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"Sweet home alabama…oh, sweet home…lord…" A butt, covered in black grease just like the rest of the body it was attached to, twitched in time with some off-key singing.
A slim hand reached around the corner of the workroom door, flipping off the switch on the radio. "Trip?"
"Yes, darlin'?" he danced over, moving to the beat in his own head, and turned the radio back on.
She stepped inside the cluttered room. "Can I ask what's sitting on my antique cherry dining room table?"
Trip wiggled over to her, still singing under his breath. He grabbed her into his arms and started dancing her around the room. "That's a model of a new phase cannon that Malcolm and I are developing…lord, I'm comin' home to you."
"It's oily. And it's on my table. The one we have to eat dinner on in less than an hour?"
"I've got you covered, sugar." As the song ended, he dropped her into a low dip and pulled her back up. "I put a towel under it." The doorbell rang. With a charming smile, he walked past her into the house. As he passed, he gave her a playful slap on her rear. She jumped and squeaked; he chuckled.
He threw open the front door and shouted, "Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit! Jon, you never said you were bringing such a beautiful guest with you for dinner."
She walked around the corner and stopped dead. Jon stepped inside, pulling his date with him. "Trip, this is Myra Oslow. Myra, this is Trip Tucker and his wife, Hoshi Sato. Hoshi, you remember Myra, don't you?"
"You two know each other?" Hoshi's husband asked curiously, blissfully oblivious to the women's silent appraisal of each other.
"Yes. We were in the same class at Starfleet."
"Well, ain't that interestin'," Trip smiled happily. He had an innocent way of looking at a woman like she was the only one in the room. At the moment, he was giving Myra that earnest look. "Why don't you all come in and sit down?"
In the living room, he flopped down on the couch. Hoshi closed her eyes briefly, picturing the black stains that were no doubt forming under his butt.
Myra and Jon sat in the chairs across from him, leaving the space beside Trip open. "Snuggle up, sweet lips," he said, patting the seat. After a quick prayer asking for protection of her favorite white suit, she did. Trip wrapped a grubby arm around her shoulders.
"So you and my girl went to the Academy together, huh? You know, she was second in her class in Linguistics."
Myra smiled politely. "I know."
Hoshi smiled just as politely. "Myra was first."
"Oh. Huh."
"What did you do after graduation, Hoshi?" Myra inquired.
"I was the Communications officer on Enterprise."
"Oh, really? I hadn't heard that." Myra was disinterested.
Jon started to say something, but Trip cut him off. "Oh yeah! That's how we met, right darlin'? You shoulda seen her, too. The first few months nobody thought she was gonna make it, 'cept Jon of course. She was always screaming or claustrophobic—she hated space. But I straightened her out, right hon?"
Jon coughed.
"Yes, Hoshi was a lifesaver on many occasions. One time she even…"
Trip laughed.
"Oh yeah. She was a big help that time she threw up all over that Fresjuam ambassador. Remember that Jon? We were all sitting there enjoying a quiet meal when Hoshi starts puking like there's no tomorrow. What was that nickname we gave you, babe?" Trip continued to heartily laugh.
"Trip," Jon said, a warning in his voice.
"Oh wait, I remember! Heavin' Hoshi!" Trip cackled.
"Yes, good times," Hoshi said tightly. "Coffee anyone?" She was up and out of the room before they could answer.
In the kitchen, Hoshi reached for coffee cups in the cabinet. She pushed aside several forgotten pieces of an old Tucker project and grabbed the cups. She reached for the coffeepot; it was half full of a black, oily substance. Turning to the sink, she found it full of metal, stacked so high that she couldn't fit the coffeepot under the spout.
Trip strode into the kitchen, Jon on his heels. "Hey, baby, is the coffee ready yet?"
"No, Trip. There are parts in the sink. There are parts in the cabinets. There is OIL in my COFFEEPOT."
"Oh. Sorry 'bout that, sweetie. I meant to get that cleaned up earlier…"
She reached for the sprayer on the side of the sink, and started hosing out the coffeepot. "Hoshi," she said calmly.
"What's that, darlin'?"
She turned around to face them. "Hoshi. My name is Hoshi. Not 'darlin''. Not sweetie, sugar, honeypot, baby, pookie, sweet cheeks, or lover."
Trip eyed her curiously. "Right…anyway, will the coffee be ready soon?"
Behind him, Jon shook his head and ran his hand over his face to cover his smile. Then he leaped out of the way as Hoshi turned the sprayer on Trip. The water hit Trip full in the face, causing him to bellow, "Hoshi!!!"
"Oh, good, you do remember." She continued to spray him as he dashed around the room, slipping and sliding. In the corner, Jon roared with laughter. Hoshi turned her eye on him. "Myra Oslow?" She nailed him in the ear, causing him to fall down with surprise.
A soaked Trip guffawed and pointed. Hoshi alternated the water between them. They began to move in on her, holding out their hands to protect themselves. She backed away, laughing now.
Finally, Trip made a mad dash for her. Only to slip in a puddle of water and slide past her, falling on his back and cracking his head. He sat up, holding his head and laughing. "That hurt! Oh, mama…"
Lying in their cell, Hoshi's eyes opened again. "Mama…" She turned her head to the source of the sound. "Mama…" Trip was curled into a ball on his bench, clutching his pillow like a teddy bear. Fast asleep, he was calling softly for his mama.
Oh, for God's sake. Hoshi sat up. She wasn't willing to risk going to sleep again—no telling what nightmares might be lurking this time. Resting her head back against the wall, she waited.