…
Travis felt quite proud of himself. Sure, he was never first in line to go on away missions and meet alien babes. And sure, he was taken for granted. But he had his moments of genius.
Like this one.
One little unimportant ensign had managed to bring the entire ship to its knees. And there was a perfect phrase for it: controlled pandemonium. Or was it pandeminium? He never was that good in English…
"Hey Travis. Is it too late to schedule dinner?" asked Crewman Cartwright. Travis whipped out his PADD and entered his security code. Up came a complex table filled with names, rooms and food.
"If you are lucky, Rostov should be free," Travis replied. He smiled at the young crewman.
"Is, well, you know… Hess cooking anything?" Cartwright asked, discreetly flashing some credits in his hand.
"Hmm… Let me see…There is one more spot… Yup, you got lucky," Travis said. Cartwright extended his hand to shake, and Travis felt the credits slip into his hand.
"Thanks Travis. If you ever need anything from down in my part of the ship, you just say the word," Cartwright said. He walked out of the turbo lift into one of Enterprise many corridors.
Travis was definitely proud of himself. Who would've thought that a lowly ensign could achieve powers only a drug lord usually had? Who would have thought that Travis would organise a system where those with hotplates cooked for those who didn't? And all for a small fee, of course.
This is why he had helped Hoshi and Malcolm. Sure, he sympathised with them. Actually, he didn't sympathise that much. A few days of free vacation all because the captain thought that they made a cute couple. But no, they just couldn't accept that. They had to get all revengeful. Well, at least Travis was getting something out of all this.
He really had to stop looking so smug if he was going to face the captain.
He felt the turbo lift slow to a stop, then shake slightly as it aligned itself. The doors glided open and he strode out. His trip was interrupted three times by people wanting a hot dinner. Finally, he reached the mess hall.
Travis's system had done much to alleviate the situation, but it was still chaos in the kitchen.
"Captain? The reports you wanted." Travis handed the Captain two PADDs, before standing back and waiting to be dismissed.
"All right Mr. Mayweather. Tell the bridge crew not to get comfortable in my chair, 'cause we'll be done soon," Archer joked. Travis laughed with him briefly, before being dismissed.
He strode out of the doors on his way back to his quarters. He, unlike the rest of the crew, was happy to eat cold sandwiches with whatever he could find. But his scheme was surprisingly successful. Maybe he should arrange for the repairs to take longer, so that he could enjoy his 15-minutes of fame.
And per Travis's wishes, the lights went out.
…
Hoshi and Malcolm looked apprehensively at the lights, waiting for them to go back on.
"Bloody hell," muttered Malcolm. "Of all times to be invaded." He hurried over to the comm. panel.
"Lieutenant Reed to the Bridge."
There was a moment of uneasy silence as he waited for a response.
He repeated, "Lieutenant Reed to the Bridge."
The panel crackled back, "Yeah, this is the Bridge, Lieutenant. Everything alright?
"No, everything is not 'alright'. Why are the lights no working?"
There was a pause, as the bridge crew double checked what he was telling them. Then, the lights brightened to their normal luminosity.
"Sorry about that, sir. First the kitchen started malfunctioning, and then the lights started acting up. Won't happen again, sir," the crewmen said. Malcolm felt like adding "It blood well won't," but refrained. He was actually happy; Hoshi's little plan was working.
"Reed out." Malcolm turned to Hoshi, who was giggling at her mischief.
"Well, I hope you've had your fun," he told her.
"Fun? Hey, those guys tried to mess with us. Now we strike back," she said defiantly, with her hands on her hips. She tried to keep a straight face, but giggles surfaced. "Can you imagine Trip and the Captain running around?"
Malcolm could imagine the Captain and Trip running around trying to fix objects which were not even broken. He suppressed a chuckle at the thought. But Hoshi's revenge was too crude. It needed more finesse.
"A child could break something. We…"
"Are you calling me a child, Malcolm?" Hoshi crossed her arms. The nerve of Malcolm to call her a child! "Do you have a better idea, sir?" she asked in anticipation of Malcolm ceding that he was wrong.
To her shock, he announced, "As a matter of fact, I do."
…
