Ent Fic: Target Practice
Title: Target Practice
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG
Character: Reed
Category: General, Humour
Summary: The Captain orders Malcolm to teach the entire crew to use a phase pistol. A stressful day ensues. Complete randomness.
A/N: Originally a One Shot, but other stories in this Universe now include Run of the Ship and Insomnia
Malcolm sighed as he loaded a phase pistol with a few blank rounds for yet another session of target practise. According to the Captain who had eventually heeded some of Malcolm’s advice (-not all as he still insisted on going on away missions and consequently getting shot at or kidnapped, that man had a built in trouble attracting beacon, Malcolm just knew it-), it was apparently essential for all of the crew to be able to hit a target at least half the time. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t said anything to the captain, because now he certainly had his work cut out for him.
Luckily (-or not depending how you looked at it-) there wasn’t much to do in the Armoury at the moment, no repairs, no hostile encounters for weeks, hardly any encounters at all. So Malcolm had plenty of free time to conduct these little sessions with every single member of the crew. Sighing he started up the simulation just so he could let out his frustration on it.
"Lousy,"
HIT
"Bloody,"
HIT
"Half brained,"
HIT
"Incompetents!" he growled at the innocent target.
"Really now Lieutenant is that necessary?"
Malcolm jumped in shock. Regaining his composure, he scowled as his gaze fell on the figure in the doorway.
"Doctor," he greeted curtly.
"Lieutenant," Phlox nodded at him and smiled. He walked forward and glanced at the phase pistol in Malcolm’s hand.
"This is a phase pistol Doctor," Malcolm told him patronisingly.
"Thank you Mister Reed," Phlox said humouring him.
"I still don’t think this is necessary," Malcolm grumbled. "You’re a Doctor, it’s unlikely you’ll ever need to-"
"Expect the unexpected Lieutenant. I believe both you and the captain have had significant experience to prove that statement true," Phlox said cheerfully.
"Yes, Doctor," Malcolm said dully. "Right then, on with the lesson?"
"Of course," the Doctor smiled. Malcolm barely refrained from rolling his eyes, when was this man not smiling?
"I thought I’d demonstrate to begin with . . ."
* * *
Malcolm hissed with pain as he hit the punch bag in the gym way too hard, and without and protection on his hands, it hurt. In typical Malcolm Reed style he swore loudly at the punching bad, cursing it’s existence and gave it a swift kick, then jumped out of the way as it swung back towards him.
He looked up as the doors swished open.
"Sir?" Ensign Graham Smith said looking from Malcolm to the punching bag then back again.
"Yes, Ensign?" Malcolm snapped.
"You missed my target practise session," he said simply, folding his hands behind his back.
"Like you need it," Malcolm responded, (-after all he was one of Malcolm’s men, he was beyond fully capable to handle a weapon-) picking up his water bottle and towel from the bench and walking towards Graham. "Was that all Ensign?"
"No sir. Crewman Robertson is scheduled for a session in ten minutes sir." Robertson? Damn it. He was hoping never to have to speak to her again after he’d had her transferred to engineering. Usually Malcolm wouldn’t do something so drastic, but really, the woman was intolerable.
"Shit," he cursed.
"Shall I tell her you’ll be late sir?"
"No, I can go like this I suppose," Malcolm said, glancing down at his attire, grey sweatpants and a white sleeveless top, it was fairly clean he’d only just arrived at the gym.
"Of course sir. I’m sure she won’t mind," Graham said as he opened the door.
"Good good, I certainly wouldn’t want to offend Robertson with my state of dress," he drawled sarcastically.
"Yes, sir. Have fun, sir," Graham said as he left. Malcolm rolled his eyes. Of course. Lots and lots of fun.
* * *
Malcolm walked briskly down the corridors of Enterprise towards the armoury, this was as bad as Phlox. No, he shuddered recalling this mornings target practise with the doctor, nothing could be as bad as that. Nothing. He cringed again. The Doctor and firearms were two things that should never be mixed together. Ever.
But still, this had to be one of the most intolerable days of his life (- it was funny how all the days that came to mind featured Trip and some kind of alcoholic beverage-). Robertson was a menace, he’d never met a more argumentative person in his entire life. Manipulative little cow as well.
He was glad to get rid of her after just a few months, off-loading her onto Commander Tucker had seemed like the best idea. She had engineering experience, so no-one could really argue with it, and she could send Trip round the bend instead of him. It hadn’t quite worked as he’d hoped however, as she and Trip seemed to get on quite well.
So now he had to suffer an entire half hour, or more depending on her skill or lack there of, in her presence without even having the satisfaction of foisting her on an unfortunate Commander Tucker to irritate afterwards.
Malcolm had to admit she was rather attractive, slender, perfect height (-in other words not taller than him-), sleek dark hair, forest green eyes. But her overall irritation factor outweighed her physical appearance in Malcolm’s opinion.
He hit the door control for the armoury and stepped inside. Glancing up he stopped in his tracks. He wasn’t the only one in civvies was the first thing he registered. The second thing he registered was her bare legs which seemed to go on forever. He swallowed, was a mini skirt really suitable for target practise? he wondered, even though he wasn’t about to complain out loud.
He watched as she gently trailed her hand over one of the torpedoes and bit his lip. What was it he was thinking before? Oh yeah, irritation factor outweighing physical appearance, that was it. He cleared his throat loudly and she turned round.
"Lieutenant," she greeted formally, folding her arms over her chest.
"Crewman. Your outfit isn’t exactly practical is it?" he said sternly, finding his composure again.
"In all honesty sir I wasn’t planning on coming." she said curtly. Malcolm raised an eyebrow at her as he went over to the cabinet and pulled out a phase pistol.
"Oh really Crewman? And what made you change your mind?" he asked her.
"Commander Tucker said that if I didn’t come, as my superior, he’d have to answer to you. He wasn’t particularly happy about that. ‘Probly because he doesn’t really see me as one of his," she added more quietly and seemingly to herself.
"My heart bleeds," he said as he handed it to her. She scowled at him.
He pressed a button on the console behind them and the simulation appeared in front of them. She took aim and fired just as he noticed a phase pistol sitting on the corner of the console behind them, not just any phase pistol, the one with the blank rounds in. Unable to do anything else, he watched as her shot cut through the wall of the armoury.
His eyes widened as he saw a canister that was dangerously close to the beam. Without thinking he pulled her down to the ground and covered their heads with his arms as it exploded with an enormous bang. Immediately alarms went off. Malcolm pulled away slightly and looked at Robertson.
"You all right?" he asked her gently. She blinked at him dazedly for a minute then glanced over to where her shot hit then back to him again.
"Er, yeah, thanks," she said and gave him a hesitant smile. It quickly disappeared as if she just realised what she was doing. "What the hell happened?" she asked as they stood up. Malcolm noticed he was still holding her arm and quickly let go.
"Smith," he ground out angrily. She frowned. "I left him to his own devices for his session and he left the practice pistol out," Malcolm explained gesturing to the phase pistol which was now on the floor underneath the console. "I didn’t realise and gave you a live one," he said. "Sorry."
"No problem, not your fault. It was that idiot Graham. Prat."
Malcolm smiled. "Well at least we agree on something," he said and she grinned."Bridge to the armoury,"
"Armoury.""We’ve got alarms going off up here. What’s going on?" the captains voice came over the comm. Malcolm leant over and pressed it.
"Just a small accident, it’s under control," Malcolm said as he watched Robertson grab a fire extinguisher and aim it at the burning mess where the canister was a minute or two ago.
"Lieutenant, that explosion was not a ‘small accident’," Sub-Commander T’Pol said.
"Explosion?" Malcolm heard the captain’s concerned voice ask.
"Yes well . . ." he began to reply.
"It’s out sir!" Robertson called.
"Good work," Malcolm acknowledged her then continued talking to the captain. "The fire is out, we just need to patch up the hole now, sir," he said.
"Hole? Okay Malcolm, I want a full report when you’ve sorted this out."
"Yes, sir. Reed out." He hit the comm. button, then turned off the warning alarm.
"Lieutenant?" Robertson said as she walked back over to him. "Should we go to sick bay?" she asked. Malcolm scowled, Phlox was in sick bay. "It’s just my hearing is a bit crappy at the moment, sir." Malcolm smirked at her bluntness.
"Your right, off we go then," he said ushering her to the door.
"What about-?" she said gesturing to the whole in the wall and the smouldering mess in the armoury. He nodded and hit the comm. on the wall by the door.
"Reed to Ensign Smith."
"Yes sir?"
"Please come to the armoury and start repairs Ensign."
"But sir my shift ended ten min-"
"I know that Smith, get to the armoury now. You’re in charge of repairs, that’s an order," he said then closed the channel. "After you," he said smoothly as he opened the door. She smiled slightly and shook her head.
"Thank you sir."
* * *
Malcolm stabbed at his mashed potatoes gloomily that evening in the mess hall. Stupid Phlox, making him have tomorrow off. Shock to the system? What was more shocking was the civil behaviour between him and Robertson, not the explosion in his face. And the high blood pressure was probably a reminder of their target practise session this morning, not the ‘stressful situation’ he’d just encountered.
"What did them potatoes do to you?" Malcolm looked up as Trip sat down at his table, along with Travis.
"Nothing," Malcolm sighed. "Unless they’re plotting against me with Phlox, Smith and the Captain," he added. The other two laughed.
"Plotting against you?" Travis asked incredulously.
"Yes," Malcolm answered sternly.
"How come you didn’t put Angie on that list?" Trip asked curiously.
"I didn’t put Robertson on that list because she suffered the consequences as much as I did. More in fact, the Doctor" (-Malcolm sneered as he said that particular word-) "says it might take a day or two for her hearing to get back to normal."
"She said you pulled her out of the way," Trip said slowly. Malcolm frowned at him.
"Yes. And?"
"I just thought you’d be more likely to push her into the line of fire," Trip shrugged.
"He’s right, you two don’t exactly get along," Travis added.
"Yes well, that doesn’t mean I’m going to physically pus her into the line of fire."
"She said you kindly made sure she was all right."
"So . . .?"
"She also said you spend a good two minutes ogling at her legs when you entered the room," Trip said innocently.
Malcolm spluttered in his defence, but finally settled on cursing her and stalking out of the mess hall, much to Trip and Travis’ amusement.
* * *
Once he’d calmed down a bit, by prowling the halls and scaring young crewman with the look of pure malevolence on his face, he decided to find the captain and give him a report of what had happened that afternoon.
"Malcolm!" the captain greeted him as he entered the captain’s ready room. "Just the man I wanted to see." Malcolm raised his eyebrows at that comment and even more so when the captain told him to take a seat.
"The Doctor has been to see me." Malcolm inwardly rolled his eyes. "He’s informed me you and Crewman Robertson are to have tomorrow off."
"Completely unnecessary, sir. I assure you."
The Captain gave him a ‘what can I do?’ shrug and said, "Doctors orders Lieutenant." Malcolm sighed.
"Yes, sir."
"He said the main reason for you is high blood pressure?" Malcolm nodded. "He also noted that the last time you had high blood pressure was when Robertson was in the Armoury, and expressed his surprise at the coincidence that a phase pistol went off by accident with only the two of you present."
"Sir . . ."
The captain held up his hand to stop Malcolm from talking. "So we, I, think it will be best if you were to cease shooting lessons with her. I’m sure you can find someone else capable to teach her?"
"Yes sir, but it was an accident," Malcolm protested. "I mistakenly gave her a phase pistol with live rounds because Smith left the other one out." The Captain just nodded at him, like you would to a five year old child who was telling you a story about their imaginary friend. Malcolm sighed. "If that’s all sir?"
"Yes, dismissed. And get some rest Lieutenant." Malcolm did roll his eyes this time but as he was facing the door the Captain couldn’t see. What else was he going to do? There wasn’t exactly a lot to do in the middle of space when you were off duty was there?
"Yes, sir."
* * *
Malcolm glared at the ceiling of his darkened quarters. It was half past two in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. However much he tried to encourage unconsciousness to take him he was wide awake.
Decisively, he got up and pulled his boots on and grabbed a zip up jumper from his closet unable to discern it’s colour in the dark. He’d already walked round the ship in sweatpants yesterday so he figured he didn’t really need to change them.
He winced at the bright light from the corridor. Once his eyes had become accustomed to the light he walked leisurely down the corridor towards the turbolift, hand’s in his pockets. Yawning widely he stepped into the turbolift.
He stepped out he walked towards the mess hall, the only sound being the dull thud of his footsteps. Malcolm liked the ship like this, quiet, peaceful, devoid of life . . . He smiled when he entered the mess; it was empty.
Once he’d got his tea Malcolm sat down at the table in the corner by the window and looked out at the stars. He looked up and glared as he heard the door open.
"Are you stalking me or something?" Robertson asked lightly as she walked over to the food cabinet and peered inside, it was almost empty so she shut it again.
"I was here first! How can I be stalking you?" he said indignantly.
"Calm down, I was just teasing," she said absently as she put a cup in the dispenser and waited while the hot chocolate poured out.
"Did you know that according to the Doctor, you’re the source of my high blood pressure?" Malcolm asked nonchalantly. He watched as she smirked and glided (-yes glided, she sure as hell wasn’t walking normally at any rate-) over to his table and sat down in front of him.
"Get you all worked up do I sir?" she said and took a sip of her drink, her eyes sparkling at him over the top of her mug. He scowled at her.
"I’ll ignore that Crewman," he said, emphasising her rank. She pouted at him, he rolled his eyes. "The Doctor also thinks, as does the captain, that the explosion was a result of a ‘disagreement’ between us."
"Really?" she said.
"I’m not to teach you to shoot anymore apparently."
"That’s crap, whose gonna teach me now?" she asked, Malcolm shrugged and took a sip of his tea. "The Captain actually asked to see me as well you know."
"Really?"
"Warned me to keep away from you as much as possible. Of course he was subtle about it, but that was the general gist," she said, gesturing with her hand as she spoke. Malcolm smirked.
"What are you doing now then?" he asked. She looked at him shocked for a brief moment, then at the table and then back again as if only just realising what she actually was doing.
"Right . . . " she said standing up looking a little flustered "I’ll just be . . . going then . ."
"I was just teasing you Robertson," Malcolm echoed her earlier words. She frowned at him and sat back down, still frowning.
"You could call me by my first name you know. When we’re off duty, or alone."
He looked at her contemplatively for a moment before responding. "Okay, but it won’t be that often, given your little chat with the captain, Angela."
She cringed. "How ‘bout Angie?" she asked.
"I am not calling you Angie," he said in a tone that brooked no disagreement.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Fine." She paused looking thoughtful. "How about Ela?
"Ela?"
"As in Angela." Eventually he nodded. She looked at him expectantly.
"I suppose, it’s Malcolm them. But not in front of other people," he said sternly. She grinned at him and stood up.
"Well, Malcolm, it’s been . . ."
"Surreal?"
"Exactly," she said and walked towards the door, turning round before she left. "Night Malcolm," she said.
"Night Ela," he responded and watched as the door closed behind her, he turned back to the window and resumed gazing at the stars. Very surreal.