CHAPTER 9

The appearance of a very pissed-off tactical officer quelled Shran's ardor. That, and the fact that Malcolm's fingers were wrapped around the Andorian's neck seconds after the door to the captain's mess had opened.

"Let him go, Malcolm," Jon said, breathing heavily after the chase around the table. "I'm sure Shran will behave now."

Malcolm reluctantly loosened his grip but not before giving Shran a vicious shake. The Andorian rubbed his neck and eyed Malcolm warily where he stood an arm's span away.

"Perhaps it would be best if I returned to my ship," Shran rasped out.

"Yes, it would," Jon said, stepping back to allow Shran to leave.

"And don't come back!" Jon heard Malcolm mutter under his breath as the door slid shut behind the Andorian.

Jon looked at his savior and said, "Thanks, Malcolm, but I'm sure I could have handled him."

"Begging the captain's pardon, but I don't think you could!"

Malcolm's outburst was laden with righteous indignation. Jon stared at his officer. Malcolm was still flushed with anger, his hands clenched at his sides. He'd never seen Malcolm worked up like this before.

"Are you saying that I wouldn't have been able to defend myself?" Jon asked.

Malcolm let out a gust of air. "If I may speak freely, sir?"

Jon nodded.

"This whole unnatural situation -- you in Hoshi's body and Hoshi in yours -- it's not right!"

"Tell me something I don't know," Jon said, beginning to get a little peeved himself.

"Sir! I mean that you aren't aware of what Hoshi's body is capable and not capable of doing." Malcolm paused to take a deep breath. "You thought you could handle Shran, but what if you tried to 'manhandle' him, for lack of a better word, and found you didn't have the strength you needed?"

"Your point, Lieutenant?" Jon asked harshly.

Malcolm stood at attention, aware of the shift in Jon's mood. He thanked God he'd never heard Hoshi speak to him so icily. It was so hard to think of the person before him as the captain when all he saw was Hoshi's lithe form. That was the crux of the whole problem he had in dealing with this mess, wasn't it?

"Because of your unfamiliarity of the body you inhabit, sir," Malcolm plowed on, "you could...hurt...Hoshi's body through your own ignorance."

"Believe me, Lieutenant, the last thing I intend to do is damage our communications officer's body!" Jon said from between clenched teeth. "Don't you dare presume to tell me how to take care of it, either."

Malcolm gulped. He'd overstepped his bounds. If it had been the captain in his own body alone with Shran, he wouldn't have been concerned. But he had been worried about what Shran might try to do to Hoshi's body, even knowing it wasn't really her, and he'd let the protective, possessive feelings he had for her override his common sense.

He waited, expecting a reprimand he knew he deserved, and shook his head slightly as he tried to sort through the morass of muddled emotions that had dogged his every waking moment since he'd found out the captain and Hoshi's personalities had traded bodies.

Jon strode over to the window and placed his hands on the frame. It was a stance Malcolm had seen the captain assume on numerous occasions when he was troubled or trying to come to a decision. Seeing the small, familiar form in that stance, he felt an urge to rush over and offer comfort. Then sanity reasserted itself and he very deliberately told himself, "That is NOT Hoshi."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," Jon said at last. "You were just doing your job, and you were right. I really don't know how to take care of myself in this body."

Jon turned to face him, and Malcolm could see the sheen of unshed tears. Tears? Even more embarrassing than a dressing down, the last thing Malcolm wanted was for his commanding officer to break down and cry in front of him. Suddenly he wished he'd never come to the captain's private mess, Shran or no Shran.

Jon sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Sorry," Jon said again. "I'm having a hard time dealing with Hoshi's hormones at this time of the month."

Malcolm's eyes widened in realization and he suddenly was glad it wasn't he who had changed places with Hoshi. There were some things a man just shouldn't have to endure.

"Ah, no need to say anything else, sir," Malcolm said. "Having been around Hoshi when it's this time, I understand what you're going through."

"No, you don't!" Jon shot back but with a smile on his face. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone. How they put up with it I have no idea."

"Has Hoshi told you about chocolate?"

"You know about that?" Jon asked.

"Yes, sir. I've made it a point to make sure I have a supply handy in case Hoshi's stash is ever depleted. Believe me, you don't want to be around her if she's craving chocolate and there's none to be had."

There was a moment of awkward silence as Malcolm wondered if Jon was done with him and he should leave. Then Jon, avoiding Malcolm's eyes, spoke again.

"You're right, Malcolm. I don't know how to take care of this body, at least as far as using a smaller body than I'm accustomed to in a physical confrontation." He took a shuddering breath. "If, for some reason, Hoshi and I cannot be switched back, I'll need additional training."

"Very good, sir," Malcolm said, feeling one small knot in the bundle of tension he'd become lately begin to unwind at the same time as another being to twist tightly around his gut. There had to be a way to get them back to their proper bodies. He couldn't let himself dwell on any other outcome.

"I'm not willing to accept that this is a permanent condition," Jon said, echoing Malcolm's thoughts. "If that does happen, then we'll see about physical training for me."

Jon dismissed his tactical officer. He hadn't brought up his biggest fear, which he wasn't about to broach in the company of a subordinate. If he couldn't get back in his proper body, would he be able to retain command of Enterprise?

He knew some of Malcolm's concern was due to his involvement with Hoshi. Jon had always thought of Hoshi as a little sister, and he was glad that she had found herself a good man.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he tried to relax. Must be nice to have someone on board who cares about you that way. The only one that felt that way about him was the little dog waiting in his cabin.

He sighed again and gave in to the inevitable. He rang for Cunningham and told him to bring him some of the chocolate cheesecake Chef had on the day's menu.

Hoshi spent the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening in her cabin, pouring over the inscriptions. Every time she thought she had a handle on understanding the intricacies of this new language, it slipped out of her mental grasp just as surely as water through a sieve.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she wondered what was wrong with her. Well, other than she was in someone else's body and that person was in hers. Phlox and T'Pol hadn't made any headway in figuring out what had caused it, much less whether it could be reversed.

And then there was the fact that Malcolm was trying to deal with the situation but was still in a state of shock. Her man had gone from a stud puppy to a stunned puppy, she thought with a rueful snort. While she felt sorry for him, she felt even sorrier for herself.

What was really bothering her was that she was a person who liked to be around other people. But she just couldn't bring herself to leave her cabin unless she absolutely had to. It was just too awful being subjected to the pitying stares. At least she couldn't hear the hushed comments -- Jon's hearing was nowhere near as good as hers.

With longing she glanced at her dresser. There was always her chocolate stash but she wasn't in the mood for it. Besides, Jon was going to need it more than she did.

No, what she really wanted, she realized with a start, was a good, stiff...

Drink.

Malcolm didn't have any alcohol squirreled away. He wasn't much of a drinker. No sense in contacting him about it.

Trip was the captain's drinking buddy. If anyone on board could get their hands on some booze, it would be him. She was entertaining the notion of comming Trip when her door chime sounded.

"Come in!" she called.

"Your day probably was just as bad as mine," said Jon as he stepped into her cabin.

"You make me look like a lush," Hoshi said, looking in disbelief at the rumpled sweat clothes Jon was wearing, the disheveled hair, and the bottle of whiskey he was holding. "I hope none of the crew saw me -- I mean you."

Jon looked down at the clothes. "I haven't had time to get my laundry taken care of," he said.

"Who cares? Bring that bottle over here and I'll find some glasses. Then we'll talk about what a bit of makeup can do."

"Actually," Jon said, ignoring her last comment, "I was hoping to trade. I'll give you the whole bottle for all your chocolate."

Hoshi looked at him askance. "My entire stash? I don't think so. I hope to be back in my body fairly soon, so I need to hang on to some of it. Besides," she said, pointing to the bottle, "that's not even full."

Jon set the bottle down on the desk. "Trip came by earlier and I offered him a drink. I wound up dumping mine down the drain. It doesn't taste the way it used to."

Scrounging up a glass, Hoshi unscrewed the cap on the bottle and poured herself a stiff shot. She slugged it back, the alcohol hitting her stomach with the force of a phase pistol set to kill.

Jon chuckled as she gasped and blinked several times.

"Wow!" she said as a warm glow replaced the initial shock in her stomach. "Now I know why you like this stuff."

With only a slight stagger she went to the dresser and pulled open the drawer. She grabbed several chocolate bars as well as a bag of individually foil-wrapped chocolate candies.

"Hey! You've already started on this," Jon said, fingering a rip in the bag as she handed it to him.

"Goes with the bottle that's not full." Hoshi smirked. "Seems like a fair trade to me."

"I better not find out you finished off that bottle all by yourself tonight and you're in no condition to work tomorrow. I could court-martial you."

"Weeeeellllll," Hoshi said, imitating him, "I better not find out you ate all of that chocolate tonight because you'll weigh as much as a small moon tomorrow. And you won't have to worry about a court-martial, because I'll kill you."

"You are not at all believable as me," Jon said, unimpressed.

"You know what would be funny?" she asked as she splashed more whiskey into her glass, amazed that she actually liked the taste of the foul stuff. She'd always suspected men's tastebuds weren't as discriminating as women's. "We could try to fool Trip and Malcolm. Tell them we've switched back, and see how long it takes for them to catch on."

Jon, unwrapping one of the candies and popping it in his mouth, took a moment to close his eyes and savor the taste before replying.

"Like they aren't confused enough already," he said. Then, before Hoshi's astounded stare, she watched as Jon's thoughts turned what should have been her face bright red. "Um, maybe we shouldn't. If Malcolm thinks I'm you..."

"...I'd kill him, too," Hoshi finished.

The door chime sounded before Jon could ask if she was joking.

Hoshi, still holding the glass with a bit of whiskey left in it, walked over and opened the door. Both Malcolm and Trip stood there.

"Come on in, guys," Hoshi said. "You can have your choice of a drink or chocolate. Then you can watch as I show the captain the fine art of making up a face."