Disclaimer: These are not my characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's note: I hope it is (entertaining). Read and review and let me know! Thanks to my beta readers, and anybody with ideas (even for other possible stories in the series) can let me know on my email, it's on my profile page. And (of course) if you really, really like… pass the word.

Author's Note 2: Julie: B&B? And how?

Chapter 3: Deprivations

From: Prisoner No 1

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To: Prisoner No 2

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Re: Meals

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Why has CA insisted you be fed nothing but liver and onions from now on? What have you done to make him wish you such harm? While B-vitamins are useful in some circumstances, such as when one wishes to recover from a (rare) night of overindulgence, surely he cannot think this is the case with you. And if your situation is so dire that it is the case… you must keep hope.

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From: Prisoner No 2

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To: Prisoner No 1

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Re: Archer hates me.

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No, there is no need to worry on that front. Even if there were, I am sure such items would be considered contraband and our ever-vigilant Lieutenant would have taken them away by now. No, our esteemed captain seems to have gotten it into his head that I am inciting his best friend to mutiny. But there have always been three of us, dear heart; Porthos has merely returned to the fold. And like in the days of D'Artagnan, I know that justice will prevail and that we brave Musketeers shall be delivered. I pray – of course – that this time there will not be bloodshed.

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From: Prisoner No 1

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To: Prisoner No 2

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Re: I was aware of that.

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Yes, I know he hates you, but that still doesn't explain: liver?

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From: Prisoner No 2

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To: Prisoner No 1

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Re: Liver

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What do you think I used to bribe the mutt?

…………………………………………………………………………………..

"Lieutenant." A whisper from the air duct attracts my attention.

"I'm not sure." I climb on top of my bunk to get closer -- not to see who it is -- there aren't a lot of people small enough to climb through those things comfortably. I could, but I'm pretty sure – at this point – it's not me.

"I'm here to give you this." Something small and narrow is slipped through the duct grating.

"I'm grateful, believe me, but what is it?"

"It's to sweep for bugs."

"Oh. Thank you." I don't think it would be polite to tell them that I do that anyway, and that I turn them on and off at odd intervals just to piss whomever's listening off. Since it's obvious that my visitor would like some privacy, I make sure that all of them are off except for the one I've wired to Muzak.

"Okay. Now what?" I'm whispering too -- it's contagious.

"Can you take the grating off, please?"

I do as requested, and Crewman Saunders slithers through the opening. She drops lightly down to the floor, but only after I tell her where to put her feet.

"Thank you. I'm here as a representative of the EEU, to inform you that membership has reached 100% -- at least among the engineering and maintenance departments." She no longer whispers, but keeps her voice low.

"That's wonderful. And so soon. Tell me, are things truly that bad?"

"Well, we had to forge a couple of people's names on the document… Bryson and Higgens' to be exact – they're glad to be rid of you both – but on paper we have 100%. And, given recent events with Lieutenant Reed, we've decided to give you a hand."

"Really?" This is a bit of an unexpected surprise, but it's not impossible to believe. We – in engineering – have always had our troubles with the armoury[1]. "And what precisely do you mean by that?" I was under the impression that this whole thing was for the express purpose of getting myself and the commander sprung, so I hope it hasn't gone off course.

"Apparently they're going to move you to another set of quarters. Since you obviously can't take everything with you…"

"That is very kind. However, there is no documented proof that…"

"They're planning to tear this place apart. We can have a team in here tonight to move anybody who needs to be moved, and their gear as well."

I give her a quick hug. "You are wonderful, you guys. The last thing I want is for Igor and Evil Thing to be exiled into the doctor's care. While he's outstanding with animals, I am sure…" There's a reason those two have their names. Neither one comes from excellent backgrounds, and there is definitely some scarring. They need special care, and they count on me to provide it.

"We can have them to you within an hour of your move. Crewman Bitten says it must be difficult having to deal with so little outside contact. He's amazed that you and Commander Tucker haven't already gone insane."

Well, there are some who would question that. The use of the word 'gone', specifically.

"Yes. Please. And if you could tell him where I will be staying? Let him know I'm okay?"

"Absolutely." She climbs back into the duct and I replace the grille behind her. So, I've gotten to Malcolm that badly, eh?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

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From: Prisoner No 1

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To: Prisoner No 2

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Re: Moving

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Thank God, you're all right, I was in a panic when you didn't answer. Only when your graceful messenger informed me that they had moved you for 'security purposes' did I begin to breathe again. What could you have possibly done to warrant such a drastic procedure? Surely not a simple accident that would never have happened but for someone else's physical weakness. My heart cries when I think of you alone, trapped in some bare cubicle, with no further source of distraction. Such horrible deprivations must surely count as torture…I only wish I could be there to ease your pain.

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From: Prisoner No 2

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To: Prisoner No 1

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Your concern warms my heart and stirs my soul in a way that nothing else could. Thankfully I was allowed to pack a bag, so I am not totally without distraction. And while I appreciate your kind offer, I think that such an act could be considered a hanging offence. And, the way things are going, we shall probably find that Mr. Reed has adverse reactions to hemp. So, while it pains me for us to be apart, I fear we must, at least for a while longer. I only hope you can still love me, after I have wasted away from this scurvy.

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From: Prisoner No 1

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To: Prisoner No 2

Scurvy? My breath comes in great sobbing gasps and I cannot stem the flow of these tears. My darling, what should I do? I doubt I shall survive!

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From: Prisoner No 2

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To: Prisoner No 1

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Perhaps you should stop laughing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Needless to say, my moving changes nothing. You can take the lieutenant out of her quarters… but if you don't find the rabbit you're not going to change the fur situation. Not only that, but word is spreading to other departments on the ship. While it may be difficult to get Science to go along with the idea (mostly because it means they'll get Brigman and Schacter back), everyone else seems cool with it. After all, they had fun during the war too, and they don't think it's fair that Malcolm gets away clean[2] while the commander and I suffer. Apparently even some of the lower downs in the armoury are getting in on it: since Commander Tucker and I have been locked up, Malcolm has been miserable and has taken it out on them. And while it can be argued that the commander and I are the sources of that misery[3], it's so much more satisfying for them to blame Lieutenant Reed.

For anyone who's never experienced one, a Work to Rule campaign is a very effective tactic in most service situations. What it means is that people do their jobs, and only their jobs to the letter of the job description. Or, in other words, communications engineers do not do maintenance, even on communications equipment. People on housekeeping duties[4] do not help out in the kitchen or deliver messages, even if the other departments are short-staffed. And since you are – technically – following the rules… there is very little that can be done about it. And while there is no legal precedent in a quasi-military set-up like Starfleet – Starfleet does keep insisting that they are not a military organisation. Thus, if they are even a paramilitary organisation like – for example – a police department… we can unionize; we can work to rule; and we can -- if necessary (and properly voted upon) -- go on strike. Okay, so the officers will have to handle everything. I never said there wasn't an advantage to being up on charges…

………………………………………………………………………………………………

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From: Prisoner No 1

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To: Prisoner No 2

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Re: Captain, my captain.

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Why is CA muttering about putting a stake through your heart if he thought it would work? While I realise that you have the appearance of a Pixie on Acid and the temperament of a Squirrel on Amphetamines, surely the captain realises that neither one of those is applicable to the stake treatment. He keeps calling you Ness, too, and says you seem to think you're Untouchable. What have you done to cause him such enmity? Please understand that it is quite difficult for me, caught as I am between the two of you. While my first loyalty will always be to you, I cannot help but feel sorry for him at this time. Especially since he seemed so uncomfortable.

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From: Prisoner No 2

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To: Prisoner No 1

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Re: Elliot

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I am not Untouchable… I have never supported Prohibition. As for the other? How can I be doing anything when I am locked away in some sterile set of rooms with no one but myself (and the occasional Malcolm) to talk to? Perhaps his lack of comfort has something to do with the regulation amount of starch in his shorts.

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From: Prisoner No 1

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To: Prisoner No 2

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Re: Bitch

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Hess, you are cruel. They also did my laundry.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Laundry. I hadn't quite realised how that would be affected, but -- now that I think about it -- there is a laundry manual, and it does specify precisely how much of each agent is to be used with each article of clothing to create regulation appearance. The problem being that most uniform codes don't take into account that someone has to actually wear the uniform. The only person who seems unaffected[5] is Lieutenant Reed, and that's probably because he's the only one with less starch than normal. As I mentioned, he's the only visitor I get now. Apparently, it's so Captain Archer doesn't find himself charged with the murder of yours truly. The shots the doctor is giving the lieutenant are helping immensely, but the only reason Malcolm comes to see me is to question me about events I know nothing about.

"Come on, Hess. Don't tell me you don't know anything. There was a meeting in your quarters before any of this started." Malcolm sits backwards on the only chair in the room, meaning I have to stand or use the bed. It's supposed to give the illusion that he's in control of the situation, but I've countered that by lying down. Since I'm obviously the most comfortable… who's running the show here?

"Some crewmen wanted some legal advice. About what, I cannot say. Surely you can understand that." I stare up at the ceiling and start to play connect the dots with the holes in the soundproofing.

"It's just very coincidental that you seem to have a meeting in your quarters right before everybody – at least every engineer below the rank of Ensign – starts to act strangely." He's trying to ignore my finger tracing imaginary patterns in the air. It doesn't help that I'm not a uniform type of girl, so, now that I don't have to, I'm not wearing one. Apparently either my short skirt or halter-top is very distracting to him. Or maybe it's the pairing with the engineering boots[6]. And you'd think – being British – he'd be familiar with the quasi-punk look.

"Hess, are you on something?"
"Something?" I can't imagine what he means. "I'm on the bed, if that's what you mean."

God, that man can turn red. He's almost as good as Commander Tucker. "I mean any sort of illicit substances, Hess."

I think about it for a moment. "No."

"So, what is going on with the engineers? And the rest of the support staff?"

"Mmmn. Well, I'm a little out of the loop, but I think Crewman Nellis and Crewman Dale are seeing each other. Of course this is behind Crewman Pickering's back…"

"HESS! I am not talking about petty gossip here. I want to know why this ship is shutting down!"

I sit up, quickly. "The ship is shutting down? Are you crazy? What are you doing here, then? I mean if the entire ship shuts down, the containment can go on the warp engine… surely you know that can't be good."

I hear a tooth crack. Oops, that's gotta hurt.

"The ship is not shutting down, Hess. It was a figure of speech." He speaks very slowly but not too clearly -- even though he is trying to enunciate every word. Unfortunately, he can't close his mouth properly so it comes out along the lines of : "Uh ip i not uttid down hess. It wath a figre o shpeek." He gets up and stalks out the door – too bad it's a slider and he can't slam it behind him. Poor Malcolm. And I'm not even really trying.

[1] Like when they 'borrow' our tools. Our tools. Go on. Ask Chef if you can borrow his knives. Then, after you have to steal them, don't give them back.

[2] So to speak. I mean he was covered in dye… and there's everything that's happened to him since then… but he didn't get charged with anything.

[3] Hey, it can't all be my fault.

[4] Yes, we're responsible for our own quarters, but do you think the other rooms clean themselves?

[5] Aside from me, but then again, I always wash my own undergarments. It's safer.

[6] What? You don't expect me to give up my custom-made boots just because I'm wearing a skirt do you?