Title: Mr. Nice Guy, Chapter Two

Author: Christina-lives-here

Disclaimer: If I owned Enterprise, I'd have a lot more money to spend.

Summary: Travis begins to formulate a plan.

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Finally. Stretching, Travis stood and headed toward the turbo lift. Dinner was in order. After all, one can't plan evil plans on an empty stomach.

Walking through the doors of the mess hall, the first things Travis noticed was that the only thing left was mashed turnip. No matter. Let the others eat their precious pecan pie. Ketchup always makes turnip taste better.

Piling the turnip on his plate, Travis noticed Trip sitting with Hoshi. At least Hoshi has the decency not to look bored, he thought.

Deciding to grace her with his presence, he sat down at their table and winked at Hoshi. "Hey Travis," said Trip, smiling. "Hoshi and I are kinda having a private conversation. If you don't mind. Can we catch up with you later?"

Inwardly, Travis had the urge to wipe the smile off Tucker's face. Outwardly, Travis put the smile on he had been practicing for months on his face.  

Private? I'll give you private! Is an airlock private enough for you?

"Of course not, Commander. I have to be going anyways. Have a pleasant evening." Leaving his turnip, he jumped up and ran out of the mess hall. Trip gave him a funny look. "Uh, yeah you too, Travis." Turning back toward the table, Hoshi gave Trip a questioning look. Trip made a loopy sign around his head.

Stomping down the hall, he took out his tape recorder. "Trip. Hate him. He will pay for his privacy! HAHAHAHAHA." Pausing, he waited long enough for the random ensign walking down the hall to disappear. "Oh, and steal more dog biscuits to mash in Archer's food. Chef's special ingredient." Putting the recorder back in his pocket, he nearly collided with Lieutenant Reed.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Ensign, but Martinez can't make his shift. Out with the flu, or so I've heard. The Captain would like you to take his place. Since I was on the way to the mess hall, I said I'd relay the orders." Reed took a step back when he realized Travis was grinding his teeth and clenching his fist. "Are you alright, Ensign? You look….

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Malcolm was not about to tell the Ensign he looked crazy. He may have been the Armory officer, but he was no fool.

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"….a little peckish. But, I'd better be going now. The Commander saved me a plate of food. There's never anything good left at this time in the evening."

As Reed hurried away, Travis calmly took out his recorder. "Stash gay porn at Reed's station. Make sure T'pol finds it so he'll have no chance with her."

Yessssss..... He'll be sorry for being the Captains PUPPET!

Travis knew he needed a really evil plan to get back at all those who insulted his being. They would be sorry for giving him TWO lines in 'Twilight' and killing him off right away. For Christ's sake, they weren't even hiding the fact that his chair was worth more than him. Of course, it had to be better than a laxative in the pecan pie. Although….

"Exlaxx, pecan pie. HAHAHAHAHA."

Stepping onto the turbo lift, he nodded to another random ensign. At least during the night shift he could brush up on his voodoo. And fart in Archer's chair. Repeatedly.