Title: Section 31
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for a section31.com contest; and forgotten about - oops! It's not gonna be that long, but I had to get it out of my system. Trip is recruited by S31 [temporarily]. Takes place while Enterprise is docked at Earth and preparing to venture into the Expanse.
Disclaimer: The usual. They're owned by Paramount, the story is mine, etc. Though I'll be the first to admit that if they were to put Trip up for auction, I'd be right there.
*~Chapter One~*
"Commander? Commander!"
Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III registered two facts at the same moment: one, Malcolm Reed was calling for him, and two, there was suddenly a sharp pain in his forehead. Cursing both the console he'd been working under and the lieutenant calling his name, Trip massaged his head as he crawled out from under his console.
"Thank ya for that, Malcolm," he said sarcastically, checking the hints of blood on his fingertips, "that was definitely the highlight of my day. Goin' to sickbay was number one on my to-do list."
"I'm sorry, Commander," said Reed, paling. "I didn't realize that-"
"Yeah, well, it's not your fault," Trip sighed, waving him off. "I'm not exactly in the best o' moods lately, all things considered."
Malcolm suddenly found the floor very interesting, avoiding Trip's eyes. "Of course, I realize that, sir, and I know you're still upset over your sister's death..."
"If you're gonna pour on the pity every time ya talk to me, Malcolm, save your breath," the engineer growled, crossing in front of Reed to a diagnostic console and reading the screen. "I've got my hands full enough helping these...these..."
"Highly trained individuals?" Malcolm said quickly, substituting whatever word Trip was about to use. He glanced around to ensure none of the station crew was listening.
"Yeah, them," Trip muttered, jabbing at the buttons on the console. "I've got my hands full enough helping them install this new weapon system. I mean, all the people in and out o' Starfleet, and they want you and me to do it! Don't they think I've got enough on my plate?"
"Well, Commander, you do know this ship like the back of your hand, and I know the weapons systems the same. If anyone can help prepare this vessel for what awaits us in the Expanse, it's probably us."
Trip raised an eyebrow. "Ya sayin' you're enjoyin' this?" he asked incredulously. It was Malcolm's turn to look exasperated.
"No, I'm not saying that. Given the present circumstances, I'd much rather be grieving-" Trip gave him an annoyed look at that, "Or, you know, just about anything else," Malcolm said quickly, again avoiding the Commander's gaze. "But you can't deny that we are the men for the job."
Trip just shrugged. "So be it." He continued to perform his diagnostic, wiping a small trickle of blood out of his eyes. "Damn, I really don't want to have to stop into sickbay today," he muttered, gently probing the tender flesh of his forehead with his fingers. "Oww."
Malcolm coughed. Trip glanced back at him curiously. "Oh, ya, sorry, what was it?"
"Well," he said nervously, as though Trip was a time-bomb waiting to go off, "I know you're still upset about, umm, I know you're still upset, but I was wondering if you'd mind joining myself, Travis, and Hoshi at a pub in England this evening. We've cleared some time off with the Captain, and we thought some down time on Earth would be a good thing, considering the length of the mission we have ahead of us." He said all this quickly so that Trip wouldn't interrupt him, and Trip wondered for a moment where he'd found the time to breath.
"Actually, Malcolm, that sounds like a grand idea," said Trip matter-of- factly. "I think we could all use a bit of a break."
Malcolm cracked the first smile Trip had seen him wear in days, and Trip gladly returned it. "That's wonderful, Commander. Well be meeting in the shuttle bay at 20:30 hours. We've rented several rooms in the pub for the night, in case we...erm...enjoy ourselves a bit too much, we'll say. Besides, it will be nice to spend a night planet-side."
As Trip again wiped blood out of his eyes, Malcolm commented, "Perhaps you ought to have that checked out, Commander."
"I think I may do that, Malcolm, thanks. I'll see you tonight." Reed nodded once, and turned to go. Just as he was about to step through the door, Trip called, "Oh, and Malcolm?" Reed looked back curiously at his friend.
"Yes, Commander?"
"Call me Trip."
***
"...And you're sure you told him 20:30, Malcolm?" asked Travis Mayweather curiously from the pilot seat of the shuttlepod.
Hoshi Sato stood, walked to the door of the cramped (but still docked) shuttlepod, and looked out into the shuttle bay.
Reed turned around in his chair to face the younger man and let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, Travis, I'm sure I told him 20:30, for the last time," he said irritably.
"You sure?" said Hoshi innocently, pulling her head back into the shuttlepod, and getting a glare from Reed. She resumed her spot across from Malcolm. "After all, that was 15 minutes ago, and he's still not here. Maybe I should try to-"
At that moment, the sound of a door opening and slamming shut, and hurried footsteps could be heard. Trip stuck his head into the shuttlepod and gave them all a lopsided smile.
"Hey there y'all," he said pleasantly, though slightly out of breath. He climbed into the shuttlepod and sealed the door behind him.
"How are you, Commander?" asked Hoshi.
"Nice to see you, sir," Travis called over his shoulder from the front of the shuttlepod.
"You're late," muttered Reed.
"I'm fine, thanks, Hoshi. Good to see you too, Travis. But you two should know by now that you can call me Trip!" He sat down behind Reed as Travis began the pre-launch sequence. "And I know I'm late, Malcolm. I'm sorry; I got caught up in my diagnostic, and I lost track of time. But I'm here now."
Malcolm smiled and shook his head. "Yes, yes you are." He raised an eyebrow when he spotted the dried blood on his friend's forehead. "I thought you said you were going to have that checked out," he said, pointing. Trip shrugged.
"I woulda, but I didn't really have the chance, rushin' to get here. It's fine; it didn't bleed for much longer after you left, and it only stings a bit," he said. "Besides, if it's still buggin' me when we get back, I'll have Phlox check it out."
"Oh, alright," said Malcolm. "So long as you didn't get a concussion or anything..."
Trip laughed. "Trust me, Malcolm, if I had a concussion, I would have known long before now." Reed nodded. "So, where exactly is this pub?" asked Trip enthusiastically.
***
"This, ladies and gentlemen," said Malcolm, opening the door and leading his friends in, "is The Black Rhino."
It was the embodiment of every British pub stereotype Trip had ever heard of or seen. The room was filled with the sound of mindless chatter from the numerous customers. The air towards the ceiling was thick with smoke; several older gentlemen could be seen in the corner, having a heated debate, each with a pipe sticking out of the corner of their mouths. Several waitresses were weaving their way through the maze of tables and people, carrying trays for deep fried food and beer mugs. Several whistles and inappropriate comments followed the trail the servers left, but the women just smirked and ignored their drunken clientele.
Malcolm turned to his friends and smirked. "So, what do you think?" he asked smugly.
"It's great!" Trip enthused, taking a deep breath to show his appreciation for the place. He choked back a cough as he inhaled the pipe smoke.
"It's exactly what we need," Travis said appreciatively, stepping forwards and glancing around.
"Yeah," Hoshi piped up from the back. "You've really outdone yourself, lieutenant."
Reed grinned and led his three friends to a table towards the back. They were stopped at the bar, however, when the towering bartender shouted out, "Malcolm, me boy!!" A tall, beefy bald man with a fine moustache grinned down at the small group. Malcolm looked as excited (or as close to excited as the stiff Brit could be) as Trip had ever seen him. A wide grin crossed Reed's face, and he spoke in a quick, excited tone.
"Good God. How long has it been, Seamus?" he asked incredulously, extending a hand towards the older man.
"Too long, child, too long," Seamus cried happily, ignoring the offered hand and enveloping Reed in a huge bear-hug. Trip heard Hoshi stifle a giggle behind him at the uncomfortable look on Reed's face.
"Er...yes well..." Reed stammered, quickly pulling away from his old friend, his face flushed deep red with embarrassment. However, Trip could see a pleased look in his crewmate's eyes.
"Are you nae gonna introduce me to your mates, me boy?" the bartender asked pleasantly. Malcolm smiled and took a step back.
"Of course, Seamus, of course...these are my friends and fellow crewmates: Commander Charles Tucker the Third, Ensign Travis Mayweather, and Ensign Hoshi Sato," he said, gesturing to each one in turn. The old man grinned.
"'Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said nodding to the two men. His grin widened a bit, and he took Hoshi's hand in his own, placing a light kiss on it. "And you, lass."
Hoshi blushed furiously, though Trip noted that she didn't seem to be in such a hurry to pull her hand away. Hellos were returned; all the while Hoshi thanked him profusely. Trip dragged her away towards the back table. "Four rounds of the usual," Malcolm called out behind him. The gentle Scotsman nodded towards him and went to retrieve some mugs.
"The usual?" Trip asked, pulling a chair out for Hoshi. Malcolm grinned – an expression Trip decided he'd like to see more often on his serious friend's face.
"Yes; Seamus owns the place, and he brews his own ale in the basement. It's the best stuff this side of Wales," he said proudly.
"Sounds great," Trip said, smiling.
***
"And THEN," Malcolm slurred loudly, shaking his eighth mug around. "And then..."
"And then WHAT, Malcolm?" Trip managed to get out.
"And then...I think I'll go lie down..." Malcolm whispered, laying his head down on the table and falling unconscious.
"I think *hic* that maybe *hic* he had t-t-too much to drink!" giggled Hoshi. Travis rolled his eyes at her.
"And you didn't?" he asked, just as drunk as the rest of them. "Maybe we should head up to those roooooooooooms..." he trailed off, fascinated by a burn in their table. Trip laughed, only about half as drunk as the rest of them.
"SEAMUS!" he called out towards the bar. "I think we may need some help over here."
The large bartender sauntered over, placing his towel down on the bar as he went. "D'ya think maybe, lad?" he asked, laughing heartily. "T'is only two a.m, and you four are the only un's left here! Y'even sober, mate?" he asked Trip.
"Almost," said Trip indignantly. He rose, and he and Seamus got on either side of Malcolm, carefully lifting the armory officer into an almost- standing position. Travis shakily got up and helped Hoshi to her feet.
"Poor boy," Seamus said sadly, shaking his head as he led them up the stairs. "Ain't seen 'im this gone since he told 'is Pa he was joinin' Starfleet. Musta needed it, he did."
Trip nodded in agreement. "I think we've all got something or another to mourn. Or someone or another." Trip sighed and pushed the door open to one of their rooms.
"Y'lose someone, lad?" Seamus asked quietly, easing Malcolm onto one of the beds. Travis and Hoshi collapsed together onto a bed on the far side of the room.
"My sister," Trip replied, barely more than a whisper. Seamus laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Rotten luck, mate," he said quietly.
While Trip appreciated the attempted-comfort, he disliked nothing more in the world than to pitied; especially by someone he'd only known for a few hours. He quickly attempted to change the subject.
"Er...Travis and Hoshi'll be wonderin' what they did last night, sleepin' like that," he said, sounding a little more forced than necessary. Seamus let his hand drop, and nodded, smirking.
"Aye; you'll reassure them in the mornin', won'tcha, lad?"
"Oh, sure, sure," said Trip, an evil glint in his eyes. He turned back to the old man. "Thanks for all your help, Seamus. I guess I've gotta pick up the tab, then, do I?"
Seamus smiled. "If ya don't mind, lad. I've got a business ta keep up, ya know," he said cheerily, winking.
"Yeah...oh, hell, I think I left our credits in the shuttlepod," Trip said, mentally kicking himself. Wouldn't that have been the FIRST thing he would have remembered?
"Ach, well, just head out and grab it; I'll still be here, lad," said Seamus, leading Trip down the stairs. Trip smiled appreciatively.
"Thanks," he said, heading towards the pub door. He pushed it open and breathed in the humid night air. It was good to be planet-side again.
He sauntered slowly over to the shuttlepod, enjoying the gentle heat. He opened the door and crawled in, still slightly drunk. "Now where did I put that?" he muttered to himself, fumbling around in the dark. His hand came in contact with something that felt suspiciously like a human leg.
"What the-" He was cut off when he saw the bright light of a phaser blast. Then he saw no more.
***
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for a section31.com contest; and forgotten about - oops! It's not gonna be that long, but I had to get it out of my system. Trip is recruited by S31 [temporarily]. Takes place while Enterprise is docked at Earth and preparing to venture into the Expanse.
Disclaimer: The usual. They're owned by Paramount, the story is mine, etc. Though I'll be the first to admit that if they were to put Trip up for auction, I'd be right there.
*~Chapter One~*
"Commander? Commander!"
Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III registered two facts at the same moment: one, Malcolm Reed was calling for him, and two, there was suddenly a sharp pain in his forehead. Cursing both the console he'd been working under and the lieutenant calling his name, Trip massaged his head as he crawled out from under his console.
"Thank ya for that, Malcolm," he said sarcastically, checking the hints of blood on his fingertips, "that was definitely the highlight of my day. Goin' to sickbay was number one on my to-do list."
"I'm sorry, Commander," said Reed, paling. "I didn't realize that-"
"Yeah, well, it's not your fault," Trip sighed, waving him off. "I'm not exactly in the best o' moods lately, all things considered."
Malcolm suddenly found the floor very interesting, avoiding Trip's eyes. "Of course, I realize that, sir, and I know you're still upset over your sister's death..."
"If you're gonna pour on the pity every time ya talk to me, Malcolm, save your breath," the engineer growled, crossing in front of Reed to a diagnostic console and reading the screen. "I've got my hands full enough helping these...these..."
"Highly trained individuals?" Malcolm said quickly, substituting whatever word Trip was about to use. He glanced around to ensure none of the station crew was listening.
"Yeah, them," Trip muttered, jabbing at the buttons on the console. "I've got my hands full enough helping them install this new weapon system. I mean, all the people in and out o' Starfleet, and they want you and me to do it! Don't they think I've got enough on my plate?"
"Well, Commander, you do know this ship like the back of your hand, and I know the weapons systems the same. If anyone can help prepare this vessel for what awaits us in the Expanse, it's probably us."
Trip raised an eyebrow. "Ya sayin' you're enjoyin' this?" he asked incredulously. It was Malcolm's turn to look exasperated.
"No, I'm not saying that. Given the present circumstances, I'd much rather be grieving-" Trip gave him an annoyed look at that, "Or, you know, just about anything else," Malcolm said quickly, again avoiding the Commander's gaze. "But you can't deny that we are the men for the job."
Trip just shrugged. "So be it." He continued to perform his diagnostic, wiping a small trickle of blood out of his eyes. "Damn, I really don't want to have to stop into sickbay today," he muttered, gently probing the tender flesh of his forehead with his fingers. "Oww."
Malcolm coughed. Trip glanced back at him curiously. "Oh, ya, sorry, what was it?"
"Well," he said nervously, as though Trip was a time-bomb waiting to go off, "I know you're still upset about, umm, I know you're still upset, but I was wondering if you'd mind joining myself, Travis, and Hoshi at a pub in England this evening. We've cleared some time off with the Captain, and we thought some down time on Earth would be a good thing, considering the length of the mission we have ahead of us." He said all this quickly so that Trip wouldn't interrupt him, and Trip wondered for a moment where he'd found the time to breath.
"Actually, Malcolm, that sounds like a grand idea," said Trip matter-of- factly. "I think we could all use a bit of a break."
Malcolm cracked the first smile Trip had seen him wear in days, and Trip gladly returned it. "That's wonderful, Commander. Well be meeting in the shuttle bay at 20:30 hours. We've rented several rooms in the pub for the night, in case we...erm...enjoy ourselves a bit too much, we'll say. Besides, it will be nice to spend a night planet-side."
As Trip again wiped blood out of his eyes, Malcolm commented, "Perhaps you ought to have that checked out, Commander."
"I think I may do that, Malcolm, thanks. I'll see you tonight." Reed nodded once, and turned to go. Just as he was about to step through the door, Trip called, "Oh, and Malcolm?" Reed looked back curiously at his friend.
"Yes, Commander?"
"Call me Trip."
***
"...And you're sure you told him 20:30, Malcolm?" asked Travis Mayweather curiously from the pilot seat of the shuttlepod.
Hoshi Sato stood, walked to the door of the cramped (but still docked) shuttlepod, and looked out into the shuttle bay.
Reed turned around in his chair to face the younger man and let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, Travis, I'm sure I told him 20:30, for the last time," he said irritably.
"You sure?" said Hoshi innocently, pulling her head back into the shuttlepod, and getting a glare from Reed. She resumed her spot across from Malcolm. "After all, that was 15 minutes ago, and he's still not here. Maybe I should try to-"
At that moment, the sound of a door opening and slamming shut, and hurried footsteps could be heard. Trip stuck his head into the shuttlepod and gave them all a lopsided smile.
"Hey there y'all," he said pleasantly, though slightly out of breath. He climbed into the shuttlepod and sealed the door behind him.
"How are you, Commander?" asked Hoshi.
"Nice to see you, sir," Travis called over his shoulder from the front of the shuttlepod.
"You're late," muttered Reed.
"I'm fine, thanks, Hoshi. Good to see you too, Travis. But you two should know by now that you can call me Trip!" He sat down behind Reed as Travis began the pre-launch sequence. "And I know I'm late, Malcolm. I'm sorry; I got caught up in my diagnostic, and I lost track of time. But I'm here now."
Malcolm smiled and shook his head. "Yes, yes you are." He raised an eyebrow when he spotted the dried blood on his friend's forehead. "I thought you said you were going to have that checked out," he said, pointing. Trip shrugged.
"I woulda, but I didn't really have the chance, rushin' to get here. It's fine; it didn't bleed for much longer after you left, and it only stings a bit," he said. "Besides, if it's still buggin' me when we get back, I'll have Phlox check it out."
"Oh, alright," said Malcolm. "So long as you didn't get a concussion or anything..."
Trip laughed. "Trust me, Malcolm, if I had a concussion, I would have known long before now." Reed nodded. "So, where exactly is this pub?" asked Trip enthusiastically.
***
"This, ladies and gentlemen," said Malcolm, opening the door and leading his friends in, "is The Black Rhino."
It was the embodiment of every British pub stereotype Trip had ever heard of or seen. The room was filled with the sound of mindless chatter from the numerous customers. The air towards the ceiling was thick with smoke; several older gentlemen could be seen in the corner, having a heated debate, each with a pipe sticking out of the corner of their mouths. Several waitresses were weaving their way through the maze of tables and people, carrying trays for deep fried food and beer mugs. Several whistles and inappropriate comments followed the trail the servers left, but the women just smirked and ignored their drunken clientele.
Malcolm turned to his friends and smirked. "So, what do you think?" he asked smugly.
"It's great!" Trip enthused, taking a deep breath to show his appreciation for the place. He choked back a cough as he inhaled the pipe smoke.
"It's exactly what we need," Travis said appreciatively, stepping forwards and glancing around.
"Yeah," Hoshi piped up from the back. "You've really outdone yourself, lieutenant."
Reed grinned and led his three friends to a table towards the back. They were stopped at the bar, however, when the towering bartender shouted out, "Malcolm, me boy!!" A tall, beefy bald man with a fine moustache grinned down at the small group. Malcolm looked as excited (or as close to excited as the stiff Brit could be) as Trip had ever seen him. A wide grin crossed Reed's face, and he spoke in a quick, excited tone.
"Good God. How long has it been, Seamus?" he asked incredulously, extending a hand towards the older man.
"Too long, child, too long," Seamus cried happily, ignoring the offered hand and enveloping Reed in a huge bear-hug. Trip heard Hoshi stifle a giggle behind him at the uncomfortable look on Reed's face.
"Er...yes well..." Reed stammered, quickly pulling away from his old friend, his face flushed deep red with embarrassment. However, Trip could see a pleased look in his crewmate's eyes.
"Are you nae gonna introduce me to your mates, me boy?" the bartender asked pleasantly. Malcolm smiled and took a step back.
"Of course, Seamus, of course...these are my friends and fellow crewmates: Commander Charles Tucker the Third, Ensign Travis Mayweather, and Ensign Hoshi Sato," he said, gesturing to each one in turn. The old man grinned.
"'Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said nodding to the two men. His grin widened a bit, and he took Hoshi's hand in his own, placing a light kiss on it. "And you, lass."
Hoshi blushed furiously, though Trip noted that she didn't seem to be in such a hurry to pull her hand away. Hellos were returned; all the while Hoshi thanked him profusely. Trip dragged her away towards the back table. "Four rounds of the usual," Malcolm called out behind him. The gentle Scotsman nodded towards him and went to retrieve some mugs.
"The usual?" Trip asked, pulling a chair out for Hoshi. Malcolm grinned – an expression Trip decided he'd like to see more often on his serious friend's face.
"Yes; Seamus owns the place, and he brews his own ale in the basement. It's the best stuff this side of Wales," he said proudly.
"Sounds great," Trip said, smiling.
***
"And THEN," Malcolm slurred loudly, shaking his eighth mug around. "And then..."
"And then WHAT, Malcolm?" Trip managed to get out.
"And then...I think I'll go lie down..." Malcolm whispered, laying his head down on the table and falling unconscious.
"I think *hic* that maybe *hic* he had t-t-too much to drink!" giggled Hoshi. Travis rolled his eyes at her.
"And you didn't?" he asked, just as drunk as the rest of them. "Maybe we should head up to those roooooooooooms..." he trailed off, fascinated by a burn in their table. Trip laughed, only about half as drunk as the rest of them.
"SEAMUS!" he called out towards the bar. "I think we may need some help over here."
The large bartender sauntered over, placing his towel down on the bar as he went. "D'ya think maybe, lad?" he asked, laughing heartily. "T'is only two a.m, and you four are the only un's left here! Y'even sober, mate?" he asked Trip.
"Almost," said Trip indignantly. He rose, and he and Seamus got on either side of Malcolm, carefully lifting the armory officer into an almost- standing position. Travis shakily got up and helped Hoshi to her feet.
"Poor boy," Seamus said sadly, shaking his head as he led them up the stairs. "Ain't seen 'im this gone since he told 'is Pa he was joinin' Starfleet. Musta needed it, he did."
Trip nodded in agreement. "I think we've all got something or another to mourn. Or someone or another." Trip sighed and pushed the door open to one of their rooms.
"Y'lose someone, lad?" Seamus asked quietly, easing Malcolm onto one of the beds. Travis and Hoshi collapsed together onto a bed on the far side of the room.
"My sister," Trip replied, barely more than a whisper. Seamus laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Rotten luck, mate," he said quietly.
While Trip appreciated the attempted-comfort, he disliked nothing more in the world than to pitied; especially by someone he'd only known for a few hours. He quickly attempted to change the subject.
"Er...Travis and Hoshi'll be wonderin' what they did last night, sleepin' like that," he said, sounding a little more forced than necessary. Seamus let his hand drop, and nodded, smirking.
"Aye; you'll reassure them in the mornin', won'tcha, lad?"
"Oh, sure, sure," said Trip, an evil glint in his eyes. He turned back to the old man. "Thanks for all your help, Seamus. I guess I've gotta pick up the tab, then, do I?"
Seamus smiled. "If ya don't mind, lad. I've got a business ta keep up, ya know," he said cheerily, winking.
"Yeah...oh, hell, I think I left our credits in the shuttlepod," Trip said, mentally kicking himself. Wouldn't that have been the FIRST thing he would have remembered?
"Ach, well, just head out and grab it; I'll still be here, lad," said Seamus, leading Trip down the stairs. Trip smiled appreciatively.
"Thanks," he said, heading towards the pub door. He pushed it open and breathed in the humid night air. It was good to be planet-side again.
He sauntered slowly over to the shuttlepod, enjoying the gentle heat. He opened the door and crawled in, still slightly drunk. "Now where did I put that?" he muttered to himself, fumbling around in the dark. His hand came in contact with something that felt suspiciously like a human leg.
"What the-" He was cut off when he saw the bright light of a phaser blast. Then he saw no more.
***