Title: The Q Experience

Authors: Sita/T'eyla

Rating: PG

Genre: Humor/General

AN: Thanks to Jen717, csifan2000 (yup, first time... Archer is in for one nasty little surprise ;-) ), Meridian Siler, Dacker Spaniel, KaliedescopeCat (yes, it's only the senior staff... and once chapter 3 is up it will be clear what happened to the rest of the crew :-) ), Exploded Pen (sorry about that statement... but being two older sisters we just had to put it there :-). It's aimed mostly at *our* little brother, though,who by the way was one of the main sources of inspiration to this story... ;-) ), Gabi (danke für deine nette mail; Antwort und neue Übersetzungen kommen bald!), Reedie (heehee, your suggestion for chapter 2 was great! BTW, feel free to write long reviews, we certainly don't mind!! ;-) ), Anna Yolei ("megabadass" :-)... BTW, feel free to mail us your opinion anytime), Rusty Armour and Insane Elven Pirate for reviewing! Sorry about these author's notes!! Now here's Chapter 2, hope ya like it, please r&r!

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Chapter 2: 10 Ways To Have Fun With A Reseparator

Malcolm stood on the tip of his toes, groping for the plate of pineapple cake he'd spotted on the highest shelf of the cupboard. His fingers brushed the edge of the plate, and he jumped a little, trying to grab it. The next moment the plate came down, cake and all, sliding down the front of his overall and leaving a trail of cream, crumbs and pineapple, then landing on the floor with a crash.

"Bloody hell!" Brushing off the front of his jumpsuit, Malcolm got to his knees and started scraping together the remains of the cake, putting them back onto the plastic plate.

"You're not gonna eat that, are ya?"

Malcolm looked up and saw the other boy, Trip, standing in front of him, holding a plate of meatloaf in one hand and a bowl of icecream in the other.

"Of course not," Malcolm said, grabbing a napkin and wiping the last remains of cream off the floor. "But I can't just leave it like that, can I?"

"Why not?" Trip grinned. "I didn't clean up that pasta over there, either."

He set the plate and the bowl down on the table where they'd put all the other stuff they'd found in the cupboards. When Malcolm saw him place the icecream next to the pizza, he rolled his eyes.

"Man, I told you - the sweets go over there," he said, getting up. Picking up the bowl, he put it down next to the collection of cakes, pies and puddings on the adjoining table. "We need a system here."

"Hey, Malcolm, look at this!"

Malcolm turned his head and saw Trip standing next to the door, looking at some kind of device in the wall. Grabbing a piece of cinnamon pie, Malcolm walked over to the door and inspected the thing in the wall as well. It was some kind of slot with a sliding door and a small panel on its right side. Regarding it thoughtfully, he took a bite of his pie.

"Whassis?" he asked around a mouthful of cinnamon. "Think I saw sump'n like it before."

"Yeah, I think I saw somethin' like that on TV," Trip said. "It's a re... a re... a reseparator or somethin'. The guy on TV, he just put a cup in it and said "coffee" and - zap - his cup was full of coffee."

Malcolm swallowed his mouthful of pie. "Cool," he said. "You think anyone minds if we try it out?"

Trip shrugged. "The only one who'd mind is that Miss Smart-ass who kept tellin' me to shut up, and she's not here right now."

"And what if she comes looking for us? She told us to make a... er... reconnaissance or something, and I don't think we did anything like that. She'll come looking for us for sure."

Trip grinned at him. "You're not chickenin' out, are ya?"

"Of course not," Malcolm said indignantly. "Let's go find a cup."

"There're some in that cupboard over there," Trip said. "I saw them earlier when I was lookin' for some spoons."

While Trip got some cups from a shelf beside the reseparator, Malcolm inspected the device once again and his eyes fell on the panel next to it on the wall.

"Look at these buttons," he said, glancing over at Trip. "You think they do anything?"

"I think you have to press them first before you order somethin'." Trip handed him one of the cups, putting the rest down on a table next to him. "Come on, you go first."

Malcolm gave the reseparator a doubtful look and saw that there were indeed quite a lot of buttons on that panel. In fact, he'd never seen this kind of thing before, not even on TV, and he didn't have the slightest idea which button to press to make the reseparator work. He wasn't going to tell Trip, though.

"No, you can go first," he said nonchalantly. "I'm not thirsty."

"Alright. Well, let's see..." Opening the sliding door, Trip placed a cup into the slot, then stood on his toes to press one of the buttons on the panel. He took a step backwards and cleared his throat. "Umm... a coke please. With ice."

A few moments of silence followed, then there was a shrill beeping noise. Malcolm jumped.

"What was that?" he asked. Trip shrugged.

"Wrong button, I suppose. Let's try again."

Before Malcolm had the chance to answer, Trip had pressed another button on the panel. "Coke. With ice."

There was another small beeping noise, then, to Malcolm's utter astonishment, a splashing sound followed and Trip took the cup out of the slot. It was filled with brown liquid.

"It works!" Trip said excitedly. He took a careful sip and nodded, satisfied. "Not bad." He looked down at his coke. "It didn't give me any ice, though, but that guy on TV said it wasn't fully developed yet. Maybe it can't do ice."

"Probably," Malcolm said, trying to sound as if he encountered problems with reseparators on a daily basis. Trip put another cup into the slot.

"Now you."

Briefly, Malcolm considered ordering whisky so Trip would be impressed, but at the thought of having to drink a whole cup of that awful stuff he decided against it. Standing on his toes and jumping a little, he hit the button he thought Trip had pressed earlier.

"Pineapple juice," he said. There were a few seconds of silence, then the shrill noise came again.

"It can't do pineapple," Trip said. "What kinda person would want to drink pineapple juice anyway?"

Malcolm felt his ears grow hot. "I like pineapple," he said.

"Well, but it can't do it. Try somethin' else."

"Umm..." Malcolm considered. "Okay, apple juice."

"Boooring!" Trip said while the reseparator poured the apple juice into the cup. "Apple juice's boring." He paused. "D'you think that thing can do beer?"

"Beer?!" Trying to cover up his startled reaction, Malcolm cleared his throat. "Well... I don't know. Go on, try it."

Trip looked at him for a moment, then grinned. "Okay," he said, putting another cup into the slot, and pressed the button. He took a step backwards, chuckling nervously. "Erm... beer?"

A dramatic second of silence followed, and Malcolm already found himself hoping that it hadn't worked, but then - splash!

Trip got his cup from the slot and sniffed. "It's really beer," he said in an awed tone of voice, and Malcolm took a step closer, sniffing at the light-brown liquid as well.

"Smells good," he lied, looking at Trip. "Go on, try it."

Trip gave him a doubtful look, and Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "You're not going to chicken out, are you?"

"I'm not chickenin' out!" Trip raised the cup to his lips and took a generous sip. Malcolm watched him expectantly.

"And?"

Trip lowered the cup, coughing a little. His face had turned an interesting shade of red. "Good stuff," he gagged. "You try."

"Umm..." Malcolm stared at the cup, trying to think of a way out of this. Realizing there was none, he gingerly took the cup from Trip's hand. Closing his eyes, he took a small sip and found that beer tasted even worse than he'd thought. Swallowing the foul bitter liquid, he forced a grin. "Uh... lovely."

Trip nodded and turned back to the reseparator. "Let's try somethin' else," he said. "How 'bout mixin' a cocktail?"

Malcolm stared at him, a feeling of dread rising within him at the thought of having to drink some gruesome alcoholic cocktail.

Trip continued, picking up another cup. "Let's see... what about cocoa, tomato juice and gravy?"

Immensely relieved, Malcolm felt a smile spreading on his face. "Let's put some soda pop in it, too."

"Okay." Trip put the cup into the slot, then pressed the button. "Cocoa, tomato juice, gravy and soda pop," he said. The reseparator, however, only gave another one of its shrill noises.

"Killjoy," Trip said. Malcolm regarded the reseparator, an idea rising at the back of his mind.

"Trip," he said slowly, "what do you think would happen if you take the cup out of the slot before the thing is finished?"

"Good idea!" Trip said approvingly. "Let's try it." Turning to the reseparator, he grabbed the handle of the cup. "Water," he said. When the reseparator started pouring colorless liquid into the cup, Trip quickly took it out of the slot. The water kept coming out of the server, splashing into the slot and spilling over onto the floor.

"Woohoo!" Trip cried and Malcolm grinned.

"I knew it would work!" he said, but Trip wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Oh, that's fun! Let's try something real sticky!"

Malcolm quickly shook his head. "No, we're only going to get in trouble."

"How?" Trip said. "There's no grown-ups around."

Malcolm hesitated, but then dismissed his doubtful thoughts. Trip was right, there were no grown-ups around. "All right," he said. "What do you think would happen if we don't put any cup in it?"

Trip grinned. "Let's try."

-###-

Archer was heading down the corridor towards the mess hall, Phlox and the three children in tow. As they came closer to the door, he suddenly heard a loud crash, followed by an excited outcry.

"Yay! Look at this!" a child's voice cried, and Archer fastened his pace.

"Let's do carrot juice again!" a second voice cried. Archer hit the panel beside the door, and it slid open, revealing a scene of devastation. The mess hall was in a state of chaos. The cupboards' doors were standing open, and the tables were covered with plates, bowls and cups, some of them turned upside down, their contents spilled and scattered all over the tables and the floor. Archer took no real notice of that, though. His attention was totally focused on the two little boys who were jumping up and down in front of the resequencer, shouting like mad, making one hell of a noise.

"Carrot juice!"

"Coffee!"

"Black tea with milk!"

A stream of orange-brown liquid came spilling from the resequencer, spattering all over the boys and splashing down onto the floor, mixing with the large puddle of unidentifiable goo that was spreading there with an alarming speed. The boys didn't seem to have noticed the door open; they screamed with delight as the carrot juice came spilling all over their Starfleet jumpsuits and hopped up and down, trying to get each other as wet as possible. Archer took a deep breath.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!!"

At the sound of his voice, the boys whirled around and froze, their eyes wide with shock. Archer had to take only one look at them to know that these two were indeed his Chief Engineer and Tactical Officer - that they had been his Chief Engineer and Tactical Officer, anyway, now transformed into nine-year-old children. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, unable to speak. Then Archer heard Phlox' voice beside his ear.

"How interesting."

"Doc. Would you please stop saying this?" Archer said through gritted teeth. Before Phlox had the chance to answer, though, the blond boy - Trip - spoke up.

"Who... who're you?" he asked timidly. Archer opened his mouth to say something, but then T'Pol stepped forward.

"This is Captain Archer," she said sternly. "I believe I told you to make a reconnaissance, not to cause mayhem in the ship's mess hall. Captain Archer - "

Archer held up a hand. "Wait a minute," he said. "Let me talk to them."

"You're a Captain?" Trip looked at him with an awed expression on his face. "That's cool."

Sighing, Archer sat down on the edge of a table. "Let me guess," he said. "You're Trip Tucker and Malcolm Reed, and you have no idea how you came to be on this ship."

Trip nodded, frowning, and Malcolm shifted his feet. "Yes, Sir," he mumbled, speaking up for the first time since Archer had entered the mess hall.

"How come you know our names?" Trip asked. Archer looked at him for a moment, not really knowing what to say, when he felt Phlox' hand on his arm.

"Captain, I suggest we take the children to sickbay for some DNA scans. I'm pretty sure that they really are what they seem to be, but we can't know for certain."

Archer nodded and got up. Phlox turned to the two boys who were still standing in the middle of puddle, listening to their conversation.

"Well then, you two, let's go," he said. Trip set off for the door immediately, each of his steps accompanied by a squelching sound as he walked through the puddle. Malcolm, on the other hand, hesitated.

"Don't you... don't you want us to clean this up?" he asked nervously, motioning both at the mess on the floor and the room in general. Phlox raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, young man, I want you to clean it up, but not right now. First we have some business to do in sickbay."

Casting a last guilty glance at the resequencer, Malcolm followed Trip. Archer, who'd been watching the interaction between Phlox and the... children... with a growing feeling of surreality, briefly shook his head to clear his thoughts, trying to concentrate on the matters at hand. He looked around.

"Where's Travis?" he asked. Phlox turned around.

"TRAVIS!" he called. A moment later Travis appeared from behind a table, holding a bowl and a spoon in his hands. His face and hands were smeared with white sticky stuff.

"Look, I found some ice cream!" he said proudly. Phlox smiled.

"Yes, that's nice, Travis, but we don't have the time to eat ice cream now. We need to go to sickbay. We can come back later, hm?"

Travis looked slightly disappointed, but put the bowl back onto the table all the same and came over, taking Phlox by the hand. Archer looked down at the small boy, then at the Denobulan doctor who was still holding Hoshi in one arm.

"Have you always been that good with children, doc?" he asked. Phlox raised his eyebrows.

"Well, it kind of comes with the job, doesn't it?"

Archer frowned. "Of being a doctor?"

Phlox turned around, touching the panel beside the door. "No, of being a father. Well, let's go, hm?"

Archer watched him for a moment, then decided not to ask further. As they stepped out into the corridor, Hoshi suddenly spoke up again, looking up at Phlox.

"I want some ice cream, too."

Archer sighed.

TBC...

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