Title: A Job For The Ladies
Author; Sita Z.
Genre: Humor/ General
Rating: PG
Summary:The Ferengi's revenge. Spoilers for "Acquisition" and "Singularities".
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise, I'm not making any money from this.
AN: While I really LOVED "Acquisition", I felt there was something missing... Please R&R!
Chapter 1
Sure feels like one of those days. Trip had crouched over that particular console for about forty minutes now, his back aching worse and worse as he tried to find out what had caused the malfunction. He felt his palms getting sweaty, as it was quite hot, crammed into that corner right beside the warpcore. After he'd dropped his hypospanner for the third time in two minutes and banged his head quite badly trying to retrieve the spanner from under the console, he threw his equipment into his tool kit and got up. It was no use, trying to repair the damage without checking the software first.
"I'll be on the bridge, Lieutenant," he called to Hess who was standing on the upper level reprogramming the radiation scanners. She nodded absentmindedly and Trip doubted she had heard him at all. Wiping his grimy hands on his uniform he made his way to the door and headed for the turbolift.
As he entered the bridge he knew it was one of those days. It wasn't only his daily engineering peeves driving him up the walls. It was one of those days when you took one look at people and knew it was better to keep conversation to a minimum.
Jon was sitting in his Captain's chair, frowning down at some padd he was holding. Trip suspected it was that blasted introduction again. Somehow Command seemed to require Jonathan Archer to write an introduction to every single brochure or manual they came up with, and he seemed to require his senior staff to read and review every single one of them.
Shouldn't be part of the job, at least not like that, Trip thought, glancing at Hoshi who raised her eyes, giving him a weary grin. Well, to be honest it was more like a grimace, but unlike the others she had at least acknowledged his presence. Meeting smile after smile, Trip thought sarcastically, taking place at his station and switching on the display. Oh yes, it really was one of those days.
After a few minutes a subdued sound caught his attention, something like a... sniff. He looked up and his eyes fell on Malcolm, who was just reaching out for a box of kleenex standing on his console. He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose so hard Trip was afraid he might end up with his tissue soaked in brain lubricant, but apparently it didn't help much. Stuffing the handkerchief into the already bulging pockets of his uniform, he gave a mighty sneeze and was just turning back to his work when he noticed the Commander watching him. He gave Trip a miserable look, gesturing at his face.
"I dink I'b getting down wid a cold," he murmured apologetically.
Trip shook his head. "No kiddin'."
Malcolm sure looked like death warmed over, his face several shades paler than usual, his nose swollen and red, his eyes half-closed and puffy. Trip noticed a bright red glow on his cheekbones and realized Malcolm was probably running a fever. Just as he watched, the Armoury Officer's eyes closed once more and a second later he almost hit his forehead on the console as he gave another gigantic sneeze.
"Gesundheit," Hoshi said, throwing him a compassionate glance over her shoulder.
"Whatever that's supposed ta mean," Trip muttered, watching as Malcolm got himself another kleenex and sighed. He wished he'd had the time this morning to stop by the mess hall and get himself some coffee. But of course, it was one of those days. And you never had the time to get yourself a cup of coffee on those days. At the sound of Malcolm blowing his nose again, Jon raised his head in irritation.
"I'm never going to get that introduction finished if you keep doing that, Lieutenant. Why don't you go get some rest. You do look sick."
"I'b fine, Sir," Malcolm said feebly. "I just need to get some more gleenex, I dink I ran out of - ACHOO!"
Holding a hand in front of his nose, he quickly fumbled one of the crumpled hankies out of his pocket. "Sorry."
"That was order, Mr. Reed."
"But, Sir, I need to get dese updates finished - "
Archer let out an exasperated sigh. "You won't get them finished if you can't even open your eyes to read what's on the display. Off you go to bed, Lieutenant."
Malcolm looked positively depressed. "Sir, I bromise I won't sneeze anymore-"
"That's enough." Archer got up. "Commander Tucker, take Lieutenant Reed to his quarters."
Trip bit back a grin as he saw Malcolm's scowl. T'Pol looked up from her station, raising an eyebrow.
"Why are you so adamant about staying on the bridge when you are obviously ill?" she asked, sounding honestly confused.
Malcolm sniffed. "Begause I'b fine."
T'Pol stared at him for another moment, then gave the tiniest of shrugs and turned back to her computer. Hoshi giggled, and Trip got up from his station.
"Well, come on, Malcolm, let's go."
Reed glared at him and Trip had a hard time keeping a straight face as he continued. "Hey, don't look at me like that. Captain's orders."
Slowly Malcolm rose from his chair, leaving a trace of crumpled-up handkerchiefs behind him as he made his way to the turbolift. Trip followed him, stopping in tracks as he heard Jon's voice.
"Trip, make sure he really lies down. Lieutenant, if I happen to stop by the Armoury later and find you disobeyed my orders to stay in your quarters, I'll personally wake Dr. Phlox and have him confine you to sickbay for at least five days. Is that clear?"
Malcolm's face fell. "Yes, Sir."
"Very good." Archer sat back down in his chair and turned back to his introduction, the frown never leaving his face. As the doors of the turbolift had closed behind them, Trip turned to Malcolm.
"He's quite cranky this morning, isn't he? Wonder what's eatin' h-"
"HAA-"
Trip recoiled in horror, but it was too late.
"AACHOO!!!"
Trip wiped off his face, giving Malcolm a sour look. "Thanks for sharin'."
"Sorry." The Armoury Officer looked quite embarrassed as he searched his pockets, trying to find a kleenex that wasn't already soaking wet. After a while he gave up and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Trip watched him, once again wishing he'd gotten himself a cup of coffee before he'd started work this morning. Steaming black caffeine coffee.
"Ever noticed how disgustin' people are when they are sick?" he asked conversationally as they stepped out of the lift and headed down the hallway in the direction of Reed's quarters. Malcolm gave him an offended glance.
"'Sguse me for living. Id's dot my fault Dr. Phlox is in hibernation at de moment, and no one else seems to know what to give for a simple cold."
They came to a halt in front of Reed's quarters and Trip opened the door. "After you."
Still scowling, Malcolm went inside, followed by Trip who took a quick glance around as he entered. As always, Reed's quarters were impeccably tidy, except for the usually empty trashcan under the desk which was now overflowing with used handkerchiefs. Malcolm came to stand in the middle of his room, looking as if he didn't know what to do next. Trip put his hands to his hips.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Malcolm asked defiantly. "I'm in my quarters, as the Captain ordered."
Trip rolled his eyes. "Malcolm don' be silly. You need ta lie down, or you'll never get better."
Reed still stood in the middle of his quarters looking like a sulking five-year-old, making no move to lie down or even change out of his uniform. Trip shook his head, walking over to Malcolm's bunk and lifted the pillow to get out Reed's pajamas from under it. He couldn't suppress a grin at the sight.
"Mr. Reed, do you always fold up your PJs when you put them away in the morning?"
Reed's ears reddened, matching his glowing nose and cheeks. "What's wrong wid dat?"
Trip shoved the carefully folded bundle into Malcolm's arms, grinning. "Nothin'. It's always an interestin' experience, watchin' Brits in their natural habitat. So why don't you get changed, and then you can mess up this wonderfully tidy bed and finally lie down?"
While Malcolm changed, Trip opened one of the cupboard drawers. Refraining from commenting on Reed's socks which were sorted by colour (black to black, beige to beige, grey to grey, and one flamboyantly brown pair in the very back of the drawer) he closed it again and opened the door of the cupboard.
"Ya got somethin' like a scarf in there?" he asked, turning back to Malcolm who was currently engaged in the act of placing his uniform neatly over the back of his desk chair.
Reed frowned. "Dere should be one somewhere in de top drawer, why?"
Trip pulled out a black woollen scarf and handed it to the Armoury Officer.
"My granny used to say if you're running a fever you need to sweat it out. That all the blankets you've got?"
Reed nodded bewildered and sat down on the edge of his bed, wrapping the scarf around his neck. He was just bending down to remove his socks when Trip stopped him.
"No, keep those on!"
Malcolm raised his head in confusion. "But my feet will get all sweaty!"
"They're supposed to get sweaty. That way you'll get rid of that fever in no time. I'll go get you some more blankets; be back in a minute."
Malcolm shrugged, obviously too weary to argue, and crawled under the covers with his socks still on. When Trip re-entered the room carrying a great heap of blankets and a tray, he saw Reed had pulled up the covers to his chin, his eyes closed. He was shivering, and despite the fact that it was one of those days Trip found it in him to feel sorry for the Armoury Officer.
"Too bad you went down with that cold while Phlox is still in hibernation. Well, seems like we're gonna have ta cure it the old-fashioned way."
Ignoring Malcolm's suspicious expression, Trip set down the tray on the nightstand and dropped the blankets onto Reed's bed.
"Now wrap yourself up real tightly and when you feel you're gettin' really hot drink some of the tea I brought you. Never mind the smell, it's a special recipe of my granny's to cure headcolds."
Reed sighed. "Trip, I don't think-"
"Stop arguin' Malcolm, or I'll tell Jon you're bein' uncooperative and he'll lock ya up in sickbay. You have my word, this'll make ya feel much better."
Meekly Reed sat up, gathering together the blankets Trip had brought him and straightening them. When the Armoury Officer was hardly visible anymore, buried under layers and layers of extra covers, Trip nodded in satisfaction.
"That's much better."
Looking around he found another box of kleenex in the bathroom and put it down next to the tea on Malcolm's nightstand.
"There ya go. Now try an' catch some sleep an' you'll be soon feelin' much better."
Reed muttered something like "Yeah, if I don't suffocate first", but Trip chose to ignore him. Dimming the lights, he took one last glance at the heap of blankets on the bed and tip-toed out of Reed's quarters, thinking about how lucky Malcolm was to have a friend like him.
"It should have started by now. Too bad we can't be there in person to watch."
"I'm still not sure this was such a good idea. What if they find out?"
"Oh, they won't. They're far too stupid."
"Well, they managed to trick us last time, didn't they? And if they find out what we did, won't they be seeking revenge?"
"Revenge? They'll be seeking revenge?? They humiliated us like we've never been humiliated before, remember? We are the ones who are in the position to demand revenge, not they. And by the earlobes of my grandmother, we will get it, I swear."