"But you won't be able to pass off the clone as the original item."

"We're way ahead of you on that one, Doc," Trip snapped.

T'Pol held up her hand to silence him. "You said you made a discovery involving the clone, Doctor?"

"Yes," said Phlox. "The growth rate adjustment required a chromosomal manipulation, very delicate under the best of circumstances…well, it appears a slight 'inversion' has occurred."

"Huh? You want to say that in plain English, Doc?"

"Porthos 2.0 is female," said Phlox.

"You turned him into a girl?" Trip said, incredulously. "Do you know what this means?"

"At the very least, there will be no shortage of canines on board in the immediate future," T'Pol said.
FINIS

Back to Rocky's Road

email the author