Malcolm groaned as collapsed face forward on to his narrow bed. He was tired and sore and the business with Soong was making him paranoid and irritable. Nine people gone and Archer was letting the doctor run around practically loose down there. Where, as an aside, Malcolm himself should be, instead of both of them. But Archer had practically confined him to quarters, to "rest", in his typical blustery, daring-do, glory-hogging wont.
"Now that's what I like to hear," a chipper voice purred out of nowhere.
Malcolm's lungs were abruptly compressed as a great weight settled on his back. He flailed, managing to dump it to one side as he turned, ending up on his back and peering up at the woman who had been sitting on his back. She was now settled with her back against the bulkhead and her bum nestled between him and the wall, her legs draped over her stomach and her gold minidress riding up to an even more scandalous length – or lack thereof. He sighed and dropped his head back to the thin pillow.
"Q," he groaned. "First Soong, now you. They don't pay me enough."
"Most definitely," she said, nodding emphatically and making her honeybrown curls bounce. "And Soong's right, you know."
"Are you mad?" Malcolm demanded indignantly, propping himself up on his elbows to stare at her. "The man is a sociopath! You agree with his genetic engineering?"
"No, not about that," Q replied, waving one hand dismissively. "Humanity has to improve itself through its own merits or else it's no fun. But Soong is right about two things," she declared, holding up three fingers. "You crew needs to get a sense of humour." This was said in Soong's voice, making Malcolm start. "And," she continued, normally. "You definitely need more publicity." She got a faraway look in her eyes, tapping a finger against her cheek. "Oh yes, that will do nicely – don't worry, Malcolm dearest, I'll take care of everything."
Oh, that inspired confidence. Malcolm rolled his eyes and dropped back to the bed.
"But first . . ." Q flapped her wrist vaguely, green smoke curled around her fingers, and Malcolm was immersed chest-deep in a steaming pool of water, fed by a bubbling hot spring. Q was lounging across from him, luxuriating up to her neck, her curls fanning out around her.
"Q!" Malcolm growled, standing and taking a step towards her. His furious tirade died on his lips at her sudden lascivious smirk and arched eyebrows. He flushed, realizing that his clothes hadn't come along for the ride. He dropped back into the water up to his neck and glared.
"I have to be back on duty at any moment," he said. "Get me out of here."
Q rolled her eyes. "Mal, darling, you're in the finest resort in the galaxy, and you want to leave?"
"Yes."
Her voice acquired a wheedling tone. "Mal . . . it pains me to see you so drawn. You deserve this. And I promise I'll bring you right back to the moment we left. Pwease?"
Malcolm's willpower dissolved and he yielded to temptation. "Fine." He moved back in the water so he was lounging against the wide, smooth stones.
Q bounced slightly in the water, clapping her hands in delight. She snapped her fingers and four attractive young women of various humanoid species appeared from a walkway hidden in the trees. "These ladies will take care of you," she said expansively. "I've got some business to take care of . Enjoy yourself!"
There was a poof of green smoke and a faint ripple in the pool, and she was gone.
One very long soak, several vaguely alcohol beverages, and three massages later, Malcolm fell asleep, warm and oh so very relaxed. He woke with a start, feeling like he had just gotten a full night's rest, when the comm beeped. He slapped the button, rolling out of bed in his clean and pressed uniform.
"Reed."
"Mal, Cap'n's back," Trip drawled.
"On my way down."
Soong had been delivered to his new prison, and Malcolm was glad that walking security breach was finally Someone Else's Problem. That was why he couldn't think of any reason for Archer to be calling him into his ready room, but so the Captain was. He stood, back stiff as usual, before the Captain's desk, wondering at the faint smirk that seemed to be escaping Archer's best efforts to suppress.
"You wished to see me, sir?"
"Yes, Malcolm. Starfleet has just been in contact with me, and they want to know exactly what you were doing with your downtime on Earth."
Malcolm's brow furrowed. "I didn't do much of anything, really. Caught up on my reading. Why, sir?"
"You might want to catch up on some of these, then," Archer said, dropping a pile of glossy magazines in front of the lieutenant. Malcolm glanced down at them, and he groaned internally.
'Malcolm Reed: Ladies' Man' read one of the girly magazine covers. '50 Candid Shots of Starfleet's Sexiest Man' read another. 'Sex in Zero-G: Tips from the Top', 'Reed: The Man, the Myth, the Legend', and so on, and so forth, every major title seemed to be running a story on him. Q's eerie impression of Soong floated back to him.
"More publicity," he murmured. "I am going to kill that woman."
Archer didn't appear to have heard him, but was too busy chuckling at another he held in his hand. "Don't forget about this one," he said, handing it to Malcolm, who took it with trepidation. 'Enterprise Gunman's Wild Shoreleave Sex Romp: Exclusive Photos Inside!" blared the tabloid, nicely accentuated with a picture of a very shocked looking Malcolm, holding up a hand to ward off the camera. A starburst proclaimed 'Guys and girls tell all!'
"Q!"
