Chapter 3

(See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer)

****

After dinner, Trip meandered down to the movie. They were showing a classic, Star Wars, and that was all he'd needed to say to convince Malcolm and Travis to meet him. He found them waiting inside for him and he thankfully took the seat they'd saved. The room was packed.

"Hey, ya'll. Thanks for holdin' a place for me. For once, they're showin' somethin' I really want to see."

"I quite agree," Malcolm said, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not much for most of your American tales, but this movie never disappoints."

"I know," Travis told them, leaning around Malcolm. "When I was kid, I used to love this movie. Always liked to pretend I was Luke Skywalker."

Trip grinned. "Not me. I was Han Solo."

"I always fancied myself as Han Solo. Or maybe a young Obi-Wan," Malcolm said, smiling.

"Really? I would've guessed you for R2-D2," Trip said. He tried to keep a straight face, but failed.

Malcolm glared at him. "Is that a height joke?" he demanded.

"I was thinking Darth Vader," Travis intervened, ever the peacekeeper.

Malcolm looked pleased.

"Yeah, I could see that," Trip decided. "If anybody'd give in to the Dark Side, it'd be you."

Malcolm attempted to look annoyed, but ended up grinning and rolling his eyes. All three men laughed and settled in as the lights dimmed.

****

Just as the Rebels were launching an attack on the Death Star, Trip noticed a change in the room. As usual, a few people had left during the course of the film, and others had moved to fill their seats. Very slowly, Trip became aware of an intoxicating scent—soap. Funny, he'd didn't remember soap ever smelling, well, so damn erotic. His heart rate started to increase. His face felt warm. Glancing beside him, he saw that Malcolm and Travis were both shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

A hand tapped him on his shoulder.

"Commander," Ensign Cutler whispered, "would you mind changing seats with me? I'm having trouble seeing over you."

"Oh, um, of course." Trip stood up, slumping low, and moved into the row behind him. He fumbled around Cutler in the dark while she moved into his chair. Eyes still on the screen, he dropped into her vacated seat.

There, he found himself pressed shoulder to knee with a very warm body and the source of the soap smell.

He knew without turning his head that it was Hoshi. His body's reaction made that clear. The two of them sat silently while Trip pretended to watch the movie. He could hear her—feel her—breathing softly. His breath sped up in time with hers.

Ahead of them, Cutler whispered to Malcolm, their bent heads outlined by the screen.

Against Trip's body, Hoshi shifted in her seat and sighed a little. He swallowed. He'd never noticed these uniforms were so uncomfortably tight before. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

He saw that Travis was no longer watching the screen. The Ensign's head was turned to a pretty crewmember beside him.

"This is my favorite part," a quiet voice whispered in Trip's ear. She had moved even closer to speak; her breath touched his ear.

Onscreen, Luke Skywalker was listening to the voice of Ben Kenobi and preparing to save the day. When Skywalker hit his mark, Hoshi gave an excited little gasp and grabbed Trip's upper thigh.

Trip shot out of his seat. He knew the polite thing would be to make some excuse, but with the kind of images in his head right now, he didn't trust himself to speak. Instead he rushed from the room.

Out in the corridor, he stopped and braced one arm against the wall. He was breathing hard, his uniform had gotten uncomfortably snug, and his face was as hot as if he'd been exercising. He was being bombarded with images of warm skin, dark hair, long legs…STOP IT, he told himself firmly. These are not the thoughts a Commander should be having about an Ensign. Hell, she can't be more than 24 or 25, nearly ten years younger than me. What is wrong with me? I'm a pervert, that's what. Yep. That's the only answer. I've been without a woman for way too long, and now I've crossed into deranged territory.

Strangely satisfied with that analysis, Trip stood up straight. Behind him, the door opened. Crap. He turned around. Hoshi was watching him with a…feral glint in her eye. He did a double take. Yeah, definitely feral.

"Don't you like the movie?" she asked. She took a step towards him. He took two back. She grinned.

"Movie's fine. Just remembered I, uh, was supposed to…be somewhere…" Trip's voice trailed off. She hadn't moved but he had the feeling she was closing in on him again.

"That's too bad. I was actually thinking of going for a snack after this…I was hoping you'd join me, Charlie. Do you mind if I call you Charlie?"

Trip decided to put up a strong front. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to look casual. "Um, sure." Damn. Great, Tucker, very confident.

"Sure I can call you Charlie or sure you'd like to have a…snack… with me?" He lost his train of thought as he watched the way her mouth formed the word 'snack'.

"What?" he asked, trying to focus again.

Hoshi stepped very close to him. He held his ground this time. Strong front. She tilted her head to the side and smiled sweetly, looking up into his face. "I asked you if you're hungry, Charlie."

Trip swayed forward just a little…and Travis and Malcolm burst through the door behind Hoshi. Both men had a hunted look in their eyes, but they stopped short when they saw the Commander standing inches from Ensign Sato.

"Commander?" Malcolm barked. He seemed decidedly nervous.

Trip jumped back, his gaze moving to the men.

"We were just going for some exercise. Care to join us?" Travis said, voice unnaturally high.

"God, yeah," Trip muttered. He did an about face and fell in with the scurrying men, leaving Hoshi standing.

"I'll see you later," she called after him softly.

Cold shower, he thought. Exercise and then a nice, long, icy shower.