Jon, Trip, and T'Pol sat in bemused silence as they ate their meal. Meal wasn't the appropriate word, it was more like small piles of brownish looking slabs. Also known as Starfleet standard rations cooked by Trip. Trip had been enlisted to prepare the three senior officer's meals while the final reparations to the kitchen were being made. Trip was sure that T'Pol would be noting this meal in her report. Something along the lines of "Commander Tucker should not be allowed near foodstuff during the course of their preparation, unless the intended effect upon serving is death."

            "Has the cause of these disturbances been ascertained yet?" T'Pol politely asked, as she deliberately sliced her ration into precise slivers. She didn't want to eat anymore of it than she needed in order to present the illusion of eating, and she was genuinely interested what sort of error could cause the image of the two, foam-covered officers appear on every screen in the ship.

            Trip, who had been playing with his portion, looked up at the Captain and they both exchanged glances.

            "We've got a pool going down in engineering. Right now, ghosts are in the lead." Trip smiled at T'Pol, his smile a mocking challenge for her to reply.

            "That would be a highly illogical probability, since there is no such thing as ghosts."

            "Well, T'Pol, I suppose that you have a 'logical' explanation for all of this," said Trip. Jon was still silent, simply wondering how tonight's dinner conversation would unfold.

            "I do not," admitted T'Pol. She dabbed the edges of her mouth with her napkin, even though she hadn't eaten any.

            "T'Pol," Jon said so that she wouldn't leave prematurely, "How were things on the bridge today?"

            T'Pol looked at him and was fully aware of what he was doing. But she entertained his question regardless.

            "Aside from the multiple disturbances which have occurred during the day," she said while looking accusingly at Trip, "nothing unexpected has occurred. However, Lieutenant Reed's and Ensign Sato's replacements have not been as efficient as their successors. This has caused the bridge crew's efficiency rating to fall three percent. Their expedient return would be advisory."

            Jon and Trip once again exchanged looks. If they had done this in front of the crew, their relationship might have been misunderstood.

            This additional look was not unnoticed by T'Pol. She decided to pursue the subject. On scientific grounds, she admonished to herself.

            "Furthermore, Ensign Sato's phaser ratings are still not satisfactory. I suggest that she is scheduled more lessons with Mr. Reed." She saw Trip's smile grow. "And since Mr. Reed's work more regularly involves cooperation with different species, I suggest that Miss Sato instruct Mr. Reed in some key phrases pertaining his work." This was, of course, pure conjecture, but Trip's smile doubled.

            "So you're saying that they need to spend time together, alone?" Trip asked.

            "I think what T'Pol is saying is that their quarantine together is an excellent time to expand their abilities," Jon swiftly interjected so that Trip wouldn't give their plan away. He should have picked a better partner in crime.

            "Yes, Captain, that was what I was referring to." T'Pol rose to leave. Trip and Jon followed suit. "Good evening," she said. She would be writing a very interesting log entry tonight.

            Trip couldn't stop grinning as he and Jon got up to leave.

            As they too parted, Jon prayed that the kitchen would be fully fixed and that Chef would be making his meal tomorrow. Or that by divine intervention, Trip would learn to cook. But he knew that it was more likely that T'Pol would smile than Trip cook anything edible that wasn't stir fired or "Southern style."

            Porthos, however, enjoyed Trip's meals very much.

Why doesn't Porthos get more screen time?