"Sonofabitch! No wonder the Andorians are blue – one glass of this and you can't breathe anymore," the engineer wheezed in a hoarse voice, clutching his chest.
Some things in the universe were universal, and one of them was the reaction to the first drink of Andorian Ale. No matter if human, Klingon or Gorn, the first time ended in a serious face cramp. Malcolm just waited with a half-smile for Trip to stop coughing.
"It packs quite a punch," he agreed.
"Have to hand it to you," the American said, once his facial contortions had subsided. "Gettin' abducted and coming back out of it with a crate of finest booze and an angry smurf as a new friend. That was good. If it'd been me, I'd have tried to contact Jon so that he could send down a heavily armed landing party."
"So would I, actually," Malcolm admitted, taking another sip. "Had T'Pol's equipment not failed, twenty of my people would have come down, guns blazing. Frankly, I was more surprised by how you handled yourself when that Andorian started to grope T'Pol."
"T'Pol can fend for herself," his friend explained, with another gargoyle-face after another sip. "She'd probably not even done anything had the dirt bag pushed the top up. For her, the body's just a shell for her soul. The Vulcans call that their 'katra'. But if the guy'd dared come too close to the really precious bits, she'd have snapped him in half. T'Lara didn't need to see that. That easily overrode my instinct to sock the dirtbag."
"By the way," Malcolm started, and sent his visitor a mischievous half-smile. "As the former ranking officer and the third in command, you should know the ship's security protocols."
"What did I do?"
"You forgot that if any publicly-accessible area is locked for more than 20 minutes, an automatic biosensor sweep is performed to make sure nobody has collapsed while being locked in."
He could barely stop himself from laughing when all color drained from the engineer's face. It was so entertaining that he decided to twist the proverbial knife a little more.
"Before you ask: yes, the area in question was the shower in engineering, and the biosigns were yours and Anna Hess'. Although they were practically merged, so I'd hazard a guess some part of you must have been inside her."
"Oh shit," he heard Trip groan. "Just what I needed."
"Don't worry about it," he said, letting his friend off the hook. "Once acknowledged by a security officer, the scans are deleted and I was on duty at the time. But you wouldn't want a junior officer or, worse yet, T'Pol get a whiff of that would you? Be more careful next time."
Malcolm knew immediately that he'd said something stupid when he saw the upset look on Trip's face. He realized too late that he had just indirectly accused his friend of going behind T'Pol's back.
"I didn't cheat on T'Pol," the visibly offended American insisted.
"T'Pol knew about you and Anna Hess?" he asked incredulously.
"Hell, she orchestrated the whole thing."
Malcolm let out a wolf whistle. It took some believing, but it was easier to believe than that Trip would cheat on the woman he so obviously loved. "You're saying our smokingly hot science officer arranged a sex date for you with the hottest human woman aboard? Well, second hottest after our comms officer," he amended quickly, with a grin. He was relieved to see that this did the trick and mollified the engineer.
"Not only that," Trip said, trying too hard to sound offhand. "She also tried to convince me to be Anna's next photographer as her last one was rotated off when we left space dock."
Now that was an interesting piece of news. "And are you going to do it?"
"You have a mighty interest in that," he was challenged by his visitor. "You aren't waitin' on the next series yourself, by any chance?"
"Not really," Malcolm said airily. "But quite a lot of blokes apparently are."
"And you volunteer to fight vigilantly for the peace of their mind," Trip needled him further.
"It's actually official business, sort of," he answered, and didn't bother to hide the exasperation which these days was never far from the surface of his mind. "You know I still have that morale officer thing hanging over my head."
"Don't remind me," Trip groaned in dismay. "I haven't even visited Rao's course yet, hopin' she'll forget about it. But since when is organizin' naked pics of my XO part of your mission statement?"
"Well, that obviously means you didn't look at her home page lately. She posted a statement that she's working on getting a new photographer, but that one or two series may get skipped. Her forum section went haywire. I think the captain and Porthos are the only ones who didn't volunteer."
"So you consider it a part of 'cultural measures' to keep up crew morale?"the engineer asked, slightly incredulous.
"Well, in that regard, I'm an opportunist," Malcolm admitted ironically. "Hess obviously wants to continue with it and it's hugely popular. It definitely beats me having to organize inane talent shows or some such. All I have to do is hope she finds herself a photographer, and from what you told me, T'Pol and Hess seem to have a clear idea who that should be."
"Great," he heard his friend groan. "Now I have three people buggin' me about it."
"I don't get it, Trip. Have you suddenly turned into a prude or something?" Malcolm asked, shaking his head. "T'Pol is okay with it, Hess too, you'd be helping me a whole lot, and most of the crew would be happy."
He noted the engineer's grimace. "Okay, I'll do it. But know one thing Malcolm. If that shit blows up in my face, I'll boot your ass out of the nearest airlock ."
"You're being ridiculous, Trip." He downed another gulp of Andorian ale. "I don't suppose you want anyone to hold the tripod, do you?"
=/\=
Jon looked around the room as his two visitors were sorting out their reports on their PADDs for the weekly briefing. He'd planned to include Trip as well, but the ship's engineer was more comfortable 'doing his thing' down in engineering, and had put it quite bluntly that he wouldn't be able to tell him something that T'Pol couldn't, which is why it would be a wasted effort to come up here for a meeting. The Captain made a mental note discuss that particular issue with him in the evening.
With just three of them attending he had taken the meeting to his office next to the Bridge instead of using the much bigger conference room. It had been over a week of smooth sailing since leaving P'Jem, but with the absence of any fire fights or alien abductions came routine and boredom. And those were no more to be desired than the 'action packed' first weeks of their journey.
It had not eluded his attention that T'Pol had 'coincidentally' chosen the armchair in which Trip had been sitting when she'd met them for the first time after coming aboard. That this brought her much closer to the corner in which Porthos had established his territory surprisingly didn't seem to make much of a difference.
"Okay, Commander." He opened the meeting with a straight look at the Vulcan. "Almost ten days of trouble-free journey is a nice thing, but I hope you've found something worthy of our attention?"
"Indeed I did," the science officer replied, not glancing up from her PADD. "Science teams have surveyed the parts of the Vulcan star charts that Ensign Sato has translated so far. We have located a Minshara class planet four point two-three days from here at our current speed."
"I take it you have a plan already?"
"The planet in question was surveyed by a Vulcan vessel seventy-eight years and three days ago. No name was given, but the reports mention a humanoid race in an early stage of civilization. I would suggest it would be a worthwhile endeavor to observe it and evaluate their progress over that time period. I am currently working on establishing appropriate protocols."
Jon debated taking the mickey out of the fact that T'Pol had 'neglected' to give the time difference since the Vulcan visit right down to the minutes, but as much as it would amuse him momentarily, his professionalism prevailed. It wouldn't help in a tense situation if he had cast doubts on his professional attitude just because they had had the luxury of not being shot at for some time. Instead, as she finally raised her eyes to check his reaction to her suggestion, he nodded toward her in a request for additional details.
"Since the civilization is likely not yet capable of warp flight, the possibility of visiting populated areas is dependent on our ability to disguise ourselves as natives. The planet does, however, have a small island continent that is rich in herbal life and was unpopulated at the time of the Vulcan survey. If that is still the case, I wish to send our botanist, Ensign McIllway, on an away mission to chart the flora, and, if possible, to procure new specimens and edible plants for our food provisions. If the conditions in Engineering allow, I'm planning to assign Lieutenant Hess and Commander Tucker to the away team as well. Both have been aboard for almost a year with no shore leave, and Lieutenant Kelby could profit from the command experience when he stands in for his two superior officers."
"I take it they will also need to take a lot of… photographic equipment?"
Jon felt a slight blush heat his face when the normally somewhat stuffy tactical officer failed to suppress an amused snort and T'Pol looked at him with a provocatively raised eyebrow and a mischievous look – well, as mischievous a look as was possible for a Vulcan.
"Well, there goes my professional image," he sighed in good-natured defeat, though he was still a bit embarrassed by the subject. "Yes, yes, I have read Lieutenant Hess' message that she has found a photographer and plans her next edition to be an outdoors one. You have ten seconds to be smug."
"I see no reason for self-congratulatory behavior on either of our parts, captain. Lieutenant Hess' publications are a legal and completely voluntarily produced art form. I would consider it a desirable quality in a commanding officer to broaden his cultural horizon beyond what is required to effectively run the ship."
Now that was a Vulcan piss-take if he had ever heard one, and the implication was clear that to save himself from ridicule, he would have to show at least a token interest in Ensign Rao's art class as well.
Considering the latest avalanche of – mostly female – inquiries about when the much anticipated topic of 'classic nude poses' would become the topic of the day, there were no points in guessing that some of the ladies were quite eager to unwrap the ship's chief engineer. Jon found himself wondering ruefully what exactly he'd let his poor friend in for.
"Okay, now that we have properly trashed my professional image," the Captain continued, trying to hide his still-lingering embarrassment behind a façade of nonchalance, "I hope you have some encouraging news about the measures to uphold the crew morale, Lieutenant?"
"Indeed I do, captain," the Brit answered, his air so business-like it was hard to remember that the duty had been imposed on him as a punishment. "Ensign Rao has held her first two art classes, and as you might have seen in the ship's intranet forums, the debate is quite lively, I would say. An Irish and Scottish folk concert is scheduled for the day after tomorrow in the Mess Hall. The request for permission to serve limited amounts of appropriate beverages to off-duty personnel has been filed with today's batch of reports."
"Are you trying to say that someone has a stash of whiskey and has not reported the fact to me?" Jon said, feigning indignation.
"The Regulations don't specify that I have to," the Lieutenant responded, completely unfazed by the attempt at bantering, and the captain found himself reminded that trying to engage the Brit in a friendly ribbing was as pointless as trying to make T'Pol sing 'For he's a hjolly good fellow'. He quickly scratched the last thought; T'Pol had surprised the hell out of them before.
"The 'stash' in question has been procured for the Officers' Mess," he heard Malcolm continue blandly. "Engineering is currently working with the quartermaster on the interior design, and we believe we can open it in about two weeks. Meanwhile Commander Tucker has proposed a solution for the swimming pool dilemma. He is working on a redundant local system of gravity control and an ejection system that would jettison the water in the case of both systems failing."
"With people still in it?" Jon asked, only half-humorously.
"No," T'Pol butted in. "I am working on protocols for the usage of the facility. As soon as increased readiness requires our 'General Quarters' to be sounded, the facility has to be evacuated immediately by all personnel. Crew members willing to use the facility will have to attend prior evacuation training. We will not permit personnel to use it who cannot prove that they can reach the sealed safety areas in less than thirty seconds."
"Evacuation training, protocols, all that for a swimming pool," Jon said and shook his head.
"I would not underestimate the effect of such a facility on crew morale, captain. If appropriately decorated, the facility would be the closest to a short shore leave we can provide. If the spirited debate among crew members is representative, the potential popularity of it would easily eclipse that of Lieutenant Hess' artistic work or even the option of producing an accurate likeliness of the Chief Engineer."
Jon couldn't help but laugh at T'Pol's explanation. Seeing the questioning looks of his officers he felt obliged to explain the source of his amusement.
"I'm just trying to imagine Admiral Black's face when he reads my reports. Not nice making fun of a superior officer, I know, but this is hilarious."
=/\=
"You wan'ed to see me Cap'n?" Trip asked as he walked into the Captain's quarters, where Porthos greeted him enthusiastically.
"Have a seat, Trip," the captain said, and he accepted the bottle of beer he was offered. "I thought it was time that we had a little talk. I've barely seen you all week."
"Been busy, Jon. We're still ironin' the kinks out of the engine, then there's Malcolm's Officers' Mess, and the plans for the pool on top of it all. Oh, and the lil' one wants to see me from time to time as well. She's spent most of the week in T'Pol's quarters and was startin' to get restless why she couldn't sleep in my place anymore."
"The three of you don't stay together anymore?"
"Too difficult Jon," he sighed. "T'Lara's often away during the day. She likes to hang out with Phlox or with Pat in Hydroponics, and during those times T'Pol 'n me started to find it hard to keep… um… to stay away from each other. Four days ago the shit almost hit the fan. We could barely stop ourselves, havin' ripped off half each other's clothes already. This isn't just some minor problem. T'Pol could be executed if we hadn't caught ourselves at the last minute."
"You're torturing yourselves," Jon said, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Well, what can we do?" Trip asked miserably. "Of course, we could always make a bee-line for Vulcan and stage a rebellion. I'd be charged enough by now to go for it."
"'Charged'' is quite a good way to describe the crew at the moment," Jon snorted, as they emptied their beers. "There seems to be an awful lot of undressing going on lately, and somehow you always seem to be a part of it. Did we by any chance hire a nudist crew?"
The chief engineer's laughter had a bitter tinge to it."I told you from the start, Jon, that this 'sex is allowed' malarkey would turn out to be tricky. Half the guys don't have much chance to get laid, so lusting over Anna is the next best thing. And just because we have twenty-three women aboard doesn't mean all of them find a partner, so they can't wait until Rao puts me on a plinth. This was all bound to happen."
"We can't really roll it back, can we?" Jon asked, slightly resigned.
"Why should we? There's no problem with Anna's pictures. She runs her team as effectively as ever, and I pity the fool who tries something funny with her. About me? I've spoken to Rao. Her class isn't some 'stare at naked people' freak-show. She takes it very seriously, so the ladies will have to wait a long time until she comes to 'those topics', and by then all the people who are interested in her classes for the wrong reasons will have long since dropped out. And with only people in it who really do it for the artistic value, hell, if they want me naked on a dais, so be it. If I'm lucky, or unlucky, dependin' how you look at it, I might even get to pose in tandem with T'Pol."
He chuckled when Jon nearly dropped the bottle while handing it out to him. "T'Pol volunteered to pose for an art class? Naked?"
Trip waved the 'rescued' drink with a grin. "She's Vulcan. For her it's logical that if people find out that she doesn't look that much different than a human, they'll lose some of the apprehension they still have in dealing with her. You won't believe it: she even consented to have the pictures or statues of her displayed."
"Trip, we aren't running a nudist camp here," the Captain said in genuine horror; he was now plainly wondering what he'd let the ship in for when he'd appointed his two erring officers to their present posts. "We can't hang up naked paintings of our science officer or chief engineer on the walls. Was that Reed's idea?"
"'Course not," Trip said with a laugh, drowning a good part of his drink. "When it comes to art, Malcolm's as useless as a white crayon. Rao says there're some seriously talented people in her class. She wants to set up occasional art exhibitions in the conference room. Malcolm will keep tabs on attendance and only those who've shown real interest in all the displays will be allowed to attend exhibitions that display 'advanced work'. Think about it. Some aspects of humanity's first deep-space journey will be preserved as paintings and sculptures instead of just films and photos."
"Are there actually any recreational activities happening that involve all attendees keeping their clothes on?"
"Oh, plenty," Trip said and counted down the list with his fingers. "The weekend's card playing tournament cum beer piss-up of Mattes and Kriegel, the folk concert day after tomorrow, Malcolm's staging a monthly shootin' tournament – himself bein' hors de combat, of course, or he'd win the damn thing every time. Hoshi's teachin' Vulcan language classes. She's also offered to do a striptease at the Grand Opening of the Officers' Mess."
He'd added the latter on the spur of the moment, just to see the color drain from Jon's face. Since T'Pol had become friends (sort of) with the young comms officer, Malcolm and Hoshi had often joined them in the Mess Hall and a sort of 'regulars' table' had established itself there, with T'Pol, himself, T'Lara, Anna, Pat, Ri Than, Malcolm and Hoshi. And – of course T'Lara had not been present at the time – Hoshi had talked about her past exploits at STC and the true story behind her suspended discharge.
"Just kiddin' Jon," he added, trying to stop his friend from hyperventilating, as this seemed a distinct possibility. "There's plenty of stuff goin' on, but you read only the forum threads that have more than ten pages, and since we're all only human, well for most of us, a naked Chief, his naked XO or going skinny-dippin' in the pool is more excitin' to discuss than the declination of 'thyne logic' in Vulcan. Doesn't mean there aren't some people interested in the latter, though."
"This captaining business is messier than I thought," Jon said drily, and they clinked their bottles together.