Disclaimer etc.: see 1st part.

Right. Numbers 219-222 are to be credited to burrcat213, and number 228 to panfriedcatfish (yeah, I know – I got them ages ago, but hey… if it works).

R&R feeds the Muse, and enjoy!

Things Not To Do On the NX-01

Hoshi Sato, linguist extraordinaire, squeaked.

Quite loud, quite high. Quite early too. Fortunately there was no one else in the Mess Hall – if there had been, she might have got a bit of a yelling at. But, as it was, there was no one else there.

Except the all-powerful List. Which had a new addition.

211. Don't praise the senior staff. Their heads are big enough already, thank you very much.

Hoshi propped her fists on her hips and pouted. "No fair," she mumbled. "I like praise…"

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The next one was up when Hoshi went for lunch.

212. Break-ups are not to be conducted in public places.

Malcolm folded his arms, stood at her shoulder. "Quite right too," he muttered to himself.

"What happened?" Hoshi quizzed.

Reed sniffed. "A couple of Trip's engineers," he replied. "They'd been dating for a couple of months, and they split up recently." He shrugged. "Nothing much."

Hoshi raised one eyebrow and tapped the rule.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. She got annoyed with him. They were at lunch. She had a custard pie—"

"A custard pie?" Hoshi interrupted, incredulous.

Malcolm nodded. "A custard pie," he agreed. He sniffed. "Suffice to say, he ended up a bit… sticky."

Hoshi giggled. "Tell you what…" she mused, drawing out a pen.

213. Or with custard pies!

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Jon was up with the next one.

214. Speaking only in dead languages just to piss off your Captain is not funny.

Again, Hoshi giggled.

Trip wandered over, coffee in hand. "What've you been up to then?" he queried, smirking.

"Oh, nothing much," Hoshi replied nonchalantly, waving a hand. "Me and Crewman Yale just had a bit of a conversation on the Bridge this morning. That's all."

Trip waited patiently.

Hoshi looked sheepish. "In… Ancient Greek."

Trip smirked and shook his head. "Jon never mentioned his… aversion to classical languages before, did he?"

Hoshi grinned. "Nope."

Trip shook his head. "Lay off the classics, Ensign," he advised, still grinning.

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215. Or in Vulcan!

"I'm surprised how little persuasion T'Pol took to join in," Hoshi remarked conversationally to Trip.

He shook his head, again. "The Feud helped her to get our sense o' humour a bit better," the engineer replied.

Hoshi sniffed. "I miss the Feud."

"I don't," Trip muttered.

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Hoshi ran into Trip again as he was writing the next one up. She stopped her headlong dash to investigate the rumours of Chef's ridiculously indulgent chocolate cake and peered over the engineer's shoulder.

216. Hero-worship is hereby forbidden.

"Commander?"

Trip shivered. "A couple of the newbies," he informed her, before shuddering again. "They had a shrine," he whispered, horrified.

Hoshi giggled.

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The Ensign winced at the next one, having witnessed the cause behind the rule.

217. Do not, I repeat, do not let Tiddles have sugar!

Henderson and Trip had brought Tiddles to the Mess Hall while they went over some theoretical schematics they'd concocted. Tiddles, getting bored, had taken to roaming the room, nipping people's ankles and growling.

Until he'd met McArthur.

The Scottish Crewman, on a crazy whim, had put an entire bowl of sugar on the floor – Tiddles had attacked it with relish.

Minutes later, the whole crew had got a first-hand witness of exactly what a hyperactive sabretooth tiger looked like – Chef had already complained about the inch-deep fang marks in the Mess Hall tables.

Hoshi shook her head.

Security had had to be called – Tiddles was still confined to the Brig until the sugar wore off.

And McArthur had received yet another reprimand from the Captain.

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Hoshi found herself writing the next one up, by request of Liz Cutler, who was currently holed up in her quarters, avoiding contact with the outside world.

218. If someone's writing a story that you like/obsess about/worship, don't bug them to "update!update!update!" – do you want to give them a nervous breakdown?!

"Hoshi?" Malcolm asked, frowning.

She sighed. "Liz has got this weird 'FanFiction' thing going on – half the crew subscribes. Apparently the latest chapter had some kinda cliff-hanger, and everywhere she goes people have been screaming 'update!' at her."

"Ah."

Hoshi nodded. "Poor girl had to get sedatives from Phlox last night when someone got into the comm system and hissing 'update… update…' all night."

Malcolm coughed and refused to meet her gaze.

She rounded on him. "Malcolm!"

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On a recent call-back to Earth, Captain Archer had taken about three-quarters of the crew (including the entire senior staff – Trip wouldn't say how he'd managed to persuade T'Pol to go) on a trip to the West End of London, after going through many, many, many private channels to get sixty-odd tickets to the musical 'We Will Rock You'.

Hoshi would have preferred 'Les Mis', but hey.

Jon had regretted such a decision after he had been slumped low in his seat with a baseball cap tugged over his eyes, trying to hide, for almost the entire performance.

It hadn't helped that the next day it was all over the British tabloids, either.

But now that leave was over and Enterprise was back out among the stars, Jon vented his frustration and embarrassment in the time honoured fashion – on the List.

219. When I take you to see 'We Will Rock You' you are not allowed to stand up and sing along at the top of your lungs! It is damn embarrassing!

Hoshi giggled.

Jon, beside her with pen still in hand, sighed. "It is not funny, Ensign," he replied sharply.

She blanked her features. "Even if it's Queen songs, sir?"

He groaned.

220. Even if it's Queen songs!

Hoshi smirked, and Jon moaned. He beat a hasty retreat to the doors of the Mess, and Hoshi waved after him.

Because, after Jon had exited the Dominion Theatre, moaning in embarrassment and agony, she had Trip had spearheaded a mission back inside, and they'd decided afterwards that they probably shouldn't have done that. And that they needed to warn the others not to do it.

Right on cue, Trip appeared, pen in hand.

221. And just because we work on Enterprise, we are not automatically allowed backstage to see the stars.

Hoshi plucked the pen from the engineer's hand.

222. Even if they don't actually care that we waltzed in without permission.

A hand reached over her shoulder and took the pen – she glanced back, startled. Malcolm was behind her, grinning uncharacteristically. With one hand on her hip he scribbled up a final warning.

223. McArthur. This means you.

Hoshi giggled and Trip guffawed.

"I overheard him this morning," Malcolm commented blandly. "He was planning to sneak the other quarter of the crew backstage next time we're back on Earth." Malcolm wrinkled his nose. "He mentioned something about 'whipped cream' and 'practical jokes' as well…"

Hoshi nodded sagely. "A wise precaution, Mister Reed."

He rolled his eyes at her, and Trip smirked.

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The Captain was back.

224. You are not allowed to refuse to work in response to the Powers That Be cancelling your favourite show back on Earth!

Major O'Neill had managed to organise an almost shipwide boycott of everything.

Hoshi was privately surprised that he'd been organised enough to get it done – then again, he was a MACO.

But the Captain had not been amused; even less so when O'Neill gave him his usual smartarse response.

225. Even if it's an "historically accurate method of persuasion"! It didn't help the Germans; it won't help you!

Hoshi turned to Jon. "But it did, sir," he reprimanded. "They resurrected it!"

Jon groaned and banged his head against the bulkhead.

The linguist smirked.

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It had been a raging debate between Malcolm and Trip that had sparked the next one. At least half the crew had gathered in the Mess to watch them yelling at each other.

Hoshi rolled her eyes as she wrote the next rule up.

226. Don't argue over who'll win the Football World Cup!

She wasn't quite sure why the Tactical Officer and the Chief Engineer had got so worked up over a bunch of guys kicking a ball around a lawn, but they had. Apparently it was England against America in the final (how in hell either team had managed to get that far was quite beyond the Asian Ensign), and the two friends had got a bit angry with each other.

Hoshi could feel an impending headache.

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227. Or who won!

Trip and Malcolm were refusing to speak to one another.

Hoshi resisted the urge to follow her illustrious Captain's example and bash her head against the bulkhead. "Boys…" she groaned.

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Travis was next – Hoshi wasn't entirely sure where this one had come from.

228. If it's stupid but works, it isn't stupid.

She shrugged. "Fair enough…"

Travis, beside her, just shook violently. She gave him a funny look.

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One of Trip's engineers had started saying some funny things, and the trend had caught on, spreading like wildfire over the ship. The Captain had got a bit annoyed with them, seeing as they made no sense. At all.

229. When something good/brilliant/amazing happens, you are not allowed to punch the air and yell, "All hail Coto!"

Especially if there's someone stood above you, Hoshi mused. Apparently Trip had been checking a simulation over said engineer's shoulder, and when it had finished with perfect readings, the other engineer had punched the air and yelled, "All hail Coto!"

Trip had ended up in Sickbay with a broken nose.

Hoshi shook her head, smiled, and read the next one – the second saying that the unnamed engineer had spread around the ship.

230. And when everything goes to hell, you may not hang your head and moan, "Oh no, it's the Beebs…"

They'd come out of warp, stupidly, in the middle of an asteroid field. Travis, on seeing this, had muttered something along the lines of "those bloody Beebs…"

Archer had literally gone purple, and had begun muttering what sounded like prayers to God, Jesus, Satan and (oddly enough) Admiral Gardner.

Hoshi rolled her eyes. "This ship is nuts."

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