The next morning, Travis Mayweather entered Hoshi Sato's quarters without chiming. After waiting 12 minutes for her to show up for breakfast, he had grabbed some coffee and come to find her.

Hoshi was awake, but immobile. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, barely blinking. Without saying anything, Travis set the coffee down, set out a clean uniform on the counter in the bathroom, and came back to the bedside. With one great swoop, his arms picked her up and set her upright. He pushed her gently into the bathroom and closed the door.

"20 minutes," he called.

He made her bed and even did hospital corners while she showered. When she emerged, 9 minutes later, he held up a small mirror and handed her mascara and then lipstick.

Travis stepped back and cocked his head, "Much better."

Hoshi allowed herself to slump onto her newly made bed.

Travis kneeled down in front of her and gathered her into his arms, "What's wrong?"

Hoshi burst into tears.

"This wouldn't be about a certain British armory officer, would it?"

Hoshi only buried her face deeper in Travis' neck.

To: Jonathon Archer

From: SubCommander

Subject: Fraternization and Punctuality

Captain,

I am aware that you humans should not be expected to make as adequate officers as my race does. The superiority of Vulcans is common knowledge among both of our species. Even a species as primitive as yours SHOULD be able to notice the obvious differences between us.

However, things have lately, as you might say, gotten out of hand. Today, for example, two specific ensigns entered the bridge over 3.23 minutes late. This alone would be reason for punishment in my view – but that is not all. Although I do not like to speculate, there seems to be only one logical explanation as to why Ensign Sato's lipstick was smeared all over (Vulcans do NOT exaggerate) Ensign Mayweather's neck. My sensitive and extremely evolved and superior nasal passages also picked up Ensign Sato's perfume on Ensign Mayweather's body. I believe you – although human – will be able to figure out why.

It would benefit the crew if you were to remind them of the rules concerning fraternization – or at least tell them to be discreet. Please also enforce your shift time schedule guidelines.

Sub-commander

Science Officer

Enterprise

Captain Archer glanced at the padd in his hand. After reading over the note from T'pol he glanced at her back and rolled his eyes. He then glanced to Hoshi's station.

Travis was leaning over the console, whispering something to Hoshi. Hoshi smiled at what he said and whispered something back. The lipstick was hard to see on Travis' neck but it was visible.

Archer sighed. He would much rather shoot any amount of dangerous aliens than give the two ensigns the talk he was about to give them. Archer watched Hoshi touch Travis's arm as Travis smiled his wide smile.

T'pol glanced his way and quirked an eyebrow. Archer sighed again and rolled his eyes. He wrote a quick note on a padd and stood up.

"Travis? Since the ship is on auto-pilot, would you be able to run this down to engineering for me and give it to the commander?"

Travis straightened up and took the padd, easy to please.

"Aye, sir."

As soon as Travis had left Archer cracked his knuckles and walked towards the back of the bridge, "Ensign Sato, I would like to see you in my ready room."

Hoshi glanced up, surprised, from her console, "Me?"

She followed him into his ready room and took the seat he offered her. Archer sat on the opposite side of the desk for a moment, and then stood up and collected his thoughts. How was he going to tell Hoshi to be more discreet about her relationship with Travis? They did look cute together – he had to admit that. And they were right for each other. But still. He could not ask them to end it. They just had to make it more quiet… and less obvious. Archer began to pace.

"Have you ever seen a newborn gazelle?"

He paused for emphasis.

Hoshi blinked, "Um… actually…"

"That was rhetorical, Hoshi," Archer said impatiently, "It was a metaphor for your sex life."

The turbolift doors opened and a whistling Mayweather stepped out into the hallway, tapping a padd against his hand. His whistling was cut short when all of a sudden he was slammed back into the turbolift and pinned against the wall.

"My… sex life, sir?"

Archer sighed and examined his cuticles. This was going to be A LOT harder than he had anticipated.

Inside the turbolift, the padd fell to the floor as Travis struggled against the strong grip of the bulk of muscle, which had him pressed against the wall, practically suffocating him.