DISCLAIMER: These are not my characters. This story is for entertainment purposes ONLY.

There are (of course) a few snickers as I walk into main Engineering, five, possibly ten minutes late. I know what I look like, I caught my reflection on the way down, but somehow, it's not all that amusing.

"Hess." He doesn't even look up from his work. Perfect. "You're late, you were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago."

"Ten by my watch, sir. Now what is it in particular you want me to do?" I've walked up behind him now, close enough to bite. Which, while tempting, isn't what I have in mind. I hear some of the giggles turn to whispers; they can see the small sack I'm holding behind me.

He turns around, looks me over. "Shower and change would be good. As you stand you are a disgrace to the uniform…"

I don't let him finish, simply swing the bag around and let the contents spill over his head. A pound and a half of kitchen waste, all of it held up because of his little game with the recycler. Okay, not exactly a prank, but I want to be sure he gets the message. And the execution is important, done wrong and he could've stopped me. "I believe the same could be said of you, sir." Vegetable peelings have slipped down his collar, and something gooey is dripping off his ear. There's onions in the mix, and I can see the tears beginning to form in his eyes.

He reaches a hand up, and runs it through his hair, dislodging some shrimp tails. "Very funny, Hess." He picks a couple of pieces loose, and drops them down the front of my uniform. He then proceeds to wipe his hands off on my sleeves. Where they stick.

"Sorry about that sir, I don't know how that adhesive got there." I manage to wriggle my way out of the coveralls, and while it means I'm standing in the middle of main Engineering in only a T-shirt and my underwear, at least I've got my hands free. Which is more than he can say.

I ignore the whistles, I've heard worse. Commander Tucker on the other hand, has to figure out how to do anything while attached by both hands to an empty pair of coveralls. Not to mention being covered in garbage. There's an undercurrent running through engineering at the moment, two powerhouses have collided, and no one's sure what's going to happen. Commander Tucker looks for a moment like he could either kiss me or kill me.

Very slowly, deliberately, he walks over and plants a kiss on my forehead. Which wouldn't have been too bad, except he then shakes his head, giving me another dose of rubbish. The grins are wider now, this could turn into anything.

"Ahem." Everyone jumps at the sound of a cleared throat; that is never a good sound. Captain Archer stands at the door, staring at the two of us with a look of disapproval laid over fury. "Commander. Lieutenant. My ready room if you please. Now."

We hustle, neither one quite daring to look at the other. Maybe we went a little too far with this one, or maybe the inclusion of Hayes' people into the mix didn't go over so well. I'm not sure which, and I don't think the commander is either. Neither one of us is concerned about looking very dignified: right now it would be close to impossible.

We enter Archer's ready-room, seconds behind the captain himself. He doesn't sit down, instead he begins to pace, which is a bad sign.

"Commander. Lieutenant." Also not a good sign: he's using our titles and not our names. With me, I could sort of understand, but Commander Tucker is always 'Trip' to the captain, unless he's in trouble.

"I am not even going to waste my time asking why, when I enter engineering to speak with my chief engineer, I find him, and his second-in-command covered in god knows what," – I don't lose it, this is my captain speaking -- "half dressed, and generally acting like a pair of two year olds." His voice rises to a shout on the last three words; I can see Commander Tucker wince. I feel for him, this is his mentor, someone he idolizes, screaming at him. In fact, if it were the commander truly screaming at me (though he's not the type), I'd feel the same way. I also note that we are being granted less emotional maturity than Major Hayes and Malcolm after their fight.

"Sir…" He's about to take responsibility again, I know it. So, unfortunately does Captain Archer.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear any excuses, any apologies, any of it? Clear?"

Commander Tucker nods, he looks like he's genuinely about to cry now. I can even see his lower lip trembling. He's one of those people who truly cares what others, especially authority figures, think about him. I, on the other hand don't. I do however, care about other people getting hurt. While not the maternal type, I have this motherly urge right now to kick Captain Archer's ass and give the commander a comforting hug, so much does this look like a father losing it on a small, eager to please son. I don't, however, because I know that Commander Tucker's a big boy and can look after himself.

"What I truly want to know, however, is how two members of your team came to be trapped behind a starboard bulkhead. They claim to have been working on a repair problem when the wall panel was replaced behind them."

It's all I can do not to gasp, not to react. He didn't, he didn't.

"May I ask who those members happened to be?" The commander sounds so perfectly innocent, so absolutely ignorant as to who it could be.

"Crewman Alan Bryson and Crewman Lawrence Higgens. I don't suppose those names are unfamiliar to you?" The sarcasm in Captain Archer's voice could be used as a blunt weapon.

"No sir, they are not. I am well aware of which crewmembers they are, sir. I will look into it immediately sir." Commander Tucker continues looking straight ahead, doesn't even glance at me.

I could kiss him. It's like an early birthday and Christmas present, all wrapped up with a shiny ribbon and a big, fancy bow. And to think I was so untrusting, so unworthy as to pour garbage all over his head. I will apologise, I will kiss his feet, I will do all his laundry and housekeeping for a year.

The captain stops at me, looking straight into my face, my eyes. Silly boy, I can fake anyone with the eyes.[1]"Did you," he says slowly and clearly, "Have you, did you, or do you have anything to do with – or any knowledge whatsoever of -- this, Lieutenant?"

Okay, now he's pushing it. It's one thing to ask me if I did it (and I can say no), but the way he's phrased the question, he's asking me to incriminate the commander if I can. And that is something I won't do. Nohow.

I stare right back at him, don't answer.

"Lieutenant?" He's not accepting the silent treatment. "I would like an answer from you."

"Sir…" Commander Tucker tries again, gets about as far.

"I do believe the lieutenant is capable of answering for herself, commander. Unless her faculties have somehow been stricken from her?"

"I am invoking my right to remain silent, sir." Which means that other than that phrase, he'll get name, rank and serial number out of me.

His eyebrows do a jump at my response, practically disappearing into his hairline. "Your right to remain silent, Lieutenant…" I can tell he wants to say I don't have that right, but he knows damn well I do. I can also see he's worked out the second, unsaid part of things. He can't force me to rat on Commander Tucker, because he can't prove I'm not the commander's legal rep. So not only do I have the right to remain silent regarding my actions, I also have the obligation to remain silent with regard to anything Commander Tucker might have told me. Which is absolutely zero, but the captain doesn't know that.

He tries for a few more moments to stare me down, but I haven't been playing Texas-Hold-'Em since I was twelve for nothing. And against lawyers, to boot. Eventually the captain gives up when his eyes begin to water.

"I seriously doubt Lieutenant Hess had opportunity to do what you are suggesting, sir. She has been rather busy all day, I had to com her several times, and at no time was she anywhere near the Starboard side of the ship…"

He's right. I never realised it, but all my tasks were well to the port side, apart from the sojourn into the armoury. And as for the com calls…

Witnesses. It's the only explanation. He was setting me up with an alibi, so when those two got Amontillado'd, there was no way I could get nailed for it. Because I can practically guarantee that the first word out of their mouths when they were freed was 'Hess', or maybe 'Tucker'.

"… if you'd like to check the logs sir, I think you can see that they were all to locations…" Good bluff, but there's a problem with it.

"And what about your location, Commander?" Bingo. Commander always said that the Captain's one of the few people who could beat him in a serious game.

"I believe the logs all have an originator location as well, sir." As in "I was in main Engineering the whole time, sir." Except he couldn't have been, because I don't see him getting someone else involved and exposing them to this level of risk. Then it hits me: change the programming so that the computer thinks all his calls are coming from his station. In other words, no matter where on the ship he actually placed the calls from, they would all be tagged as from his desk. Brilliant.

He could do it too. We are talking about the guy who convinced Starfleet's computers that their NX prototype was still in the hangar when it was busting its way past the moon. If Admiral Forrest wasn't so experienced with engineers that he called for a hard-target confirmation, they might have actually been able to bring it back before anybody really noticed. Compared to that, call forwarding is a child's game[2].

I can see by Archer's face that he doesn't believe it, but doesn't have anything to get the Commander on. He can't bring up the theft incident in front of me, because technically it never happened. What he doesn't realise is that I knew about the plan before it happened. Ostensibly we cooked it up as a what-if, fantasy scenario over coffee. The rest of us involved had no idea that the commander (then Lieutenant) was going to use it.[3] The fact that he proposed the exercise to us less than three hours before he engaged in his little appropriation is merely coincidental.

"Rest assured, Mr. Tucker," (ouch, that's gotta hurt) "I will be checking. In fact, I will be handling the entire investigation of not only this incident, but any other complaints I have received throughout the day." He looks at me again when he says this, I can only think of Corporal Cole.

"I'm certain…"

"I'm certain that you've said rather enough, Commander. The two of you are confined to quarters until further notice, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." It comes out in perfect unison; we could be Midwich Cuckoos.

"Included in that is any form of communication with any members of the crew or the MACO contingent, whatsoever. I don't care if you're dying and want to contact Phlox. I don't care if your bed catches fire, or your cabin begins to decompress. You are not to leave, you are not to communicate. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Two hours pass, and I am too keyed up to even unwind. He knows what this day is all about, his father was an engineer. Surely he's got to understand that it's all part of the game, that none of it is meant to hurt. I can only imagine how Commander Tucker feels, he's probably tracking the veins in his wrists right now. I so want to bust out of here, and confess, even though I didn't do it, just to get the captain off the commander's case. It's so stupid, Bryson and Higgens can get away with anything, and someone as poorly connected (in the grander scheme of things) like the commander gets nailed for trying to create a little equity. It makes me want to kick something. Except then I'd probably get in trouble for that.

Even Evil Thing and Igor[4] are keeping their distance from me, which they almost never do. I feel sorry for them, having to put up with me this way, but there's not a lot I can really do about it. I am steamed, mainly because there's nothing in the world I can do – or hate more – than to wait. I sit down on the floor for a second to apologise to them when my desk console beeps. Insistently.

What the heck? The captain did say no communication, right?

Well, I guess he wasn't counting himself in that number, because what appears onscreen is a long list of charges and disciplinary points, all formally laid out. From his opening address, it's clear that Commander Tucker has a similar, if not more lengthy document on his desk. I scroll down it, my heart sinking as I read. Every single one of these he can get us on, if he tries. He's laying every single incident today at our feet, on the basis that senior officers are responsible for the actions of their subordinates. I never would have guessed it about Archer – I mean he used to be a tight-ass, but years of hanging out with Commander Tucker supposedly fixed that – this level of sheer vindictiveness.

It's at the bottom, I almost miss it. Following the list of specifications is a nice little line for the charging officer's signature. And he has signed it…

That scheming, rotten bastard. He got us. He got us.

…April Fool.

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Author's note. Soon to come: The Great WaterGun War. Just like I promised. Stay tuned.

[1] Just ask Corporal Cole.

[2] That is to say, a game designed by adults to be played by children. Any games designed by children have more complicated rules than you or I could ever imagine.

[3] It was, however, nice to know the plan worked.

[4] Evil Thing from the Great Beyond and Igor are members of the feline and lagomorph species, respectively, which is not something that should ever be held against them. While we are not allowed to keep pets on Enterprise (somehow Porthos doesn't count), there was no way I was leaving them with my ex.