Disclaimer: Enterprise and Star Trek belongs to Paramount, etc. Just having some fun. No profit is being made here.
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"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" Commander Tucker looked pleadingly at the man standing next to him. He ran an exasperated hand through his hair, making the dark blond strands stick up somewhat bizarrely.
"Couldn't you jus' … talk to them 'bout this?! Cap'n…?"
When Archer made no reply, Tucker looked over at the Tactical Officer.
"Malcolm?"
Reed's face was suspended in a perpetual grimace as he looked down at himself. He has never been so horrified about anything since … since…. That was the crux of the matter – he couldn't remember, for the life of him, when he had ever been so … so … bloody horrified … appalled … affronted.… Just wait till I get my hands on her…
Getting nothing but an icy glower from the Lieutenant, Tucker gave up after a while. No help there… He glanced at Mayweather, who was sitting on the couch with his head buried in his hands. The Commander winced slightly. The man had not moved from that position since they were first shown to the room half an hour ago. He went over and tapped the young ensign on the shoulder.
"Travis? Y'kay?"
The helmsman lifted his head slowly, looked expressionlessly up at him, and then dropped his head back into his hands without a sound. Tucker grimaced but said nothing. At least there were some signs of life…
Chewing on his bottom lip, the engineer turned back to the Captain, who was starting to worry him. Archer had been standing there wordlessly, sometimes staring at his feet, other times up at the ceiling but mostly at the wall in front of him. He occasionally passed a hand over his eyes as the look on his face alternated between expressions of chagrin and mortification.
Tucker sighed. This was going to be one long, embarrassing day…
* * * * *
Sitting there at the stadium, T'Pol's eyebrow rose until it almost disappeared into her hairline at her first glimpse of the four men. Captain Archer had tried to prepare her for what would happen but even it didn't even come close to what she was observing right now.
Around her, everyone was cheering and waving hand-held flags, as the participants walked out, mostly in groups of four. The 2000th National Day celebration had just begun.
When the Chancellor had extended the invitation to the crew to join in the celebration, Archer had agreed enthusiastically. An opportunity to participate in a national celebration was just too good a chance to pass up. At least, that was how the Captain and all those involved had felt until they had arrived at the National Stadium a few hours ago.
Hoshi, sitting primly beside the Vulcan, smothered a laugh as she looked on. Clothes … costumes … the words were almost identical … A mistake … It was all just an honest mistake…
While deciphering the protocols sent by the Chancellor, she had somehow got that single word wrongly translated. Apparently, the main event of the day was a presentation of an array of clothes ever worn by the inhabitants of the planet. By the time Captain Archer found out what he and the other men had to wear for the march past, it was already too late to back out of the ceremony.
No one on the ship was going to believe her unless they saw it for themselves. Good thing Commander Tucker asked me to hang on to his camera… A giggle escaped before she managed to get herself under control. Must. Present. A. Serious. And. Concerned. Face…. I'm in enough trouble as it is…
As if sensing her amusement, all four men turned in uncanny unison and glared at her as they went by, keeping pace with the catchy rhythm of the band. The look they gave the linguist would have intimidated even the fiercest Klingon – except that their attire ruined it.
Hoshi quickly hid her smirk behind her hand. Somehow, no matter how they look in them, it was really hard to take someone who was wearing a feathered hat, a velvet shirt with balloon sleeves, multi-coloured pantaloons and bright yellow shoes seriously…