"So what is your master plan?" Hoshi said, with an edge to her voice.

            Malcolm motioned for her to sit down, as if they were student and teacher. She remained standing. Malcolm started regardless.

            "Revenge can come in many forms. There is the classical sabotage. This accomplishes nothing other than pandemonium. Then there is reciprocal revenge. Where the accused gets "a taste of their own medicine." Amusing, but clichéd. And in our current position, we would be unable to enjoy it." Malcolm's tone grew to that of a lecturer. He was beginning to enjoy himself.

            He mimicked a lawyer's mannerisms. "I would now like to refer to the example of the hackers of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, or MIT." He tossed Hoshi a PADD. "Not hackers in the computer sense. There were pranksters. But their pranks were characterised by their originality, as well as the fact that they cause no permanent damage."

            "I've heard of them," Hoshi said, putting the PADD down. "Still, what's the plan?"

            "Nothing grand. Just small things." Malcolm tossed Hoshi another PADD.

            Hoshi smiled. And reminded herself never to get on Malcolm's black list.

            "How are the repairs coming, Trip?" Jon asked. Trip had been down in the mess hall the entire day. Strangely, the crew seemed largely unaffected by the lack of food.

            "Almost done. Looking at it, I'm not even sure what was wrong in the first place. I mean, all the parts work. Just not together. Probably just some fuse."

            "Good. I was just checking on Malcolm and Hoshi. They're fine," he replied to Trip's interrupted interjection, "They've been reading, working and sleeping. You know how they like reading. And how Malcolm never stops working."

            "Poor Hoshi. I bet Malcolm isn't such great company. I'm starting to wonder if this was such a good idea," Trip said.

            "At worst, they'll become better friends," Jon said.

            "As long as nothing else goes wrong, I'll be happy."

            Just then, music began to play over across the ship. More precisely, the Beatle's "Paperback writer".

            Jon and Trip exchanged looks and headed to the bridge.

            "That should do it, Captain," Trip said, as the music ended. It had taken two Beatles songs, three by Elvis, and one by someone called Eminem for the ship to fall back into silence.

            "What was the problem?"

            "Some software glitch. Probably fallout from the kitchen catastrophe."

            "Captain," started T'Pol, "there appears to be an environmental irregularity in Commander Tucker's cabin."

            Jon was expecting this in some strange way. He was beginning to wonder if some strange alien life form was toying with them

            "Trip," he said, and then they left for the next disaster area.

            They missed Travis's knowing smirk.

            "OK, you're good," said Hoshi to Malcolm as the music stopped. "Although I think your music choice could have been better."

            "If you think you can do better…"

            "Wait and see."

            "Wait, they've discovered Trip's surprise."

            Jon and Trip clunked forward through the corridors, feeling weirdly out of place.

            "Captain, are these really necessary? T'Pol said that the air was fine."

            "Trip, you can never be too careful in these situations."

            They came to Trip's simple door, and looked at each other in anticipation. Trip punched in his access code three times, as well as he could manage with his clumsy gloves. Finally, the door opened.

            Neither of them had expected the sight in front of them. They had been invaded by white slimy aliens, large lobed aliens, wisps, but never this.

            "So, Captain, what does the Starfleet handbook say about dealing with foam invasions?"

            In front of them the room was filled with foam. White, bubbly foam, originating from Trip's bathroom.

            Jon was the first to step in. But his steps faltered, and he slipped right into the pile of forth.

            "Trip? A little help please?"

            He could hear Trip's chuckles, and felt himself laughing. Were it not for the EVA suit, he could be completely buried in foam. He could feel Trip's now magnetised boots clunk against the floor as the approached. And then he heard the steps pause, and a definite thud against the ground.

            "Trip?"

            "Sorry… Um, Cap? Some help please? I can't move my feet."

            Jon hauled himself up, and carefully approached the rift in the landscape of foam. He first undid the magnetisation of Trip's boots, before helping him up. They steadied each other and tried to move towards the open doorway, which was quickly being filled up by curious crewmen. Some with cameras.

            "Trip? Wasn't this part of the ship locked down?" Jon said as a camera flashed in his face.

            "Umm, it was… I thought." Trip started to shout at the crewmen to leave, only to be muffled by the helmet of his suit.

            "Excuse me sir, I can't understand what you are trying to say," said one the spectators, before taking another shoot of the Commander and Captain falling over.

            "I think he was saying that he wanted us to get T'Pol," a crewman giggled.

            Several people left, wanting to able to capture the Sub-Commander's face when they told her about this.

            "We should stop now."

            "What do you mean?"

            "We simply cannot continue doing this."

            "But it's such a nice distraction. Remember, we have to entertain ourselves for the next day and a half. Besides, you are so good at this, Malcolm." Hoshi knew how to work Malcolm through his pride. But her flawless technique faltered now.

            "It's becoming ridiculous. And a waste of resources. What if we were attacked?" Malcolm explained. His sense of duty was returning, much to Hoshi's dismay.

            "What are we going to do instead? Play scrabble. Because I'm going to beat you at any game which involves words."

            Malcolm moved away from the small display screen from which they had been able to view the effects of their schemes. He picked up the practice phaser and threw it to Hoshi.

            "In that case, Ensign, we could work on improving your targeting score."

            When he turned his back to activate the target, he missed Hoshi's mocking imitation of his orders. Thankfully for Hoshi.