Run Of the Ship (6/8)
Title: Run of The Ship (6/8)
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG
Character: Reed, bit of Travis, Kelly, Rostov and an OFC, with some of the main cast sprinkled over it to top it off
Category: General, Humour
Spoilers: None. Could be set in season one, or after return to earth from xindi mission.
Summary: Almost the entire crew are on shore leave, a team of alien engineers are doing repairs onboard & the ever security conscious Malcolm remains onboard to oversee them. It seems his current paranoia is not ungrounded when they highjack the ship.
A/N: Not a sequel to, but in the same universe as Target Practise which introduces the OFC Crewman Angela Robertson, who Malcolm has no particular affinity for :)
Click the image to catch up
Part Six is behind the cut........
Malcolm walked briskly down the corridor to Robertson’s quarters. She had failed to answer the comm., and even though it had been a day and a half since she had injured her head he was still concerned. Concern as her commanding officer that was, personally he didn’t care all that much at all. Really.
He rang the bell once, twice, three times, before he heard movement from within. The door opened to reveal a very disgruntled looking Robertson, in rather skimpy night wear with hair falling haphazardly out of the tie that held it in place.
"What?" she demanded. He dragged his eyed away from her legs and redirected them towards her face.
"You didn’t answer the comm.," he told her.
"I was sleeping," she growled.
"Sorry," he answered blandly.
She rolled her eyes. "As I’m awake, I suppose I might as well get up."
"If you want," he said innocently. She sighed in frustration and shut the door in his face.
"Status meeting in fifteen minutes if you’re not too busy," he said through the comm. before he returned to the bridge.
* * *
"So how long have we got until our back up arrives?" Robertson asked him from opposite him over the console in the situation room.
"A day, approximately."
"Approximately?" Kelly asked.
"The Vulcans didn’t specify, they just said two days, we received that message twenty-six hours ago." Travis said.
"The Captain will arrive in twenty-four hours and . . ." Malcolm checked the padd. he was holding, " . . . seventeen minutes."
"He might ask the Larackian captain to push the engines a bit, to beat the Vulcans." Robertson suggested. Malcolm smirked, it was a possibility.
"Lets say twenty-four hours," he said. "I want to make sure everyone is as well rested as possible, in case we encounter anyone else, so I have devised a rota," he told them, and passed round the rota. "Kelly, you’ve been awake for the longest out of us at the moment so I’m relieving you for seven hours, in five hours Rostov, in ten Travis." He explained.
"And you sir?" Rostov asked.
"Whenever I get the chance, probably when Travis is off duty," he said. He sincerely doubted he would be able to sleep though. Phlox would probably call it stress related insomnia.
"And me?" Robertson asked.
"Whenever you’re tired," Malcolm told her. He wouldn’t be happy about her head wound until the doctor had seen her and made sure everything was okay.
"You’re worse then Phlox," she objected, folding her arms and pouting slightly
"Failing that, I’ll tuck you in in ten hours," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Yes, sir," she muttered, the pout turning into a glare that had Kelly shifting nervously on her feet.
"Okay people back to work, except you Crewman," he said to Kelly.
"Yes, sir." she said and exited the bridge hastily, looking happy to have a legitimate reason for esacape. As the others walked away Robertson stood next to Malcolm.
"You won’t sleep," she said knowingly. Malcolm shrugged noncommittally. "Stress induced insomnia?" she asked and Malcolm gaped at her briefly before controlling his expression. What was it with this woman? "I’ll take that as a yes," she said, "Try warm milk," she added as she walked away.
* * *
Eighteen hours and countless cups of coffee later found Malcolm in the mess hall with his head on his arm on the table. A cold cup of coffee sat on the table next to him.
The door opened and Robertson entered, she sat down next to him and pushed the cup aside.
"Malcolm!" she said loudly. His head snapped up and he blinked wearily at her.
"Ela?" he asked confused, rubbing his eyes with his hand. Robertson looked fondly upon the visage of a sleep mussed Malcolm Reed before rolling her eyes at herself.
"Travis sent me. He wondered where you had got to so we ran a quick scan that showed you to be here. When you didn’t answer the hail I surmised you’d fallen asleep," she explained.
"Right, sorry, on my way," he muttered, still looking half asleep.
"Maybe it’s time for some Zariphean tea?" she asked.
"Why?" he asked thickly, she rolled her eyes, how to wake him up? Traditionally to get a mans attention one might lift up their shirt, but the jump-suits made it a little more difficult to flash someone. Maybe something along the same lines though, she thought as she leant forward and kissed him.
"Aaah!" Malcolm yelped and jumped backwards off of his chair.
"I’ve never got that reaction before," she remarked wryly.
"Have you gone insane?" he asked seriously.
"It’s possible," she shrugged, standing up; smirking at the way he took a step back for every one she took towards him. "Come on it’s time you got some sleep," he shook his head adamantly.
"No, it’s only six hours until the ships are due," he protested
"And you should be rested before they arrive. We’ll wake you up before they get here," she promised.
"Two hours?"
"Four."
"Three?"
"Done," she said and reached out her hand, he looked at it dubiously before shaking it. "Come on then," she said and headed towards the door. Malcolm followed her reluctantly.
Just as they reached the turbo lift the ship shook suddenly and they both stumbled.
"Bloody hell," Malcolm muttered. "Perfect timing."
"You can say that again," Robertson said as she entered the turbolift, he followed her and hit the comm. as soon as they were inside and the doors were closed.
"Reed to the bridge.""Travis here, sir," came the voice as the ship shuddered again. "They just disabled our weapons," Travis said anxiously.
"Tell the others what’s going on," Malcolm ordered.
"Yes sir. Sir, one of the ships is attempting to dock."
"Damn it," he cursed. "Okay tell them to get to the catwalk if they can, you get going too Travis."
"But sir-"
"There’s no point in fighting a battle we can’t win," he said firmly. "Good luck Travis. Reed out."
"We’re gonna hide?" Robertson asked him incredulously.
"I’d prefer it if you didn’t phrase it that way . . . but basically, yes," he said as he hit the button that would take them to the appropriate deck.
When the doors slid open, Malcolm unholstered his phase pistol and looked warily down the corridor.
"Looks clear," he murmured, and they began to make their way wearily down the corridor.
"Mal-" Malcolm span round at her muffled squeak. There was a large hand clamped over her mouth, and another holding a weapon pointing directly at her head. Malcolm recognised the Larackian as the one who he’d tied up before, and he wasn’t looking happy.
"Take one step and she’s dead little man," the alien growled. Little man? Malcolm glowered but stayed still. "Good. Now get walking," he said, nodding up the corridor.
"Where are we going?" Malcolm asked gently, so as not to agitate the man.
"Just keep walking," he ordered.
"Okay, okay," Malcolm muttered and started walking.
***
Read on with PART 7
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise
Rating: PG
Character: Reed, bit of Travis, Kelly, Rostov and an OFC, with some of the main cast sprinkled over it to top it off
Category: General, Humour
Spoilers: None. Could be set in season one, or after return to earth from xindi mission.
Summary: Almost the entire crew are on shore leave, a team of alien engineers are doing repairs onboard & the ever security conscious Malcolm remains onboard to oversee them. It seems his current paranoia is not ungrounded when they highjack the ship.
A/N: Not a sequel to, but in the same universe as Target Practise which introduces the OFC Crewman Angela Robertson, who Malcolm has no particular affinity for :)
Click the image to catch up
Part Six is behind the cut........
Malcolm walked briskly down the corridor to Robertson’s quarters. She had failed to answer the comm., and even though it had been a day and a half since she had injured her head he was still concerned. Concern as her commanding officer that was, personally he didn’t care all that much at all. Really.
He rang the bell once, twice, three times, before he heard movement from within. The door opened to reveal a very disgruntled looking Robertson, in rather skimpy night wear with hair falling haphazardly out of the tie that held it in place.
"What?" she demanded. He dragged his eyed away from her legs and redirected them towards her face.
"You didn’t answer the comm.," he told her.
"I was sleeping," she growled.
"Sorry," he answered blandly.
She rolled her eyes. "As I’m awake, I suppose I might as well get up."
"If you want," he said innocently. She sighed in frustration and shut the door in his face.
"Status meeting in fifteen minutes if you’re not too busy," he said through the comm. before he returned to the bridge.
* * *
"So how long have we got until our back up arrives?" Robertson asked him from opposite him over the console in the situation room.
"A day, approximately."
"Approximately?" Kelly asked.
"The Vulcans didn’t specify, they just said two days, we received that message twenty-six hours ago." Travis said.
"The Captain will arrive in twenty-four hours and . . ." Malcolm checked the padd. he was holding, " . . . seventeen minutes."
"He might ask the Larackian captain to push the engines a bit, to beat the Vulcans." Robertson suggested. Malcolm smirked, it was a possibility.
"Lets say twenty-four hours," he said. "I want to make sure everyone is as well rested as possible, in case we encounter anyone else, so I have devised a rota," he told them, and passed round the rota. "Kelly, you’ve been awake for the longest out of us at the moment so I’m relieving you for seven hours, in five hours Rostov, in ten Travis." He explained.
"And you sir?" Rostov asked.
"Whenever I get the chance, probably when Travis is off duty," he said. He sincerely doubted he would be able to sleep though. Phlox would probably call it stress related insomnia.
"And me?" Robertson asked.
"Whenever you’re tired," Malcolm told her. He wouldn’t be happy about her head wound until the doctor had seen her and made sure everything was okay.
"You’re worse then Phlox," she objected, folding her arms and pouting slightly
"Failing that, I’ll tuck you in in ten hours," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Yes, sir," she muttered, the pout turning into a glare that had Kelly shifting nervously on her feet.
"Okay people back to work, except you Crewman," he said to Kelly.
"Yes, sir." she said and exited the bridge hastily, looking happy to have a legitimate reason for esacape. As the others walked away Robertson stood next to Malcolm.
"You won’t sleep," she said knowingly. Malcolm shrugged noncommittally. "Stress induced insomnia?" she asked and Malcolm gaped at her briefly before controlling his expression. What was it with this woman? "I’ll take that as a yes," she said, "Try warm milk," she added as she walked away.
* * *
Eighteen hours and countless cups of coffee later found Malcolm in the mess hall with his head on his arm on the table. A cold cup of coffee sat on the table next to him.
The door opened and Robertson entered, she sat down next to him and pushed the cup aside.
"Malcolm!" she said loudly. His head snapped up and he blinked wearily at her.
"Ela?" he asked confused, rubbing his eyes with his hand. Robertson looked fondly upon the visage of a sleep mussed Malcolm Reed before rolling her eyes at herself.
"Travis sent me. He wondered where you had got to so we ran a quick scan that showed you to be here. When you didn’t answer the hail I surmised you’d fallen asleep," she explained.
"Right, sorry, on my way," he muttered, still looking half asleep.
"Maybe it’s time for some Zariphean tea?" she asked.
"Why?" he asked thickly, she rolled her eyes, how to wake him up? Traditionally to get a mans attention one might lift up their shirt, but the jump-suits made it a little more difficult to flash someone. Maybe something along the same lines though, she thought as she leant forward and kissed him.
"Aaah!" Malcolm yelped and jumped backwards off of his chair.
"I’ve never got that reaction before," she remarked wryly.
"Have you gone insane?" he asked seriously.
"It’s possible," she shrugged, standing up; smirking at the way he took a step back for every one she took towards him. "Come on it’s time you got some sleep," he shook his head adamantly.
"No, it’s only six hours until the ships are due," he protested
"And you should be rested before they arrive. We’ll wake you up before they get here," she promised.
"Two hours?"
"Four."
"Three?"
"Done," she said and reached out her hand, he looked at it dubiously before shaking it. "Come on then," she said and headed towards the door. Malcolm followed her reluctantly.
Just as they reached the turbo lift the ship shook suddenly and they both stumbled.
"Bloody hell," Malcolm muttered. "Perfect timing."
"You can say that again," Robertson said as she entered the turbolift, he followed her and hit the comm. as soon as they were inside and the doors were closed.
"Reed to the bridge.""Travis here, sir," came the voice as the ship shuddered again. "They just disabled our weapons," Travis said anxiously.
"Tell the others what’s going on," Malcolm ordered.
"Yes sir. Sir, one of the ships is attempting to dock."
"Damn it," he cursed. "Okay tell them to get to the catwalk if they can, you get going too Travis."
"But sir-"
"There’s no point in fighting a battle we can’t win," he said firmly. "Good luck Travis. Reed out."
"We’re gonna hide?" Robertson asked him incredulously.
"I’d prefer it if you didn’t phrase it that way . . . but basically, yes," he said as he hit the button that would take them to the appropriate deck.
When the doors slid open, Malcolm unholstered his phase pistol and looked warily down the corridor.
"Looks clear," he murmured, and they began to make their way wearily down the corridor.
"Mal-" Malcolm span round at her muffled squeak. There was a large hand clamped over her mouth, and another holding a weapon pointing directly at her head. Malcolm recognised the Larackian as the one who he’d tied up before, and he wasn’t looking happy.
"Take one step and she’s dead little man," the alien growled. Little man? Malcolm glowered but stayed still. "Good. Now get walking," he said, nodding up the corridor.
"Where are we going?" Malcolm asked gently, so as not to agitate the man.
"Just keep walking," he ordered.
"Okay, okay," Malcolm muttered and started walking.
***
Read on with PART 7