~*~Disclaimer=me no own~*~Just another of my one chapter dealys, I have stories to complete I know (oh and btw thanks for letting me know about the dodgy third chapter in the soldier past, soldier present story, have changed it now-have no idea what happened except when I found out the air went blue-I was a liiittttttle annoyed! Stupid BEEPin' computer!)~*~

"I came to the conclusion that in a previous life I really pissed off someone I shouldn't of and now I'm suffering!

For instance, Trip Tucker-he attracts trouble like a magnet, and is still smiling. God that smile, like Phlox he is far too happy all the time. Like when I had an iffy thigh after the Romulan mine incident, while I was screaming in pain he was still smiling. Bloody quack, isn't there something in the Hippocratic Oath against smothering patients with happiness?

I like being quiet, peace and quiet is good. Oh course making things explode has its appeal as well. Not putting that down, it doesn't feel like I've had a good week unless another alien civilisation has tried to kill us after the prime culprits (Archer and Trip) did something to upset them.

Hey! I'm not saying I haven't had the odd brush with...erm...alien species in my time but in all fairness the evidence points to the fact I was either with Trip or Archer at the time.

How can I protect this crew when the crew seems to strive on thwarting my attempts and then running back with an "Oh be a dear Malcolm and destroyed that big nasty alien ship that's trying to kill me." Sometimes I wonder what they'd do if I didn't step in. That's a thought, maybe I should go on strike! Nah, wouldn't work, too many other armoury personnel to step in. Bugger.

I wish I wasn't so controlled by rules and regulations; sometimes I dearly love to just punch Trip in the mouth after he's spent the past hour trying to get a rise out of me.

There's that word, regulations. Bugger. I can't mentally force myself to break my rigid routines. That really sucks. Ah well, back to mentally thinking of ways to wreak havoc!

I always wonder exactly why the members of the crew who seemed to get themselves into the most trouble, always have dazzling brilliant white smiles. I mean what're they expecting to do? Blind the aliens to death with ultra white smiles? One of these days I'll don black sunglasses or else risk permanent white spots dancing about in front of my eyes!

My idea of a perfect day would be Archer and the rest of the crew actually paying attention to me when I suggest security, I'm not saying it for the good of my health y'know! Then chef would make good ole fashioned fish and chips complete with being cooked in unhealthy fats! With loads of salt and vinegar but not mushy peas, can't stand food that looks like it's already been regurgitated.

Then, we'd find a nice abandoned moon somewhere that I could have target practice on with the coolest weapons known to man.

Now returning back to reality! I know I have as much chance of that happening as I do of Hoshi Sato turning up at my door in extremely revealing lingerie with a bowl of pineapple flavoured ice-cream saying "Who cares about frat regulations, I want you now!" Ahem, erm, yeah, erm, where was I? Oh who cares?!?.

Computer stop recording."

Malcolm sat back a moment his elbow knocked his coffee cup and as he dived to grab it he knocked the keypad. When he looked back at the screen he got the shock of his life.

'Your message was successfully sent to:

Captain J. Archer

Sub-Commander T'Pol

Commander C. Tucker

Ensign H. Sato

Ensign T. Mayweather

Doctor Phlox

(Insert rest of crew names here) Etc etc'

"SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS!" Malcolm exclaimed horrified. "YOU STUPID FUCKIN' JACKASS! NOOOOOOO! DELETE! DELETE! DELETE GOD DAMN YOU DELETE! SHIT! MERDE! YOU MOTHER FUCKING PIECE OF TECHNOLOGICAL SHITE! WHY? WHY MUST EVERYTHING I DO GO SO BLOODY CRAP? WHY ME? WHY ALWAYS MAKE ME SUFFER? I AM ROYALLY SCREWED!"

He sat back and took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he sipped his coffee.

Staying in his quarters all day suddenly seemed an attractive option, heck staying in his quarters for the rest of his life suddenly seemed attractive or even being mugged by he-she aliens again was a preferable option.

Malcolm quickly locked his door.

He raised his eyes once more to stare at the monitor.

"Message received from Ensign H. Sato" it beeped.

"Oh bugger" he groaned.

~*~Please review! It was just some sadistic little part of me that wanted Malcolm to get everything off his chest and then for everyone else to find out *sniggers* I'm just evil I know, but it's based on an actual experience with email which resulted in an even longer stream of profanities than that which I've listed here!~*~