Through the midnight planes of the universe, there was a deafening silence. Then, in the breath of a second, came a noice much more deafening.
"Iiiiiiinnnnn 1814 we took a little trip--" ripped through the metallic barriers of Starship Enterprise, followed by the distinctly high-pitched howl of a beagle puppy.
The source of the American folk song was a cramped shower aboard Enterprise, where Commander tucker was half-yelling in his Florida drawl as he bathed. A faint bleeping sounded from his uniform (draped haphazardly across a chair). He reached for the com link deep in one of the pockets of it while continuing his intonated ballad.
"Tucker here!" echoed throughout space.
On the other end of the com link, Captain Archer winced and covered an ear to shut out Porthos' howling from behind him. "Trip, is there any particular reason your intercom is on in the bathroom?"
The crew in the mess hall perked up and tugged the ear plugs out of their ears. Now they could hear Tucker's frantic scramble to turn the intercom off.
"Thank you, Trip." the captain smiled. "Archer out."
The com link went silent for about ten seconds until another beeping brought it to life.
"T'Pol to Tucker."
"Go ahead." Tucker shouold have anticipated the Vulcan's questioning tone.
"Perhaps next time you should turn things off when you're done with them. It is highly illogical to waste our energy and our silence. As an engineer, I assumed you would have already known this."
He smirked. "Assumption is illogical, T'Pol."
Quiet, then: "T'Pol out."