THREE FRENCH HENS
December 28
"Captain, we're receiving a distress call from a cargo ship. It's the Lafayette," reported Ensign Sato from her communications station on the bridge.
"The Lafayette? It's a Boomer ship, sir. The Captain was Etienne Drut. He doesn't speak English," added Mayweather.
"Lieutenant?" asked Archer in an attempt to conform to the new protocols for evaluating distress calls.
"Sir, there is nothing to indicate the transmission is not from the Lafayette," said Reed as he perused his scans. "The ship is currently drifting."
"T'Pol, anything to add?"
"Sir, the sensor readings suggest the ship is in no immediate danger. I would expect the crew needs some engineering support." The Vulcan was also evaluating her scans and had not looked up either.
"Lay in the course, Travis." Archer then contacted Engineering. "Trip, looks like we have a Boomer ship that needs some help. Be prepared for a little excursion."
-----
Reed helped Tucker prepare the shuttlepod mumbling, "Of course they don't speak English. They're French!"
"Uhuh, and that means that the ship's linguist will have to come on this mission, so quit groaning and think about the bright side," said the Chief Engineer. Really, were the British all thick-headed numbskulls where women were concerned? Nah, it was just Malcolm.
"Commander," even the roll of Tucker's eyes did not deter Reed from insisting, "Our linguist is a fine officer and I admit I admire her abilities, but that is the extent of my interest."
"Yup, that's why you were staring down her shirt in the mess hall last night? Uhuh," said Tucker without skipping a beat as he checked his toolbox.
Reed looked stunned and sputtered, "How did--when did--where the hell were you?"
"Don't get so riled up, Malcolm. I was just complimenting Chef on a fine dinner and when I stepped out of the galley, there you were grabbing Hoshi's shirt while you were sending some poor boy off in a run. Looked like some sort of weird foreplay with you cramming the chocolate in her mouth then licking the sticky stuff off your thumb. I thought I'd have to hose down the two of you, but then y'all left."
"It was Partridge! The fool sent his ice cream all over the place, absolutely ruined Hoshi's last bit of chocolate. I was just trying to prevent her from killing him!"
"Looked more like you were chasing off the competition," said Tucker.
"There is NO competition. Hoshi dislikes him even more than she dislikes me."
Trip stopped what he was doing for a moment and truly looked at his friend. The man was actually sincere. "What do you mean, Hoshi dislikes you?"
Malcolm pressed his lips into a thin line while he closed the locker he was checking a bit too loudly. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"
"What's obvious?" asked Sato as she arrived at the shuttlepod.
"That we need a translator on this mission," said Reed while giving Tucker a warning look.
Sato just shook her head. "We also need a physician. There's been a severe case of food poisoning that shut down the crew of the Lafayette. Dr. Phlox is getting his supplies together. The other important news is that Captain Drut finally disclosed the problem with his engines. It appears that the ship is transporting some, shall we say, contraband?"
Reed shook his head wearily. See, this was why a security officer was always needed on the team.
Sato continued when she saw she had the men's full attention. "The Lafayette is transporting fighting roosters to a colony that Captain Drut refuses to name. Apparently cockfights are still quite popular. They were transporting one cock and three hens of the Combattant du Nord breeding stock. The hens flew the coop and got into engineering. The rooster followed and is being very aggressive in protecting his new territory."
"I'm supposed to chase down chickens?" asked Reed incredulously.
"We'll have a poultry specialist joining us to capture three French hens and one French cock, er, rooster." Sato smiled and sighed inwardly in relief. All she needed was more innuendoes flying between her and the Lieutenant, especially in front of Tucker.
"Them gamecocks are pretty mean, Malcolm. I had a little bantam once, his feathers were all black and shiny. Charles A. Chicken, Chuck for short. I gave him the best grain feed, but the damn thing would still try to attack me. Yup, ornery little cuss, not that I'm making comparisons to anyone here," assured Tucker.
"You named a chicken after yourself?" asked Reed, ignoring the obvious metaphor.
"Wanted to call him Charles Tucker the Fourth, but my mama wouldn't hear of it," admitted Tucker. "Hey, there's Dr. Phlox. Need a hand with that, Doc?"
As Tucker rose to help the physician, Reed and Sato heard the Voice that made them cringe.
"Wow, another mission, I mean, can you beat that for luck this week?" asked Ensign Partridge as he stepped up to the team.
Sato's eyes were beginning to glaze over when she noticed Reed giving her a warning look. Oh, all right, she'd let the chocolate thief live. Reed was just too touchy about the safety of the crew!
"Ensign Partridge, I assume you're here because you're the poultry specialist?" Reed asked and was able to hide his disbelief that the man held expertise in anything.
"Oh, yeah. Chickens and I go back a long way. . ." The Ensign continued his discourse on the virtues of chickens throughout the entire flight to the Lafayette. While Phlox was entertained, the humans were not. Even the good natured Chief Engineer wanted the man stunned into silence.
"Now do you understand?" asked Reed of Tucker. Luckily this time Sato and Tucker were sitting behind the pilot.
Tucker quickly whispered, "I think I'll call him Gonzo. It suits him."
Sato looked puzzled. "Why Gonzo?"
"There was a puppet--"
"You mean the Muppets!" said Sato as she caught the reference to a historical puppet show. She lowered her voice. "Gonzo was the one obsessed with chickens, right?"
"Wonderful. We have an Ensign whose most favorable comparison is to a puppet who was always trying to blow himself up." Reed noticed the surprised looks from his colleagues. "Explosions? Gonzo was always shooting himself out of a canon."
His friends nodded in understanding, though were still surprised Reed was familiar with Muppets. Sato then quietly asked, "I don't suppose there's any way you could fire Partridge out of--"
"Don't tempt me," said Reed.
-----
Ensign Sato was translating as Dr. Phlox began his medical treatment of the crew of the Lafayette.
"Captain Drut wants the chickens apprehended with minimal damage. They're very valuable breeding stock," Sato did not translate the 'more valuable than the Englishman you have with you' comment, "and are very sensitive."
Reed nodded and held back an exasperated sigh. Tucker perked things up by saying, "Just think of it as a hunting expedition, Malcolm."
The Commander then turned to their resident Chicken Man, "Ensign Partridge, why don't ya lead us to this chicken dance. Once we've found 'em, the Lieutenant's in charge."
"Wow, I get to lead? Cool." Tucker, Reed and Sato all rolled their eyes. Dr. Phlox observed this and wondered how Ensign Partridge had managed to induce such synchrony.
"Commander, when we get to Engineering, we'll need to split up to capture the chickens with the net. If that doesn't work, we'll use the tranquilizers." Reed took the tranquilizer darts from Doctor Phlox who had prepared a special drug for the rogue fowl.
Tucker nodded, then said, "Ensign Partridge, you'll be with me. Lieutenant, you and Ensign Sato will flank 'em."
"I think Ensign Sato should stay here, Commander, after all she's needed to--" Reed was interrupted by Captain Drut.
"Doctor, that tastes terrible!" said the Boomer Captain very clearly in English.
"Well, then, I suppose not. Ensign Sato, you're with me," agreed Reed, then whispered to her as they followed Partridge and Tucker, "I know how good your aim is, Ensign, so don't try anything."
"Why, Lieutenant, stunning is too good for a chocolate thief. He needs to suffer," said Sato while she gave a look of wide-eyed innocence to Reed. Her brown eyes almost appeared as saucers. Damn, she was good at that.
"No tranquilizer darts, either," Reed warned as he indicated the dart guns he carried with him. Sato pouted. She was awfully good at that, too.
-----
The chicken assault team of the Enterprise did not need the leadership of Ensign Partridge to track down the rogue rooster and his harem. The smell was sufficient to lead them. The gamecock was arrogantly strutting on the floor while the three French hens appeared to coo in admiration from their nesting place on the platform around the engine.
"Yes, those are chickens!" proclaimed Ensign Partridge.
This time Reed had to prevent Tucker from stunning the man.
Partridge continued, "Yeah, people typically think of the Houdan breed when they think about French chickens. You know, the foofy looking black ones? But the Combattant du Nord are quite colorful. You'll notice the cock has its comb and wattle clipped."
Reed and Tucker exchanged a pained look. Whatever that was, it sounded horribly uncomfortable.
"Ahem, he means the comb on the top of the rooster's head and the red thing that sticks out from its neck," Sato explained carefully and smiled as a look of blatant relief now adorned the men's faces.
It appeared that Partridge had met his quota of intelligent sentences because he continued with, "Wow. Chickens in space. I mean, how cool can that be?"
"Let's just get the nets over them and be done with it so that Commander Tucker can see to the engines. Get into position." Reed was in full tactical mode. No chicken would escape his grasp.
The Armory officer gave one net to Tucker, then distributed the tranquilizer guns to Sato and Tucker while completely ignoring Partridge's outstretched hand. He and Sato moved in symmetry with Partridge and Tucker to achieve their attack coordinates.
Partridge suddenly stopped to point. "Wow, like the hens have laid eggs! Cool."
Without waiting for further instructions, Partridge moved to climb the ladder to the platform that the hens had adopted for their nest. The three French hens were very offended by the ill manners of the provincial Ensign and immediately began pecking at his hands while their rooster began attacking Partridge's rear with his beak. In the meantime, the smell of chicken poop began to waft throughout Engineering strongly.
"Forget the nets, use the tranquilizer darts," said Reed. "Trip, take out the rooster since that's the clearest shot. Hoshi and I will target the hens. Ready..."
Sato suddenly said, "Wait."
Tucker was surprised when Reed immediately obeyed an officer of lower rank and even put his arm out to prevent Tucker from taking his shot. Talk about henpecked! Reed merely watched as Sato seemed to count off five seconds in her head, "Okay, now."
"Fire," said Reed and the tranquilizer darts went flying.
The rooster looked surprised at the sharp sting and turned his aggression toward a new target. The fowl assumed an attack posture but then stiffened and fell like a cardboard cutout at Commander Tucker's feet. Tucker sighed in relief and tossed the net on the bird when the leg began to twitch.
In the meantime, Sato and Reed had shot two hens who had agreeably collapsed in place, but the third did a quick flight to the top of Partridge's head, probably the safest place for him to be pecked.
Reed loaded another dart and took a clear shot, still uncertain whether Sato would aim for the Partridge or for the chicken.
Partridge had the presence of mind to catch the hen when she fell, then sank to his knees in exhaustion. He sniffed the air in disgust.
"Ensign Partridge, find the nearest lavatory and get cleaned up. Next time remember to wait for instructions. I think you've already received sufficient reprimand for your inopportune behavior," said Reed. "Would you agree, Commander?"
"Certainly, Lieutenant." Tucker was already heading for the engines. "And take those foul beasts with you."
Reed and Sato placed the quiescent hens into the other net. They could hear Partridge cooing to them about being beauties as he set off to clean himself up and confine the fowl to their coop.
"Did you find this a fitting retribution, Ensign?" asked Reed.
"It will suffice, Lieutenant," said Sato with a sudden grin, then closed her mouth immediately. Their shootout with the chickens had left quite an odor in the air.
"Chicken shit!" The expletive flew out of Tucker's mouth very loudly and with exceeding disgust.
Reed and Sato looked up at the Engineer.
"It's full of chicken poop! That's what the problem is." Tucker flew down the ladder to the other two officers. "Okay, you two get some protective gear and a face mask and clean it out."
Tucker was already walking to the shuttlepod when Reed and Sato came to their senses. "Wait. You don't mean you want us to--"
"Clean up the aforementioned bird poop? Yup, we'd waste time to shuttle anyone else over right now, so both of you suit up and get that clean while I get some fresh air into my lungs." Tucker continued to walk with them to the shuttlepod.
"Aren't you going to supervise the clean up?" asked Sato in disbelief.
"Nope, I FIX engines," Tucker insisted and was met with twin postures of arms across the chest and a look of Die, Tucker from both his friends. "Look, it's gonna take ya about thirty minutes to clean up, but it'll take me two hours to replace the components that the uric acid ate through. Now, run along and play nice. That's an order."
-----
"...and this is Trip's--wait, where were we?" asked Sato.
"I believe the last section we cleaned was..." Reed began to sing softly to himself, "The rib bone's connected to the shoulder bone, the shoulder's connected to the neck bone.."
"It WAS the neck, I'm pretty sure we're up to beheading Trip," said Sato with a nod.
"I'm glad the dismemberment is complete because we're out of sections to clean," said Reed with a sigh. Reed opened his communicator very carefully and said, "Commander, Engineering is all yours."
"Great. Oh, by the way, the Doc said the decon chamber would be a good idea for the both of you."
"What? We were wearing protective gear," said Reed.
"You gonna argue with the Doc on medical decisions?" asked Tucker, knowing full well Reed's previous interactions with Phlox. He took the silence on the other end to mean compliance, "Doc will be back soon, so just stay in decon until he gets back. Ya'll send Travis to pick us up in about two hours. Leave Partridge here. He's actually good at settling down the chickens and fixing their coop."
-----
The things he had to endure as Armory Officer, thought Reed. Imbecilic Ensigns, hostile poultry, and sadistic Engineers. Just look where the day had led!
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders as Hoshi spread the decon gel along his back. He breathed in deeply. Nice clean air, soft, warm hands...phase arrays, very detailed schematics of phase arrays.
"My turn," said Sato as she sat down beside Reed and held her hair off of her back.
"What a day, wasn't it?" said Reed as he rubbed the gel onto her back. "Although I suppose now I don't have to worry about you eliminating Ensign Partridge. I do hope I never see another chicken again."
Hoshi merely mumbled her agreement. It was nice to hear his voice so close to her ear. She could feel the calluses on his hands as they traveled up and down her shoulders, up and down, up and ...
Reed suddenly stopped when he realized what he was doing. Good thing she couldn't see him blush. "All done."
"I think you missed a spot, Malcolm," said Hoshi. "Better do the shoulders again. I don't want to suffer the ill effects of poop exposure."
Malcolm had that characteristic half-smile on his face. His horribly stuffy name sounded so different when Hoshi said it. He wished she didn't dislike him so much, but he just kept accumulating negative points. Copulating trees, ruined chocolate, cleaning bird poop... He almost dreaded what would happen the next day.
So a very contrite Armory Officer applied more lotion to the Linguist's shoulders until she was satisfied. He had gone through the entire schematics of the armory in the meantime. They sat quietly for a time with their shoulders barely touching.
"Malcolm, do you think it's strange that since Christmas we've had these weird adventures?" asked Hoshi.
Perfect, now she was even acknowledging her misfortunes in his company. Well, he could always try to pin the blame on someone else. "Um, I lumped it with having Partridge as a catalyst for bad luck."
"That's just it. Partridge in a pair of trees. Then he creates two turtle Doves by supplying the toppings and spoiling my little virgin chocolates. And today we had three French hens to deal with. Do you think it's all coincidence?"
"It sounds like a Christmas story gone awry; don't fret about it. Besides, the first day of Christmas was actually December 25th, Christmas Day."
"Okay, but if we get four calling birds tomorrow, I'm going to scream."
Malcolm nodded but decided he'd hide from Hoshi for a few days. Surely her luck would improve without him around. The two officers were startled out of their thoughts by Dr. Phlox.
"Lieutenant? Ensign? What are you doing in decon?" asked the Doctor brightly.
"What do you mean? We're just following your orders," said Hoshi as she and Malcolm exchanged a bewildered glance.
"I gave no such orders, Ensign Sato," said Phlox with a cheery grin.
"But Commander Tucker said that you had said decon would be a good idea for us." Reed couldn't believe how his brain was functioning like pudding.
"We were talking about how edgy the two of you have been recently. I said the stress-free environment of the decon chamber would probably help--how shall I put this--reduce tension."
"Hey, guys. Feeling all nice and clean now?" Trip peaked in through the observation window and saw his two friends standing once again with their arms across their chests and a Die, Tucker expression on their face. Man, ya just couldn't please some people!
"Come on, I just thought you'd like some clean air and down time. Uh, Doc, is there anyway to lock 'em in? Great! And keep 'em there until I'm gone."
-----
That night Lieutenant Malcolm Reed dreamed he was a rooster, but instead of a harem of hens in his chicken coop, there was only one with dark feathers and large, almond eyes. In her nest were four little chicks with downy feathers peeping in quiet contentment as they all lived on the homestead of Farmer Tucker. Reed began to think that chickens didn't lead just a bad life after all.
*****
Author Notes:
All puns are intended. 18 pages. Written December 11, 2002 and posted at LD.
No reviews are necessary. Thanks for taking the time to read the story. The fiasco continues in Twelve Days 2 which I'll post within the next few days.
December 28
"Captain, we're receiving a distress call from a cargo ship. It's the Lafayette," reported Ensign Sato from her communications station on the bridge.
"The Lafayette? It's a Boomer ship, sir. The Captain was Etienne Drut. He doesn't speak English," added Mayweather.
"Lieutenant?" asked Archer in an attempt to conform to the new protocols for evaluating distress calls.
"Sir, there is nothing to indicate the transmission is not from the Lafayette," said Reed as he perused his scans. "The ship is currently drifting."
"T'Pol, anything to add?"
"Sir, the sensor readings suggest the ship is in no immediate danger. I would expect the crew needs some engineering support." The Vulcan was also evaluating her scans and had not looked up either.
"Lay in the course, Travis." Archer then contacted Engineering. "Trip, looks like we have a Boomer ship that needs some help. Be prepared for a little excursion."
-----
Reed helped Tucker prepare the shuttlepod mumbling, "Of course they don't speak English. They're French!"
"Uhuh, and that means that the ship's linguist will have to come on this mission, so quit groaning and think about the bright side," said the Chief Engineer. Really, were the British all thick-headed numbskulls where women were concerned? Nah, it was just Malcolm.
"Commander," even the roll of Tucker's eyes did not deter Reed from insisting, "Our linguist is a fine officer and I admit I admire her abilities, but that is the extent of my interest."
"Yup, that's why you were staring down her shirt in the mess hall last night? Uhuh," said Tucker without skipping a beat as he checked his toolbox.
Reed looked stunned and sputtered, "How did--when did--where the hell were you?"
"Don't get so riled up, Malcolm. I was just complimenting Chef on a fine dinner and when I stepped out of the galley, there you were grabbing Hoshi's shirt while you were sending some poor boy off in a run. Looked like some sort of weird foreplay with you cramming the chocolate in her mouth then licking the sticky stuff off your thumb. I thought I'd have to hose down the two of you, but then y'all left."
"It was Partridge! The fool sent his ice cream all over the place, absolutely ruined Hoshi's last bit of chocolate. I was just trying to prevent her from killing him!"
"Looked more like you were chasing off the competition," said Tucker.
"There is NO competition. Hoshi dislikes him even more than she dislikes me."
Trip stopped what he was doing for a moment and truly looked at his friend. The man was actually sincere. "What do you mean, Hoshi dislikes you?"
Malcolm pressed his lips into a thin line while he closed the locker he was checking a bit too loudly. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"
"What's obvious?" asked Sato as she arrived at the shuttlepod.
"That we need a translator on this mission," said Reed while giving Tucker a warning look.
Sato just shook her head. "We also need a physician. There's been a severe case of food poisoning that shut down the crew of the Lafayette. Dr. Phlox is getting his supplies together. The other important news is that Captain Drut finally disclosed the problem with his engines. It appears that the ship is transporting some, shall we say, contraband?"
Reed shook his head wearily. See, this was why a security officer was always needed on the team.
Sato continued when she saw she had the men's full attention. "The Lafayette is transporting fighting roosters to a colony that Captain Drut refuses to name. Apparently cockfights are still quite popular. They were transporting one cock and three hens of the Combattant du Nord breeding stock. The hens flew the coop and got into engineering. The rooster followed and is being very aggressive in protecting his new territory."
"I'm supposed to chase down chickens?" asked Reed incredulously.
"We'll have a poultry specialist joining us to capture three French hens and one French cock, er, rooster." Sato smiled and sighed inwardly in relief. All she needed was more innuendoes flying between her and the Lieutenant, especially in front of Tucker.
"Them gamecocks are pretty mean, Malcolm. I had a little bantam once, his feathers were all black and shiny. Charles A. Chicken, Chuck for short. I gave him the best grain feed, but the damn thing would still try to attack me. Yup, ornery little cuss, not that I'm making comparisons to anyone here," assured Tucker.
"You named a chicken after yourself?" asked Reed, ignoring the obvious metaphor.
"Wanted to call him Charles Tucker the Fourth, but my mama wouldn't hear of it," admitted Tucker. "Hey, there's Dr. Phlox. Need a hand with that, Doc?"
As Tucker rose to help the physician, Reed and Sato heard the Voice that made them cringe.
"Wow, another mission, I mean, can you beat that for luck this week?" asked Ensign Partridge as he stepped up to the team.
Sato's eyes were beginning to glaze over when she noticed Reed giving her a warning look. Oh, all right, she'd let the chocolate thief live. Reed was just too touchy about the safety of the crew!
"Ensign Partridge, I assume you're here because you're the poultry specialist?" Reed asked and was able to hide his disbelief that the man held expertise in anything.
"Oh, yeah. Chickens and I go back a long way. . ." The Ensign continued his discourse on the virtues of chickens throughout the entire flight to the Lafayette. While Phlox was entertained, the humans were not. Even the good natured Chief Engineer wanted the man stunned into silence.
"Now do you understand?" asked Reed of Tucker. Luckily this time Sato and Tucker were sitting behind the pilot.
Tucker quickly whispered, "I think I'll call him Gonzo. It suits him."
Sato looked puzzled. "Why Gonzo?"
"There was a puppet--"
"You mean the Muppets!" said Sato as she caught the reference to a historical puppet show. She lowered her voice. "Gonzo was the one obsessed with chickens, right?"
"Wonderful. We have an Ensign whose most favorable comparison is to a puppet who was always trying to blow himself up." Reed noticed the surprised looks from his colleagues. "Explosions? Gonzo was always shooting himself out of a canon."
His friends nodded in understanding, though were still surprised Reed was familiar with Muppets. Sato then quietly asked, "I don't suppose there's any way you could fire Partridge out of--"
"Don't tempt me," said Reed.
-----
Ensign Sato was translating as Dr. Phlox began his medical treatment of the crew of the Lafayette.
"Captain Drut wants the chickens apprehended with minimal damage. They're very valuable breeding stock," Sato did not translate the 'more valuable than the Englishman you have with you' comment, "and are very sensitive."
Reed nodded and held back an exasperated sigh. Tucker perked things up by saying, "Just think of it as a hunting expedition, Malcolm."
The Commander then turned to their resident Chicken Man, "Ensign Partridge, why don't ya lead us to this chicken dance. Once we've found 'em, the Lieutenant's in charge."
"Wow, I get to lead? Cool." Tucker, Reed and Sato all rolled their eyes. Dr. Phlox observed this and wondered how Ensign Partridge had managed to induce such synchrony.
"Commander, when we get to Engineering, we'll need to split up to capture the chickens with the net. If that doesn't work, we'll use the tranquilizers." Reed took the tranquilizer darts from Doctor Phlox who had prepared a special drug for the rogue fowl.
Tucker nodded, then said, "Ensign Partridge, you'll be with me. Lieutenant, you and Ensign Sato will flank 'em."
"I think Ensign Sato should stay here, Commander, after all she's needed to--" Reed was interrupted by Captain Drut.
"Doctor, that tastes terrible!" said the Boomer Captain very clearly in English.
"Well, then, I suppose not. Ensign Sato, you're with me," agreed Reed, then whispered to her as they followed Partridge and Tucker, "I know how good your aim is, Ensign, so don't try anything."
"Why, Lieutenant, stunning is too good for a chocolate thief. He needs to suffer," said Sato while she gave a look of wide-eyed innocence to Reed. Her brown eyes almost appeared as saucers. Damn, she was good at that.
"No tranquilizer darts, either," Reed warned as he indicated the dart guns he carried with him. Sato pouted. She was awfully good at that, too.
-----
The chicken assault team of the Enterprise did not need the leadership of Ensign Partridge to track down the rogue rooster and his harem. The smell was sufficient to lead them. The gamecock was arrogantly strutting on the floor while the three French hens appeared to coo in admiration from their nesting place on the platform around the engine.
"Yes, those are chickens!" proclaimed Ensign Partridge.
This time Reed had to prevent Tucker from stunning the man.
Partridge continued, "Yeah, people typically think of the Houdan breed when they think about French chickens. You know, the foofy looking black ones? But the Combattant du Nord are quite colorful. You'll notice the cock has its comb and wattle clipped."
Reed and Tucker exchanged a pained look. Whatever that was, it sounded horribly uncomfortable.
"Ahem, he means the comb on the top of the rooster's head and the red thing that sticks out from its neck," Sato explained carefully and smiled as a look of blatant relief now adorned the men's faces.
It appeared that Partridge had met his quota of intelligent sentences because he continued with, "Wow. Chickens in space. I mean, how cool can that be?"
"Let's just get the nets over them and be done with it so that Commander Tucker can see to the engines. Get into position." Reed was in full tactical mode. No chicken would escape his grasp.
The Armory officer gave one net to Tucker, then distributed the tranquilizer guns to Sato and Tucker while completely ignoring Partridge's outstretched hand. He and Sato moved in symmetry with Partridge and Tucker to achieve their attack coordinates.
Partridge suddenly stopped to point. "Wow, like the hens have laid eggs! Cool."
Without waiting for further instructions, Partridge moved to climb the ladder to the platform that the hens had adopted for their nest. The three French hens were very offended by the ill manners of the provincial Ensign and immediately began pecking at his hands while their rooster began attacking Partridge's rear with his beak. In the meantime, the smell of chicken poop began to waft throughout Engineering strongly.
"Forget the nets, use the tranquilizer darts," said Reed. "Trip, take out the rooster since that's the clearest shot. Hoshi and I will target the hens. Ready..."
Sato suddenly said, "Wait."
Tucker was surprised when Reed immediately obeyed an officer of lower rank and even put his arm out to prevent Tucker from taking his shot. Talk about henpecked! Reed merely watched as Sato seemed to count off five seconds in her head, "Okay, now."
"Fire," said Reed and the tranquilizer darts went flying.
The rooster looked surprised at the sharp sting and turned his aggression toward a new target. The fowl assumed an attack posture but then stiffened and fell like a cardboard cutout at Commander Tucker's feet. Tucker sighed in relief and tossed the net on the bird when the leg began to twitch.
In the meantime, Sato and Reed had shot two hens who had agreeably collapsed in place, but the third did a quick flight to the top of Partridge's head, probably the safest place for him to be pecked.
Reed loaded another dart and took a clear shot, still uncertain whether Sato would aim for the Partridge or for the chicken.
Partridge had the presence of mind to catch the hen when she fell, then sank to his knees in exhaustion. He sniffed the air in disgust.
"Ensign Partridge, find the nearest lavatory and get cleaned up. Next time remember to wait for instructions. I think you've already received sufficient reprimand for your inopportune behavior," said Reed. "Would you agree, Commander?"
"Certainly, Lieutenant." Tucker was already heading for the engines. "And take those foul beasts with you."
Reed and Sato placed the quiescent hens into the other net. They could hear Partridge cooing to them about being beauties as he set off to clean himself up and confine the fowl to their coop.
"Did you find this a fitting retribution, Ensign?" asked Reed.
"It will suffice, Lieutenant," said Sato with a sudden grin, then closed her mouth immediately. Their shootout with the chickens had left quite an odor in the air.
"Chicken shit!" The expletive flew out of Tucker's mouth very loudly and with exceeding disgust.
Reed and Sato looked up at the Engineer.
"It's full of chicken poop! That's what the problem is." Tucker flew down the ladder to the other two officers. "Okay, you two get some protective gear and a face mask and clean it out."
Tucker was already walking to the shuttlepod when Reed and Sato came to their senses. "Wait. You don't mean you want us to--"
"Clean up the aforementioned bird poop? Yup, we'd waste time to shuttle anyone else over right now, so both of you suit up and get that clean while I get some fresh air into my lungs." Tucker continued to walk with them to the shuttlepod.
"Aren't you going to supervise the clean up?" asked Sato in disbelief.
"Nope, I FIX engines," Tucker insisted and was met with twin postures of arms across the chest and a look of Die, Tucker from both his friends. "Look, it's gonna take ya about thirty minutes to clean up, but it'll take me two hours to replace the components that the uric acid ate through. Now, run along and play nice. That's an order."
-----
"...and this is Trip's--wait, where were we?" asked Sato.
"I believe the last section we cleaned was..." Reed began to sing softly to himself, "The rib bone's connected to the shoulder bone, the shoulder's connected to the neck bone.."
"It WAS the neck, I'm pretty sure we're up to beheading Trip," said Sato with a nod.
"I'm glad the dismemberment is complete because we're out of sections to clean," said Reed with a sigh. Reed opened his communicator very carefully and said, "Commander, Engineering is all yours."
"Great. Oh, by the way, the Doc said the decon chamber would be a good idea for the both of you."
"What? We were wearing protective gear," said Reed.
"You gonna argue with the Doc on medical decisions?" asked Tucker, knowing full well Reed's previous interactions with Phlox. He took the silence on the other end to mean compliance, "Doc will be back soon, so just stay in decon until he gets back. Ya'll send Travis to pick us up in about two hours. Leave Partridge here. He's actually good at settling down the chickens and fixing their coop."
-----
The things he had to endure as Armory Officer, thought Reed. Imbecilic Ensigns, hostile poultry, and sadistic Engineers. Just look where the day had led!
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders as Hoshi spread the decon gel along his back. He breathed in deeply. Nice clean air, soft, warm hands...phase arrays, very detailed schematics of phase arrays.
"My turn," said Sato as she sat down beside Reed and held her hair off of her back.
"What a day, wasn't it?" said Reed as he rubbed the gel onto her back. "Although I suppose now I don't have to worry about you eliminating Ensign Partridge. I do hope I never see another chicken again."
Hoshi merely mumbled her agreement. It was nice to hear his voice so close to her ear. She could feel the calluses on his hands as they traveled up and down her shoulders, up and down, up and ...
Reed suddenly stopped when he realized what he was doing. Good thing she couldn't see him blush. "All done."
"I think you missed a spot, Malcolm," said Hoshi. "Better do the shoulders again. I don't want to suffer the ill effects of poop exposure."
Malcolm had that characteristic half-smile on his face. His horribly stuffy name sounded so different when Hoshi said it. He wished she didn't dislike him so much, but he just kept accumulating negative points. Copulating trees, ruined chocolate, cleaning bird poop... He almost dreaded what would happen the next day.
So a very contrite Armory Officer applied more lotion to the Linguist's shoulders until she was satisfied. He had gone through the entire schematics of the armory in the meantime. They sat quietly for a time with their shoulders barely touching.
"Malcolm, do you think it's strange that since Christmas we've had these weird adventures?" asked Hoshi.
Perfect, now she was even acknowledging her misfortunes in his company. Well, he could always try to pin the blame on someone else. "Um, I lumped it with having Partridge as a catalyst for bad luck."
"That's just it. Partridge in a pair of trees. Then he creates two turtle Doves by supplying the toppings and spoiling my little virgin chocolates. And today we had three French hens to deal with. Do you think it's all coincidence?"
"It sounds like a Christmas story gone awry; don't fret about it. Besides, the first day of Christmas was actually December 25th, Christmas Day."
"Okay, but if we get four calling birds tomorrow, I'm going to scream."
Malcolm nodded but decided he'd hide from Hoshi for a few days. Surely her luck would improve without him around. The two officers were startled out of their thoughts by Dr. Phlox.
"Lieutenant? Ensign? What are you doing in decon?" asked the Doctor brightly.
"What do you mean? We're just following your orders," said Hoshi as she and Malcolm exchanged a bewildered glance.
"I gave no such orders, Ensign Sato," said Phlox with a cheery grin.
"But Commander Tucker said that you had said decon would be a good idea for us." Reed couldn't believe how his brain was functioning like pudding.
"We were talking about how edgy the two of you have been recently. I said the stress-free environment of the decon chamber would probably help--how shall I put this--reduce tension."
"Hey, guys. Feeling all nice and clean now?" Trip peaked in through the observation window and saw his two friends standing once again with their arms across their chests and a Die, Tucker expression on their face. Man, ya just couldn't please some people!
"Come on, I just thought you'd like some clean air and down time. Uh, Doc, is there anyway to lock 'em in? Great! And keep 'em there until I'm gone."
-----
That night Lieutenant Malcolm Reed dreamed he was a rooster, but instead of a harem of hens in his chicken coop, there was only one with dark feathers and large, almond eyes. In her nest were four little chicks with downy feathers peeping in quiet contentment as they all lived on the homestead of Farmer Tucker. Reed began to think that chickens didn't lead just a bad life after all.
*****
Author Notes:
All puns are intended. 18 pages. Written December 11, 2002 and posted at LD.
No reviews are necessary. Thanks for taking the time to read the story. The fiasco continues in Twelve Days 2 which I'll post within the next few days.