Disclaimer etc.: see 1st chapter.
Yeah, I apologise in advance for this chapter. Me and my friends were a little high – and number 174 is dedicated to my mate Georgia and her sexy nose, and was concocted by my friends Zoë and Louise… And the phrase in number 177 is written on the wall of my Maths classroom – I don't think my teacher knows…
And has everyone stopped reading this? I just wondered, 'cause nobody is reviewing, and I feel unloved. -sniffs-
R&R is much loved, and enjoy!
Things Not To Do On the NX-01
Malcolm Reed had decided, some time in the past four or so years, that the crew of the starship Enterprise was absolutely raving mad. No ifs, no buts, completely insane. Naturally, being the stoically British patriot that he was, he'd tried to resist the pull of impeding craziness as long as possible.
But, as ever, his willpower hadn't been quite strong enough. So now, he looked for every new addition to the all-powerful List with an enthusiasm that bordered on adored.
So it lead that he was in the Mess Hall at 0450 on morning, reading the latest offering.
171. Shimmying along the hull in an EV suit is not advisable. Or allowed!
Malcolm quirked one eyebrow at the recognition of Captain Archer's defiant scrawl. He would have thought that Jon would be happily used to his crew's lunatic tendencies, but the man still protested at every turn. He would have guessed that Archer would have just stuck his fingers in his ears and hummed very loudly when confronted with Travis's latest misdemeanour, but no.
Evidently Jonathan Archer was turning out not to be that kind of Captain.
Malcolm smirked and wandered off to the Armoury for a surprise inspection of the night shift.
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The next one was up after an interesting occurrence in Engineering, in Trip's messy scribble.
172. Don't start fights over who gets the last custard cream!
Malcolm snickered.
Trip, stood beside him, gave him a stern look. "It's not funny," he replied grumpily. "We nearly ended up with an overload 'cause Jenkins was too busy scrappin' with Henderson."
"Of course," Malcolm said graciously, still smirking.
Trip waggled a finger in his face. "Just you wait, Mal," he warned. "I heard one o' your men brought a packet o' Jammy Dodgers with him from Earth."
Malcolm's eyes went wide, and he ran out the Mess.
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173. Or the last Jammy Dodger – especially if you're trained security personnel!
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Trip's latest misadventure made the List next time Malcolm checked. As far as the Brit could remember, the locals on the last planet they'd visited had been particularly taken with a certain aspect of the engineer's features, leading to the next one.
174. Noses may not be bridesmaids, no matter how sexy they are.
Malcolm smiled. That had been an interesting away mission.
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Malcolm caught Hoshi writing the next one up. He glanced over her shoulder at it, and flushed.
175. Attempted regicide is bad.
She turned to him and propped her hands on her hips.
Malcolm went even redder. "It was an accident!" he protested.
She smirked, shook her head despairingly, and headed out of the Mess.
He grimaced after her.
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The next one was a little… odd.
176. You are not allowed to paint llamas all over the windowsills on D-deck.
Travis frowned at the line. "We have paint onboard?"
"We have windowsills?!" Malcolm exclaimed. "Where?!"
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And the next one was odder still.
177. You are not allowed to write "Maths is s--t" on the doors to the Science Labs.
Malcolm's eyebrows shot up. "Someone did?" he asked incredulously.
"Indeed," T'Pol commented from beside him. Her expression was tightly controlled – she looked… Malcolm guessed the right phrase was 'extremely irked'. "I was not pleased."
I'll guess, Malcolm thought, taking a wary step away from the Vulcan woman.
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Malcolm himself wrote the next one up, after a particularly interesting conversation he'd had with Crewman McArthur that morning.
178. You snorkel in the sea, not in your shower.
Scots, Malcolm decided, were crazy.
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And, after witnessing said Ensign's lunchtime activities, Reed was back.
179. Or in your soup.
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Malcolm had been there at the origin of the next one – the look of horror and disbelief on his Captain's face had been… amusing, to say the least.
180. Skydiving from the shuttlepods, unless you're trying to give Captain Archer a heart-attack, is not recommended.
"It was horrible," Jon moaned from beside Reed. "I never want to see anything like that again."
"I agree," Malcolm murmured, and pulled out a pen.
181. And even if you have to, for God's sake, wear clothes!
The sight of Doctor Phlox jumping naked out of a shuttlepod was one that Malcolm would pay a large sum of money to have erased from his memory. Permanently.
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The next three went up after a particularly… intriguing alien encounter.
They'd gotten a slightly panicked call from an Ensign in Cargo Bay Two, saying that a blue box had just appeared on the ship. And that three people had emerged from it and were talking very loudly, very fast. And that could someone please get down here and help out?
Said three people had turned out to be relatively pleasant, until one of McArthur's practical jokes had gone wrong again, and they'd been drenched in thick, sticky, neon green slime.
Trip was still trying to fix the damage one of the three had caused with a funny-looking tube that flashed blue.
Leading to the next three.
182. Don't piss off Doctors in blue boxes.
183. Or their blonde, Cockney companions.
184. And don't call their American companions "Captain Cactus", even if their hair's gone all spiky.
It had been pretty spiky, Malcolm reflected. And, when covered in green slime, "Captain Cactus" had looked remarkably like… well, a cactus.
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The Science Department had been bored.
185. Vibrating Maltesers are henceforth forbidden.
"What the…"
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Malcolm raised one eyebrow in perplexity at the latest offering.
186. You may not train florescent ants to dance in your eyebrows.
"Okaaaaaay," he murmured, before pulling out a pen and beginning to scrawl, still casting worried glances at the slightly scary number 186.
187. Which reminds me. Hallucinogens are still forbidden. Pay attention you lot!
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Trip was stood beside Malcolm, sniggering, as the Tactical Officer scribbled the next one up angrily.
188. You are not allowed to discuss the sexual prowess of your senior officers.
"Mal, it is kinda your fault," Trip pointed out. Helpfully.
Malcolm ground his teeth. "It was not my fault," he refuted firmly. "I have no idea why Hoshi has gone all cold on me."
Trip was having trouble keeping a straight face.
Reed glared at him. "She did not have to do… that." He gestured at his addition to the List.
"Mal, Mal, Mal, Mal." Trip shook his head. "You nicked her chocolate. Never a good move."
And Malcolm glared even more.
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189. You are not allowed to give new recruits homework.
Malcolm shot Jon a quizzical look.
The Captain groaned. "Crewman Tate," he moaned. "Said he was late to duty this morning 'cause he had to finish an essay on Zephram Cochrane." Jon rubbed futilely at his temples. "Refused to tell me who for." Muttering under his breath to himself, he moved off, collected a mug of industrial-strength coffee and meandered out of the Mess.
Malcolm just smiled evilly.
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Another pear-shaped away mission prompted the next rule.
190. Ceremonial soapy blackberries are generally supposed to stay that way.
Yes, the Ilithians had been most perturbed when Trip had picked up a blackberry-esque fruit (central to their religion) that was covered in soap suds. The engineer had happily cleaned the berry up and handed it back to the chief priest, commenting that it was clean now.
They'd been chased with pitchforks all the way back to the shuttle.
Trip winced as he appeared beside Malcolm and read the new rule. "Who knew someone could get so worked up about a blackberry…" he muttered to himself, irritated.
Malcolm just smirked, and added another mental notch to his record of "How Many Times Commander Tucker Screws Up An Away Mission", before wandering off, leaving the List for another day.
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