Lieutenant Reed looked up from the simulations board with a surprised expression.
Naturally there were occasions when his superior officer had to visit the Armoury. They'd worked in it together on many occasions when the chief engineer's expertise was called for. As a good friend, as well as a brother officer, Trip was always welcome (except, of course, on those occasions when he dropped by to exercise what he probably fondly imagined to be his wit at the Brit's expense).
On this occasion, however, he didn't look as though he'd called in either to make helpful suggestions about the weapons systems, to discuss arcane engineering issues, or even to have a go at getting a rise out of his favourite victim over what he knew, or suspected, about ongoing issues between him and Ensign Hoshi Sato.
Malcolm knew the look of a hunted man. And right now, to judge by his expression, Trip Tucker was a very hunted man.
"If anyone asks, Malcolm, I'm not here, right?"
"I can't very well modify the internal sensors to make you invisible, Commander." Well, he probably could, though it would take some doing, but there were a lot of regulations that said he shouldn't – the sort of regulations that would involve formal reprimands for breaking them. And the captain would certainly demand some serious explanations if he did. Besides, if Trip wanted that kind of thing done, he had the expertise to do it himself.
The chief engineer flattened himself against the wall as though removing himself from the line of sight of anybody who might look in through the door. "I'm hopin' she can't access the ship's sensors."
"'She'?" asked Reed, puzzled.
Trip ran a hand through his already badly rumpled hair. "Feezal."
Malcolm frowned. "Phlox's wife? What have you done to upset her?"
"I haven't upset her, Malcolm. I've been a total gentleman! But – geez, she's practically throwin' herself at me! In front of Phlox!"
"Oh, come on, Trip." Oops, I'm on duty. That should be 'Commander'. Oh well, this isn't exactly an official conversation. "It's probably just that she's Denobulan. They're just very friendly."
"I know the difference between friendly and flirty." Tucker scowled. "She's a married woman, for God's sake, and he's the MO on my ship! Considerin' how often I end up in Sickbay, the last thing I want to do is hand him a grudge – even if I was the sort of guy who mixes it with married women. Which I'm not!" he added defiantly.
This was far too good an opportunity to pass up. With only a fleeting pang of compunction, Malcolm began turning the thumbscrews. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
The other man blinked rather suspiciously at him. "Granted."
He coughed, shifted position slightly to look uneasy, and said with a well-simulated air of concern, "Well ... actually, I think you may be becoming slightly delusional, Commander."
"Whaddaya mean, 'delusional'?" The scowl was back, but now aimed in his direction, as opposed to thin air.
"Well, I don't think you've ever recovered from getting pregnant without knowing it, sir." He folded his arms, and kept his face straight with an effort. "Now you're subconsciously thinking every woman who tries to be friendly with you is trying to impregnate you."
"Are you tryin' to be funny, Loo-tenant?" Trip glared at him.
Yes, and I've got you right by the balls. Now all I have to do is twist. "You must admit, sir, on the surface, it's not very likely. I'm sure Mrs Phlox is a perfectly respectable woman. She's hardly likely to be pursuing one of her husband's fellow-officers with dishonourable intentions. Especially when the doctor is actually present."
"But she..."
"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding on your part, sir." His voice was as smooth as cream. "Perfectly understandable. In the circumstances."
The chief engineer opened his mouth and then shut it again. His glare doubled in wattage. "I am not imaginin' that Feezal is after my butt!"
"Doctor Phlox was kind enough to introduce her to me. Very pleasant woman. But I must admit she didn't give me the impression of being ... randomly amorous."
"You weren't the one who was tryin' to install that new microscope and keep your damned distance from a determined woman tryin' to get into your coverall with you at the same time!" hooted Trip.
"Well, I don't know, sir. If it's got to that point I really would consider having a word with Doctor Phlox."
"I can't go tellin' the man that his wife's tryin' it on with me!"
"That's not what I meant, sir. It was more that if you're that badly mentally affected, he really ought to know. If it gets any worse, it might affect your performance in Engineering. You might start believing members of your staff are trying to make inappropriate advances to you as well." He knew he was a past master at the limpid stare of innocence; now he delivered it at maximum yield. "I believe it's even making you imagine there's some sort of totally inappropriate relationship between myself and Ensign Sato! I'm sure if the doctor was aware of the problem he could do something about it."
"Malcolm," said Trip dangerously.
"Sir?"
"If you don't quit your smart-ass act, so help me God I'm gonna stuff you into one of your torpedoes and shoot you into space!"
He recoiled theatrically. "If it's leading you into making inappropriate threats against junior officers as well as suspecting respectable females are making inappropriate advances to you, sir, I really do respectfully suggest – "
"An' I suggest you and your damned advice both go take a flyin' leap outta the nearest airlock!" Too exasperated to endure the wilful misunderstanding for a moment longer, Tucker whisked around and made a rapid exit. Evidently the threat of being ambushed by Feezal was preferable to enduring the torture that his friend was gleefully inflicting on him.
Malcolm waited until the sound of footsteps had retreated up the corridor.
Then, and only then, did he start to laugh.