Disclaimer: I wish I owned Enterprise because then I wouldn't be broke.
Unfortunately, I don't own it and am broke. Oh, the humanity.
Note: Read a few stories where the crew appropriated roses from Hydroponics (where they grow and keep flowers on Enterprise for scientific purposes, I presume) and it struck me that they wouldn't react well to this. And another note: Updated the format after Gallygee rightly said in a review that it was a bit hard to read. All I can say is that it looked better when I was writing it in Word.
It was a grave situation and it made itself felt in the atmosphere as the greenhouse team met. Faces, made haggard from the worry of constant attack, barely acknowledged the others. Lieutenant Jenkins cleared his throat.
"I think we all know why we're here."
"The thefts."
"Indeed. Let's begin. Can anyone explain why there have been twenty seven thefts of roses, three of lilies and one of a cactus in the last three weeks?" The crack Hydroponics team shrugged as one.
"I mean, it's not like the ship's turned into the Wild West. It's only Hydroponics. In fact, everyone onboard seems really happy at the moment-"
"Bar us."
"-Bar us."
The sensible one of the department, Ensign Peters, suggested, "Why don't we talk to Security? I have my suspicions, especially about that cactus."
The Lieutenant sighed. He had run that particular scenario through his mind already.
"Just imagine walking up to Lieutenant Reed and telling him about this. Do you think he would take us seriously? We can't manage to keep an eye on flowers for God's sake or even spot our wannabe Dennis Moores."
"Who?"
"Never mind. Moving on. Security is not an option at present. We should be able to deal with this ourselves." The gathered staff could see that in his mind he was hearing the Indiana Jones theme. As this was someone who designed a comic book based on "The Amazing and Exciting Adventures of the Amazing and Exciting Carolus Linnaeus!" as a child, this was not entirely surprising.
"Well, I suppose we could introduce our own security measures," Ensign Peters conceded.
"Right. Think about it for the evening. We'll meet tomorrow morning. Bring diagrams."
Ensign Travis Mayweather had noticed, albeit subconsciously, how, in the last two weeks, Hydroponics' workers had begun to look increasingly paranoid. Nervous twitches had evolved in weird and, he had to admit, entertaining ways. This presented itself in his forethoughts as he watched them gather around a far too small table at the back of the mess hall, shooting accusing looks at all present. He wondered vaguely what might have wrought this change. A traitorous voice within him reminded him of the rose he, ahem, 'borrowed' from them. He dismissed this quickly. They'd have to be real jittery if that would send them off the deep end and the Starfleet psychological screening prevented any real maniacs from being on board.
Really. Explain Reed. The traitorous voice hadn't gone away. Travis shook his head slightly. A date with Ensign Emmylou "Sure Thing" Taylor from Engineering was worth any petty larceny. He finished his breakfast and went to the bridge, a spring in his step.
At the strategic centre of operations, years of university educations and Starfleet training were abandoned in favour of the Wile E. Coyote approach.
"Right, we put the roses in view of the open door while the lights are dimmed, you follow me? When the villain approaches, we slide the bear trap into their path, it snaps shut and-"
"We call Doctor Phlox?"
"And they don't deserve it? Steal my roses, would they. I dread to think what condition they're in. I mean, do they even realize that they are here for genuine scientific purposes? We don't spend the day running through specially constructed fields of flowers!"
"Your point and your plan are duly noted, Sal. However, both the bear trap and the "just-in-case" thousand pound anvil could be hard to obtain on a starship. So, that leaves us with three workable plans."
"If we can't get hold of a bear trap, then somehow I don't think that we can get a grand piano," pointed out Crewman Sal Watts, deciding that her plan wasn't going down in flames alone.
"Fine. Just because that was mine. Okay. Fine. Two workable plans," grumbled Jenkins. "Now, to work."
An aspiring romantic made his way to Hydroponics later that day, completely unsuspecting of any schemes bent on thwarting his (mostly) honest attempt to apologise to his loved one. The ship's Chief Engineer, Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III had fouled up royally the previous night, though he still didn't quite grasp what he had done. All he had done was wonder aloud when talking to the Cap'n how Mal would manage without things to blow up. Nothin' major. Definitely not meriting his nonchalant front that Trip had learned to approach with extreme caution. A grand gesture was required. However, the last grand gesture was not an entire success. He wasn't sure if Malcolm had appreciated the cactus.
He peered in the open door. No one about. A more suspicious man, i.e. the one Trip was getting the rose for, would have had the words "too quiet" running through his head. Trip stepped inside. He wasn't sure where the roses were and paused just inside the door. The layout had changed since last he had been in there. He wandered down through the greenhouse, avoiding the more lively plants and craning his head around in order to spot the prize. In a cluttered corner on a trellis, he spotted one. A perfect specimen; not quite full-blown, but just in the process of becoming that. Trip took a knife from one of the desks nearby and reached over the mounds of compost that most likely had life forms discovering fire amid them. He was just about to snip when he was distracted by a curious noise which could only be described as "ptwoingng". This alone made Trip drop the knife but that would have been relinquished anyway with what followed. The world inverted and Trip let out an exclamation which would get him ejected from bars frequented by Hell's Angels.
"Quick, cover him then- oh no."
Cover him? What in blazes was goin' on?
"Ah don' care what ya do, ah ain't tellin' ya nothin'." Best to show these invaders that they weren't gonna intimidate him.
"We don't expect you to talk, Commander, we expect you to d-. Suffer. Well, be put in a vaguely uncomfortable position." Ensign Peters, the designated negotiator with the hostage, tried desperately to regain his previous righteous indignation in the face of his superior officer and failed quite spectacularly.
"Ah am in a "vaguely uncomfortable" position."
"Fair enough, fair enough."
"Why am Ah up here?"
"We were trying to make an example. To scare off the rest of the flower bandits."
"Rest of?"
"You're not the first to try this. Far from it, in fact. Look, sir, if we cut you down, will you not mention this again?"
"Mention what exactly? The fact Starfleet crew have taken to stringing up those in command?"
"Well, if you mention that, we'll have to mention that Starfleet's commanding officers have taken to pilfering from their crew."
Trip looked nonplussed.
Peters ploughed on. "We all will end up losing face if this comes out. A crime spree? On Enterprise? There would be reports. Lots of them. The Captain would have to be told. And I'm sure that the Head of Security would be displeased with being charged with handling of stolen goods." Peters congratulated himself on his accurate hunch when he saw the upside down Trip blanch.
"Deal done. Just get me down. The blood is flowin' outta places Ah'm not comfortable with."
"Well, that was interesting."
"I'm sure you mean "that was an unmitigated catastrophe.""
A despondent Sal could see no way of improving the situation. "Maybe we should just accept our fate. We're going to just have to get used to the thefts. We could plan on growing extra, to compensate."
"Never!"
The Lieutenant was not going to let go of this. "Are we meant to just take this? Be doormats in blue uniforms? I for one won't give up. No more, no more, I tell you! They may take our roses but they'll never take our freedom! We few, we happy few-"
"Fine. We'll carry on. Just don't quote at us while flinging that datapad about."
"Sorry."
Note: Read a few stories where the crew appropriated roses from Hydroponics (where they grow and keep flowers on Enterprise for scientific purposes, I presume) and it struck me that they wouldn't react well to this. And another note: Updated the format after Gallygee rightly said in a review that it was a bit hard to read. All I can say is that it looked better when I was writing it in Word.
It was a grave situation and it made itself felt in the atmosphere as the greenhouse team met. Faces, made haggard from the worry of constant attack, barely acknowledged the others. Lieutenant Jenkins cleared his throat.
"I think we all know why we're here."
"The thefts."
"Indeed. Let's begin. Can anyone explain why there have been twenty seven thefts of roses, three of lilies and one of a cactus in the last three weeks?" The crack Hydroponics team shrugged as one.
"I mean, it's not like the ship's turned into the Wild West. It's only Hydroponics. In fact, everyone onboard seems really happy at the moment-"
"Bar us."
"-Bar us."
The sensible one of the department, Ensign Peters, suggested, "Why don't we talk to Security? I have my suspicions, especially about that cactus."
The Lieutenant sighed. He had run that particular scenario through his mind already.
"Just imagine walking up to Lieutenant Reed and telling him about this. Do you think he would take us seriously? We can't manage to keep an eye on flowers for God's sake or even spot our wannabe Dennis Moores."
"Who?"
"Never mind. Moving on. Security is not an option at present. We should be able to deal with this ourselves." The gathered staff could see that in his mind he was hearing the Indiana Jones theme. As this was someone who designed a comic book based on "The Amazing and Exciting Adventures of the Amazing and Exciting Carolus Linnaeus!" as a child, this was not entirely surprising.
"Well, I suppose we could introduce our own security measures," Ensign Peters conceded.
"Right. Think about it for the evening. We'll meet tomorrow morning. Bring diagrams."
Ensign Travis Mayweather had noticed, albeit subconsciously, how, in the last two weeks, Hydroponics' workers had begun to look increasingly paranoid. Nervous twitches had evolved in weird and, he had to admit, entertaining ways. This presented itself in his forethoughts as he watched them gather around a far too small table at the back of the mess hall, shooting accusing looks at all present. He wondered vaguely what might have wrought this change. A traitorous voice within him reminded him of the rose he, ahem, 'borrowed' from them. He dismissed this quickly. They'd have to be real jittery if that would send them off the deep end and the Starfleet psychological screening prevented any real maniacs from being on board.
Really. Explain Reed. The traitorous voice hadn't gone away. Travis shook his head slightly. A date with Ensign Emmylou "Sure Thing" Taylor from Engineering was worth any petty larceny. He finished his breakfast and went to the bridge, a spring in his step.
At the strategic centre of operations, years of university educations and Starfleet training were abandoned in favour of the Wile E. Coyote approach.
"Right, we put the roses in view of the open door while the lights are dimmed, you follow me? When the villain approaches, we slide the bear trap into their path, it snaps shut and-"
"We call Doctor Phlox?"
"And they don't deserve it? Steal my roses, would they. I dread to think what condition they're in. I mean, do they even realize that they are here for genuine scientific purposes? We don't spend the day running through specially constructed fields of flowers!"
"Your point and your plan are duly noted, Sal. However, both the bear trap and the "just-in-case" thousand pound anvil could be hard to obtain on a starship. So, that leaves us with three workable plans."
"If we can't get hold of a bear trap, then somehow I don't think that we can get a grand piano," pointed out Crewman Sal Watts, deciding that her plan wasn't going down in flames alone.
"Fine. Just because that was mine. Okay. Fine. Two workable plans," grumbled Jenkins. "Now, to work."
An aspiring romantic made his way to Hydroponics later that day, completely unsuspecting of any schemes bent on thwarting his (mostly) honest attempt to apologise to his loved one. The ship's Chief Engineer, Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III had fouled up royally the previous night, though he still didn't quite grasp what he had done. All he had done was wonder aloud when talking to the Cap'n how Mal would manage without things to blow up. Nothin' major. Definitely not meriting his nonchalant front that Trip had learned to approach with extreme caution. A grand gesture was required. However, the last grand gesture was not an entire success. He wasn't sure if Malcolm had appreciated the cactus.
He peered in the open door. No one about. A more suspicious man, i.e. the one Trip was getting the rose for, would have had the words "too quiet" running through his head. Trip stepped inside. He wasn't sure where the roses were and paused just inside the door. The layout had changed since last he had been in there. He wandered down through the greenhouse, avoiding the more lively plants and craning his head around in order to spot the prize. In a cluttered corner on a trellis, he spotted one. A perfect specimen; not quite full-blown, but just in the process of becoming that. Trip took a knife from one of the desks nearby and reached over the mounds of compost that most likely had life forms discovering fire amid them. He was just about to snip when he was distracted by a curious noise which could only be described as "ptwoingng". This alone made Trip drop the knife but that would have been relinquished anyway with what followed. The world inverted and Trip let out an exclamation which would get him ejected from bars frequented by Hell's Angels.
"Quick, cover him then- oh no."
Cover him? What in blazes was goin' on?
"Ah don' care what ya do, ah ain't tellin' ya nothin'." Best to show these invaders that they weren't gonna intimidate him.
"We don't expect you to talk, Commander, we expect you to d-. Suffer. Well, be put in a vaguely uncomfortable position." Ensign Peters, the designated negotiator with the hostage, tried desperately to regain his previous righteous indignation in the face of his superior officer and failed quite spectacularly.
"Ah am in a "vaguely uncomfortable" position."
"Fair enough, fair enough."
"Why am Ah up here?"
"We were trying to make an example. To scare off the rest of the flower bandits."
"Rest of?"
"You're not the first to try this. Far from it, in fact. Look, sir, if we cut you down, will you not mention this again?"
"Mention what exactly? The fact Starfleet crew have taken to stringing up those in command?"
"Well, if you mention that, we'll have to mention that Starfleet's commanding officers have taken to pilfering from their crew."
Trip looked nonplussed.
Peters ploughed on. "We all will end up losing face if this comes out. A crime spree? On Enterprise? There would be reports. Lots of them. The Captain would have to be told. And I'm sure that the Head of Security would be displeased with being charged with handling of stolen goods." Peters congratulated himself on his accurate hunch when he saw the upside down Trip blanch.
"Deal done. Just get me down. The blood is flowin' outta places Ah'm not comfortable with."
"Well, that was interesting."
"I'm sure you mean "that was an unmitigated catastrophe.""
A despondent Sal could see no way of improving the situation. "Maybe we should just accept our fate. We're going to just have to get used to the thefts. We could plan on growing extra, to compensate."
"Never!"
The Lieutenant was not going to let go of this. "Are we meant to just take this? Be doormats in blue uniforms? I for one won't give up. No more, no more, I tell you! They may take our roses but they'll never take our freedom! We few, we happy few-"
"Fine. We'll carry on. Just don't quote at us while flinging that datapad about."
"Sorry."