Part XIII: Hoshi
Death by embarrassment. Think Starfleet took that into account when they sent us out here? It's not as if I could pack my bags and go off to another country, planet, quadrant...no, I'm stuck here with same eighty odd people, most of whom, by this point, thought I was a crazed nympho trying to get into our armory officer's pants. Let's not forget Porthos. I swore if he started howling at me when I walk by, I was going to walk into the nearest airlock and jettison myself out into space.
I had never been so embarrassed...no wait, the birthday fiasco...and that time when I lost my shirt crawling through the death trap people around here call the EPS conduits. Hmmm, anyone sensing, oh, I don't know, a pattern here?! Hmm, new resolution, stay away from Malcolm Reed. Yes, I can do that. I mean, other than the fact that we work the same shift, all other possible contact could be avoided! Yes, it was meant to be. I should have known by the simple feng shui arrangement of the bridge. See, his station is all the way over there, the furthest station away from mine! If that's not a big "stay away" sign from the universe, I don't know what is. Okay, now I get it, I get it NOW, you hear? I don't need any more hints in the form of busybody birthday well-wishing Captains or wayward shirts...wait...huh. Where is that shirt?
Oh no! I realized I'd left it there. And one of these days when Malcolm bothers looking up instead of burying his nose in phase cannon schematics he's going to find my shirt dangling there in front of his doorway. Then he'd have to return it to me. Unnecessary contact! Must be avoided at all costs!
But but...I couldn't be seen hovering near Malcolm's quarters. There was no way I was contributing to that nasty rumor going around saying I was trying to get it on with Lieutenant Reed in decon. Why yes, it is a very nasty rumor and I don't know why people would think I have the hots for him when we have the most professional of relationships. Yes, I COULD say that with a straight face. Hurray!
Okay, physically removing the shirt by ladder, big no, lest I want the rumor to get even nastier in its nastiness. Ohhh, maybe I could beam it out! Yeah, hi transporter log, would you mind not recording how Ensign Hoshi Sato transported a shirt away from the vicinity of Malcolm Reed's quarters? No? Shit. I don't understand why we have all this technology when we can't even put it to good use. Honestly.
That left only one option. I'd have to get it the way I lost it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Back into the death trap. Look at it this way, been there, done that, you can do it. You're a big girl! And those are very small EPS conduits... No, no, I've conquered the EVA suits, this is just the next step, you know, just in case the ship ever gets taken over again, and I'm still the tiniest mobile officer around.
Ha ha, what are the chances of that happening again?
...all righty then, back into the conduits it is. Need more practice. Shall be prepared.
Flashlight: check. Sturdy shirt: check. Separate sports bra: check. Big gaping hole in wall: check. I took a deep breath and plunged in. I figured it shouldn't take too long since I already had experience. Yup, yup, and the walls weren't closing in on me. Not at all. Shouldn't I be there by now?! Breathe, must breathe, but not too fast, don't want to hyperventilate--don't want to have someone discover Hoshi freaking out in the conduits. Snort. With my luck, Malcolm would probably be the closest one to rescue me--hey! There it was! Hello, wayward shirt! Did you miss me? I certainly missed you. Remember that time when you got caught on a latch and I had to face a certain armory officer half naked? Yeah, good times.
Hmm. Oh-oh. Round trip back. Everything looked slightly different from this point of view. The walls looked closer, the space smaller...oh, I was so very freaking out. Move body, move! Okay, I couldn't move, I was frozen in place like a big turkey on Thanksgiving.
Not. Enough. Air.
Mommy. I definitely wanted my mommy.
Clunk!
Mommy?
But mommy doesn't have blue eyes! Or that ass...
"Malcolm?!" I gasped.
"Hoshi?!" he gasped.
Then we all gasped some more, though I think I did a little more gasping than he did, cause, hello, panic attack! What's his excuse?!
"What the hell are you doing here?!" he hissed.
What, the EPS conduits had his name on them? I don't think so. On the other hand, his voice had never been so sexy. My head was swimming and I still couldn't breathe, but his voice was just so--the walls, the walls, can't breathe--
"Well? Oof!" He grunted as I shoved him against a wall. Yes, keep the walls away!
"The walls, the walls are closing," I croaked, "Help, I need, help. Distraction, need distraction--"
He swallowed, suddenly breaking out into sweat. "What kind of distrac--"
This kind, you moron! I latched on to him. Lips. Chest. Groin. Press. Slide. Repeat. Ohhhhhh. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'things that go bump in the
night.'
"Stop! Stop!"
Why? Why?
"Ho--gaaaa!"
Ohhhh, lip-licious...neck-licious...chest-licious...waist-licious...
"STOP!" he yelled, yanking me away, making my head spin. I blinked at him, dazed, gasping-- He stared at me, his eyes sobering slightly despite his panting. Then, without warning, he lunged at me.
"Oommphh!" Welcome back lips! Oh, and this time, tongue came along. The more the merrier, I always say!
And Earth. Definitely moving. And I was floating high as a kite! Hmm, Malcolm is quite a ride. Hee hee.
Then he let me go and asked huskily, "Better...now?"
"Hmmm?" I jerked my eyes from his lips and suddenly realized we were no longer in the conduits, but in a much more spacious floating place. A memory jiggled. The sweet spot. Awww, he was distracting me to get me to a bigger place. Isn't that sweet?
*****
Death by embarrassment. Think Starfleet took that into account when they sent us out here? It's not as if I could pack my bags and go off to another country, planet, quadrant...no, I'm stuck here with same eighty odd people, most of whom, by this point, thought I was a crazed nympho trying to get into our armory officer's pants. Let's not forget Porthos. I swore if he started howling at me when I walk by, I was going to walk into the nearest airlock and jettison myself out into space.
I had never been so embarrassed...no wait, the birthday fiasco...and that time when I lost my shirt crawling through the death trap people around here call the EPS conduits. Hmmm, anyone sensing, oh, I don't know, a pattern here?! Hmm, new resolution, stay away from Malcolm Reed. Yes, I can do that. I mean, other than the fact that we work the same shift, all other possible contact could be avoided! Yes, it was meant to be. I should have known by the simple feng shui arrangement of the bridge. See, his station is all the way over there, the furthest station away from mine! If that's not a big "stay away" sign from the universe, I don't know what is. Okay, now I get it, I get it NOW, you hear? I don't need any more hints in the form of busybody birthday well-wishing Captains or wayward shirts...wait...huh. Where is that shirt?
Oh no! I realized I'd left it there. And one of these days when Malcolm bothers looking up instead of burying his nose in phase cannon schematics he's going to find my shirt dangling there in front of his doorway. Then he'd have to return it to me. Unnecessary contact! Must be avoided at all costs!
But but...I couldn't be seen hovering near Malcolm's quarters. There was no way I was contributing to that nasty rumor going around saying I was trying to get it on with Lieutenant Reed in decon. Why yes, it is a very nasty rumor and I don't know why people would think I have the hots for him when we have the most professional of relationships. Yes, I COULD say that with a straight face. Hurray!
Okay, physically removing the shirt by ladder, big no, lest I want the rumor to get even nastier in its nastiness. Ohhh, maybe I could beam it out! Yeah, hi transporter log, would you mind not recording how Ensign Hoshi Sato transported a shirt away from the vicinity of Malcolm Reed's quarters? No? Shit. I don't understand why we have all this technology when we can't even put it to good use. Honestly.
That left only one option. I'd have to get it the way I lost it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Back into the death trap. Look at it this way, been there, done that, you can do it. You're a big girl! And those are very small EPS conduits... No, no, I've conquered the EVA suits, this is just the next step, you know, just in case the ship ever gets taken over again, and I'm still the tiniest mobile officer around.
Ha ha, what are the chances of that happening again?
...all righty then, back into the conduits it is. Need more practice. Shall be prepared.
Flashlight: check. Sturdy shirt: check. Separate sports bra: check. Big gaping hole in wall: check. I took a deep breath and plunged in. I figured it shouldn't take too long since I already had experience. Yup, yup, and the walls weren't closing in on me. Not at all. Shouldn't I be there by now?! Breathe, must breathe, but not too fast, don't want to hyperventilate--don't want to have someone discover Hoshi freaking out in the conduits. Snort. With my luck, Malcolm would probably be the closest one to rescue me--hey! There it was! Hello, wayward shirt! Did you miss me? I certainly missed you. Remember that time when you got caught on a latch and I had to face a certain armory officer half naked? Yeah, good times.
Hmm. Oh-oh. Round trip back. Everything looked slightly different from this point of view. The walls looked closer, the space smaller...oh, I was so very freaking out. Move body, move! Okay, I couldn't move, I was frozen in place like a big turkey on Thanksgiving.
Not. Enough. Air.
Mommy. I definitely wanted my mommy.
Clunk!
Mommy?
But mommy doesn't have blue eyes! Or that ass...
"Malcolm?!" I gasped.
"Hoshi?!" he gasped.
Then we all gasped some more, though I think I did a little more gasping than he did, cause, hello, panic attack! What's his excuse?!
"What the hell are you doing here?!" he hissed.
What, the EPS conduits had his name on them? I don't think so. On the other hand, his voice had never been so sexy. My head was swimming and I still couldn't breathe, but his voice was just so--the walls, the walls, can't breathe--
"Well? Oof!" He grunted as I shoved him against a wall. Yes, keep the walls away!
"The walls, the walls are closing," I croaked, "Help, I need, help. Distraction, need distraction--"
He swallowed, suddenly breaking out into sweat. "What kind of distrac--"
This kind, you moron! I latched on to him. Lips. Chest. Groin. Press. Slide. Repeat. Ohhhhhh. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'things that go bump in the
night.'
"Stop! Stop!"
Why? Why?
"Ho--gaaaa!"
Ohhhh, lip-licious...neck-licious...chest-licious...waist-licious...
"STOP!" he yelled, yanking me away, making my head spin. I blinked at him, dazed, gasping-- He stared at me, his eyes sobering slightly despite his panting. Then, without warning, he lunged at me.
"Oommphh!" Welcome back lips! Oh, and this time, tongue came along. The more the merrier, I always say!
And Earth. Definitely moving. And I was floating high as a kite! Hmm, Malcolm is quite a ride. Hee hee.
Then he let me go and asked huskily, "Better...now?"
"Hmmm?" I jerked my eyes from his lips and suddenly realized we were no longer in the conduits, but in a much more spacious floating place. A memory jiggled. The sweet spot. Awww, he was distracting me to get me to a bigger place. Isn't that sweet?
*****