Title: Starfleet's Finest

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

AN: Thanks to Exploded Pen, Kaliedescope Cat, Nala and The Libran Iniquity for reviewing Chapter 3. Here's Chapter 4, this time it's Trip ( the Master of Disaster *g* ). Hope you enjoy it, please R&R!

#4 On The Road Again

"Charlie!"

Charles Tucker III heard the voice of his little sister calling him and turned around. He saw Lizzy coming towards the swings and quickly stuffed the packet of biscuits into his pocket, swallowing the one he'd been munching on. Knowing Lizzy the cookies would be gone in no time if she got hold of them. She sat down on the swing beside him, digging her toes into the sand as she looked up at her nine-year-old brother.

"You got crumbs all over your pants. What're you eatin'?"

He wiped off the cookie crumbs, trying to look innocent. "Oh, nothin'. Where've you been all day long, I never saw you."

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Mom made me come with her to visit Grandma. She wanted you to come too, but she couldn't find you."

"Thank God she didn't." Charlie wasn't sorry he'd missed that visit. He liked Grandma, but it was terribly boring, having to sit still for hours at a time, listening to her and Mom gossiping about everyone in the neighbourhood. But come to think of it, it was quite boring here as well. It was the first week of summer vacation, and all of his friends had gone on holiday with their families. Brad was in California at the moment, visiting with his cousins, and Mike had gone to Italy with his family. Only he'd had to stay at home again, of course, stuck on that stupid farm with nothing to do but hiding from his dad when he came up with new chores. Charlie didn't intend to spend his summer holidays hoeing and cleaning out the barn.

Lizzy began to jump up and down on the swing, kicking up sand.

"I'm bored," she said in a voice Charlie knew only too well. It was her Go-On-And-Do-Something-About-It-voice. And most of the times it was better not to ignore it, since it usually meant trouble if he didn't do what she wanted. Well, most of the time there was even more trouble (for him, at least) if he did, but at the moment a little bit of trouble was just what he needed. Anything was better than another hour of sitting around with nothing to do.

He got up from the swing. "Well, what wouldcha like to do?"

Lizzy pulled a face. "Dunno. You think of somethin'."

He considered. "What about goin' down to the lake?"

"Nah, it's too hot."

"Or we could go inside an' watch that new movie I got for ma birthday?"

She shook her head. "That's boring, too. An' I think the TV's broken, anyway, it keeps makin' those strange noises when you try to switch the channels."

Charlie remembered how he had taken the lid off the back of the TV only a few days ago because he'd wanted to see how the whole thing worked. After a few minutes of poking around in the TV's insides with an old screwdriver he had managed to loosen some kind of cable. A shower of sparks had erupted and he had burned himself quite badly as he'd tried (and failed) to repair the damage. Nervously he cleared his throat.

"Well, I don' think Mom would let us watch TV now, anyway."

Lizzy gave him a long look, letting him know she saw right through him, but wasn't going to say anything about it. There was still the possibility of telling on him, of course, if he didn't think of some way to entertain her soon. Charlie looked around, and his eyes fell on the old truck standing in front of the garage, it's newly painted hood glistening in the sunlight.

"What about goin' for a ride?"

Lizzy grimaced. "Harhar. You're still too young to drive a car. And you ain't got a *license*, either."

He shrugged, trying to sound as if he couldn't see what her problem was. "So what? Doesn't mean I can't drive a car. I've done it a hundred times before."

"You didn't! And anyway, there's no way dad'll give you the keys! Remember what happened the time you just took them an' – "

"That was an accident," he interrupted quickly. "And it was over a year ago. I'm much older now."

"Still, he's not gonna give you the keys! And you'll be in so much trouble if you pinch them again – "

"I don't need the keys." An idea had formed in his head and he grinned down at his little sister who raised an eyebrow, sceptically.

"Well, how're you gonna start the car, then?"

"I'm gonna hot-wire it."

Lizzy frowned. "What's that mean, 'hot-wire'?"

"It means startin' a car without usin' the keys."

"You can't!"

"Yes I can. I saw a documentary about car thieves on TV, an' they did it all the time. It's easy."

Charlie got up from the swing, giving the truck a short look-over before he turned back to Lizzy. "Shouldn't take more than ten minutes," he said casually. "Lemme get my tools an' I'll see what I can do."

Lizzy followed him as he got his tool kit from the shed.

"Car thieves?!" she said, hurrying to catch up with him as he crossed the yard and came to stand beside the truck. "You're gonna get in so much trouble, Charlie!"

He opened the door of the car and climbed inside, sitting down behind the steering wheel. Opening his kit, he began to spread out the tools on the passenger seat. Lizzy was still standing in front of the door, hands on her hips.

"You can't do this. Dad'll kill you!"

He looked up. "He'll never notice. I told you, it's easy. So, d'you wanna go for a ride or not?"

Lizzy could be a terrible little snitch, but she was never one to chicken out. She knew she'd been challenged, and without another word she climbed onto the back seat, leaning forward to see what he was doing. Charlie tried to remember what exactly the guy on TV had done after he'd pulled out all those wires and cables. It had seemed easy enough, at the time, but somehow the wires looked very much alike and he didn't know which ones exactly he had to use to short-circuit the whole thing.

Why don't they repeat things like that in slow motion, he thought, poking around in the insides of the truck's dashboard.

"I told you you can't do it!" Lizzy sounded quite satisfied, if maybe a little disappointed. "You can't start a car without – "

Sparks flew, the car gave a strangled sound and Charlie, completely taken by surprise, slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The truck gave a lurch forwards, Lizzy screamed and grabbed Charlie's shoulder from behind.

"Stop it!"

"I can't!" he yelled, frantically turning the steering wheel. "Somethin' got stuck!"

Narrowly missing the garage door, the truck sped onto the yard, aiming for the old wooden shed where they kept the firewood. Charlie panicked, letting go of the steering wheel and grabbing the parking brake with both hands, but it was too late. They crashed into the shed, Lizzy screamed and something heavy came down on the windshield and smashed it, showering them with tiny bits of broken glass. The engine gave a last rattling sound and died.

Suddenly everything was very quiet and dark, the wooden walls of the shed which had come down on them blocking out the light almost completely. For a moment they sat paralyzed, staring at the roof of the shed which was now lying across the windshield, it's brittle boards splintered and broken.

Lizzy was the first one to speak.

"You're gonna get in trouble. You wrecked the shed *and* you wrecked the car. Oh man, you're gonna get in sooo much trouble."

Charlie let his his eyes wander over the glass splinters spattered all over the dashboard. He couldn't believe his life had gone down the drain in only five minutes.

"This time dad's gonna hit you," Lizzy said with immense satisfaction, leaning back in her seat.

"Shut up, Lizzy," he murmured, knowing she was probably right. Gingerly he reached through the broken windshield and poked at the remains of the wooden roof. Something creaked and there was a loud crash as some of the boards shifted and fell to the ground. Immediately he pulled his hand back.

"CHARLES!"

Charlie heard the boards being pushed aside and in the next moment there was his dad, out of breath and panting, staring at him through the side window, shock written all over his face.

"Oh my God! What happened?"

Pushing aside a few boards that were in the way he yanked open the door of the truck and grabbed Charlie by the arm.

"Are you hurt?"

Charlie swallowed and shook his head, unable to speak. Lizzy, on the other hand, seemed to have no such problems.

"I bumped my knee."

Startled, his dad turned his head. "Lizzy! You're in there too?"

He looked back at Charlie, his eyes narrowing to slits. "What the hell - "

Then his eyes fell on the wires sticking out from under the steering wheel and his face went crimson.

"You – you – you HOT-WIRED the car?! Have you completely lost your mind?!!"

Before Charlie could answer, his dad had pulled him out of the truck, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him like mad.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKIN', HOT-WIRIN' THE CAR, YOU COULD BOTH HAVE DIED, YOU-"

"I *told* him not to do it, but he wouldn't listen." Lizzy had climbed out of the remains of the car and stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, a smug smile on her lips.

His dad let go of him and turned around. The old shed had caved in completely, covering most of the truck with boards and wooden splinters. Apart from the busted windshield the car had dents everywhere and the newly painted hood was all scratched and bent. It was a horrible sight. Charles Tucker II gave a strange sound, something between a strangled cry and a sob.

"My car! You wrecked my car! Again!!"

He turned back and Charlie could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. Automatically he took a step backward, but his dad had already grabbed him by the arm and was dragging him towards the house.

"What in the name of God were you THINKIN', you coulda killed YOURSELF, you coulda killed your SISTER, where did you learn to hot-wire a car ANYWAY-"

They had reached the front porch, and Charlie stumbled up the few steps after his dad. He heard him yelling and screaming, but he couldn't make sense of what he was saying. He was in shock. There was only one thought in his mind, drowning out everything else.

'He's gonna kill me. I wrecked the car again. He's gonna kill me.'

They went inside and up the stairs, and when they reached Charlie's room, his dad yanked the door open and shoved him inside.

"I'm gonna go outside now and see if there's anything left I can save and when I'm done, we're gonna have a LONG TALK about this! You stay here and don't you DARE move a muscle!!"

The door slammed shut, and Charlie stood in the middle of his room. Lizzy had been right; now he was definitely in *very* much trouble.

"...and for the next week, you're stayin' in here. You're not goin' outside to play, you're not watchin' TV, you're not doin' anything except thinkin' about what you did today and why you're never gonna do this again. Do we have an understandin' here?"

Charlie shrank back from his dad's deadly glare and sniffled.

"Yes, Dad."

"Very good." His dad pressed his lips together and stared at him. Charlie shuffled his feet uneasily.

"What is it with you?" his dad asked at last. Charlie blinked and carefully looked up, meeting his father's eyes. His dad frowned.

"I mean, all little boys get in trouble from time to time, that's natural. But you... you broke the car twice already, and you're not even sixteen yet! Not to mention the shed. And that other time, when you did that with the old flagpole and the toilet paper... "

His dad trailed off, and Charlie looked down at his feet again. After a moment his dad gave a sigh.

"Never mind, forget it. You're not leavin' this room today, except for supper, and then you're goin' straight to bed. And any nonsense from you in the next few weeks, and there's gonna be the trouble of your life, you hear me?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes, Dad."

"Good." With a last stern look in his direction, his dad opened the door and left his room. Charlie slumped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling very sorry for himself. Why were they all acting as if he'd murdered someone or burned down the house? All he had wanted to do was having a good time! What was the big deal? His dad had been talking about pulling down the shed for ages, anyway. Charlie rolled onto his stomach, listlessly picking up a comic book from the nightstand. He'd been reading for a few minutes when the door opened again and Lizzy came in.

"Get lost," he grumbled, deliberately turning his back on her, but of course she wouldn't listen. Walking up to his bed, she came to stand beside him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"See?" she said, sounding exactly like his mom. "I knew he was gonna hit you!"

Charlie blushed. "Shut up, Lizzy!"

She sat down on the bed. "I'd never thought you really could do it. Hot-wire a care, I mean."

"I told you, it's easy." He put the comic book aside and sat up. "There're people who can do it in less than twenty seconds."

"I don't think it took you much longer." She smiled at him, obviously determined to get back in his good graces. "You know, I think it *was* pretty cool when that shed came down. Just like that movie we saw last week."

"And that truck was an old rustbucket anyway." He felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. For a while they sat in silence, then he picked up his comic book again.

After a few minutes Lizzy spoke up again.

"Charlie..."

He looked up and saw an all-too-familiar glint in her eyes.

"You know what?"

"What?"

An evil grin began to spread over her face. "I'm bored."

____

Note: There's no cure for what we call the 'Tucker-Syndrome'.

Part #5 coming up soon...