Title: April Fool
Author: Kathy Rose
Rating: PG
Summary: Some people enjoy April Fool's Day too much.
"I'm not looking forward to tomorrow."
Trip Tucker cast a curious glance at his companion as they walked down the corridor on the way to the turbolift. Malcolm Reed could be a pessimistic soul, that was true, but what could he be dreading about tomorrow? Things had been running smoothly lately -- almost too smoothly, which made a person wonder what unexpected calamity was due to befall them -- but Trip wasn't aware of anything in particular to be worried about. No alien bad guys, no triple-shift maintenance schedules, no performance reviews.
"What are you talkin' about, Malcolm?" he asked as they came to the 'lift and he pushed the button to summon it.
The dark-haired tactical officer shot him a glance. "I'm surprised," he said. "I would think you, of all people, would realize what tomorrow is."
As they boarded the turbolift that would take them to the bridge, Trip searched his mind but couldn't come up with anything. "What's tomorrow?"
"The first day of April," Malcolm said sourly.
"Oh! April Fool's Day!" exclaimed Trip with a broad grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'm glad you reminded me. I almost forgot. I still need to get Travis back for what he did last year. Took me three days to get the red out of my hair."
Malcolm snorted as he pushed the button to start the turbolift moving. "It's an excuse for all sorts of breaches in discipline. Pranks and bad jokes have no place on a Starfleet vessel. Your reaction only serves to emphasize what I'm talking about. People should be concentrating on their duties, not how to put dye in somebody's shampoo."
"Now, Malcolm! Don't be a party-pooper. April Fool's jokes are all in good fun. And it was in the creme rinse, not the shampoo."
The door slid open as Malcolm said, "Whatever." He stepped out and headed for his tactical station.
Trip, still grinning, walked over to the captain's ready room to deliver a fuel consumption report to Jon. The weekly ritual of making the report was an example of all that discipline that Malcolm was so concerned about. Every week, Trip made out the report, and every week Jon took one glance at it and tossed it aside. They both knew he'd tell Jon if there were any problems he ought to be aware of, and he wouldn't wait until a weekly report to do it, either.
"What are you smiling about?" Jon asked Trip as he walked into the ready room.
Trip handed over the data PADD with the report. "Malcolm. You know, you would have thought by now he'd have loosened up some, but there are times..." At Jon's quizzical expression, he explained, "Malcolm's in a snit because tomorrow's April Fool's Day."
Jon nodded in understanding, although he was starting to smile himself. "I can see Malcolm's point. Lack of discipline and so on."
Trip dropped into the guest chair. "Okay, maybe he has a point. But the crew needs a break sometimes. Something that can cheer them up. A diversion from their day-to-day duties."
"I can see your point, too," Jon said, crossing his legs where he sat at his desk.
"Got anything planned?" Trip asked with an impish grin.
Jon laughed. "No. I think it's a little beneath a starship captain to do something like that. But if the rest of the crew has any ideas--" He broke off at Trip's wide grin. "Within reason, of course!" he admonished him.
"Of course, Cap'n." Trip got to his feet. "Unless there's something else you need to talk to me about, I'll be getting back to Engineering."
Jon shook his head. But as Trip reached the door, he called out, "Trip! Just don't pull any tricks on Malcolm, all right?" At the engineer's crestfallen expression, he added, "It's one thing to pull an April Fool's Day trick on someone who will take it well. It's another to try it on someone who is in charge of the armory."
"Aw, Cap'n--"
"I mean it, Trip. Let's have a little consideration for Malcolm's sensibilities."
Trip reluctantly nodded his agreement and left. He didn't see the broad smile that broke out on Jon's face after the door closed behind him.
Jon was recalling the conversation he'd had last night with his tactical officer. Malcolm had insisted he needed to be free of the distraction of worrying about what Trip would do to him so that he could concentrate on pulling a prank on Trip. The absurdity of the usually serious, by-the-book officer's request to turn the tables on the chief engineer had intrigued Jon, and he'd quickly agreed.
Trip rushed into the mess hall the next morning. Somehow, he'd overslept. He'd set the computer console in his cabin for a wake-up call like usual, but it had chimed a half hour late. He thought he'd fixed it so it couldn't be tampered with, but apparently Travis's hacking skills were improving.
The only other obvious suspect would be Malcolm, but Malcolm wasn't really a suspect, not after his comments the day before. He'd made it clear that he thought he was above any sort of tom-foolery like this, so it had to be Travis.
Trip grabbed a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon from the serving cabinet. Turning around, he spotted his intended victim at a table with Malcolm. He touched his pocket just to make sure he'd remembered to bring along the packet. Now all he had to do was make the switch when Travis wasn't looking.
"Hi, guys," Trip said as he sat down. "Almost didn't make it." He shot a mock glare at Travis. "I think somebody messed with my alarm."
Around a mouthful of eggs, Travis managed to get out, "Wasn't me."
"Yeah, right," Trip muttered as he grabbed the salt and pepper shakers and gave his eggs a liberal sprinkling. He picked up his fork and prepared to dive in, but paused as if something outside the window had caught his attention. "Would ya look at that!"
Travis, seated with his back to the window, turned around to look. "What?"
Trip quickly took the little packet out of his pocket and substituted it for the packet of catsup on the table by the helmsman's plate. "Oh, thought I saw a shooting star," he said, grabbing his fork again before Travis turned back around.
Trip shot Malcolm a quick glance, warning him to keep quiet. Malcolm, who had observed the switch without comment, rolled his eyes and continued eating his pancakes.
Sure enough, just as Trip had planned, Travis was about halfway through his own serving of eggs when he reached for the packet. Trip had eaten breakfast with him enough times to know that it was almost a ritual with Travis -- eat half the eggs, then douse the other half with catsup and finish them off.
It was hard for Trip to keep from smiling as Travis opened the packet, squeezed the contents onto to the yellow mass on his plate, and scooped some eggs onto his fork. When Travis glanced up, Trip hastily blanked his expression and got his own forkful of eggs. He put it in his mouth at the exact moment as Travis took his first bite of doctored eggs.
Both men immediately spit out their food onto their plates.
"Travis! What did you do to my eggs?" Trip spluttered disgustedly.
"What did you do to my eggs?" the helmsman retorted, wiping his lips with a napkin and then taking a deep swallow of his orange juice, only to grimace at the residual foul taste now mixed with citric acid.
"Gotcha!" Trip choked out, gagging somewhat. "Tabasco...sauce...instead of catsup."
"Gotcha!" Travis muttered back. "White...cayenne pepper...in the salt."
At this, Malcolm shook his head and got to his feet. "Great minds think alike," he remarked sarcastically and left.
Trip sauntered into Engineering. He'd pulled a small prank on Travis, but he wasn't even yet for last year since the helmsman had matched his joke for this year. At least he didn't have to worry about what the helmsman would try next. Travis usually limited himself to one prank per April Fool's Day. Of course, that meant the alarm clock malfunction this morning was either just that -- a malfunction -- or someone else had pulled a prank on him. Hoshi, maybe. She had a sly streak that often was overlooked because of her demure demeanor.
He was climbing the ladder to the elevated warp engine controls, still pondering who could have rigged his alarm, when he was paged. He hurried up the last few steps and answered the page at the comm on the master control panel.
"Trip," came Jon's voice. "Malcolm says there's a problem with the calibration of the torpedo targeting scanners at warp speeds."
Trip leaned against the console. "Oh?"
"He suggested testing the calibrations at increasing speeds, starting at impulse, then working our way up to warp five. That should help him pinpoint the problem."
"Warp one, then warp 2... Is that what you're talkin' about?" Trip asked.
"Yes. Any problems doing that now?"
Trip shook his head, even though Jon couldn't see him. "Nope. Just give the word," he said, and Jon signed off
Taking the warp engine through its paces would be a piece of cake. It had been running smoothly, as was to be expected with the constant, loving care he and his staff gave it. He glanced around at the crew members at their stations. Everything appeared as it should be. He turned back to the console to keep an eye on the screen that relayed the helm commands to see that Enteprise was dropping out of warp to impulse.
"Keep an eye on your monitors," he called out. "Keep it steady at whatever speed helm inputs."
There were murmured assents to his order. Trip tapped his fingers on the edge of the control console, waiting for the return to warp speed. When it happened a few seconds later, he felt a flash of satisfaction mixed with pride at the steady purr coming from the pulsing warp engine.
Without warning, the deep-pitched, two-noted blast of a mournful foghorn rang out, making Trip cringe. "What the--?" he said in confusion as the blast sounded again. He was reminded of the lighthouse at that Gulf Coast resort that he and Malcolm had visited last year. It had sounded just like this.
He looked around to see his staff seemingly as puzzled as he was. Then it hit him -- someone was playing an April Fool's Day joke on his department. Maybe Travis was playing more than one joke this year. The nerve-gratingly loud tone had sounded in conjunction with the leap to warp 1, after all, at a command that had come from the helm station on the bridge.
"Good one, Travis," he murmured with a smile, turning back to the console.
"Bridge to Engineering," came Jon's voice over the comm.
"Go ahead," Trip said into the comm.
"Everything all right down there?"
Trip frowned at the speaker panel. Why was Jon asking? If the captain called down to Engineering every time they changed speed, neither one of them would get any work done. If anything, Jon should be checking with Malcolm about the calibrations.
And then he realized that Jon may have been informed in advance of the joke. So much for the captain being above an April Fool's joke. "Everything's just peachy," Trip said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.
"Good. Get ready to go to warp 2," Jon said.
Trip stood relaxed yet alert at the controls after the connection to the bridge was cut. He shook his head. A foghorn. He'd have to ask Travis how he'd come up with that idea.
The command to go to warp 2 flashed across the screen, and once again Trip could detect a corresponding change in the sound of the engine. He tensed, half expecting to hear the foghorn again.
There was no foghorn, but as he glanced down at the controls, he was shot in the face with a short burst of water that issued from the comm panel. Wiping his hand over his face, he quickly glanced around. None of the others in Engineering seemed to have noticed what had happened. He grabbed a rag and dried his face.
"Trip?"
As he slapped the button for the comm a little harder than he needed to, Trip was now certain that Jon was in on the pranks. The captain's previous call had ensured that he was in position to get spritzed at the booby-trapped comm panel. "Yes, Captain?"
"Just thought I'd let you know. Malcolm says the calibrations are holding steady so far. We're going to take it up to warp 3."
"Warp 3. Aye, sir," Trip said, and cut the connection. Maybe Jon was in on these pranks, but it couldn't have been his idea, not after what he'd said about April Fool's tricks being beneath a captain. Trip couldn't help but feel a little disgruntled that he hadn't been the one to think of getting the captain to help him pull off a good prank.
Trip braced himself as he watched the screen on the control panel. It was a good thing he was holding on, because as soon as warp 3 was achieved, there was a horrible screeching that might have caused him to fall off the platform in shock. He recognized the terrible noise. It was Malcolm's "Reed Alert," the one that sounded like a bag full of cats.
"Shut that off!" he ordered, sending his crewmen scurrying around trying to find some way to stop the racket. He barely heard the beep of the comm panel over the noise.
"Trip! What's going on down there?"
"You wouldn't believe it, Cap'n," he said.
"What? I can't hear you. Is everything all right?"
"It's just--" Trip shouted over the caterwauling, only to stop when the awful noise was abruptly cut off. Lowering his voice back to normal, he said, "It's just a minor malfunction. Sir."
"If you say so," Jon responded and cut the connection.
Trip glared at the comm panel. He could have sworn Jon sounded amused. Hell, maybe Jon was the instigator. Why else would he be calling down here every time they went to a higher warp and a new, annoying prank took place. And it struck Trip as wrong that Jon hadn't asked what the minor malfunction was, which only strengthened his conviction that, at the very least, the captain knew what was going on.
As he readied himself for the next increase in speed, Trip tried to rein in his irritation. All in good fun, he reminded himself. He wondered what the next prank would be, because he just knew there was going to be another one. The only other thing he was sure of was that it wasn't Malcolm who was responsible. Malcolm had made his disdain for April Fool's Day abundantly clear with his comments yesterday about lack of discipline and then again this morning with his reaction to his and Travis's condiment pranks in the mess hall.
It had to be Travis. He was the one at the helm controls. Trip could imagine the gleeful expression on the helmsman's face every time he input the command for an increase in speed. A new thought occurred to Trip and he glanced around, looking for hidden surveillance devices. He wouldn't put it past Travis to rig this so he could record it. Where was the fun in pulling a prank if you couldn't witness it happening?
Trip was still looking around when the ship went to warp 4. He didn't see anything, but all of a sudden, a horrible scent wafted past his nose. He hadn't smelled skunk in years, but the foul, stomach-churning odor was unmistakable.
"Aw, geez, Travis," Trip muttered disgustedly. As if the cayenne pepper this morning hadn't been enough, now this gut-wrenching smell was threatening to make him lose what little he'd been able to eat at breakfast. He heard some of the crew members gagging, and took his hand away from his mouth and nose long enough to shout, "Somebody turn on the ventilators!"
The sound of air being circulated came to him a few seconds later. It took a minute or two before air was breathable again. Trip cocked an eyebrow at the comm panel, waiting for the call. It didn't take long.
"Trip?"
"Yeah, Cap'n?" he said, his voice sounding like a croak. The air might be breathable, but there was a lingering stench.
"How are we doing?"
"We are doing just fine," Trip said, unable to bring himself to let Jon know how much this series of pranks was starting to get to him. Best to let him think it wasn't fazing him at all, but rather that he could rise above it. While you hoped for some sort of reaction from an April Fool's victim, if that person could nobly endure whatever it was that had happened, you had to admire him. "You know, though, the next time we make planet-fall, I want to be in the first shore leave party. I think I could do with some fresh air."
He heard Jon laugh before the comm channel was abruptly closed on the other end. Yep, Jon was definitely in on this with Travis. He began thinking about ways to get back at the captain as well as Travis without being court-martialed.
With one last retching gasp, he turned his attention to the warp controls. Maybe it was a good thing they couldn't go any faster than warp 5. There was only one more speed increase and Malcolm would be done with his calibration tests, and this miserable series of unfortunate pranks would be done with. He couldn't help but wonder, however, what the last trick would be.
Trip warily eyed the screen on the warp control console, bracing himself both mentally and physically. He wanted to be prepared for whatever Travis and Jon were going to throw at him this time.
The information scrolling across the screen didn't give him any clues, other than they were still at warp 4. Come on, he thought. Let's get this over with. As if aware of his thoughts, the order for warp 5 flashed across the screen, along with the corresponding response in the pitch of the engine. Trip held his breath.
For several seconds, nothing happened. He was just starting to relax, slowly exhaling, when the comm emitted the high-pitched shriek of a bosun's whistle.
"Now hear this, Commander Charles Tucker the Third!" came Malcom's voice. "Gotcha!"
Several small flaps in the overhead bulkhead opened with loud clangs, and Trip reflexively ducked as paper streamers and confetti came shooting out. Some streamers cascaded down to the lower deck, others tangled on the handrails of the upper level walkway or draped over the warp engine. The confetti, made of some sort of glittery material, caught the light and sparkled as it shimmered down to the deck.
As if that wasn't enough, the strains of "Brittania Rules the Waves" suddenly burst forth over from the speakers.
Trip hung his head. How could he have been so blind? It had been Malcolm all along. He had pulled a masterful April Fool's joke. The tactical officer had diverted attention away from himself by his disdainful comments about the whole concept of April Fool's, had conned Jon into helping him, and had thrown suspicion onto Travis because the pranks had been tied in to helm control. As Malcolm himself might say -- bloody brilliant!
As the last strains of the song died away, the members of the Engineering staff burst into applause.
Trip shook his head. He was going to get Malcolm back next April Fool's Day -- and get him back good, no matter what the captain said. He had a whole year to plan it.
-- the end --