Title: Review

By: Chibi-Kaz

Summary: Quicky drabble that leaped into my brain last night.

Rating: G

Shippage: R/S friendship

Spoilers: Pretty much the first season, and occurs concurrent or just after "Carbon Creek."

It was nearly the end of the Beta shift when Lt. Malcolm Reed wandered into the Mess Hall. He expected to be alone at this hour, nearly 2300, but a single figure sat hunched over a pile of PADDs on a table. With a wince for recognizing his own tendencies for late-night obsessive behavior, Malcolm grabbed a bottled-water and wandered over. To his amazement, there sat Ensign Hoshi Sato, so intent on whatever she was doing she didn't even hear him approach.

"Ensign?"

No response.

"Ensign?" This time he tapped her shoulder.

She jumped and gasped, her hand jerking hard enough to send several PADDs sliding off the table onto the floor. "Ah! Lieutenant!"

"Beg your pardon, Ensign. I didn't mean to scare you!"

Laughing nervously, she waved off his apology. "Don't worry about it."

Malcolm knelt to help her gather up the PADDs again. Glancing at one, he paused. "These are the readings you did on that, er, sentient spider web."

She smiled tightly. "I'm trying to incorporate the algorithms T'Pol used into the UT's basic programming."

Malcolm accepted the PADD she handed him and took a seat. He scanned the data, but shook his head. "Sorry, you've gotten a bit beyond me here. I'm not following the linguistics. I never even passed French." His quip earned another tight smile.

"Yes, well, I'm having a hard time too, and I'd hate to go to T'Pol for help…."

"Why ever not?"

The ensign grimaced. "I don't want to seem incompetent. So I spend my nights….. putting myself out of work!" Her voice was thick with bitterness and frustration.

Malcolm blinked in surprise. He'd never seen Ensign Sato so grim or depressed. Looking closely, he noticed signs of sleep deprivation in her face, along with a desperation he'd never noticed before. He had thought the whole crew had recovered from the Suliban occupation. Moved to offer some comfort, he reached over and covered her hand with his. "You know, everything is all right now."

She gave him an ironic look. "Well, sure, YOU've got nothing to worry about. The rest of us are on the line."

"I beg your pardon?!?"

"Oh, come on, Malcolm, you've saved the ship and the crew what, a dozen times so far? You're obviously essential, but us lower types…."

Sitting back, Malcolm could only stare. "I'm sorry Ensign, but you've lost me."

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you don't know."

Malcolm shook his head. Something was really bothering her, and he was supposed to know what it was. "I'm afraid I really don't know. Explain it to me." He gave her a half-grin. "Pretend I'm an idiot, and explain it slowly."

This time Hoshi shook her head. "I'm upgrading the UT. Staff meeting are daily. Burns says we're within three weeks of the Columbia, and tells me I'm working myself out of a job. C'mon, I know you're smarter than this."

"What's Foot-in-Mouth talking about with the Columbia?" Malcolm was still lost.

"Foot-in-Mouth?"

"Right, Crewman Foot-in-Mouth Burns. That's what Myers calls him. Because Burns always says the stupidest things. How would he…?" Speaking of feet, the other shoe dropped in Malcolm's brain.

"Wait, are you talking about the annual reviews?"

"Welcome to the conversation." Her expression resembled T'Pol's patented eye-brow-raise.

"I think I understand. Everyone's nervous about the reviews. Everyone thinks we're going to rendezvous with the Columbia for personnel changes." That explained some of the mutterings he'd overheard during the last few days. "But, I still don't see what's bothering you so much, Ensign."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sitting up late, busting my back over the UT, so I look good, when in fact, if I improve the UT enough, the Enterprise won't need a linguist!" Her expression challenged him to deny that theorem.

Malcolm chuckled a little. "And you accuse me of saving the ship! How many times have you ignored the UT and just tackled the language on your own?"

She shrugged. "A few."

Smiling now, Malcolm said "And who figured out how to jam the Tandaran system to hide a transporter signature?"

Hoshi's lips twisted a bit. "Me."

"Who figured out how to read Klingon on a dying ship, when the UT only concerns itself with speech?"

She didn't reply, merely looked down at the table.

"One more: Who was right when that spider web thing absorbed the Captain, Trip and three more crewmembers?" He smiled fondly at the top of her head. "You know, the more we explore, the more we need you! After all, no one has made a computer as good as a human brain, and no UT beats your skill. And Comm Officer is a permanent position." Part of him winced at the weakness of his cheering abilities, while another prayed it worked.

Finally, Hoshi looked up and smiled at him, a glint of tears in her eyes. "Thanks, Malcolm."

"Here, now, don't cry." He handed her a napkin snagged from a neighboring table.

Hoshi laughed, this time less bitterly. "You're sweet, you know that?"

"That's one I've never been before."

Hoshi laughed again in response. "Well you are." With a sigh, she started to gather up the PADDs. "Thanks to you, I might actually get some sleep tonight."

"Would you like some assistance with those?"

"No, I'm ok. Now." She wrapped her arms around the pile of PADDs. "Good night, Malcolm. Thanks again."

"Good night, Ensign."

She paused. "Hoshi."

Obediently, he repeated, "Good night, Hoshi." She graced him with a grin and left. Malcolm turned in his chair and contemplated the view of speeding stars. Hoshi. He wondered if she knew her shampoo smelled like pineapples.

END