Thank you for your reviews!

---------------------------------------------

Chapter 27

"Coffee, with cream."

Brown liquid was poured out of the dispenser, followed by a brief spurt of white. Trip took the steaming cup out of the slot and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. He already felt more awake than he had all morning. As he turned around, he found that a woman with dark, curly hair and a spattering of freckles was waiting in line behind him. His eyes immediately dropped to her uniform pips. An ensign. Ensign... McCarthy. That was it. Ensign Laura McCarthy from Hydroponics. He smiled at her, muttering a greeting.

"Commander," she replied, seemingly oblivious to his initial confusion. Maybe she really hadn't noticed, although Trip couldn't be sure. Some crewmembers, especially those from his department, went to great lengths to pretend that there were no awkward pauses, no quick glances at someone's rank emblems, no hesitations.

Cup in hand, he walked over to the breakfast buffet and surveyed the choices on offer. He was beginning to remember which foods he used to like and which he didn't, although the idea of disliking any kind of food seemed strangely foreign. He supposed there was a lesson lurking in there somewhere; he had starved on the streets, had rummaged through trashcans for a morsel of edible garbage, and had come out a better person. Right. Fact was that he didn't care; all he knew was that he would eat pretty much anything on the table, which made it hard to choose.

"The croissants are pretty good," a female voice said next to him, and Trip looked up. Hoshi was standing there, smiling at him. "Chef's going through a French phase. We had foie gras yesterday, and boeuf bourguignon the day before that."

Trip picked up a tray and returned her smile. With Hoshi, there was no need to check her rank pips first. "I say whatever floats his boat, as long as meatloaf's still on the menu."

Hoshi laughed and took one of the croissants out of the basket. "I think it's time we introduced you to the finer cuisine, Trip." She put it on his plate, adding another for good measure. "Here. You're going to love them."

He grinned. "Thanks."

She nodded and began filling her own tray with an assortment of toast, fruit and bacon. "Good to see the doctor let you go," she said.

"He was probably glad to see the back of us. Malcolm's been pesterin' him when he's gonna be able to return to duty."

Hoshi raised her eyebrows. "And you've been an angel of patience, of course."

Trip chuckled. "Well, most of the time," he said, knowing perfectly well that Hoshi didn't believe a word of it.

"Ri-ight." She started for a table in the corner where Travis was sitting, about to dig into his usual heap of scrambled eggs. "Come on."

Trip followed her, grateful once again that Hoshi – and Travis - were such uncomplicated company. There had been no dramatics when the two of them had first come to sickbay, only a hug from Hoshi and a bone-rattling clap on the shoulder from Travis. Sensing that neither Trip nor Malcolm were in the mood to talk much, the two ensigns had led most of the conversation, filling them in on everything that had happened. It was almost as if he and Malcolm had never been gone at all.

"Morning." Travis grinned at him across his scrambled eggs as they took a seat at the table. "Rumor had it the doc kicked you out of sickbay last night."

"He didn't exactly kick us out." Trip picked up one of the croissants and took a bite. "We're released to our quarters, though, as long as we come back to sickbay every day for a check-up."

And the psychological screening, he added in his mind. Counseling sessions, Phlox had called them, but there was more to it than that, Trip knew. Starfleet wanted to know if he and Malcolm were "stable", make sure that every screw in their brains was nice and tight. There would be endless questions and tests, and no duty until the final evaluation had passed muster with Starfleet Command. Of course, there was no guarantee that it would pass muster at all.

"Where's Malcolm?" Travis asked. "I didn't see him all morning."

"I think he had an appointment with the doc for 0800," Trip said. He didn't specify what kind of appointment; there was no need for Hoshi and Travis to know about the "counseling". If they suspected what Malcolm's visit to sickbay was about, they didn't comment on it.

"How's the protocol coming?" Travis wanted to know, looking at Hoshi.

Trip frowned. He had no idea what Travis was talking about, and there was a good chance that it was something he was supposed to know, maybe part of everyday life on Enterprise. His mind drew a blank, though. Trip lowered his head and pretended to be intent on shoveling scrambled eggs onto his fork. Maybe it would come back to him as he listened to their conversation.

Hoshi sighed. "It's not exactly a page-turner, but I'm getting there." She looked at Trip. "It's the Ng'wai government. They're willing to let us visit, but not until we've studied their guest protocol. Which is about four hundred pages long," she added with a raised eyebrow.

Trip remembered Jon telling him about the Ng'wai; Enterprise was currently orbiting their homeworld, but so far, no member of the crew had set foot on the planet. He smiled at Hoshi, wondering if her multiple communications talents included telepathy. She seemed to have known exactly what he was thinking.

"They've got protocols for everything. I mean, really everything." Travis shook his head. "When we first contacted them, they gave us permission to enter orbit, but only after we fired our weapons twice and did a barrel roll. Their standard protocol for first contacts, they said. You know," he picked up a slice of bacon and waved it at them for emphasis, "sometimes I wonder if they're not just taking the piss. I mean, I can't see Andorians or, say, Klingons jumping through hoops just to be allowed into orbit."

Hoshi chuckled. "Don't let the Captain hear that. He's not going to be happy as it is when he hears about the dress code."

"Dress code?" Trip repeated.

Hoshi nodded. "Yes, there's a strict dress code guests are expected to follow. The Ng'wai have a color code, and the guests are asked to wear certain colors to indicate their rank or profession. Including make-up," she added with a small grin.

Travis raised his eyebrows at her. "You're kidding, right?"

Hoshi shook her head. "Nope. According to their protocol, you're a Flight Master. You'd have to paint your forehead red and put two orange streaks in your hair."

"No way!" Travis' expression was so horrified that Trip laughed.

"Green forehead, black streaks," Hoshi said to him. "That's what Construction Masters have to wear."

It was Travis' turn to laugh when Trip involuntarily raised a hand to his forehead. "What about you, Hoshi?" he asked.

Hoshi smiled. "Blue forehead and a red bandanna. Women don't have to dye their hair, according to protocol."

"What about the Cap'n?" Trip asked.

"He's Master of the Ship, so he'll have to wear a special headgear. No dyed hair, either, although he might want to consider growing a beard. It's considered a sign of maturity."

Travis shook his head. "Next thing you're telling me that the Security guys have to show up in tutus."

Hoshi laughed. "No, not quite. Security officers have orange foreheads, blue hair, and a green cord tied to their left ankle."

"Is there something I should know about, Hoshi?" a familiar British voice asked. Malcolm was standing next to their table, holding a breakfast tray. Like Trip, he was in civilian clothing; a rare occasion, Trip remembered. Usually, Malcolm would wear his Starfleet uniform even when he was off duty.

Hoshi grinned at him. "Don't worry, you'd look fine. Sit down," she added when Malcolm remained standing.

"Thanks." Malcolm took a seat and Trip saw that he had chosen pancakes for his breakfast, along with a side serving of peanut butter. He smiled inwardly. Everyday things like food choices, names, even clothing preferences had become important to him, and whenever he recognized one of them he felt strangely relieved. He had even caught himself counting the tables as he entered the messhall, wanting to confirm that it were indeed no more and no less than he remembered.

"So, why would I want to dye my hair blue and tie a green cord to my ankle?" Malcolm asked and cocked an eyebrow at Hoshi.

"We were just discussing the Ng'wai guest protocol,"she said. "They have a color code for each profession, different clothes, make-up and so on."

From his expression, Malcolm was picturing a Security team with blue hair in his mind. "What about side arms? Are they allowed?"

"I'm not sure," Hoshi said. "The protocol did say something about ceremonial swords for the Armament Masters."

"Now that sounds reasonable." Malcolm rolled a peanut-buttered pancake and took a bite. "Although I hope Lieutenant Carlsson will find a way to bring phase pistols as well."

Trip's smile faded. Of course, Malcolm and he wouldn't be part of the away team. He noticed Hoshi watching him and quickly dropped his eyes to his plate.

"Oh, I'm sure she will," Travis said in an overly casual tone of voice. Trip looked up just in time to catch Hoshi winking at him and Malcolm.

"Travis has been asking me to give him Swedish lessons," she said with a sweet smile. "Right, Travis?"

Travis blushed and scowled at her. "Var tyst," he said, and Hoshi laughed.

"Your pronunciation's getting better, but I wouldn't try that one on Inga."

Malcolm was smirking, and Trip grinned. He had noticed that Travis became unusually flustered whenever Lieutenant Inga Carlsson was mentioned, and of course Hoshi ribbed him mercilessly about it.

Travis had just opened his mouth, about to launch to his defense when a crackle from the intercom announced an incoming ship-wide message. "All senior officers to the bridge,"Archer's voice said over the speaker. "Ambassador Salmar wants to make an announcement."

The two ensigns immediately laid down their cutlery and napkins and got up. "More protocol, I suppose," Hoshi said with an apologetic smile. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Yeah," Travis said, picking a last slice of bacon off his plate. "See you later, guys."

Trip watched them leave, the door of the messhall sliding shut behind them. He knew that he could have accompanied them if he wanted; Jon wouldn't have told him to leave the bridge. But it wouldn't feel right to do so; not when all he could do was keep out of everyone's way and watch.

He glanced at Malcolm and caught the other man looking at him. Malcolm had made no move to get up either. A moment of awkward silence followed, then Trip cleared his throat.

"So," he said. "You finished with the doc?"

It was a stupid question and Trip knew it the second it had left his mouth, but Malcolm seemed grateful for his attempt at conversation.

"Yes. Phlox only wanted me to take the C and D Test, and it seems that my scores met with expectations," he said with a trace of dryness.

"C and D Test?" Trip asked. The name didn't sound even remotely familiar.

"Cognitive and Decision Test. It's a test all Starfleet officers have to take every six months."

"Oh," Trip said, avoiding Malcolm's eyes. He hated this, coming across things that were supposed to be stored away somewhere in his brain.

"I didn't remember either," Malcolm said quietly. "Phlox told me about it."

Trip raised his head and saw his own feelings reflected on Malcolm's face. Even their positions mirrored each other; they were both sitting there with their arms crossed in front of their chests, barely touched plates of food on the table in front of them. It almost drew a chuckle from Trip, although it wasn't really funny.

It's like we don't belong here. He'd had this feeling before, even though everyone was doing their best to make them feel welcome. He felt isolated; an intruder in an environment that was no longer really his. Or maybe it was his, and his brain only refused to remember. It didn't make much of a difference either way.

This time, it was Malcolm who cleared his throat. "I'm going to the gym when I'm done here. Would you..." He hesitated, then picked up again. "Would you like to drop by my quarters this afternoon? I seem to remember I've got a bottle of scotch stashed away somewhere."

The last part was delivered with a smirk, and Trip rolled his eyes at the bad pun. But he knew what Malcolm's offer was about and was glad to accept it. "I'd like that."

"Good," Malcolm said simply.

Trip picked a piece of mango from Hoshi's abandoned plate and ate it. He was almost surprised at its sweet taste. "I'll see you then."

Malcolm nodded.

TBC…

Please let me know what you think!