CHAPTER 5

Phlox was puttering around sickbay, waiting for the results of some lab tests, when Malcolm and his D'nini entourage entered.

"Lieutenant?" Phlox asked, surprised to see the officer alone with the flock of alien women in close attendance. Just the other day the man had been so uncomfortable in their presence that he couldn't wait to get out of sickbay.

Phlox looked over at Liz Cutler who was helping feed his animals this morning. She'd regaled him with the tale of the tactical officer being pursued by the D'nini through the corridors on B deck. She appeared just as puzzled as he was by this change.

Malcolm made his way over to a biobed and sat down. "I stopped in to have you take a look at this," he said, holding up the finger he'd cut while working on the firing relays. The D'nini gazed at the appendage and collectively sighed, perhaps remembering the sight of his blood. "I...ah...wanted to make sure it was healing properly."

Phlox grunted and picked up a medical scanner from a nearby tray. He glanced surreptitiously at the women as he began scanning the injury. They were as focused on Malcolm as they had been the day before. Switching his gaze to the lieutenant, he was amazed to see the man so relaxed in their company. If anything, he appeared to be basking in the women's attention.

Turning off the scanner, Phlox reached for Malcolm's hand to perform a visual inspection. "Hmmmm. It appears to be healing nicely." He released Malcolm's hand. "There really was no need for you to visit sickbay this morning."

"I know," Malcolm said, smirking as several pairs of feminine hands assisted him from the biobed. "Thanks, Doctor."

Phlox and Cutler watched as Malcolm, a D'nini hanging on each arm and the three others following closely, left sickbay.

Phlox was reminded of ancient Earth stories about sultans and harems. He certainly hoped the lieutenant wasn't getting any ideas, at least not without checking with him first. Intimacy between alien species often resulted in complications. In any event, Phlox thought, the situation should prove interesting. He might even be able to get a paper out of it.

He glanced over at Cutler who was staring at the doorway through which the group has just passed. "Interesting turn of events, hmmm?" he said.

Cutler blinked. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it."

"Can you explain it?"

"I'm not sure," Cutler said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't have thought the lieutenant was the type to be chased until he let a woman catch him, much less five."

Crewman Michael Rostov entered the armory with a report from Engineering. Commander Tucker had told him to give it to Lieutenant Reed, but the man was most definitely occupied at the moment. A discreet clearing of a throat made him look over to one of the work stations where Crewmen Foster and Zabel were tearing apart some phase rifles for cleaning.

Michael stepped over and held out the padd. "I'm supposed to give this to your boss, but he looks a little busy," he said with a tilt of his head toward the group of D'nini clustered around Malcolm at one of the consoles.

"Yeah, he's been busy all morning," said Foster enviously as he took the padd. "I wish I had his work load, if you know what I mean."

"Doesn't that--" Michael gestured in the direction of the tactical officer. "--interfere with his ability to carry out his duties?"

A snicker came from Zabel. "Beats me. But would you care if you were in his position?"

The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge and Malcolm stepped out. Hoshi was surprised. She hadn't expected him to show up here, not with the D'nini still on board. Then a flash of iridescent green fabric caught her eye, and she realized the D'nini must still be in the 'lift, which she couldn't see from her vantage point at the communications console.

Malcolm glanced once at Trip at the engineering console before approaching the captain where he sat in the command chair. Holding out a padd, Malcolm said, "The weekly status report from the armory, sir."

Jon took the padd, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at his shoulder to the turbolift, the doors of which were still open. He looked back at Malcolm questioningly.

"I'm on my way for my lunch break but thought I'd drop this off first," the tactical officer said by way of explanation.

Jon didn't say anything. He glanced back at the turbolift again, his gaze raking the five silent women who were waiting expectantly. A small smile curved the corners of his mouth and he nodded. "Very good, Malcolm. Carry on," he said, sounding suspiciously like he was trying not to laugh.

From where she was sitting, Hoshi could see a look of distaste cross Malcolm's face before he quickly schooled his features into a bland expression. She had to give him credit, though. He didn't react when a feminine voice from the turbolift called out to him to hurry up. He merely gave the captain a reserved smile, turned around, and walked to the turbolift.

"Hey! Wait up, Malcolm," Trip called from the engineering console. "I'll go with you."

Now Hoshi really wished she could see into the turbolift from where she sat, because she heard Malcolm say, "Sorry, Trip. The 'lift is full. You'll have to catch the next one."

The 'lift door closed, leaving a crestfallen Trip behind on the bridge.

"Disgusting," muttered Corporal Felicity McKenzie under her breath.

Felicity's comment wasn't directed toward the dinner on her plate; as usual, the food aboard the Starfleet vessel was superb. It was one of the reasons the MACOs had gotten the impression at first that the Starfleeters were a bunch of pampered flyboys. She'd learned from experience that Enterprise's crew members were a lot tougher than they appeared.

No, what was disgusting was the display going on in the middle of the mess hall. Even more shocking was who was involved. She traded a glance with Corporal Amanda Cole, who seemed just as mesmerized by the sight as she was.

"I didn't believe Chang when he said the lieutenant had a bunch of women fawning all over him," Cole said, watching in repulsed fascination as one of the D'nini fed Malcolm a morsel of food. "Of all the Starfleet personnel, I would have thought Reed would be the least susceptible to feminine charms."

McKenzie snorted. "You've got that right. I always got the impression that when he looks at a woman, he's wondering if she knows how to shoot a phase pistol or if she can tell him the precise yield of a torpedo. Who would have known he'd go for the helpless type?"

"Lieutenant Reed's always so in control," Cole commented. "That's one of the things that used to drive Major Hayes crazy about him -- somebody who was more stubborn and sure they were right than he was. I used to think that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Now look at him."

Their hushed conversation died away as a shadow fell across their table. Hoshi, tray in hand, was standing next to their table. McKenzie dipped her head toward the vacant chair between her and Cole by way of invitation.

"Thanks," Hoshi said, sitting down and putting a napkin on her lap.

The two MACOs were still contemplating the scene in the middle of the mess hall with disapproving looks. It occurred to Hoshi that she may have found the last two accomplices she needed to enlist.

"Pretty disgusting, isn't it?" Hoshi said, trying to fan the disapproval she was picking up from the other two women. If they didn't like what was going on, maybe they'd agree to help.

McKenzie exhaled loudly and returned her attention to her meal. Shoving some vegetables around with her fork, she said, "You know Lieutenant Reed better than we do. I take it this is out of character for him?"

"Very much so," Hoshi said. "In fact, he's faking it."

McKenzie and Cole stared at her, clearly not getting her drift.

Hoshi glanced around to make there was no one close enough to overhear. Leaning closer to the table, she said in a low voice, "He's putting up a front until the day after tomorrow, when the D'nini abbess arrives to perform the wedding ceremony."

"He's not going through with that, is he?" Cole asked in concern.

"Of course not," Hoshi said, but she couldn't help adding, "although you'd never know it to look at the way he's carrying on with them. It would serve him right if we didn't rescue him."

A smile took the place of McKenzie's previously sour expression. "Tell us more, Ensign."

Malcolm could feel the curious gazes on him. He hated being in the spotlight. Especially this spotlight, he thought as Silver leaned over to cut his steak. He waved her off, though not in a mean way. The D'nini really were very nice women. Lovely manners, for one thing. Well, other than hanging all over him. But he didn't want to hurt their feelings, and they most definitely didn't need to be doing something so intimate as cutting his food for him. Next thing you knew, they'd be offering to chew it for him.

He sighed inwardly. There was a fine line between graciously declining their attempts to assist him and telling them to sod off, and it was getting thinner all the time. He needed to be careful and pretend that he was enjoying all this.

As it was, he couldn't bring himself to ask their names. So far, they hadn't introduced themselves, either. He'd started mentally referring to them by the color of their dresses. If he knew their names, he postulated, it might mean he was actually getting accustomed to the idea of marrying them, and that was the last thing he wanted. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he wondered if finding out their names was part of another of their weird mating rituals.

When Yellow asked if she could refill his coffee cup, he forced a grateful smile and nodded, happy to have the surrounding body count down by one, if only for a few moments.

Yellow glided off to the beverage dispenser, her departure allowing him to see across the mess hall to a table where Hoshi was sitting with McKenzie and Cole. The two female MACOs kept sneaking glances at him as Hoshi talked to them, and he almost groaned out loud. The plan Hoshi and T'Pol had concocted was bad enough without dragging some of the MACOs into it.

Contrary to Trip's opinion, Hoshi and the MACOs didn't look jealous. Nor did they appear to be wondering what was so special about him that he'd managed to attract of troop of drop-dead gorgeous women. No, they just looked disgusted.

There was no way around it -- he was going to lose the hard-won respect of the MACOs by the time this was over. They might never take him seriously again.

Even worse, the female MACOs might expect him to start treating them differently. He tended to view them first as highly skilled individuals who were good with weapons, and as women second. What would he do if they expected him to treat them like ladies? Not that they weren't ladies, but they were professionals. Okay, that sounded bad even to him, but he knew what he meant.

Yellow returned to the table with his coffee. As he took it from her, he vowed never to listen to Trip Tucker's advice regarding women ever again. All it had ever done in the past was get him in trouble or cause problems. This time was no exception.