Chapter Nine

A gruelling session for Malcolm in a room full of Starfleet cadets. A longer chapter this time as there's so much to tell.

REED ALERT - REED ALERT - REED ALERT - REED ALERT!

If you are not a Malcolm fan you will HATE these final two episodes. If you are not a Malcolm fan, how come you have read this far anyway?

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Breakfast was intended to be taken downstairs in the dining room, but Trip and Malcolm soon found that the ground floor of the hotel was packed to the gills with media people wanting to interview Malcolm. Trip arranged for them to have breakfast in their room, and they invited Captain Archer, Hoshi and Travis to join them. Malcolm was expected at the Training Centre to meet the cadets at 10.00. How they were going to get through the crowded foyer without being delayed was anybody's guess.

"On my own, I could sneak out, Trip," Malcolm said, "but in dress uniform and with you, it would be well nigh impossible."

"Yeah. You couldn't exactly climb down a drainpipe dressed like that, now, could you?" Trip indicated the white trousers and white gold-braided jacket Malcolm wore.

They needn't have worried though, as a security guard from the Training Centre turned up to escort them, and so they were led through the crowds with no difficulties. Outside, Trip was the first to notice that all the photos were now of just Malcolm, the other nine having been relegated to the rubbish heap, or something. It was rather daunting for Malcolm to be confronted by his own face every few metres on their route.

The limousine deposited them at the half-dozen front steps of the Training Centre in good time, and they were amazed to find an actual red carpet was laid all the way up to the doors. There was also quite a crowd collected to see Malcolm's arrival.

"Gosh," he muttered to Trip, "I feel like royalty with all this fuss."

"Then I guess you should act like royalty. Give 'em a wave."

As they stepped on to the carpet there was a burst of cheering, making Malcolm blush slightly, but he raised his hand in a wave. This gesture was much appreciated and the response he received encouraged Malcolm to repeat it several times on his way up to the doors. He was met at the top by the principal and turned to wave again to the crowd before going inside.

The main Hall was abuzz with excitement. Every seat was filled. Not only was their visitor today the sexiest person in Starfleet, he was also a bit of a legend. All new cadets were told of his excellence during his training, and it was rumoured that no cadet had passed out with as many honours as he. Now they had a chance to meet him and possibly to ask a few questions, and they intended to make the most of it.

At precisely 10.00 the doors at the back of the Hall opened and Malcolm entered escorted by the principal. Trip and the rest of the Training Centre staff followed behind. The cadets immediately rose to their feet and stood to attention. The procession walked down the centre aisle, mounted the steps onto the stage and arranged themselves on the chairs provided.

The principal stood at the podium and addressed the cadets.

"At ease. Be seated." They sat as one, gazing in awe at the slight, rather modest-looking figure occupying the seat of honour.

"As you all know, we have been honoured today with a visit by a former cadet of this academy, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. Accompanying Mr Reed is his husband Commander Charles Tucker III. Both men are currently assigned to Starfleet's flagship, the NX01 Enterprise. Mr Reed is the Weapons and Tactical officer, and Mr Tucker is the Chief Engineer. Mr Reed is here primarily as the winner of the 'Sexiest person in Starfleet' competition, but as he is here for the whole day, touring the classrooms this afternoon, and joining us for an informal dinner this evening, I have asked him to talk to you now about his Starfleet training and his experiences on Enterprise. Any questions you may have regarding the competition you will please keep for this evening. And now I will ask you all to give Mr. Reed a very warm welcome."

And they did. As Malcolm stepped up to the podium the cadets applauded loudly and enthusiastically.

"Thank you." Malcolm said when the applause died down, "I wasn't expecting to give a lecture today, so I have nothing prepared. It might be a good idea if you ask questions and I will attempt to answer them. Does anyone have a question?"

About fifty hands shot up. "Ah. This could be difficult." Malcolm considered the problem for a moment, then said, "Could someone organise a couple of microphones in the body of the hall, one on each side, please?"

'Someone' immediately disappeared to do his bidding, meanwhile Malcolm continued.

"I suggest that you go to a mike with your question and I will take one from each side of the hall in turn, but please, no more than two or three at any time in each queue."

The microphones were soon in place with cadets lining up at each.

Malcolm looked to one side of the hall. "Right. First question."

"Cadet Thorne, Sir. Is it true that when you graduated you took almost all the prizes for that year, and all with honours?"

"Erm - yes. Next question."

The brevity of his answer rather flummoxed the next cadet, but she plunged in bravely.

"Cadet Bronte, Sir. Why did you consider it necessary to give the phase pistols a stun setting?"

"Because, Cadet Bronte, dead is dead, and that is not always the best solution. Many species we encountered were very suspicious of us at first, and that is only natural, so for them it was a 'shoot first, ask questions later' attitude. But by stunning, rather than killing them, we really could 'ask questions later'. And you needed to be reasonably sure about who was a real enemy, and who was just plain scared. Choose the wrong setting and you could be in trouble. That is why I impress upon people not to confuse the two. Having said that we rarely use the kill setting, stun usually does the job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Cadet Wigmore, Sir. Can you tell us why and how you developed the EM barrier."

"Good question. Hmm. The EM barrier, more popularly known as the forcefield, was already being developed. I simply stabilised and refined it.

'Why' is simple enough. We had an alien entity in one of the cargo holds. It was growing fairly rapidly and anyone who got in its clutches was enveloped in its web. Captain Archer, Commander Tucker and three other crewmen were caught before we realised that it was very slowly assimilating them. It was impossible for anyone to get close to it, so it was necessary to isolate the cargo bay in order to establish some kind of communication. And what we needed was a working EM barrier.

As to 'how', well... Starfleet had actually been working on an EM barrier for about five years, but were unable to get it stabilised. They hadn't been able to find a way to control the particle density. All the specs were in the ship's database and I had been playing around with them since joining Enterprise. I had got it to a stage where it was stable for a few minutes but needed to work on it a bit longer. This emergency gave me the excuse, for want of a better word, to make a concerted effort to get the job done. There wasn't much time, so the result was very much a jerry-rigged contraption. But it worked. Afterwards it just needed some refining, and has been a useful piece of equipment ever since. Does that answer your query, cadet?"

"Yes it does. Thank you very much, Sir."

"Cadet Regan, Sir. This is more of a statement than a question. Perhaps you could comment on it."

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Sir. You are the chief of security on the most advanced vessel in Starfleet, but you are not the archetypal security chief. I mean, sir, that you are not two metres tall and built like a barn door, are you, sir?"

"That's quite true, I'm not. But I do manage to do my job quite satisfactorily."

Malcolm turned to the next questioner, but was stopped by Trip who stepped up to Malcolm's side and said into the microphone, "I think I'll elaborate on that, Malcolm. You go and take the weight off for a few minutes." Looking rather bemused, Malcolm did as he was told and sat down.

"OK, so you expect a chief of security to be two metres tall and built like a barn door. I take it that means lots of muscle? You may not be able to see it but there is a lot of muscle under that dress uniform, he just doesn't show it off much. Can't do anything about his height, though, and personally I wouldn't want to. He suits me fine the way he is." A ripple of laughter greeted this remark.

"But what about his qualities that you can't see?" Trip continued, warming to his theme. "During his security training he reached the highest grades in several martial arts, like tae kwon do and karate, and yet he does the soft form of tai chi and makes it look like ballet. He's the sneakiest person I know - he can get in and out of a heavily guarded building and you'd never know he'd been there except that he'd bring you some kind of proof.

And then we come to explosives. He knows more about explosives than anyone else in Starfleet. If you were to ask him to make a hole in the ground - say two-point-seven metres wide by one-point-three metres deep, that's exactly what you'll get. He can calculate precisely how much explosive to use in a particular situation. I don't know of anyone else who can do that. He's never happier than when he can make something go 'kaboom'." Trip used his arms to describe an explosion to his enraptured audience.

"Now take weapons," he continued. "His knowledge of weaponry is vast. And I don't just mean modern day stuff. He's as competent using a spear, sword, longbow or Winchester rifle, as he is with a phase pistol or plasma rifle. And since he's been on Enterprise he has learnt about, and become skilled with, many alien weapons too. Have you heard about the Klingon bat'leth? He's quite capable of holding his own against a Klingon adversary with one of his own weapons, even though the average Klingon is twice his size.

Another skill he has, which I've never seen him use and really don't want to, is that he can kill with his bare hands. He has been called the most dangerous man on Enterprise, but in fact, he's probably the most dangerous man in Starfleet.

And what do you think is his biggest asset? You won't guess, so I'll tell you. It comes back to your original question, cadet. It is his lack of stature. Y'see, boys and girls, people will keep on underestimating him, and they come off worst each time." Trip stepped back from the podium, leaving the cadets completely overawed by this information, and turned to Malcolm. "You can have the floor back, now, Mal."

Malcolm nodded and muttered "Thank you, Trip," then took his place at the microphone again. He waited for the applause to die down, then said "I don't know how to follow that."

The cadets still had lots of questions, however, and kept Malcolm busy for another hour. They asked about the ship, the crew, the tactical alert, the various planets and nebulae he had come across, different alien species like the Suliban, and - well - just about anything. When the session was over the cadets gave Malcolm a rousing cheer. They were very appreciative of the way he so freely gave out information. Of course he kept any classified stuff to himself, but what he could tell them, he did.

Lunch for Trip and Malcolm was a quiet time just for the two of them, in one of the V.I.P. suites reserved for visitors Malcolm had found the morning quite exhausting and his throat was rather dry with so much talking, so was glad of the peace.

"Why don't you stretch out on the bed and have a nap?" Trip suggested when they had eaten. "We've got an hour or more before the tour starts." Malcolm looked at the bed and decided it was very inviting. He removed his fancy uniform, settled himself down and was soon fast asleep. Trip sat in an armchair by the window where he could watch the comings and goings in the courtyard, and also where he could watch Malcolm as he slept.

At 1350 Trip shook Malcolm awake. "Come on, Sleepyhead," he said, " they'll be back for us in a few minutes."

Malcolm yawned, stretched and declared, "Gosh, I needed that." Five minutes later he had donned his uniform and was all spruce and ready to go.

The afternoon was less daunting than the morning, since they were only required to visit various classes and watch the cadets at work. Malcolm couldn't resist getting involved, though, asking questions about what they were doing, making suggestions and generally 'poking his nose in'. The cadets showed great interest in his input, and listened to him respectfully.

"Y'know," Trip said, as they headed back to their suite, "you should take up teaching when you're fed up with space travel. You've got a way with those kids. I bet they've leant more from you today than they would in a month normally."

"I think you're exaggerating, Trip, but yes, I would like to teach eventually. What about you? You know a thing or two about engineering."

"Yeah, I s'pose I should pass on the knowledge before it gets lost." Trip grinned. "But we've got a couple of hours now before this dinner we're expected at. What shall we do?"

"Well, you know," Malcolm purred, "that bed was very comfortable earlier..."

"It was? Then I reckon we shouldn't let it go to waste."

"No, that would be such a shame." By the time they reached their suite they were entwined about each other. It's a good thing they were on the top floor and no one else was around.

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I DID WARN YOU!

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