"Frederick Tomlinson?" guessed Travis.

"Sorry, it's Manny de Silva," said Malcolm.

Trip knew all about the two and their achievements. "Tomlinson's the one who first theorized that matter transporters could actually be practical."

"I never can keep all those scientists apart," shrugged Travis as he reached for the card. "You've got History."

Trip tapped his fingers against the edge of his bed. "Ancient history or recent history?"

"You don't get to know that before you pick the level."

He looked at his place on the board, behind Travis. "I'll take level two."

"The last pharaohs of Egypt were from what other ancient civilization?"

Scowling, Trip tried to rack his brain for the answer. "How come I'm not gettin' any science questions?"

"I'm fairly certain there was never an ancient civilization by that name," noted Malcolm with a smirk.

"Very funny, Mr. I-don't-know-who-Andre-Kaseau-is."

Travis tried to refocus his friends. "The last pharaohs of Egypt were from what other ancient civilization?"

"Maybe Rome?" guessed Trip. Travis shook his head.

"Greece," supplied Captain Archer, who had entered Sickbay unnoticed.

Travis turned around, surprised. "How did you know that?"

"My grandmother specialized in ancient history."

"Ever wonder if someday trivia games will ask about Enterprise?" asked Trip to nobody in particular.

Malcolm was the first to respond. "Actually, I hadn't. I wonder what kinds of questions they'd ask."

"What year we launched," suggested Travis.

Trip, of course, had to work in his beloved engines. "How fast the engines could go."

The captain looked at his bedridden officers. "Which member of the senior staff spent the most time in Sickbay."

This was one of those rare things that Trip and Malcolm agreed on. Archer decided that in the future, he should try to avoid getting the death glare from both men at the same time. It was really quite unnerving.

"Ss-ee ock liash Malcolm Reed Enterprise g Earth parfed veal."

Trip tried to hide his laughter with a coughing fit. Hoshi made a face that looked like she was in physical pain. Malcolm could only hope that Phlox wasn't listening to his latest attempt at Andorian.

"Is this introducin' yourself or makin' a joke?" asked Trip, giving in to his laughter.

"Rome wasn't built in a day," chided Hoshi. Despite Malcolm's mangled attempts at Andorian, she was very proud of him.

"Right. I'll just be here, writin' about the Academy."

With a suspicious glance in Trip's direction, Malcolm asked, "Can we start with the first word?"

"It's two quick, sharp sounds. S'ee."

"S'ee," repeated Malcolm. "That's 'I'?"

"Yes. Now add the next word."

"S'ee ock."

"That's too sharp. It should rhyme with 'hawk,'" she clarified.

"It does. Ock."

"No, the bird hawk, not the piece of meat hock."

Malcolm gave her a look of utter confusion. "There's a difference?"

"Say 'hawk' slowly. The bird."

"Hhhaaawwwkkk."

"Okay, now use that to soften the word. Make the double-u sound"

"Awk?" tried Malcolm.

"That's the right word, but don't raise your voice like it's a question. That makes it threatening in Andorian."

"Awk. S'ee awk. Hoshi, I sound like a donkey!"

Trip snickered. "Maybe I should skip ta the present," he thought out loud, looking at his padd. "It might be more fun than the Academy."

"You write about this, and I'll have security drills in front of your quarters at 0200 hours for the next three months."

While not entirely sure that Malcolm wasn't bluffing, Trip didn't think he wanted to take that risk. "Exobiology was the hardest class that semester..."

Hoshi went back to business. "Your rank is liash, but you have to emphasize the second syllable or else you become the equivalent of a lieutenant junior grade."

"Liash," said Malcolm with the appropriate emphasis and a quick glance in Trip's direction. "S'ee awk liash. Good, now we're at the part I know. S'ee awk liash Malcolm Reed Enterprise…" he trailed off. "How does the last part go?"

Much to his relief, T'Pol entered Sickbay. It would be easier to learn 'I am Lieutenant Malcolm Reed of the Earth starship Enterprise' without Trip's snarky comments.

Trip was thrilled to see her. "Evenin' T'Pol!"

"Good evening, Trip. I trust that you have been recovering well?"

"I'm alright. How're things outside Sickbay?"

"Engineering has finished the repairs." She handed him a padd. "I thought that you might enjoy seeing the interior of the nebula. These were taken shortly before we were attacked."

"Thanks!" he exclaimed. "Wow. I don't think I've ever seen a nebula so orange."

"It is unfortunate that we could not complete our study."

"Yeah. Plus, that would've meant no attack, an' I'd be back in my quarters."

"Veeyawl." Malcolm made a particularly strangled sound. T'Pol looked concerned.

"I wouldn't say anythin' about Malcolm's Andorian if I were you," cautioned Trip. "He might threaten security drills in front of your quarters at all hours."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow but made no comment. "How is your autobiography progressing?"

The lovely thing about their bond, Trip thought, was that he could tell she wasn't just making small talk. "I just finished the time I almost failed an exobiology test."

T'Pol pulled him into the white space, apparently desiring privacy. Is it not ironic that you struggled with exobiology? she asked. You are now personally acquainted with an intensely personal aspect of Vulcan biology.

Trip put his newfound skill to use and changed the environment to a moonlit night with the stars above them. Additionally, you are becoming quite adept at certain mental tasks, added T'Pol.

Not wanting to waste this experience of the personal aspect of Vulcan biology, he kissed her. You're a much better teacher.

Malcolm, meanwhile, was on to another sentence. "Chaxi vla-odd teb dye-wah." Hoshi grimaced, but Trip was oddly quiet. He idly wondered how T'Pol managed that particular feat before attempting to improve his Andorian.

Malcolm woke up from his mandated afternoon nap when a small projectile bounced off his forehead. He was instantly awake and scanning Sickbay for possible assailants.

"Relax," said Trip, who was apparently quite awake. "It was just a grape. We've got a snack," he explained, pointing to a cup of grapes next to Malcolm's bed.

The offending grape had rolled to a stop on the floor. "Do I want to know?"

Trip managed to look a bit embarrassed. "Grapes are hard to juggle," he admitted.

Malcolm sighed.

"Lieutenant," reproached Phlox, "I said that you could add weights to your physical therapy regimen. I did not say that you could use such heavy weights." He handed a much smaller weight to his reluctant patient.

"This is only one kilo!" protested Malcolm.

Trip was no less impressed. "Can't we at least use two kilos?"

"May I replace the plasma injectors next time it's necessary?" A look of sheer horror appeared on the engineer's face. "Keeping our respective areas of expertise in mind, let's begin."

"I don't think we give him enough credit," whispered Malcolm as Dr. Phlox went to retrieve the other set of weights.

"For what?"

"Inducing terror. Next time we have to interrogate someone, perhaps Phlox would be willing to help."

The doctor returned, weights in hand. "Help with what?"

"Nothing," replied Malcolm and Trip at the exact same time.

"That's what my children used to say when they were conspiring," noted Phlox without any alarm. "However, I don't see anything broken, so let's begin."

Dr. Phlox, mainly for reasons of sanity (his own as well as his patients'), had agreed that they could have their lunch in the mess hall. While they were glad to escape Sickbay, even for a short time, neither Trip nor Malcolm liked their mode of transportation very well.

Trip's eyes seemed to expand beyond natural limits. "Wheelchairs?"

"I'm not the one with a fractured hip," protested Malcolm.

"Thanks a lot!"

"Any time."

"Commander, Lieutenant, both of you received serious injuries that were only partially healed before your bodies suffered again when you were thrown to the floor. Despite physical therapy, neither of your bodies is up to the task of walking to the mess hall and back. Either you will go to the mess hall in wheelchairs, or you will eat lunch in Sickbay as usual."

Trip looked at the wheelchairs Phlox had produced. "Hey, Malcolm, I bet I can get to turbolift before you do!"

"Oh really?"

Phlox resolved to do further research on humans. He still failed to understand how being in Sickbay brought out some of the most juvenile tendencies in males.

"No cheatin' now. Wait till I'm settled in."

As this was likely to improve his patients' moods, Phlox decided to allow their race. The wheelchairs could not go especially fast, and both men's arms had recovered well.

"Three, two one...go!"

The human male proclivity to competition also bore further research.

"A tame sehlat is an amiable creature," explained T'Pol. She had been educating Trip on Vulcan culture, a discussion topic which had turned out of interest to Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato as well.

Trip found that hard to believe. "Those are pets for kids?"

"They are quite useful in teaching children responsibility, and in fact sehlats are very loyal animals."

"They're actually kind of cute," volunteered Hoshi. "I saw a couple when I was on Vulcan."

Malcolm eyed the picture skeptically. "Nothing with teeth that long can possibly be considered 'cute.'"

"Just think, Malcolm," suggested Trip with a grin, "with the right trainin' I bet you'd have a really good guard sehlat!"

Dr. Phlox was a bit concerned about the state of his Sickbay and his patients. He'd hated to leave Crewman Rodriguez alone with them, but it was really a bad idea to put his bi-monthly nap off any longer. Besides, he was only gone two hours.

Despite the pep talk he gave himself, Phlox was nervous as he walked into his domain. Much to his surprise, he found that both Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker were asleep. As they heartily protested his policy of an afternoon nap (something he'd thought better than to leave for Rodriguez to enforce), this was somewhat suspect.

"Good afternoon," said Rodriguez. "You were right, Doctor. The Lieutenant and Commander are really a handful."

"What happened?" inquired Phlox, although he had a feeling he might be better off not knowing.

"They had a staring contest," replied Rodriguez.

The doctor perked up a little. Whatever the circumstances, he was always ready to learn more about human culture. "I'm not familiar with this game."

"Two people stare at each other. Whoever looks away first loses."

Relieved that at least this sounded fairly innocuous, Phlox tried to understand the appeal. "How long does this last?"

Rodriguez shrugged. "Depends on who's playing. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed played for almost twenty-five minutes, which is a heck of a lot longer than I could ever do."

"They are both exceptionally strong-willed individuals."

"Well, the game started out alright, but soon they were trying to distract each other."

"That is allowed?"

"That's what makes it fun!"

"Oh. Please continue."

"Commander Tucker told some truly terrible jokes. Lieutenant Reed told some equally bad jokes. Neither of them looked away. Commander Tucker started making funny faces. Lieutenant Reed started singing."

"Singing?" repeated Phlox. This couldn't possibly end well.

"Yes."

"What kinds of songs?"

"Ummm," replied Rodriguez nervously, "not the kind I'd care to repeat. I think they're drinking songs."

"I see."

"So then Commander Tucker started singing different songs, and they were forgetting their lyrics or mixing them up. Neither of them are particularly talented singers."

"I'm aware."

That earned Phlox a sympathetic look. "Your bat was a little upset," he added.

"My bat is particularly sensitive to their musical endeavors."

"Lieutenant Reed started making up a song about Commander Tucker's experience with the Xyrillians, which was awkward to say the least."

"They did this while maintaining eye contact?"

"Yes. Not to be outdone, Commander Tucker promptly began a song called 'The Ballad of the Stiff-Necked Paranoid Armory Officer.'"

"You're certain that they weren't suffering from head injuries?"

"Just cabin fever, Doctor."

This seemed to Phlox an alarming development. "They have fevers?"

"No," corrected Rodriguez while trying to hide a smile. "Cabin fever just means that they're tired of being cooped up in Sickbay."

"Oh. What happened after 'The Ballad of the Stiff-Necked Paranoid Armory Officer?'"

"The game ended. Unfortunately, they started arguing over who looked away first."

"And then?" asked Phlox with a feeling of dread.

Rodriguez gave a small smile that was at once guilty and unrepentant. "I gave them each a mild sedative and things are going splendidly."

Epilogue to come.