Disclaimer: These are not my characters… this is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's note: Thank you to both of my beta readers… as for the rest of you… please review… I'm feeling so lonely. And sad…
Chapter Five: The Best Laid Plans...
From: Prisoner No 1
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To: Prisoner No 2
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Re: Contagion
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Why is CA saying you're the one who's made everybody sick? Please tell me you're not ailing. My heart bleeds to think of you suffering there – all alone. And why is he giving me Dr. Phlox's scanners to look over… when I'm under arrest? He muttered something about foxes, henhouses, and engineering crew… what possibly could he mean? When I asked him how you were, he informed me that you were just rosy. Is it a fever then? Am I in danger? You know my complexion isn't well suited to pink, especially that particular shade. And why was Malcolm trying to find out if you're interested in him? I mean he didn't come out and say it… but he definitely had a few odd questions for me.
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From: Prisoner No 2
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To: Prisoner No 1
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Re: AHHHHHH!!!
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Do NOT, under any circumstances touch those scanners. As you mentioned, you are under arrest, and therefore are not obligated to perform any acts to aid our imprisoners. I have no knowledge of any kind of outbreak on the ship… though it makes me glad I'm in isolation if there is one. I am not running any kind of fever… I do believe the captain was referring to my state of health as being robust… it had nothing to do with my colouring (I hope). As for Malcolm… I haven't got the slightest clue. At all. Period.
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From: Prisoner No 1
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To: Prisoner No 2
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Re: Wedding
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AHHHH! This is a dream come true! Two of my best friends… can I be a bridesmaid? Or… Malcolm might want me for best man, after all. Oh, and we have to have Chef do the catering… CA can perform the ceremony…we'll definitely have to invest in flowers… I wonder if you can get those from the quartermaster… definitely lots of sparklies for your wedding dress….
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From: Prisoner No 2
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To: Prisoner No 1
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Re: You're being an idiot.
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Stop planning my wedding… Malcolm and I are not getting married; we can't spend ten minutes together without the man doing some sort of physical damage to himself and running away. And if you think anything can be accomplished in ten minutes… then you are not the man the ladies take you for. While I'll admit the idea of you in a bridesmaid's dress is amusing… the shoes could be a problem. Especially since I know you have a certain… scent to your feet. Sparklies are nice, though. I like sparklies… but I must go, my dear. My nemesis' minion beckons.
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Me? Interested in Malcolm? Now whose insane idea is that? While I admit he definitely is quite easy on the eyes, there is no way in hell we'd last beyond half a first date before I'd drink him under the table or he'd have to run away with some injury or another. Not only that… but I like lights and parties, and he's the type to hide away with a heavy book. Not only that…
"Hess. Open the door." What? He's not going to open it himself?
I stalk over to the door, and this time I'm the one regretting it's a slider. It means I can't yank it open on him. Still… "What?"
He blinks, and his jaw hangs open for a moment before he gets a grip on himself. "I'm here for another inspection, Hess."
"Fine. I'll just wait outside." I actually get one foot out the door before he grabs me.
"I don't think so, Hess. I'd rather have you in here with me." He glares at my guards who have suddenly developed wide grins.
I glare at them too. The grins disappear when I do it, mainly because they're more afraid of me than him. He's only likely to have them reprimanded, I'm likely to dismantle them. They straighten up and look away as the door closes.
"Fine. I'll wait in the bathroom, then." I try to go there, but he doesn't loosen his grip on my arm. Damn, he has strong hands.
"I don't think so, Hess. I want to keep an eye on you. The captain sent me to look for any illicit communications equipment…"
I try to remain calm, knowing that he doesn't have to be talking about my communications with Commander Tucker. "Well, there's all the bugs you've installed. I mean I'm sure they're here, just like you had them in my old quarters."
"Yes, Hess, I installed them. Which means they're not illicit."
"Oh, so you admit to listening to me sleep." This gets the reaction I'm looking for – he's thrown off a bit.
"It's not that entertaining, Hess. That snore can get a little grating." He's trying to recover; he thinks he can beat me at the smart-ass game.
"I do not…" I lower my voice, not wanting to fuel suspicions at the door. "I do not snore."
He smirks at me, and I notice he still hasn't begun his search. "Just like Commander Tucker doesn't drool." This is not as kinky as it sounds. Commander Tucker works himself so hard that on occasion he's fallen asleep at his desk. We're usually pretty polite and just stick some shop towels under his head so he doesn't drown.[1] And I'm sure Malcolm had some opportunity to see for himself when they were trapped in the shuttle-pod.
He's still wearing the smirk as his eyes travel up and down my frame. Suddenly I'm regretting going for the quasi-punk look again today… even with the studded collar and wrist bands. "So, where is it then, I wonder?"
I'm going to kill that big-mouthed romantic sap. I'm going to pound his perfect face flat and rip out every strand of that surfer blond hair and shove it down his throat. Whose side does he think he's on anyway? "Where's what? I don't have a communicator on me… you confiscated it, remember?"
"Not that, Hess." His grin gets wider. "The tattoo. Commander Tucker said that you said you had a tattoo, and it was on a body part he'd never seen. Now I can certainly see a lot of body parts…"
"Okay… that's enough. Either search, or…"
His lips twitch, and I realise how that could be taken. Fortunately he's loosened his grip on my arm enough for me to pull away. "I am going to wait in the bathroom. And I don't even want to know what you guys were drinking when he told you that." I stalk into the bathroom and lock the door. How dare he! How dare he!!
"Are you turning red, Hess?" There's definitely laughter in Malcolm's voice now. "And I thought that we were actually…"
Again I wish I could yank the door open, sliders destroy all the drama. "Malcolm. I am not, and never have been, the least bit attracted to you. While you do have many physical attributes I find appealing, we have such diametrically opposed personalities that we would end up killing each other on the first date. Now, the communications equipment is in the second drawer of my desk…" No it's not, but there's some cobbled together components that I might be able to get away with… "So if you'll excuse me, I have to wash my hair. And no, you may not watch." Turnabout may be fair play, but not when it's happening to me.
He murmurs something that I can barely catch. "Scarlett."
Now I'm really going to kill that boy. I don't know how he found out what my real first name is[2]but he should have known better than to reveal it to anyone, let alone some tight-assed, armoury officer whose main love affair is with the rules.
"That's classified information." I hiss through clenched teeth.
"Yes, and I am the head of security around here." His face is so close, I could bite his nose. "He told me it suited you – that you were a regular Scarlett O'Hara[3] – but I couldn't believe it."
"Well, don't. Because Scarlett ended up alone and miserable, and I have no intentions of being miserable." I pull back inside and lock the door again. Someone, somewhere is going to die.
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From: Prisoner No 1
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To: Prisoner No 2
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Re: Hello
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I've been trying to contact you for hours. Why aren't you answering?
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From: Prisoner No 2
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To: Prisoner No 1
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Re: Bastard
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Perhaps because I'm not speaking to you.
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From: Prisoner No 1
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To: Prisoner No 2
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Oh.
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Rumour reaches me as it always does -- this time it is in the mashed potatoes. The captain took me off the liver and onions diet after Phlox told him it could be a danger to my health.[4] Apparently there has been some deviation from the plan… rather than a simple withdrawal of services, the union has decided to opt for a 'sick-out'. An excellent plan – if I do say so myself – and one that also explains Commander Tucker's line of questioning. It still doesn't explain Malcolm's line of questioning… perhaps he's the one who needs to see Dr. Phlox.
The buzzer sounds again, and reluctantly I open the door. Since dinner's already here, it can only be…
"Malcolm." I stand aside to let him in, then close the door.
"Um… where's Lieutenant Hess?"
"Malcolm." My hair's not done and I'm dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Somehow when I'm like this, people fail to recognise me.
"Oh." He blinks rapidly. "Sorry. Message for you. Commander Tucker says to tell you – actually his exact words were '…tell that psychotic squirrel' – that he's definitely considering disloyalty. What does that mean?"
Oh, he is, is he? "Well, you can tell that ego-testicle bastard that he can switch any sides he likes. And now that I think about it, my brother can provide him with a pair of shoes."
"Um…" He glances around, nervously. This is another reason we could never have a relationship: he can't keep up. Commander Tucker and I are Southerners – we've been known to not-speak-to-each-other at the top of our lungs. "Are you sure about that last part?"
"Yes. Anything else?"
He looks more closely at my face, like he's still not sure it's really me. "You know… you really do have lovely eyes."
"Don't lie to me, Malcolm. We both know what I really look like." Well, he didn't until now… but I was hoping to scare him.
He blinks rapidly. "And…"
There is definitely something wrong with this man's thought processes. I clap my hands onto his shoulders. "Good night, Malcolm. And don't forget to pass on my message."
He seems disappointed as he heads towards the door. "Good night… Scarlett."
"It's Nic!" I scream after him as he leaves but the only effect is to make the guards jump. That does it… I'm officially confused.
[1] Despite waking up on numerous occasions with damp towels under his cheek, he still insists he doesn't drool. I'm going to film him one day.
[2] Actually, I do. It's how he finds out anything. He just waves those magical fingers, and data pops up out of the ether. In other words, Commander Tucker is a hacker.
[3] There's a reason I go by Nic. Being from Georgia and being named Scarlett… sometimes parents are just plain cruel.
[4] He still won't give me bread and water, though.