…
It felt strange going to bed, despite having sleep near each other in the catwalk. They navigated around each other, like taking as short time as possible in the bathroom not to inconvenience the other.
They now both sat in their beds reading. Malcolm glanced over towards Hoshi, who was wearing a fitted tank top and loose cotton draw-string pants. Her bunny slippers were positioned next to her bed. Her slippers seemed to have a mischievous smile on them. They could probably star in a horror movie. Attack of the Bunny Slippers. He looked back at his book, but didn't much feel like reading. Great Expectations wasn't living up to his expectations, and he found himself skimming passages.
He put his book down, and began his yoga stretches. During the catwalk, he hadn't been able to do these, since he would never have been able to live through Trip's taunts.
Hoshi watched Malcolm walk over to the space in front of her bed, since the foot of his bed was next to some large crates, which would probably never be opened during the course of the journey. Personally, she thought that Starfleet sent crates with each ship just to make the cargo bays look full.
She watched intently as he bent over to touch the ground with his hands, his gym pants stretching over certain areas of his firm body.
She wasn't going to be able to concentrate with him doing this. She turned out her light and tried to find a comfortable position. But the bed wasn't her bed, and she tossed around. Finally, she rested on her back and stared up at the ceiling.
But with her acute hearing, she could hear his soft steps and the fabric of his clothes stretch. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the sundown in Brazil. But all she could imagine was a very fit Malcolm doing stretches. She tried to focus on Brazil again. Instead, she saw in her imagination a tanned Malcolm doing stretches on a beach in Brazil.
Finally, the torturing soft sounds ended and she heard Malcolm too go to bed. Just like her, he tossed and turned.
"They aren't the same, are they?" she turned over and asked. She could barely make out his features in the dark, but she could hear him.
Malcolm, however, could see her. Her curves showed through the thin blanket, and he could just make out her gentle breathing.
"They certainly aren't," was his meagre answer.
"Travis should be here telling his ghost stories," said Hoshi.
"I'd rather he wasn't, with his snoring."
This earned a little chuckle from Hoshi.
"You're right. Me of all people should know that."
"You should." There was a brief pause. "How good is your hearing?" Malcolm asked in a by-the-way manner.
"I don't know. I can hear you breathing… I can just make out your heartbeat… I can hear the engines…" They both fell silent as Hoshi listened to the Enterprise and Malcolm's heartbeat. They were both almost in perfect synchronisation. She giggled.
"What is so amusing?" Malcolm asked.
"Nothing," she enigmatically replied.
"Hoshi, you can't laugh at a man in perfect darkness and then expect to get away with not telling him why."
"It's your heartbeat and the ship."
"What about them?" Malcolm's heart rate increased.
"They are, were, in sync."
"Ahh, well." Malcolm started explaining, "The Enterprise and I have a very good relationship."
"You mean that she's been cheating on Trip with you!" Hoshi said with feigning horror.
"With Trip away so often, the poor girl was all alone."
"So you're the hero?"
"What can a man do?" Malcolm shrugged.
"Who said chivalry is dead?"
They both laughed. Soon, the laughter died down and they both simply lay in their beds.
"This is nice," said Hoshi.
Malcolm wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer that. He instead sighed and prayed that this wasn't an uncomfortable silence.
"It's like a sleepover," Hoshi continued.
Malcolm felt obliged to add, "I'm sorry Hoshi. I didn't realise that you had a traumatic childhood."
Hoshi looked at him confused for a moment. "What?"
"It must have been hard going to sleepovers as a little girl only to find out that you are infected by deadly diseases and then locked into a small room with a boy who likes explosions."
"Oh it was." Hoshi pretended to be serious. "Although, I would hardly call him a boy."
Malcolm was pleased at the way the conversation was going.
"I would call him an infant."
Malcolm scoffed, "An infant?"
"Always getting himself into trouble. Always playing with guns." She resisted adding, "needs a hug sometimes."
"If I'm an infant, will you obey my every command?" Malcolm teased and threatened to imitate a child's wail.
"Don't I already?" Hoshi asked. Her comment came out wrong and only reminded them both of their difference in ranks.
Hoshi shivered in the cool air. The ship seemed colder with the lights turned down.
"Are you cold?" Malcolm asked with concern.
Hoshi could think of many ways he could warm her up, but resisted. She cursed herself for bringing up the difference in ranks.
"A little," was her meek reply.
"Do you want another blanket?" Malcolm asked. He got out of his bed and starting going through the containers, mumbling "should be here somewhere."
"It's OK," Hoshi insisted. She held her breath so that she wouldn't shiver again.
"I'm afraid that there are no more blankets. You can have mine if you would like," he offered. He was a gentlemen, he told himself as he got ready to face a cold night.
"Malcolm, I couldn't. Then you would be cold."
"I will not take no for an answer," Malcolm said, tossing his blanket over to her bed and then laying down in his own. It was rather cold.
"Malcolm, take it back. I'm fine," Hoshi said, tossing the blanket back. Malcolm returned the blanket once more and headed over to the comm. panel. If he hadn't been Hoshi's superior, and a bloody fool, he would have offered to "share" blankets. Instead he called the bridge and asked them to check the temperature.
"The cargo bay is 14C, sir."
"Would you please raise it then, crewman," Malcolm said with annoyance.
"Sorry sir. The heating is busted all over the ship. Commander Tucker had call on all of Engineering to help him fix it."
"Could you then please send some extra blankets down here?"
"Sorry sir. All extra blankets have either been taken or are missing."
"Missing? For heaven sakes. It's not like they grew bloody legs and walked off."
"They are gone sir. I recommend you two put on a few extra layers. Your cargo bay is among the last things to be fixed."
"Let me speak to the Captain," Malcolm balked. He looked over at Hoshi accusingly, asking her if this was her prank, but she shook her head.
"Um, the Captain is sleeping sir. And the repair list is fixed sir. The Commander said so."
"Fine." Malcolm hit the button and ended the conversation. He looked apologetic at Hoshi.
Now or never you fool, he thought and summoned all of his courage.
"There is only one thing to do then," he said, moving towards her.
"What?" she asked, worried that he might steal her blankets.
"Share," he said, and crawled into her bed next to her. "To share body heat, that is," he quickly added.
He met no protest from a very happy Hoshi. They spooned, and were soon asleep.
…
"You…" Trip continued to mutter unmentionable words. They thought they were cute, didn't they? Their little pranks. And it was funny. But cutting out the heat? Now he would have to deal with the complaining of his Engineering crew and the pestering of the rest of the crew for heat.
He was wearing three layers of flannel, but was still cold.
"Hey Travis," he said as he saw the helmsman with several blankets walking down the corridor.
"Hey Trip. How are you?" Travis asked. Trip appreciated someone finally asking about him, not the heat.
"I'm a bit cold. But I'm almost finished here. Wouldn't mind sharing?" he said, pointing towards the blankets.
"Umm, they are for… Liz. They are for Liz. Liz Cutler," he said.
"Oh," Trip said a bit disappointed. But his cabin should be warm by now.
"Yeah, I better hurry. She really wanted them," Travis said. He rushed of down the corridor.
Trip looked back at the reparation. There was no way that Hoshi and Malcolm could have done this. Then he saw a small trickle of water. Damn it, leaks. Someone must have hacked the system for a bigger ration of warm water.
He felt slightly ashamed at blaming Hoshi and Malcolm. He decided to check up on them before his shift started in the morning. Knowing Malcolm, at least he would be up then.
Trip hurried to his cabin, stopping by the kitchen to pick up some pecan pie. He had strategically hidden some when he discovered the extend of the damage there. Which was just as well, since they were running low on real pecans. He had to remind the captain about that later.
…
That was close. Too close. Travis needed to be more careful. He had been food king for nine glorious hours. But when Trip had managed to fix the kitchen, Travis's illustrious reign had ended. And Travis liked power.
So an offhand comment by a crewman translated into his new, if you excuse the word choice, enterprise.
He was the blanket king. He had "collected" 60% of the extra blankets onboard. And then "loaned" them to crewmembers. Mostly for favours, naturally.
But Travis was now a powerful man.
"Travis!" he heard. In shock, he realised who it was.
Liz Cutler.
"Hey… Liz…" Travis said slowly. He started praying that she hadn't heard him and Trip.
"So, are those for me?" she asked.
Travis gave her the blankets without a choice.
"Um, yeah. I figured that you might be cold so I thought you could use these."
"Ahh, Travis. That's so sweet." Liz hugged Travis.
Travis was beginning to see the perks of magnanimosity.
"Oh, but Travis! Now you don't have any blankets. How about you come over to my cabin? We can share them."
Definite perks, Travis thought as Liz led them to her cabin.
…
I'm not going to be getting much up for a while. But be assured, this story will be finished by July 1.
And a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story. You're words have meant a lot. So this last instalment is dedicated to all of you.
