Chapter Four

The results of the second round are up and Malcolm's getting nervous.

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Crewmen Kelly and Cutler had spent a couple of hours in the mess hall putting the pictures on the wall. There were no names attached, just numbers, and Malcolm's picture was about two-thirds of the way along, numbered seventy-three. With just twenty-four hours to make their choice, there always seemed to be a crowd in front of the photo-wall.

Trip, Malcolm, Travis and Hoshi stood together surveying it.

"I can see that you might have a problem here, Malcolm," Travis commented. "After all, we know who we're voting for, but you have to choose from all these others."

"You're not obliged to vote for me, you know."

"Oh, yes we are. Do you know what Trip's threatened us with if we don't?"

Malcolm looked shocked. "Trip, you haven't...?"

"No, of course not." Travis laughed. "Just kidding. We're voting for you because we want to. That's all there is to it."

"I'd rather you voted for someone else. But have you looked at the others? I haven't a clue who to choose. I couldn't do worse if I went 'Dip, dip, dip', or threw a dart at the pictures."

"Why don't you turn your back to the wall and pick a number out of thin air? " Trip suggested.

"That's as good a way as any, I suppose." Malcolm turned away from the wall, thought a moment, then said, "Forty-two."

When he turned back to them they were all looking at a photo of a really pretty girl with blonde hair, blue eyes and a trim figure.

"Hmm." Malcolm said, "Not bad. OK, I'll go with her."

"Not literally, I hope?" Trip grinned.

"Why forty-two, Malcolm?" Hoshi wanted to know.

"Well, you know. It's the answer to life, the universe and everything. It seemed appropriate."

They all laughed. 'The Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy' was the feature on movie night last week.

It was the work of moments then for them all to fill in their voting slips and post them in the box. It wouldn't be too long before the next round. Just a matter of days.

As before, the second round was reduced to thirty contestants, and again Kelly and Cutler had the job of clearing the photo-wall and putting back just those thirty. And again, just twenty-four hours was allowed for casting votes, so as soon as the results were available there was a crowd in the mess hall scouring the photos for their favourite.

"He's here!" A joyful shout came from the front of the crowd. "The lieutenant's got through."

Whoops and cries of delight were heard, their meaning clear to anyone.

Trip was among those scanning the board for Malcolm's picture and was overjoyed to see it there.

"Hey, Kelly," he called. "I don't suppose you know what the figures were, do you?"

"Sorry, Sir," Kelly answered from across the room, "they didn't give me that information. I'm as much in the dark as you."

"OK. No worries. I'll go tell him. He's still working."

"When's he ever not?" Kelly grinned.

Trip laughed as he left the mess hall to find his fiancé.

When he arrived in the armoury all Trip could see of Malcolm were his feet and legs protruding from a torpedo tube.

"You gonna be long in there, Malcolm?" Trip asked.

"Oh, about one point seven-five metres, I imagine." Malcolm replied as he slid back out of the tube.

"Ha, ha! That's funny. You made a joke."

"It wasn't so funny." Malcolm wiped his greasy hands on a rag, made some adjustments on a console, then turned to Trip.

"Did you want me for something?"

"Now that's a loaded question if ever I heard one," Trip had a big grin on his face, "but seriously, yes. I came to tell you that the results are out."

"No need to tell me what results you are referring to, is there? So are you going to tell me, or are you waiting for me to ask?"

"See this grin on my face? That should tell you what you want to know."

"Oh, no." Malcolm dropped his head onto his hands.

"Oh, yes. And guess what? Number forty-two is still there, too."

"Well that's nice. At least some people have some sense. I was really hoping to be knocked out in this round."

"Cheer up, darlin'. There's still another round to go before the final. Anything could happen."

The comm beeped.

"Archer to Reed." Malcolm hit the button. "Reed here, sir."

"Malcolm, has Trip given you the good news yet?"

"He has given me some news, Sir. Whether it's good or not depends on your point of view."

"Well I think it's good news, and we should celebrate it. I'd like you and Trip to join T'Pol and me for dinner tonight."

"Of course, Sir." Malcolm said resignedly. "Trip and I will be delighted to come."

"See you both at 1800, Malcolm. I asked Chef to do something special and he mentioned having some fresh pineapple. Archer out."

Malcolm turned to Trip. "It has begun again," he groaned, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling

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