Chapter 13
A couple days passed, and Michael, accompanied by one of the female crewmembers, Amanda Jacobs, entered the mess hall. They passed through the food line. Amanda, her golden hair framing her face and her rose-colored cheeks emphasizing her smile, chose a seat and prepared to eat her meal of pasta and salad.
It was only after they were seated that Michael noticed that not far from them sat his brother along with Hoshi and Travis. He continued to eat his meal and listen to Amanda's stories, but all the while he remained focused on his brother. It wasn't long before he noticed just how interested Malcolm seemed to be every time Hoshi would speak. He noticed how his twin's face would lighten up every time the communications officer would smile or laugh.
"Michael?" Amanda whined, tugging on his sleeve. "Didn't you hear a word I said?"
He turned back to face the blonde. "Pardon me, my dear. I was momentarily distracted. What did you say?"
"I asked you if you wanted to go with me to movie night? I think Star Wars is playing."
He smiled at her and shook his head. "I'm afraid I have some writing to do if I want to meet my deadline. Perhaps another time."
A half hour before the scheduled movie started, Michael leaned against the corridor wall outside Hoshi Sato's quarters. He patiently waited until he heard her door slide open, then he pushed away from the wall and started walking toward her cabin. When she exited into the hallway, he smiled at her, flashing his white teeth.
"Ensign Sato!" he called out.
Hoshi looked up and smiled a welcome.
"You're my salvation!" he said, holding his arms wide.
"Your what?"
"My salvation. Here I was roaming the hallways looking for the Armory, when I became totally lost! Then I found you!"
Hoshi couldn't help but giggle. "The ship is a circle, Michael. Eventually you would have found your way. But it would have helped if you had been on the right deck. The Armory is located on F deck. This is C deck."
"See how hopeless I am?" he sighed dramatically. "I got confused, and I kept walking around in circles. But now that I've found you, would m'lady be so kind to show accompany me to the Armoury?" He held out his hand.
Hoshi grinned, and unable to help herself, placed her hand on top of his. "The Armory?"
"I've got something to give Malcolm. It's from Madeline, our sister." He waggled a small padded envelope and a few datachips. "She sent him some music clips and some photographs. Seems that Madeline didn't trust the communication network, so she asked me to give it to him."
"Michael, you've been on the ship for almost a month," Hoshi admonished. "Why didn't you give it to him before?"
He blushed. "I had in buried at the bottom of my bag. I'm afraid with everything else happening on the ship, I completely forgot about it." He looked sheepish. "Don't know why Madeline and Malcolm like this type of music. It's all old instrumental music, really boring and stuffy."
Hoshi held out her hand and Michael dropped the music clips into it. She held one up and read the label. "Ah, Mozart and Tchaikovsky, as performed by London's Philharmonic," Hoshi said looking at the first datachip. "And Henry Wilkensen. He's one of my favorite jazz artists. Don't know about you, but sounds to me like Malcolm has good taste."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me, you like this stuff too?"
Hoshi shrugged and passed the music clips back to him. Taking them from her, he slowly trailed his index finger across the palm of her hand.
"I would have thought you would have been more likely to appreciate something by Vleria, or the New Orleans Trio," he said, his voice thick.
"Vleria?" Hoshi blushed. "I've always thought her lyrics were..." She cleared her throat and her blush deepened to a vivid shade of magenta.
"...very sexually suggestive," Michael said, his voice low, slow, and rough. "And the New Orleans Trio are even more explicit." He leaned closer to her, his breath brushing against her cheek.
Bringing one hand up to her chest, Hoshi turned away.
Michael placed his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe we could listen to them together sometime? I promise you, it'll be a very memorable evening. I wouldn't disappoint." He trailed his hand down her back, lightly caressing her with his fingertips.
Malcolm clutched the music clips in his hand, his knuckles whitened, as he watched Michael walk out of the Armory with Hoshi, his brother's hand placed possessively around the Ensign's waist. A string of expletives spewed forth from the Brit.
"Sir?" came a voice from the rear of the Armory. "Is everything okay?"
Looking over his shoulder, Malcolm saw Crewman Bethany Richards poke her head out from behind a torpedo casing. He shook his head. "Not really, Richards, but it doesn't concern you. How's the alignment of the sensors coming?" he asked as he moved over to inspect her work.
"Just fine, sir, but I'd appreciate if you'd check the algorithms. I've only done this a couple of times, and I want to make sure I did it correctly."
"Of course."
The next morning Malcolm reported to work on the bridge. Everything proceeded as it typically did. Well, other than he was the first to show up -- usually T'Pol was always there when he walked in.
And there was the fact that the Captain showed up, but for a change he brought Porthos with him -- and Porthos for some reason decided the only place he wanted to be was under Malcolm's workstation, facing the captain's chair. That in itself wasn't bad, but the dog was clearly enjoying what Trip liked to refer to the "silent but deadlies." Which translated into saying Porthos was having a severe case of potent flatulence, but as he didn't make any sound when he did so, the malodorous smell struck without warning.
Malcolm was trying to ignore the aroma when Travis walking in with Hoshi trailing him. They were about thirty seconds late and each gave the captain a wide apologetic grin and sat down at their respective stations and immediately went to work.
Oh, and there was something else, this morning, of all mornings, Michael decided to come to the bridge to interview Hoshi at work. Malcolm thought somewhere in the universe some sadistic god was laughing his ass off. He was even more sure of it as the morning progressed.
Michael hung around Hoshi like a bee to a fragrant flower, and Malcolm kept close tabs on his actions, as did Porthos. Every time Michael made a move, trying to place his hand upon her back or on her arm, Porthos would emit a soft warning growl and Malcolm would clear his throat. One time when Michael went so far as to attempt to massage Hoshi's shoulders, Porthos howled. This caused the reporter to lift his head and look at the dog, and what he saw was not only Porthos baring his teeth but Malcolm silently murdering him with his eyes. He immediately took two quick photos of the communications officer and retreated from Hoshi's side. Leaving the bridge he promised to see her that evening at movie night. It was then that Malcolm realized he would be glad to put up with the "silent but deadlies" as long as Porthos was in guard dog mode.
Late that evening, Malcolm was on a mission. He shouldn't be doing this, he mused. He'd worked another double shift and should be heading to his cabin to catch some well-earned sleep. Instead, he was crawling through the bowels of the ship, praying he wouldn't get stuck, just so he could ascertain that Hoshi Sato was indeed alone, or more precisely, that she wasn't with his twin.
Reaching the vent above her quarters, Malcolm removed his nightscope from the satchel he carried and peered through the vent into Hoshi's cabin. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her laying by herself on her bed. He was about to turn off the nightscope when he saw her shift on her bed, turning over from her stomach to her back. Still asleep, she absently pushed the covers down over her chest to her waist.
And then he saw it.
There in all its glory.
Just like it was his dreams...only better.
His blue T-shirt. Damn did it look good, and bloody hell, she looked fantastic.
With a smile on his lips, he quietly pushed away from the vent and back toward the access hatch.
End Chapter 13