Thanks to all who've left a review. In part because of your comments, what was going to be a three-chapter story is now a four-chapter story.

"Trip?"

"Hmm?"

"What did they call those horrendous rolls at the Deep End Pier?"

"You went to the Deep End Pier?" Trip had not expected that Malcolm would've enjoyed the popular San Francisco landmark. It was primarily a sports bar, after all, and Malcolm generally did not enjoy sports.

"Three times, under duress. I don't know what people saw in the place."

"It was a bit run-down, but they had those foosball tables."

"I suspect they used the rolls for the foosballs."

"So the Roll-lotta funs weren't the best. It was still a good place!"

"Your definition of 'good' is very generous."

"This from the man who reads James Joyce!"

"Commander, Lieutenant," reproached Phlox from his office. He was beginning to look forward to their impending release almost as much as the men themselves.

"Malcolm?"

"Yes?"

"I've already used 'put together,' 'made,' 'constructed,' 'built' an' 'assembled.'

"'Created,' 'manufactured,' 'formed,' and 'forged.' I think I'm going to get you a thesaurus for Christmas."

Trip was trying not to leave out any details in his description of his first round of Starfleet survival training. All in all, he much preferred the rain forest to the desert, but that would come later.

Suddenly the ship shook with what felt suspiciously like weapons fire. The tactical alert came on, and Malcolm was visibly fighting the urge to escape Sickbay and be more useful. Trip felt the same way, but Phlox was unlikely to take kindly to that, and it would probably translate to more time under his direct supervision.

"I guess this'd be a bad time-" Suddenly Trip found himself catapulted over the foot of his bed and he never got to say 'to ask what's goin' on.' The world turned strangely sideways as he flailed about. For a moment he saw Malcolm in a similar predicament, and then he landed on the floor. It sounded like Malcolm was muttering curses, but Trip was in too much pain to really notice.

His vision swarmed as Cutler scanned him. Phlox said something from Malcolm's direction, and Trip tried unsuccessfully to focus on something other than the searing pain racing through his battered body.

T'Pol's reassuring presence came to the fore. He clung to her, drawing comfort from her calm and somehow knowing that they were out of danger. Her soothing presence allowed him to steady his breathing.

"Can you hear me, Commander?" asked Cutler.

It took considerable effort, but he opened his mouth and managed to form words. "We should really pad the floor better."

A few crewmembers were beginning to come in with injuries, although they were apparently not in very bad shape, because Phlox and Cutler stayed with Trip and Malcolm while Rodriguez and Heismann attended to the others.

The anaprovalin began to take effect, which made the pain much more bearable. "Your left ankle is broken again," Cutler informed him. "The good news is that it's a clean break."

Malcolm was having his own problems. "Lieutenant, that rib is dangerously close to your lung. Moving is not a good idea." Phlox was hovering over him with a tricorder.

"I just want to know what happened," protested Malcolm.

"Unpleasant things will happen to your lung if you persist in moving!" Just then Archer walked through the doors. "Ask the captain if you must, Lieutenant, but stay still."

"We're fine," answered Archer before being asked. "We ran into a hostile and very territorial ship that demanded we leave the nebula."

"They have powerful weapons," noted Malcolm.

"Yes, but once we turned around they stopped firing."

Trip struggled to see the captain behind Cutler's hovering form. "The engines sound okay."

"The engines are fine, Trip."

"Which is more than I can say for your hand, Captain," chided Phlox. The last to fingers of the captain's right hand stuck out at angles that human fingers were not meant to point. "You need to have Crewman Heismann examine that."

"I'll wait until the more serious injuries have been taken care of."

"Fortunately, there are few serious injuries. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed won't be getting out tonight, however."

"Pictionary is starting to sound better," remarked Malcolm.

Trip realized that there was a sedative mixed in with his anaprovalin, as his eyelids started to droop. "I feel like someone's used me for a punchin' bag," he said before dropping off to sleep.

Malcolm, too, was succumbing. "Only one person?" he yawned.

Trip opened his eyes to see T'Pol looking down at him. Her hand was lying gently on top of his, and he relished the soft touch and her pleasure that he was awake.

"Hey," he smiled. "I could get used ta your face bein' the first thing I see when I wake up."

"Ah, Commander," said Phlox, cutting off her reply and entirely ruining the moment, "I see that you're awake. How do you feel?"

"About as good as can be expected, considerin' my free fall."

The doctor pulled out his tricorder and began a thorough scan. "You broke your ankle again and fractured your hip."

"You weren't hurt?" Trip asked T'Pol.

"I suffered only a superficial cut on my right thumb."

"That's good, at least. How's Malcolm?"

"He's asleep."

"Still?"

Phlox always admired how humans were concerned about their friends. It was such an endearing quality. "No, he woke up almost an hour ago, but he fell asleep shortly before you woke up. Fortunately, I was able to convince Ensign Sato to get some rest herself." With that, he retreated to allow Trip and T'Pol a bit of privacy.

Trip eyed the retreating Denobulan with a sudden concern. "There aren't any bugs he uses for fractured bones, are there?"

Her face took on a subtle look of jest. "Considering your extensive experience in Sickbay, t'hy'la, I believe that you are in a better position to know than I."

"Ha, ha."

Malcolm was finishing his French toast the next morning when Hoshi came in. Her elbow was still swollen where it had slammed into the edge of her station, but it looked better than it had the night before when he woke up.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Hoshi. How's your arm?"

She shook her head a bit and sat down beside his bed. "My arm is just a little sore. You're the one who was a centimeter away from puncturing a lung. How are you feeling?"

It was tempting to say 'fine,' which was his standard answer unless he was practically over the threshold of death's door. However, it was Hoshi he was talking to. He didn't have to disguise weakness in front of her. "I've been better. Catapulting across the room isn't something I'd recommend."

"I'll try to remember that."

"Do you think you can teach me more Andorian tonight?" Of course, Hoshi would agree. He was not a particularly adept student of languages – although he spoke semi-fluent French, that was not at all the same as an alien language – but Hoshi enjoyed sharing her passion for languages. Besides, it broke up the monotony of Sickbay.

"If you want to," she said, trying not to be too hopeful.

"It's a good way to take my mind off my captivity."

"Travis said something about coming by this afternoon with a trivia game, since he has the day off."

Malcolm was not especially fond of trivia games; to be more precise, he was particularly unexcited at the prospect of a trivia game with Trip, whose knowledge of trivia exceeded what Malcolm considered to be reasonable limits. Travis was no slouch himself. "I don't suppose you want to trade places?"

"That might not be a bad idea. I can sit back and relax while you compile a cultural guide that will be used by the diplomats who will be trying to form a federation."

"That sounds fine to me. I can fit in details about their weapons."

Hoshi made an exaggerated show of smacking her palm on her forehead.

As it turned out, there was a bit of strategy involved in Trivia Triangle, which made Malcolm's tactical heart happy. The objective was to be the first to traverse the triangular track. "When it's your turn," explained Travis, "you're told the category, and you get to chose if you want level one or level two. Level one is easier, but you only get to move forward one space. Level two is harder, so you get to move forward two spaces. I'll ask your questions, Commander, and you can ask Lieutenant Reed, who will ask me."

"For cryin' out loud, we've known each other for five an' a half years! You don't hafta use ranks off-duty."

Travis looked over at Malcolm, who he knew to be much stricter about such things. "We are off-duty," he said, "and playing a game at that." If one was going to be playing games with subordinates, why not use first names? Malcolm kept his social interaction limited to the senior staff, but he had grown rather accustomed to what would be considered fraternization. Particularly with the communications officer.

"Alright, Trip, you're first."

Malcolm frowned, thinking he could use all the head start he could get. "He gets to go first, just like that?"

"The youngest player asks the first question," clarified Travis.

"Oh."

The helmsman turned toward Trip. "Your category is Literature."

"So now I pick a level? I'm not very good at literature, so I'll go with level 1."

Travis consulted the card. "Which twentieth-century author wrote The Sun Also Rises?"

"That's level 1?"

"It's even American literature," noted Malcolm, implying that the question should be easy.

Trip sighed. "I don't have a clue."

"I don't suppose I get credit for knowing?" asked Malcolm.

"No, but you can guess anyway."

"Hemingway."

"Very good."

"I had ta read one of his books in high school. The Old Man an' the Sea, that was it. I'm surprised he didn't starve, writing like that."

Travis shrugged. "I remember that. At least it was short."

They both looked at Malcolm. "I'm not a huge fan, but The Old Man and the Sea wasn't one of his better books. What's my category?"

Trip checked the card. "Science an' Technology."

"Level two."

"Confident! Alright, the Nobel Prize is named after the inventor of what?"

"Dynamite," replied Malcolm without hesitation.

"It figures you'd get a question about blowin' stuff up."

Travis grinned. "It is very appropriate."

"Your category is Pop Culture," Malcolm informed him.

After a moment of consideration, Travis declared, "I'll try level two."

"Name the first movie in which actors portrayed Vulcans."

"I know this one! Oh, what was that called…it had the boy who lived with his aunt… "Main Street, Earth," that was it."

"That's right. I don't think I've ever heard of it."

Trip was aghast. "How can you not have heard of "Main Street, Earth?" It's a classic!"

"I must've been busy learning which books Hemingway wrote," answered Malcolm without looking up.

Travis reached for the card to ask Trip and wondered what he'd started.

To be continued...