Disclaimer/Author's Note: I do not own these characters. However, far be it from me to leave them hanging in purgatory, even after all they've done. Even after all those sleepless nights, and days spent dragging my ass at work while people ask me what I keep giggling about. But whatever happens, don't blame me. I'm just the scribe. Review of course, but: IT'S NOT MY FAULT.
DEDICATION: This story is dedicated to those masters of the absurd: Johnny Wayne and Frank Schuster. From Shakespearean Baseball to their own goofs on Star Trek, they influenced me in more ways than I can imagine. Gentlemen, you are sorely missed.
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Narrator's Note: Since the following events did not technically occur, there is a) no record of these events in any official log and b) I have no legal qualms whatsoever in disclosing my or anyone else's non-involvement in the following non-events. Names would be changed to protect the innocent… if anyone was innocent.
Prologue:
Arrest. To slow or stop. To take into custody. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed has way too much fun with things like this.
He insists on being there to put the restraints on personally and a little to tightly in my opinion.
"You know, we could at least have dinner first."
He gives me his darkest look as his guards try not to burst out laughing. "You have no idea what kind of trouble you're in right now, do you Hess?"
"Actually I do. Which totally destroys any hope you and I ever had. Oh well. I'll get over it." I didn't think that look could get any darker, but it does. I do know what kind of trouble I'm in. I also know that I'm not giving up on getting out of it just yet. See, that's the difference between me and Commander Tucker: he accepts his fate and gets on with life. I'm a lawyer. We have acceptance difficulties. That's why lawyers charge so much, you know: we need to be able to pay for our therapists.
Now Enterprise, being an exploration ship, doesn't have a brig. So the captain has three choices: convert storage space into a cell, lock us in the airlock, or confine us to quarters. Not being the type to appreciate good drama -- what is it with captains and practicality anyway – he chooses the third. I invite Malcolm in (never give up when you've got a good needle going) but he simply removes the restraints and locks the door, making sure he's on the other side. Damn. And he's so cute when he's angry.
Oh? Did I say us? Right. Commander Tucker and I are in this together. Right up to our necks.