Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Malcolm Trip or the rest of the gang. Making no money etc.

AN: No beta this time… my poor betas are busy with a longer (okay, very long) story I'm writing, and I don't want to try their patience. Feedback is as always very welcome!

The hallway was long, dark and deserted. In the stained metal walls, halogen lights were embedded, but only half of them seemed in working order, the other half dying or already dead. One of them flickered at irregular intervals, its shredded flashes of light darting across the walls and the floor before they disappeared again. It was not a place where most visitors to Jupiter Station would have ventured on their own.

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed passed a quick glance over his shoulder. No one was following him and if they did, they would come to regret it. If his instincts were right – and they usually were – whatever awaited him at his destination would not take kindly to being pursued.

His boots whispered over the metal grating of the floor and he paused, peering into the darkness ahead of him. He knew he hadn't been mistaken. There! A shadow, camouflaged against the gray walls, was moving along the hallway, its movements too fast and graceful to be human. Malcolm's breath caught in his throat. He had known that they were on the Station.

Slowly and carefully, he resumed his earlier pace. As he approached the flickering light, he saw the shadow again, but only for a split second. Then it was gone again, vanished into thin air. His heart beating fast and hard, he ventured closer to the place where it had disappeared. It might be a trick...

A bulkhead. It stood open, painting a narrow streak of light onto the floor of the hallway. They must be in there. Malcolm knew what he had to do, and he also knew that his shipmates must never find out about this.

The gap between the bulkhead and the wall was not wide enough for him to fit through, yet he knew that the creature who had crossed the threshold before him had ways of adapting to narrow spaces that a human could only dream of. He had to be extremely careful. Once in there, he was outnumbered and might be ambushed before he even realized what was going on.

Malcolm placed his hands against the bulkhead and pushed. It gave easily enough, sliding back into the wall without a creak. He let out a breath of relief. The gap was now large enough for him to wiggle through, and it seemed that no one inside the room had noticed his presence. Yet.

As he quietly entered, he saw that he was in a cargo hold. There were stacks of crates and containers, left in a seemingly random manner all over the room, and rows of shelves filled with an assortment of things he could only barely make out in the dim light. His heart sank. They could be hiding anywhere.

He was still going over the tactical options in his mind when a faint noise caught his attention. He waited with baited breath. There it was again; he had not been mistaken. They were getting careless; he would not have expected them to betray their hiding place so easily. Then again, maybe they were scared, realizing that they were cornered. He gritted his teeth. If it was so, they would be even more dangerous.

He resumed walking again, following the quiet sounds of non-human voices. They seemed to be coming from behind a particularly large stack of containers, in the most shadowy corner of the room. It figured, he thought, that this was where they would take refuge.

He pressed himself against the metal surface of the containers and crept forward, careful not to make any noise. The element of surprise was crucial in this operation, and he knew that he could not afford to waste it. If he was discovered too early...

There was another sound, not quite as faint this time, and he knew that he was very close. His heart was pounding in his chest. It was now or never. In a fast, fluid movement, he stepped out into the open.

There were five of them, even more than he had thought. The largest one let out a bloodcurdling battle cry when she saw him, and he knew in an instant that he would not leave this room unharmed. It could not be helped, however. Taking a deep breath, Malcolm stepped forward to do what had to be done.

"... and I found this great second-hand store on the third level, right next to the Blue Nile bar. Look!"

Smiling, Trip opened a shopping bag and held up the most horrible shirt Malcolm had ever seen. It was printed with large palm trees and tropical fruits, which was bad enough in itself. To make things worse, the designer had added the colors in a seemingly random fashion, resulting in a pattern that reminded Malcolm of the time when Maddy had dropped a bowl of fruit salad onto the carpet in the living room.

Trip seemed to take their silence for stunned admiration. "Nice, huh? The sales guy gave me a discount because I got four of them."

"Four?" Hoshi repeated, as if she could not quite conceive of the existence of more than one of these things. "You got four?"

"Yeah..." Trip looked at his crewmates seated on the benches of the shuttle, and his smile faded a little. "You don't like it, do you?"

"Um..." Travis seemed to search for a tactful way to put it. "It's a little... well... unusual. That's not a bad thing, of course, but..."

Trip gave him a sour look. "Yeah right."

"Actually, I like it," Malcolm said. Up until now, he had been sitting in the back, careful not to move too much or draw attention to himself. So far, no one had noticed that he was moving rather awkwardly and hiding his injured hand behind his back, and he intended to keep it that way. Which, his tactical mind supplied, was best achieved by doing or saying something completely unexpected and diverting attention from his outward appearance.

Trip turned his head and gave him a look of disbelief. "You do?"

"Yes," Malcolm said, careful to keep his voice casual. "I wouldn't have bought it for myself, but I do like it. Why not pick a more colorful piece of wardrobe now and then."

Trip's smile reappeared. "My words exactly." He rummaged through his shopping bag. "If you like this one you're gonna love the others..."

Malcolm sat very straight, his left arm draped in such a way that it hid his middle section from view. No one must notice, and as long as Trip distracted them with his shirts, there was a fair chance that none of them would look at him too closely.

They must not find out, he thought, knowing that the weeks to come would not be easy.

Malcolm walked down Enterprise's corridors in a hurry. He had never before stolen from Ship's Supplies, and he would not have thought himself capable of such a thing. Yet, the item in question was not one he could do without, and it wasn't as if he could go and ask for one. He hated going behind everyone's back, especially the Captain's. If Archer found out, he would be furious, and rightly so. Malcolm was not only breaking regulations; he had lied to his shipmates and knew that he would have to do it again. But there were things that needed to be done, and Malcolm knew that he could not simply abandon his project, now that he had begun it. Even if it meant that Starfleet rules had to be ignored once in a while.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he entered his quarters and activated the locking code once he was inside. There had been times when he had left his door unlocked, but those, he realized, were over. Now, he had to be careful that no one ever entered when he wasn't prepared.

He set down the object he had illegally removed from Ship's Supplies and pushed it under his bed. It was not exactly a good place to hide it, but at the moment he could not think of anywhere better to put it. This was not the only thing he would be hiding from prying eyes, and he would have to devise a tactical routine to keep them secret for an extended period of time. He sighed a little at the idea.

In for a penny, in for a pound. What he was doing might not be right, it might even be illegal, and yet Malcolm knew that he could not go back. There were obligations other than those of duty, and sometimes those other obligations took precedence.

He sat down at his desk and activated his console. He knew that he would have to use a secure channel; yet another breach of regulations that he did not like but knew was necessary. He could not risk being detected. He entered the call code he remembered so well, even though it was a long time ago when he had last used it. A few seconds later, a familiar face appeared on the screen. Malcolm took a deep breath.

"David," he said. "I'll need some information..."

Trip left the turbo lift, humming quietly to himself. He hadn't been very enthusiastic at first about their stop at Jupiter Station to upgrade Enterprise's systems; the space dock technicians never seemed to realize that the requirements of deep space were different than those of, well, a ship in space dock. And to be quite honest, he didn't like the idea of strangers fiddling around with his engine.

As it turned out, however, the technicians had been surprisingly helpful and happy to let him supervise the upgrades. After he had spent several hours in the docking area, Jon had come and dragged him off for a few hours of shoreleave and at the time, Trip hadn't offered too much resistance. The bars on Jupiter Station were quite... diverting, and he had even managed to squeeze in a little long-overdue shopping. He smiled happily as he regarded the bottle in his hand. After buying the shirts, he had dropped into a small liquor store Hess had told him about, with an amazing variety of alien and human beverages on offer. He had eventually settled for the poisonous-looking blue bottle, which the shopkeeper assured him was the best Andorian Ale in the quadrant. Well, if the ale tasted anything like it looked, it was certainly strong stuff... and not intended to be drunk without being shared.

Trip stopped in front of Malcolm's quarters and noticed to his surprise that Malcolm had activated the locking code. Generally, everyone left their door unlocked; it wasn't as if the crew of the Enterprise had much to fear from burglars. Maybe Malcolm wasn't in the mood for company, after all.

Trip shrugged. He could always try, and if Malcolm wanted to be alone, he'd save the bottle for another occasion. He pressed the door chime and waited. Silence followed, and Trip was about to turn away when the door slid open. Malcolm, who was usually groomed to perfection even when he was off duty, looked strangely disheveled and flushed, as if he had just come back from a long run. Trip tried to picture the Lieutenant running around in his quarters and found that he couldn't do it.

"Commander?" Malcolm asked, and if Trip hadn't known better, he would have said that there was a trace of guilt in the Englishman's voice. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Um..." Trip looked down at the bottle in his hand. "I was wonderin' if you'd like to share a nightcap, but it looks like you're busy, so..."

Malcolm threw a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder. "Oh, no," he said. "Not at all. I was just... please come in, Commander."

"Trip", Trip said as he followed Malcolm inside the room.

"Pardon me?" Malcolm asked, his mind clearly on other matters.

"I told you to call me Trip when we're off duty," Trip said. "People are gonna start thinking my first name's Commander, and I'd kinda like to avoid that."

"Sure. Trip," Malcolm added with a smile and another nervous glance around the room. Trip frowned. Malcolm wasn't usually that wound up, at least not anymore.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, and his frown deepened when Malcolm actually jumped.

"Yes, of course," the Lieutenant replied, a little too quickly. "Please, sit down. I'll get us glasses."

Trip took a seat on the small couch, cradling his bottle of ale and watching as Malcolm took two glasses from one neatly ordered shelf. In spite of Malcolm's assurances to the contrary, he could sense that something was amiss even though his friend was doing his best to conceal it. He had noticed back on the shuttle that Malcolm was sort of tense, but at the time he had ascribed it to the usual Reed paranoia whenever some of the crew left the ship and hadn't paid it too much attention. This was getting strange, though.

Malcolm set the two glasses on the couch table and took a seat next to Trip, doing his best to appear relaxed. "Are you sure this is meant for human consumption?" he asked and raised his eyebrows, inspecting the bottle's contents.

Trip had just opened his mouth to reply when there was a strange noise, almost like a... squeak? Malcolm must have heard it too, for his face changed color more quickly than Trip would have thought it possible.

"What was that?"

"I haven't heard anything." Malcolm said, less than convincing. And... was that a blush creeping up his neck?

"Mal..."

Again, there was the noise, and this time Trip knew that he had not imagined it. It was coming from somewhere inside Malcolm's quarters.

"Malcolm, what's that noise?"

"What-" noise, Malcolm had probably intended to say, but started an impromptu and very fake coughing fit instead. In between Malcolm's coughs, Trip heard the noise again, now repeating itself with increasing volume. And suddenly he recognized it for what it was.

"No," he said. "No way, Malcolm."

Malcolm stopped coughing and turned pale. "Trip..."

"I don't believe this." Trip got to his feet and listened. There it was again, coming from... Trip walked over to Malcolm's locker, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. If this was what it sounded like, then a new era of Malcolm-baiting had just had its glorious beginning.

"Trip, don't-"

Ignoring the flustered Lieutenant, Trip reached for the door of the locker and opened it. Inside, on a neat stack of Malcolm's shirts, perched a small kitten, meowing for all it was worth. Trip stared at it. The tiny animal was of the calico persuasion, its body and head a speckled black and orange, its feet a pristine white as if it were wearing tennis socks. Its eyes were odd; the left one iridescent green, the right one a dark, glowing amber. On seeing Trip, the kitten arched its back, its little tail fluffing up in a threatening manner.

Trip stared at it for another moment, then slowly turned around to Malcolm, a grin spreading on his face. The Englishman had changed color again and was now rapidly blushing a deep red.

Trip grinned. "Aren't you gonna introduce me?"

Face burning, Malcolm got up and came over to the locker. He gently reached inside, picked up the kitten and held it against his chest so that its face was still turned to Trip.

"This is Trip," he said.

Trip laughed. "What, you named it after me?"

Malcolm's look of surprise was almost comical. "No," he replied. "You wanted me introduce you, didn't you?"

Trip grinned and shook his head. "Does he... she... have a name yet?"

Malcolm mumbled something, his ears growing red again.

"What was that?" Trip wanted to know.

Malcolm raised his head, one hand protectively in front of the kitten. "His name's Stinky."

Trip couldn't help himself; he laughed until there were tears in his eyes. The idea of Malcolm smuggling a cat aboard and hiding it in his quarters was priceless, but Malcolm smuggling a cat aboard and naming it Stinky...

Malcolm glared at him, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. "I did consider Nelson or Cochrane, but then I decided that I wanted something a little less stuffy. And I happen to be fond of the name Stinky."

"Stinky," Trip repeated, laughing when the kitten meowed as if in reply. "Hi, Stinky. Can I hold him?"

"If you promise not to tell on us." Malcolm grinned and picked up the cat, then gently set him down on Trip's open hand. Stinky fit easily in one palm, and when Trip cradled him against his chest he noticed that the small body was vibrating, emitting a not-so-faint purr.

"Listen to that. You got a real lawn mower goin' there, buddy."

"I was surprised that none of you noticed, back on the shuttle," Malcolm said, a touch complacently.

Trip grinned and carried the cat over to the couch. "Where did you have him?"

Malcolm sat down next to the two of them. "Front of my uniform," he said. "Fortunately he's rather small, so he didn't make too much of a bulge. And," he grinned, "everybody was distracted by your sartorial purchases, of course..."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Knew there was somethin' fishy goin' on when you said you liked my shirt. I didn't realize that "somethin'" was a cat down your shirt, a'course." Stinky was trying to climb up his chest and Trip picked him up, setting him down on his shoulder. The kitten balanced himself there for a moment, then began to clamber on top of Trip's head where he sat and purred.

Trip laughed at Malcolm's expression. "You realize that this little guy's gonna own the place from now on?"

"I suppose so." Malcolm sighed, but he didn't really seem to mind the idea. "I do hope I can get him house trained, though."

"You got a litter pan?" Trip wanted to know.

"I, er, borrowed a box from Ship's Supplies," Malcolm said. "And I discovered that for some reason we have a large supply of sand back in storage..."

"Well, Porthos has to go, too, doesn't he? And Jon wants the potty box to be filled with something 'cause otherwise the smell-"

"Thank you," Malcolm held up a hand. "I think I get the picture."

Stinky, having enjoyed the view for a while, was trying to climb back down, his tiny claws digging into Trip's scalp. Trip picked him up and handed him back to Malcolm. The kitten seemed tired after all the excitement and settled in the crook of Malcolm's arm where he quickly fell asleep. It was a unique sight, Enterprise's prim and proper Armory Officer with a cat snuggled in his arm, and Trip wished he'd had his camera with him.

He grinned at Malcolm. "Now you gotta tell me the whole story."

Petting Stinky, Malcolm leaned back on the couch. "Well, I certainly hadn't planned on this," he said. "When I was on the shopping level back at the station, I noticed that there was a stray cat outside one of the restaurants. She looked as if she'd recently been nursing. Well, you know there are all sorts of people on Jupiter Station, and I decided that it would be best if I found the litter before someone else did." The blush reappeared and Trip smiled inwardly; there weren't many people who knew that Enterprise's Security officer was one big softie on the inside. "I followed her down a few deserted corridors and to the cargo hold where she was hiding her offspring. She wasn't very pleased to see me there," he added dryly, holding up his hand which sported a red scratch on the back. "Still, I managed to put her and the babies into a crate and take them to Administration. They said they were going to try and find the owner who abandoned her, and people who would adopt the little ones. One of them being me, naturally," he added with a smirk. "I couldn't really say no, as I was the one who had found the cats in the first place."

Trip grinned. "Somethin' tells me you weren't protestin' all that much, anyway."

A smile tugged at Malcolm's lips and he glanced down at Stinky. "No, I guess I wasn't. I liked this one right from the beginning." He looked up at Trip. "Did you know that males are very rare in calico cats? Something to do with the chromosomes, it appears. But he's definitely male, I had a vet look at him."

"A vet?" Trip asked, frowning. "You mean, back on the station?"

"No," Malcolm looked slightly guilty again. "I used a secure channel to call an old friend of mine who's a veterinarian. He could only look at him on the screen, of course, but he told me what to look for. This is definitely a very male calico cat."

Trip burst out laughing at Malcolm's "proud parent" tone. "Well in that case Stinky's gonna live up to his name, sooner or later. If you don't have him neutered, that is."

Malcolm glanced down at the sleeping Stinky. "Whatever happened to male solidarity? But I suppose you're right. I'd like to take him down to the cargo bays once in a while, and I don't think it would go well with the maintenance crew if he starts marking his territory."

"Probably not," Trip said. "You weren't really planning on keeping this a secret, were you?"

"Well..." Malcolm hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "I was hoping, at least for a while..."

"Malcolm. We're 83 people sharin' a very small amount of livin' space. You can't keep a cat and hope that no one's gonna find out. Hell, Porthos would've noticed first time he and the Cap'n walked by your door."

Malcolm winced a little at the mention of the Captain, and Trip began to realize what was bothering his friend. "You think Jon's gonna kick him off the ship?"

Malcolm's expression was an answer in itself. "It is my experience that people are either fond of dogs or fond of cats, not both. Besides, the Captain has every right to reprimand me. I ignored Starfleet regulations and risked a breach of security by bringing a stowaway aboard."

Trip looked at the tiny, black-and-orange spotted bundle of fur in Malcolm's arm. He knew that Jon would be as tickled as he was at the idea of Lieutenant "by-the-book" Reed breaking his beloved Starfleet regulations to smuggle a kitten aboard, of all things. That was not what he was going to tell Malcolm, though.

"Y'know," he said, "Jon had this big ol' cat before he got Porthos. Sonny, he was called. He'd had him for more than fifteen years when he died. I think that's why Jon got Porthos, to get over Sonny bein' gone. He told me once that a real animal lover likes cats and dogs both."

Malcolm nodded slowly. "I always wanted a cat when I was a boy. Or any pet, for that matter. Even took up a summer job at an animal shelter once so I could walk the dogs. I had to cancel it after a couple of weeks, though."

"Why?" Trip asked quietly. It wasn't often that Malcolm mentioned his childhood, or, in fact, anything to do with his personal life.

"There was an Eagle Scouts camp my father wanted me to attend," Malcolm said neutrally, and Trip understood that the subject was closed. He didn't press on and reached out instead to stroke the soft fur on Stinky's back.

"You should take him to the Cap'n," he said. "I know Jon, he's gonna fall in love the minute he sees him."

"You think so?" Malcolm asked sceptically.

Trip nodded. "Yeah." And besides, he's just gonna love it that Malcolm Reed, of all people, would adopt a cat.

He saw no need to share this particular bit of information with Malcolm, and was glad to see the smile return to his friend's face.

"Well, in that case," Malcolm said, and he was clearly not talking to Trip, "I'd say we'd better introduce you to everybody, right, Stinky? Wouldn't you like that, too?"

Just the way Jonny talked to Porthos. Trip smothered a smile and leaned back on the couch, watching Malcolm cuddle his newly acquired roommate. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

FIN

I've always wanted to write a story about Malcolm and cats, and well, this is it! Please leave a review and tell me what you think!