6
Reed relished the feeling of his muscles gradually relaxing and his weight sinking into the mattress, and was just drifting off to sleep when the comm. sounded.
With a groan he forced his eyes open again and rolled off the bed. He promptly tripped over his boots, cursing himself for foregoing his nightly routine of tidying things up, and stumbled over to the desk, finally reaching the link.
"Reed," he choked out, hoping this call wouldn't mean danger and a sleepless night.
"Malcolm," Trip's voice answered. "Would you mind coming to my quarters, I – ah – need your assistance." He sounded suspiciously mellifluous.
"Trip, it's late and I'm knackered. In fact, you practically woke me up. What on earth do you need me for, tuck you in bed?" Malcolm replied petulantly.
There was a pause.
"Trip?" Reed grunted, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Uhm, let's say I need you in your capacity of Security Officer, Malcolm," Tucker answered hesitantly.
Malcolm's pulse automatically accelerated, as his mind conjured up a dozen different undesirable scenarios.
"What's happening?" he enquired tensely.
Trip must have heard the note of alarm in his voice, for he hastened to add, "Wait, it's not what you think; I mean, I haven't been taken hostage and the ship hasn't been boarded by hostile aliens."
"Damn you, you've just sent half a litre of adrenaline through my veins!" Reed complained. "What's the problem, then?"
"Look, it would be easier if you just came to my quarters, Lieutenant," Trip insisted. "And don't forget your phase pistol."
The comm. went dead, and Reed pinched his nose. Tucker had clearly made that an order. Besides, even if it didn't sound like a critical situation, he couldn't ignore the fact that Trip's request obviously had some security implications.
He opened the wardrobe and got out his pistol; he briefly considered changing into something that would make him feel less naked, but if this was a matter of security he shouldn't waste any time. So he let himself out and jogged barefoot over to Trip's cabin. Fortunately, it was late enough and the corridors were deserted.
"Commander, it's me," Malcolm announced, ringing the companel.
"Don't stand too long in the doorway," Trip urged.
The door opened and Reed had barely the time to slip in before it closed again. He found himself in total darkness.
"If this is one of your practical jokes, Trip, I'm in no mood to appreciate it," Malcolm warned. "And give us some light, for heaven's sake, I can't even see you!" he grunted.
"You don't have to see me, you have to see it," Trip's voice said from a spot somewhere on his right, "And that's best done in darkness." He didn't sound as if he was joking.
"It? What are you talking about?" Reed asked warily.
There was a moment of silence.
"I was lyin' in bed ready for dreamland," Trip explained, "when I heard a scrunching noise and saw a couple of yellow discs over on my desk, glowin' in the darkness. Nearly gave me a heart attack."
After a moment of surprise, Malcolm fired a volley of questions. "Yellow discs? How big? Have you found out what they were? Have you seen them any more?"
"Yes. About the size of small coins. Yes. No." Tucker replied without missing a beat.
It took Malcolm a few seconds to figure out which answered what. "So what were they?" he enquired.
"I switched on the light. On my desk sat some kind of a… squirrel - actually it was more like a big mouse, although different: four short legs, no tail, big pointy ears, completely furless, purplish skin, sharp teeth - it was munching on my padd the damn thing - yellow glowing eyes. Family unknown." Trip concluded with a sigh.
"Where the hell did it come from?" Reed exclaimed, then hastening to add, "Forget it, we'll leave that for afterwards. What did you do?"
"I just stared at it and kept as still as I could, while I tried to figure out my next move. What else could I do?" the engineer replied with a hint of annoyance.
"And?" Malcolm questioned, as he began to look around in the darkness.
"Look, let me make a long story short: the damn creature is fast. And I mean fast. The moment I twitched a muscle it got away. I got my scanner out and checked for its biosign. It's here alright. The problem is not so much findin' it, but catchin' it. In the darkness it doesn't seem to move around as much."
Malcolm turned the problem in his mind.
"Fine. Why don't you turn on the lights, frighten this… 'squ-ouse' out of its hiding and let me stun it," he stated after a moment.
"What did you think? That's what I called you here for," the engineer snorted, "But, believe me, it won't be easy. That thing can move."
"Oh - I see you have a lot of faith in your Armoury Officer's shooting skills," Malcolm replied touchily.
"My Armoury Officer, not so many hours ago, missed his aim and nearly stunned me," Trip declared much in the same way.
Reed's glare was lost in the darkness. "Well, this time I'll do better and not miss you," he retorted grumpily. Then, with a note of eagerness, he asked, "Where is our little friend now?"
Tucker raised the lights a little and turned to look at Malcolm. "In the toilet. And don't call it 'our little friend'. You oughtta see its teeth. You ready?"
Malcolm nodded to him, smirking. "Let's get on with the safari," he said, making sure his pistol was set on stun.
Trip rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious anticipation, checked his scanner again and raised the lights a bit more.
"It's movin'," he said after a moment. "Watch out, here it comes!"
Reed saw a purple ball dart out of the toilet and fired.
Miss.
The creature began to run around wildly, bouncing off walls and scuttling from one side of the room to the other, while Reed followed it with swift, precise movements of his outstretched arm.
Zap – miss.
Zap – miss.
"Damn, Mal, I told'ya!" Trip exclaimed, getting out of the way of the animal without letting his eyes off it and backing clumsily towards his desk, "Don't let it get to the…"
There was an ominous sound as Trip tripped over his backpack and fell backwards over his desk, then crashed onto his chair which overturned and fell with him to the floor.
"…vent!" the engineer finished with a groan of pain.
Zap.
"That wasn't too difficult," Reed calmly commented, smugly regarding his prey which lay stunned before the door. "Though I'll admit, the ugly little monster is quite capable of warp speed."
The comm. chimed.
Trip painfully picked himself up and reached to press it.
"Tucker."
"Ensign Jonas," the ensign at tactical answered tensely. "Sir, we detected phase pistol discharge in your quarters."
Reed sighed. Of course. I must be really knackered not to have thought of it. Good boy, Jonas.
"Ah, yes, it's nothing Ensign," Trip replied, schooling his voice to sound absolutely relaxed and normal. "I forgot to bring back my phase pistol to the armoury after our mission and accidentally fired it, while I was, uhm, cleaning it. Sorry to get you worried."
There was a pause.
"Four times, Sir?" Jonas sounded uncertain. "We detected four discharges."
Reed went to the comm. "This is Lieutenant Reed, Ensign," he said in his command voice. "Everything is quite alright. But you did well to check. I'll see you in the morning."
As soon as the comm. link was cut, Trip groaned and stumbled to the bed, collapsing heavily on it.
"I think I might've pulled a muscle in my leg," he declared, wincing.
Reed ignored him as he regarded with a knitted brow the open backpack on the floor.
"How do you suppose that creature got into your cabin, Trip?" he finally asked, innocently.
Tucker stopped massaging his calf. "Well, in the backpack of course, it seems quite elementary, Watson."
Reed tilted his head. "And why did you bring this filthy backpack back to your quarters?" he insisted, frowning.
"Because." Trip replied secretively.
At Reed's questioning look he added, crossly, "I needed to get somethin' from it."
"Brilliant. You brought this pack to B deck without properly checking it before. Great security. The Captain and T'Pol better not find out about it," Malcolm grunted. "Are you at least certain that there was only one of those creatures?"
Trip shot him a 'do-you-consider-me-that-dumb?' glance. "Of course. The scanner only picked up one. Any other questions, Sherlock Holmes?"
Malcolm looked at the backpack again, and then at the desk, where Trip's Hawaiian shirt still lay, all crinkled and crumpled. Oh, yes. He raised his eyebrows.
"Why did you bring your obnoxious Hawaiian shirt on our away mission, hidden in your backpack?"
Trip's jaw dropped open, but he regained control in a blink. "Look, why don't we concentrate on one thing at a time," he said as he got up from the bed and limped to observe the stunned creature. "We oughtta get rid of this thing or do somethin' with it before it comes round."
Malcolm allowed himself to get momentarily distracted from the 'Hawaiian shirt mystery'. Tucker did have a point.
He got down on his haunches and examined his prey. "I believe we should bring it to Doctor Phlox," he said. "He'll know what to do with it."
Just as he was saying that, he saw a shiver run through the creature's body.
"And we better do it now, I don't think this thing's going to stay unconscious for much longer," he added with urgency.
"Well, give it another shot!"
"So that Jonas definitely decides to gather a security detail and show up at your door?"
Malcolm looked around, then stood up with determination and grabbed Trip's shirt.
"Hey, what are you doin' with my shirt?" Trip cried out.
"We need something to carry 'squ-ouse' to sickbay," Reed replied. "Unless you want to use a stretcher? And don't tell me your precious shirt's going to get spoilt," he added, anticipating Tucker's protest. "Aside from the fact that it already is– awfully crinkled at least – it would definitely mean an improvement in your appearance if you were never to wear that outrageous piece of clothing again."
And before Trip could do anything to stop him, he enveloped the creature in the shirt and knotted the corners tightly.
"If that shirt gets…"
The bundle in Reed's hands began to shake and Trip's complaint trailed away.
"Let's go!" Malcolm urged, keeping the shirt at arm's length.
Tucker looked at himself and then Reed. "Like this?" he exclaimed, "Barefoot and in shorts?"
The lieutenant shot him a concerned look. "Trip, if that creature really has sharp teeth, it can nibble its way out of there pretty quickly."
"Damn you, if my lucky shirt gets holes in it because of you, you won't get away with it, Malcolm!" the engineer seethed. But he triggered the door open and looked cautiously outside.
'My lucky shirt'? Reed briefly considered what implications those three words could have, but another jolt of Trip's 'Honolulu Baby' quickly pushed that issue to the back of his mind.
They stole out of Trip's quarters like thieves. Reed prayed that nothing would happen that would require viewing the security tapes of that night. All evidence of two scantily clothed senior officers creeping though the ship to sickbay would definitely have to be erased. As for Phlox, they'd have to find a way to bribe him into silence. Solemnly vow to behave next time we land up in sickbay? No, no, that would give the doctor too much of an upper hand.
He was already beginning to think that they had gone undetected, when he heard a familiar trotting sound approaching. And where that trotting sound was, invariably was also…
"Slow down, Porthos, we're not running a marathon!"
… Captain Archer.
Trip and Malcolm looked at each other in alarm.
"What now?" Trip mouthed.
Malcolm looked frantically around, then in what seemed like one swift move pried open one of the access panels that ran along the floor, stuffed Trip's shirt inside and closed it again. No sooner had he got up than Porthos and the Captain appeared around the corner.
"Hey Capt'n, taking Porthos for a stroll?" Trip cheerfully greeted his CO, as if walking around the ship at twenty-two-hundred hours in their present state of apparel was an everyday occurrence.
Malcolm just cleared his throat and, blushing to the very top of his forehead, mumbled, "Good evening, Captain."
"Trip, Malcolm…" Archer stuttered, managing to keep a straight face at the peculiar sight. Those two would never cease surprising him. What the hell were they up to now, creeping through the ship barefoot and in shorts?
"Uhm, I thought you would be both sound asleep, you looked pretty well ready to hit the sack when I saw you in the launchbay," he probed.
"Ah, yeah, we're pretty wiped, so it's really time we went to get a good night's sleep," Tucker said with one of his trademark smiles.
"Porthos! Sit!" Archer ordered in vain.
Malcolm saw with a twinge of concern that Porthos had quite obviously picked up the alien creature's scent and was tugging at his leash, eager to investigate it. The dog seemed to have no intention of obeying his master and Malcolm saw no other way to distract him than go down on his haunches and pet him; maybe some of the scent was also on his hands.
The idea worked and soon Porthos was directing all his attention on Malcolm. However, it was so uncharacteristic of the lieutenant to give anything more than a fleeting glance at the beagle, that Archer became even more puzzled.
"May I ask what you two are doing this late and… out of uniform, so to speak?" Archer investigated, unable to restrain his curiosity.
"We are coming from the gym, Sir," Reed hastily replied while he endeavoured to make it look like petting dogs was all he had ever done in his life. "We were a little… wound up after our mission and I suggested a bit of exercise might do us some good."
"And you two are in the habit of going to the gym barefoot," the Captain stated perplexedly, shifting his gaze from Trip down to Malcolm.
Trip hesitated just a moment, then said, "Uhm, I've read somewhere that it's actually very good to walk barefoot, stimulates I don't know what under your feet and makes you a helluva lot healthier, so I… convinced Malcolm to try it out. And it works, Capt'n. I feel better already."
He grinned, proud of his imaginative answer, forcefully ignoring Malcolm's obvious embarrassment. "I hope it's alright with you, Sir," he then added, innocently.
"Oh, yeah, yeah," Archer replied, still quite intrigued, "As long as you don't ever become convinced that it's healthy to go around in the buff…" he chuckled, echoed by the two officers. "What you do in your free time is really none of my business…"
Trip and Malcolm exchanged a glance of relief.
"… unless of course it's something dangerous or against rules," Archer concluded, stressing the words.
"Who, us? Where did you get that idea!" Trip bantered.
Archer felt something wasn't quite right with his two officers, but decided to let them off the hook. After all, they had just completed a mission without ending in sickbay, so they deserved a little reward.
"Well then, I'll see you in the morning," he said. "Come boy! Leave Malcolm alone now."
He tugged at the leash and began to walk away, dragging a recalcitrant Porthos along.
TBC
One more chapter to go… and, ehm, I don't know if anyone noticed, they are heading for sickbay…