CHAPTER 5;
A.W.O.L.
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was more tired than he thought was possible. He was heading back to his quarters after a long hard day's work at the tactical station on the bridge… where he had done nothing but run scans all day. Nothing had happened… again.
It was now close to midnight, and he was finding that it was a task to keep his eyes open. He would welcome a good night's sleep.
He heard a low noise from behind him, and he spun on his booted heels, glancing in all directions to try and locate the source of the noise, which had now disappeared entirely, as though it were never even there.
Hmm, he thought, maybe I imagined it.
He shrugged lightly, yawned, and turned to go back the way he had been heading, humming a quiet tune to himself.
He heard the noise once again. He whirled, and his eyes went wide.
"Oh shi-"
Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker woke up bright and early the next morning, his lights still on, as he had left them the night before. He had, in truth, only managed a few hours sleep, but felt wide awake, finding more sleep impossible to even think about.
He stretched refreshingly, and yawned slightly. He crawled out from under the covers, wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
He quickly dressed himself, and glanced at the time. It was five- thirty. He frowned, brow furrowing. It seemed later than that, so late in fact that he had originally thought upon waking that he was going to be late for his shift.
Oh well. Time for a little breakfast, he thought with a slight smile, wondering what there was on offer this morning.
He made his way to the mess hall after leaving his quarters, and turning off the lights that had been on all night long.
He ran a hand through his hair, realising he hadn't made as much of an effort to tidy it this morning. It didn't actually bother him that much right now, for some reason. He shrugged it off, and carried on his way.
He arrived at the mess hall after the brisk walk and turbolift ride, surprised to see quite a number of officers already eating breakfast.
He walked over to one of the small cabinets, opening it to find scrambled eggs.
He removed it, walking over to a table after fetching some coffee, seating himself alone.
He wasn't alone for long.
"Hi, Commander. Mind if I join you?"
Trip looked up to see Ensign Cutler, her pretty face wearing a friendly smile as usual, her dark blonde hair bobbing gracefully around her jaw.
He shook his head, giving her a smile of his own. "Sure. I don't mind. I could use the company."
Cutler laughed quietly, sitting opposite him, a small plate of toast and jam in her hand. She too had a steaming coffee.
Trip finished his eggs, and pushed the plate aside. "So…" he began, not quite sure what to say to the Ensign, "how are you?"
She smiled again, playing with the crust of her toast. "I'm great. Dr. Phlox is teaching me about the insect life on his home world. How about you?"
He nodded, a little more vigorously than he had intended. "I'm good. Heck, I've got an hour 'til my shift starts. I've not usually up this early with only a few hours sleep. I was always the kid who slept in durin' high school and college."
Cutler laughed. "I know what you mean. My brother was always sleeping the day away. I, on the other hand, was always up to watch the sun rise."
Trip cocked his head inquisitively. "Really? Sunrises must seem kinda dull to you now, then, huh?"
"Are you kidding?" she asked, her voice gentle and welcoming. "Each one is different. I kinda miss them all the way out here though." She sighed, her smile falling a little as she glanced longingly out of the window.
Trip felt a little sorry for Cutler. She was the friendliest officer on this ship, and she was generally overlooked by most people who didn't work with her. Cutler had even tried to befriend T'Pol on one of their earlier missions, and Trip had advised her against it, as it was usually useless to try and get through to the Vulcan science officer.
Cutler looked back to him, her smile having returned.
Trip sighed, and decided to ask what had been running through his mind since the Ensign had sat down opposite him; "Do you know a Crewman Matheson?"
Cutler looked deep in thought for a few moments, before she shook her head in genuine denial. "I don't think I've met them before, sir."
Trip nodded. Maybe I should make sure the person actually exists before I accept any dinner invitations, he thought with another sigh.
Porthos had woken Jonathan Archer from slumber with three shrill barks, and a pine. He wanted a walk… as usual.
Jon had now been awake for twenty minutes, having taken a short shower and gotten himself dressed in slacks and T-shirt. He would change into his uniform once he got back from taking Porthos out for a short stroll round the ship.
For some reason Porthos was more at home on Enterprise than he had been in San Francisco. He loved to just trot around after Jon through the corridors, and he got excited every time he rode in a turbolift.
He wasn't too keen on the sickbay though. The last time he had visited Phlox, he had had to have a jab in the scruff of the neck.
That should have taught Jon to keep away the cheddar.
It hadn't. Porthos had already had two small pieces this morning, in the short span of time Jon had been awake.
"Okay, buddy," he said to the beagle, "let's go."
Porthos barked happily, but after Jon put a finger to his lips, he quickly silenced his excitement.
Jon stepped out of his quarters, and was followed shortly after by the happy-go-lucky dog.
They were soon walking down random corridors, just enjoying the easy- going exercise. Porthos had stopped to sniff a couple of bulkheads along the way, but when he stopped altogether, Jon turned back to him.
"Porthos?" he said, curious as to what had the young dog so fascinated.
He heard footsteps from around the corner, and when he turned his head, he saw Trip emerge around the bend.
"Hey, Cap'n. Takin' Porthos for a walk?" the Chief Engineer wondered, stopping by the side of the Captain, who was still looking at Porthos.
"Yeah. Feeling better?" Jon returned, not looking back at his Commander.
Porthos was staring intently at a small section of the bulkhead, his brown-eyed gaze switching briefly, and then let out a loud, sad pine.
That worried Jon. Porthos was never usually upset like this. Something had the little dog troubled.
Jon walked over, followed closely by Trip, and they both crouched down to the dog's level.
"What's the matter with him?" Trip inquired, giving Porthos a gentle scratch behind the ear.
"I'm not sure. Something's got him troubled." Jon scooped the dog up, and began making a mild fuss over him. "There, there, boy. It's okay. What's wrong with you this morning, hey?"
"Er… Jon?" cam the sound of Trip's worried voice, as the Commander stared at where Porthos had been fixed.
"What it is?" Jon asked, not looking, petting his dog instead.
Trip touched his fingers to the bulkhead lightly, bringing them away crimson with blood.
A.W.O.L.
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was more tired than he thought was possible. He was heading back to his quarters after a long hard day's work at the tactical station on the bridge… where he had done nothing but run scans all day. Nothing had happened… again.
It was now close to midnight, and he was finding that it was a task to keep his eyes open. He would welcome a good night's sleep.
He heard a low noise from behind him, and he spun on his booted heels, glancing in all directions to try and locate the source of the noise, which had now disappeared entirely, as though it were never even there.
Hmm, he thought, maybe I imagined it.
He shrugged lightly, yawned, and turned to go back the way he had been heading, humming a quiet tune to himself.
He heard the noise once again. He whirled, and his eyes went wide.
"Oh shi-"
Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker woke up bright and early the next morning, his lights still on, as he had left them the night before. He had, in truth, only managed a few hours sleep, but felt wide awake, finding more sleep impossible to even think about.
He stretched refreshingly, and yawned slightly. He crawled out from under the covers, wiping the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
He quickly dressed himself, and glanced at the time. It was five- thirty. He frowned, brow furrowing. It seemed later than that, so late in fact that he had originally thought upon waking that he was going to be late for his shift.
Oh well. Time for a little breakfast, he thought with a slight smile, wondering what there was on offer this morning.
He made his way to the mess hall after leaving his quarters, and turning off the lights that had been on all night long.
He ran a hand through his hair, realising he hadn't made as much of an effort to tidy it this morning. It didn't actually bother him that much right now, for some reason. He shrugged it off, and carried on his way.
He arrived at the mess hall after the brisk walk and turbolift ride, surprised to see quite a number of officers already eating breakfast.
He walked over to one of the small cabinets, opening it to find scrambled eggs.
He removed it, walking over to a table after fetching some coffee, seating himself alone.
He wasn't alone for long.
"Hi, Commander. Mind if I join you?"
Trip looked up to see Ensign Cutler, her pretty face wearing a friendly smile as usual, her dark blonde hair bobbing gracefully around her jaw.
He shook his head, giving her a smile of his own. "Sure. I don't mind. I could use the company."
Cutler laughed quietly, sitting opposite him, a small plate of toast and jam in her hand. She too had a steaming coffee.
Trip finished his eggs, and pushed the plate aside. "So…" he began, not quite sure what to say to the Ensign, "how are you?"
She smiled again, playing with the crust of her toast. "I'm great. Dr. Phlox is teaching me about the insect life on his home world. How about you?"
He nodded, a little more vigorously than he had intended. "I'm good. Heck, I've got an hour 'til my shift starts. I've not usually up this early with only a few hours sleep. I was always the kid who slept in durin' high school and college."
Cutler laughed. "I know what you mean. My brother was always sleeping the day away. I, on the other hand, was always up to watch the sun rise."
Trip cocked his head inquisitively. "Really? Sunrises must seem kinda dull to you now, then, huh?"
"Are you kidding?" she asked, her voice gentle and welcoming. "Each one is different. I kinda miss them all the way out here though." She sighed, her smile falling a little as she glanced longingly out of the window.
Trip felt a little sorry for Cutler. She was the friendliest officer on this ship, and she was generally overlooked by most people who didn't work with her. Cutler had even tried to befriend T'Pol on one of their earlier missions, and Trip had advised her against it, as it was usually useless to try and get through to the Vulcan science officer.
Cutler looked back to him, her smile having returned.
Trip sighed, and decided to ask what had been running through his mind since the Ensign had sat down opposite him; "Do you know a Crewman Matheson?"
Cutler looked deep in thought for a few moments, before she shook her head in genuine denial. "I don't think I've met them before, sir."
Trip nodded. Maybe I should make sure the person actually exists before I accept any dinner invitations, he thought with another sigh.
Porthos had woken Jonathan Archer from slumber with three shrill barks, and a pine. He wanted a walk… as usual.
Jon had now been awake for twenty minutes, having taken a short shower and gotten himself dressed in slacks and T-shirt. He would change into his uniform once he got back from taking Porthos out for a short stroll round the ship.
For some reason Porthos was more at home on Enterprise than he had been in San Francisco. He loved to just trot around after Jon through the corridors, and he got excited every time he rode in a turbolift.
He wasn't too keen on the sickbay though. The last time he had visited Phlox, he had had to have a jab in the scruff of the neck.
That should have taught Jon to keep away the cheddar.
It hadn't. Porthos had already had two small pieces this morning, in the short span of time Jon had been awake.
"Okay, buddy," he said to the beagle, "let's go."
Porthos barked happily, but after Jon put a finger to his lips, he quickly silenced his excitement.
Jon stepped out of his quarters, and was followed shortly after by the happy-go-lucky dog.
They were soon walking down random corridors, just enjoying the easy- going exercise. Porthos had stopped to sniff a couple of bulkheads along the way, but when he stopped altogether, Jon turned back to him.
"Porthos?" he said, curious as to what had the young dog so fascinated.
He heard footsteps from around the corner, and when he turned his head, he saw Trip emerge around the bend.
"Hey, Cap'n. Takin' Porthos for a walk?" the Chief Engineer wondered, stopping by the side of the Captain, who was still looking at Porthos.
"Yeah. Feeling better?" Jon returned, not looking back at his Commander.
Porthos was staring intently at a small section of the bulkhead, his brown-eyed gaze switching briefly, and then let out a loud, sad pine.
That worried Jon. Porthos was never usually upset like this. Something had the little dog troubled.
Jon walked over, followed closely by Trip, and they both crouched down to the dog's level.
"What's the matter with him?" Trip inquired, giving Porthos a gentle scratch behind the ear.
"I'm not sure. Something's got him troubled." Jon scooped the dog up, and began making a mild fuss over him. "There, there, boy. It's okay. What's wrong with you this morning, hey?"
"Er… Jon?" cam the sound of Trip's worried voice, as the Commander stared at where Porthos had been fixed.
"What it is?" Jon asked, not looking, petting his dog instead.
Trip touched his fingers to the bulkhead lightly, bringing them away crimson with blood.