Title: Confessions
By: Angel
Rating: PG at most
Synopsis: Sometimes a guy just needs to shoot things
Disclaimers: The usual, I don't own these guys, not making any money, yada, yada.
Notes: Thanks so much for all the feedback. I was really nervous writing ST despite my long love of it. Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it.
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Trip's body moved powerfully down the corridor. His anger was such that he didn't even know where he was going, despite his purposeful stride. After only a few moments, however, he found himself outside Malcolm's quarters. Without a second thought, he rang the buzzer.
Malcolm opened the door within mere seconds of the buzz. His relaxed, off- duty attire and gentle smile were in stark contrast to the man waiting on the other side of the door. Trip's very being emanated energy, he bounced on his feet and curled and uncurled his fists while waiting for his friend to answer. The moment the door opened, he barked, "Want to go shoot something?"
Lt. Reed paused to take in the appearance of the fellow officer standing on his threshold. Whatever the problem was, Malcolm knew Trip needed someone to talk to before he exploded. "Sure, let me grab my hand phaser." He turned to retrieve his weapon from the nearby desktop, but Trip started off without him. Malcolm finally caught up with him halfway to the shooting range.
The two men finished the short trip to the converted cargo bay in silence. When they entered, Malcolm started up the target practice program and they took a back-to-back stance and began firing. They completed two full rounds of the program before Malcolm dared to speak. "You know, if you want to talk about it..."
"No, I don't," came the brusque reply.
"Okay with me." Malcolm sighed, and then continued; "I don't mind wiping the floor with you. I'm outscoring you two to one." The friends continued the shooting match for several more minutes in silence.
Then, Trip began speaking as if he were talking to himself, his voice getting louder with each syllable. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Just when you think you understand them, boom! She makes me so damn mad, I just want to...well, shoot something!"
Malcolm ceased firing immediately and turned to face his friend. "Excuse me? 'She'? Who, exactly is 'she'?"
"What? Um, oh," realizing his mistake, Trip began to fumble for an explanation. He lowered his weapon and turned to face his companion. "You know, the ship. They call ships 'she' all the time. It's fairly common."
"Uh huh. The ship makes you want to shoot things. Why is that again?" Malcolm is incredulous but wants to hear this reasoning.
Both men are now facing each other, target practice forgotten although the random spots of light are still flashing around them, begging to be shot at. "Well," Trip began, "you know how it is when you spend three years getting to know a...an engine. You finally think you have it figured out, at least somewhat, and suddenly it starts acting different. At first you think, 'Gee, maybe it's the new upgrade we just did', so you remove the upgrade and go back to the way things were. Then you realize, it wasn't the upgrade at all and you don't have a clue what the problem is. So, you try to do a diagnostic and in the process you discover the atmospheric regulators are having an adverse reaction on the warp drive. The next logical step is to repair the regulators, but then you find out that they've already been taken off-line and repaired by someone else. Now you're back to square one with a faulty engine that you thought you knew." Breathless, Trip sagged down along a nearby bulkhead. Finally sitting on the floor, he looked up into his friend's eyes and quietly asked, "What's next? Where do you go from there?"
Malcolm was astonished at the utter confusion he saw in the Chief Engineer's eyes. The hurt and loss was coming off of him in waves now that he'd released them. Of course Malcolm knew that Trip wasn't talking about engines, and while he wasn't positive about whom the commander was speaking, he had a pretty good idea. Momentarily, he wondered what could possibly have happened between the two of them to cause his friend such grief.
Sliding to the floor beside Trip, Malcolm hung his head before saying, "Engines can be pretty temperamental, or so I've heard. Maybe all you can do is to be there, everyday, learning its ins and outs. Some days you may not know what to do, but as long as it's your engine you have to try."
"That's it? I have to try?" Trip looked at his friend with disbelief. "What if I never figure out the engine? What if it..."
"Trip, only you can decide if you want to maintain this engine. Only you know if you're a better engineer because of this engine. Only you can stick with it no matter what or decide to turn tail and look for a new ship with a better engine." 'God, this analogy's getting old!' Malcolm thought. "Well, what do you think? Is there an engine out there, somewhere in deep space, that's better suited to you?"
They sat in silence again, Malcolm purposefully not looking at his friend. If there's one thing men know how to do, it's be alone with someone else present. From the corner of his eye, however, he could see Trip repeatedly shaking his head and wiping his hands over his face. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision within himself. His restlessness ceased and he squared his shoulders.
Without another word, Trip rose from his seat and headed for the door. "Hey! Where ya going?" Malcolm called to him.
Trip turned to him and smiled. "I've got to go run a diagnostic."
End Chapter 2
By: Angel
Rating: PG at most
Synopsis: Sometimes a guy just needs to shoot things
Disclaimers: The usual, I don't own these guys, not making any money, yada, yada.
Notes: Thanks so much for all the feedback. I was really nervous writing ST despite my long love of it. Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it.
222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222222
Trip's body moved powerfully down the corridor. His anger was such that he didn't even know where he was going, despite his purposeful stride. After only a few moments, however, he found himself outside Malcolm's quarters. Without a second thought, he rang the buzzer.
Malcolm opened the door within mere seconds of the buzz. His relaxed, off- duty attire and gentle smile were in stark contrast to the man waiting on the other side of the door. Trip's very being emanated energy, he bounced on his feet and curled and uncurled his fists while waiting for his friend to answer. The moment the door opened, he barked, "Want to go shoot something?"
Lt. Reed paused to take in the appearance of the fellow officer standing on his threshold. Whatever the problem was, Malcolm knew Trip needed someone to talk to before he exploded. "Sure, let me grab my hand phaser." He turned to retrieve his weapon from the nearby desktop, but Trip started off without him. Malcolm finally caught up with him halfway to the shooting range.
The two men finished the short trip to the converted cargo bay in silence. When they entered, Malcolm started up the target practice program and they took a back-to-back stance and began firing. They completed two full rounds of the program before Malcolm dared to speak. "You know, if you want to talk about it..."
"No, I don't," came the brusque reply.
"Okay with me." Malcolm sighed, and then continued; "I don't mind wiping the floor with you. I'm outscoring you two to one." The friends continued the shooting match for several more minutes in silence.
Then, Trip began speaking as if he were talking to himself, his voice getting louder with each syllable. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Just when you think you understand them, boom! She makes me so damn mad, I just want to...well, shoot something!"
Malcolm ceased firing immediately and turned to face his friend. "Excuse me? 'She'? Who, exactly is 'she'?"
"What? Um, oh," realizing his mistake, Trip began to fumble for an explanation. He lowered his weapon and turned to face his companion. "You know, the ship. They call ships 'she' all the time. It's fairly common."
"Uh huh. The ship makes you want to shoot things. Why is that again?" Malcolm is incredulous but wants to hear this reasoning.
Both men are now facing each other, target practice forgotten although the random spots of light are still flashing around them, begging to be shot at. "Well," Trip began, "you know how it is when you spend three years getting to know a...an engine. You finally think you have it figured out, at least somewhat, and suddenly it starts acting different. At first you think, 'Gee, maybe it's the new upgrade we just did', so you remove the upgrade and go back to the way things were. Then you realize, it wasn't the upgrade at all and you don't have a clue what the problem is. So, you try to do a diagnostic and in the process you discover the atmospheric regulators are having an adverse reaction on the warp drive. The next logical step is to repair the regulators, but then you find out that they've already been taken off-line and repaired by someone else. Now you're back to square one with a faulty engine that you thought you knew." Breathless, Trip sagged down along a nearby bulkhead. Finally sitting on the floor, he looked up into his friend's eyes and quietly asked, "What's next? Where do you go from there?"
Malcolm was astonished at the utter confusion he saw in the Chief Engineer's eyes. The hurt and loss was coming off of him in waves now that he'd released them. Of course Malcolm knew that Trip wasn't talking about engines, and while he wasn't positive about whom the commander was speaking, he had a pretty good idea. Momentarily, he wondered what could possibly have happened between the two of them to cause his friend such grief.
Sliding to the floor beside Trip, Malcolm hung his head before saying, "Engines can be pretty temperamental, or so I've heard. Maybe all you can do is to be there, everyday, learning its ins and outs. Some days you may not know what to do, but as long as it's your engine you have to try."
"That's it? I have to try?" Trip looked at his friend with disbelief. "What if I never figure out the engine? What if it..."
"Trip, only you can decide if you want to maintain this engine. Only you know if you're a better engineer because of this engine. Only you can stick with it no matter what or decide to turn tail and look for a new ship with a better engine." 'God, this analogy's getting old!' Malcolm thought. "Well, what do you think? Is there an engine out there, somewhere in deep space, that's better suited to you?"
They sat in silence again, Malcolm purposefully not looking at his friend. If there's one thing men know how to do, it's be alone with someone else present. From the corner of his eye, however, he could see Trip repeatedly shaking his head and wiping his hands over his face. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision within himself. His restlessness ceased and he squared his shoulders.
Without another word, Trip rose from his seat and headed for the door. "Hey! Where ya going?" Malcolm called to him.
Trip turned to him and smiled. "I've got to go run a diagnostic."
End Chapter 2