Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or universe of Star Trek. I am making no financial gain from this story.
A/N: This is Trip's view of the events of Part 3 of 'Operation Bamboozle' and more. It is not necessary to have read 'Operation Bamboozle' to understand this story.
No spoilers. The story takes place in Season 2.
Many thanks to G.Eliot for the invaluable input.
Trials, Trips and Tribulations
By GallyGee
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Chapter 1
So, I was late for breakfast. It seems like it doesn't matter how many socks I've got, there's never a matching pair of the darned things. I know - most of them are black, but they're different shades of black. I know, I know… who except me will ever see them? But on this ship, you never know when you are going to end up stranded with some gorgeous alien. It happens more often than you might think. Then having socks that match matters.
When I got to the Mess Hall, it was full of people. I'd never seen it so full before! Then I realized. Most of these people were here for the same reason as me - to track their investment. I sucked my teeth at that. We're going to have to employ fancy footwork here, otherwise the object of our attention would find out for sure. I didn't want to be around when that happened!
Travis had grabbed a strategic position nearest to the Captain's private dining room. Yeah - that figured. I bet he'd been there for hours. I saw he'd kept a seat for me, as I'd asked. I'd planned ahead - I wanted to be at the heart of the action.
Now, one advantage of getting to the Mess Hall later than most everyone else, is that there isn't a scramble to get at stuff. The disadvantage is that there isn't much 'stuff' to choose from.
I flipped through the hatches and did my best with what was left. There was one position had an almost full plate, but looking at the bright translucent green jello-type mound, I agreed with the majority and swore off it. Someone had been adventurous though - there was a large scoop taken from the side of it.
I took my spoils over to Travis' table.
"Morning, Commander," he said, all suppressed excitement. This was his biggest 'project' to date. Virtually the whole crew was in on it.
"Morning, Travis. What've I missed?"
Travis grinned. "He's gone in. He didn't look very happy about it. I've got a timer running."
Travis pulled out a PADD and laid it on the table. He studied it and said, "A couple of people have already lost the timing bet. They predicted five minutes."
I shook my head. "Never underestimate Malcolm. He can dig deep when he needs to." Malcolm's tough. I didn't think he'd give in easily.
So - how long could he stick water polo? My money - literally - was on him surviving the current session, the one tonight - the Captain's invited Malcolm to watch a game over dinner - and then one more session. Then he'll crack.
My prediction: he'll tell the Captain he can't take any more three days into his ordeal.
I hadn't been able to decide on how he would crack. In the end, I went for 'rampage with phase pistol'. I wondered again if I should change that. Somehow, I think our Armory Officer will turn out to be more imaginative, despite the impression he can give. Plus the odds weren't that great anyway, 'cause a lot of people had the same idea as me.
It was only then I saw what Travis had on his plate - the green jello. Seen close-up, it had black lines tracing their wobbly way through its slimy mass.
"Travis, what is that stuff?"
"I dunno. No one else was trying it, so I thought I'd be adventurous. After all, we are explorers." He hadn't touched it by the looks of things, but with an audience to impress - me - he took a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. He performed some facial contortions. It didn't seem to be a hit.
"What's it taste like?" I asked, as he finally managed to swallow it.
"Um. Odd. Like um... frogspawn with pepper mixed in… and lime… paint stripper…" Travis ran his tongue over his lips and took a large swig of orange juice.
"Yuk! Sounds disgusting." No way was I going to try that!
Then I did a double take. "Travis – did you say frogspawn?! What does that taste like anyway? How do you know what it tastes like?" He was a boomer, wasn't he? How many ponds had he been near?
"Well, hydroponics bays, kids... you know how it is."
I didn't, but I was quite happy to take his word on that. I noticed he'd put his spoon down. "I can't say I blame you for giving up."
Travis didn't seem that enthusiastic, but rising to the challenge once more, he took another spoonful all the same. "It's… okay," he said doubtfully, chewing away.
"Yeah, but where did it come from?" Chef picks up all manner of new things to try out here, but we hadn't had this item before.
At that moment another latecomer arrived - Hoshi. She'd obviously heard what I said and answered, "It's one of the foods the Growarths traded. They call it…" and then she made the most extraordinary noise that I couldn't hope to repeat, even if I had the vocal chords for it. The people around us gave her some funny looks.
"Is there an easier name?" I asked, not expecting there to be one. But I was in luck.
"Yes, there is," said Hoshi, watching Travis make headway with the green gloop. "It translates as 'unripe stomach tissue'. The more mature version could be called 'full moldy stomach tissue'."
Travis stopped chewing. His nostrils flared and his eyes bulged, but he was too polite to spit it out. He swallowed and then gargled with his orange juice. Lots of orange juice. I'm afraid I laughed at him. I had no option if I wanted to avoid rupturing myself.
Hoshi was laughing too. "There's plenty left, Travis. I think you're the only one who likes it."
"Uh huh. Not any more, thanks. I'm gonna ease up on exploring for a bit!"
Hoshi jerked her head toward the Captain's dining room. "How's he doing?"
Travis was still preoccupied in trying to cleanse his palate, so I replied, "He's been in longer than five minutes. What did you go for?"
Hoshi said, "A week."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's some time. Most people are going for much shorter than that."
"Ahh, yes. But never underestimate the power of embarrassment."
I gazed at her with some respect. She was right! Malcolm can't stand being embarrassed. It's what makes him such a fun target. I suddenly wished that I had opted for longer. Considerably longer… like years, perhaps, although collecting my winnings might pose a logistical problem…
"What about you, Commander?" Hoshi broke into my calculations.
"Um. I've gone for three days, but I'm wondering if I should change it. Travis…?"
"No. No changes allowed on timing. I made that clear from the beginning, otherwise it gets too complicated. You can choose another 'how he cracks' if you want, though."
Hmm. I decided I better boost Malcolm's self esteem, try to counteract the embarrassment factor - call that 'EF' - to give him the guts to say 'no' to the Captain in a shorter timeframe.
So, perhaps this should be an inequality? When SE is greater than EF… and then take into account 'water polo effect' - WP - as a function of number - a stronger effect for higher numbers as the pressure grows… possibly use tensor arithmetic for differences between the Captain's dining room and watching in his quarters… Would traveling at warp have any effect…?
I was just making some progress with the equations defining my new theory, when the door to the Mess Hall opened and a crowd of medics rushed in, Phlox among them. They swept past and into the Captain's dining room.
I shot to my feet and ran after them. "Everyone, keep back!" I ordered, as the other diners tried to see what was going on.
I got to the door and peered in. Malcolm was unconscious on the floor, Phlox already kneeling at his side and running a scanner across him. The Captain was there, standing over them, and clearly shook up.
Malcolm looked terrible - very pale - but I could see he was breathing. I wondered if it was one of his allergies kicking in. He's had trouble with them before. Surely he hadn't tried the 'unripe stomach tissue'? I mean, Malcolm even has his doubts over meatloaf, and by my reckoning that is one of Chef's glories.
"Captain - what happened?" I said, raising my voice to make myself heard over the water polo commentary still running in the background.
The Captain didn't answer me but asked Phlox. "How is he?"
Phlox stood up, gesturing to his medics to get Malcolm onto the gurney they had brought along. He gave a reassuring smile. "Nothing serious, I am pleased to report. Lieutenant Reed should make a rapid and full recovery. Now - let's get him to Sick Bay."
They efficiently wheeled him off through the crowd of people craning to get a view of the patient.
The Captain paused at the Mess Hall door and addressed us all. "The Doc says Lieutenant Reed is okay and will be better in no time. Thank you all for your concern." He gave us a tight smile and then left.
Of course, what everyone was concerned about, once we knew he was going to be okay - we are not totally heartless, you know - was how it affected the betting pool. Travis was besieged.
"People!" he proclaimed. "Until we find out what has happened, I am declaring this a false start. I will reset the times and begin again this evening, when Lieutenant Reed is scheduled to watch water polo at dinner with the Captain. I reserve the right to change the conditions depending on what happened here this morning, when I get more details."
That seemed to satisfy most people, although there were some mutterings from those who realized people with extra-short times were back in with a chance, and from those who felt that Travis was changing the rules as he went along - which he was, of course.
Travis waved everyone away and said to me, "Commander, do you think you can find out what went on in there?"
I wasn't too happy at being designated a spy. "I don't know, Travis, what with medical confidentiality and all."
Travis gazed at me with his most appealing look. I've got no doubt he practices that in front of a mirror. "Yeah, but if Malcolm tells you when you ask him, there's no reason why you can't tell me, is there? If he wanted to keep something secret he wouldn't tell anyone at all, would he? Anyway, it's the water polo I really need to know about - not his medical condition."
"I guess I might be able to find something out." I knew I sounded reluctant, because I was.
I was going to have to think about this. I won't betray a confidence, but then, why would Malcolm want it to be confidential? It was only water polo and breakfast, after all's said and done.
"Commander?"
I said to Travis, "Okay, I'll see what I can do, but I'm not promising anything."
"That's all I ask, " said Travis, beaming broadly. He obviously thought the deed was done and I would deliver full information to him in no time.
I couldn't help myself. "Your 'unripe stomach tissue' is waiting for you." I pointed to the sagging helping on the side of his plate.
"Commander!" Travis protested, looking a little green around the gills, his smile vanishing in an instant.
"You should've asked what it was first," I said with a grin. "First rule of exploring - don't eat anything before finding out what it is!"
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I was physically in Engineering, but my mind was elsewhere, trying to make sense of the breakfast happenings. Now see, that wasn't nosiness, that was true concern for my friend. And I wanted to know what happened too, of course.
So - what had happened? It could have been an allergic reaction. I couldn't think what else it might be. I know Malcolm's been kinda… obsessive about unarmed combat training recently, but I didn't think even he would take it far enough to try a session at breakfast. Was it possible the Captain had landed him a lucky blow? But then, the Captain didn't have any extra bruises to add to his collection. None that I could see, leastways.
As I wasn't doing any good where I was, I decided to swing by Sick Bay - not only for Travis' need for intelligence, but also to make sure that Malcolm was indeed recovering okay.
When I got to Sick Bay, Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. Phlox was bustling around and didn't notice my arrival.
"Doc."
Phlox spun about. "Ah! Commander Tucker! I didn't hear you come in. My mind was on other matters. What can I do for you?"
"Well-" I stopped as I saw one of his eyes was partly closed and had bruising around it. "What happened to you, Doc?"
Phlox gave an unamused grunt. "Lieutenant Reed 'happened'," he said. "Or rather, his fist did."
"He hit you?!" I couldn't believe my ears. I know Malcolm has some strange opinions about Phlox but I couldn't believe he would just assault him.
"Yes. He claimed that he was disoriented when he came around."
I relaxed a little at that, despite the doubt in Phlox's voice. I reassured him, "Ahh, yes. He does have a hair-trigger when he's startled."
I rubbed my jaw, remembering the recent occasion when I crept up on him and did my impression of a water polo commentary - purely in fun, I must emphasize. It had not produced a 'fun' response.
"How is Malcolm?"
Phlox's chin jutted out. "Harrumph. Well, I treated him, despite his treatment of me."
Was that a joke? I smiled to humor him.
Phlox carried on. "I've released Lieutenant Reed from Sick Bay and told him to take the rest of the day off. He'll be back to normal in no time." He turned away and began counting up some slugs oozing their way around a cage. I didn't like to think what they were used for!
I pumped for more information. "What was the matter with him? Was it an allergic reaction?"
Phlox paused his slug-count and frowned at me. "You know perfectly well I can't discuss another person's medical condition with you, Commander. How would you like it if I told Lieutenant Reed about your-"
I hastily interrupted him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Forget I asked."
"Are you feeling anxious, Commander?" Phlox prodded one of his slugs, which oozed some more goo. "You seem on edge. Can I get you something for it?"
"No, no I'm fine, really I am. I'll go see Malcolm. Make sure he's okay."
"Be careful, Commander. While I have no reason to believe he is likely to prove a danger - otherwise he would still be under restraint - human beings often exhibit unexpected behaviors. He did seem somewhat… agitated when he left here. However, the Captain insisted he should be allowed to return to his quarters, unless I had a definite reason to keep him in. Which I didn't."
He sounded real sad about that. I was suddenly glad the Captain had been around to plead Malcolm's cause. I mean, I know Malcolm can be annoying and everything, but he spends far too much time in Sick Bay as it is.
As I made my way to Malcolm's quarters, I thought about what had happened in Sick Bay.
Did Phlox say Malcolm had been under restraint? Oh boy, that wouldn't go down too well! No wonder he was agitated. I hoped he was calmer now, so I could pry the required info out of him.
I wondered if Malcolm had hit Phlox deliberately, using his apparent confusion as a cover. I wouldn't put it past him, although from my personal experience it probably had been a reflex response. I rubbed my jaw, remembering again that fake commentary I did.
I had sneaked up behind Malcolm when he was concentrating on a readout in the Armory. I know, I know! How stupid can I get? I got real close then started in on my water polo commentary. "Brown swims over to..."
Huh. I didn't even get that much out. Before I know it, I'm on the deck nursing my chin. Teeth do rattle when you're hit in the right place, I discovered.
Malcolm was very embarrassed. He turned bright red and started stuttering his apologies.
I let him stew a little while I tried to rub some feeling back into my jaw. I gave him a look (I can do 'looks' too - Malcolm's not the only master of the art) which said 'Yeah, Lieutenant… hitting a superior officer. Not a smart thing to do, is it?'
I sat there on my ass, giving him the eye while he virtually turned himself inside out. That paid him back for a few stunts he's being trying with me lately, like trying to muscle in on Movie Night.
But then I relented. I guess creeping up on him like that had been stupid. I couldn't blame him for it. So, soft guy I am, I told him not to worry, and even went as far as to apologize.
He looked at me like he didn't quite believe me. If our positions were reversed, I've got no doubt he'd pin everything he could on me. On principle of course - nothing personal, you understand. God! I hope no one really gets on the wrong side of him. He'll have them court martialed and breaking rocks as quick as you can say suffering catfish!
Yeah - he's still a work in progress there. He's loosened up since he came on board but there's still a long way to go before he's 'safe'!
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I went to Malcolm's quarters to see how he was, of course. Also, to see if I could get an inside track on my investment. Perhaps even give a boost to the 'self esteem factor'.
He took his time answering the door. I was surprised to see he was still in uniform, despite being stood down for the rest of the day.
"Trip."
He didn't seem too enthusiastic to see me. Positively icy, to tell the truth. It is really something how he manages to say so much without hardly opening his mouth. Now he was telling me to get lost.
Of course, I pretended not to understand Malcolm-speak. Instead, I gave him my best cheery smile. "Hi, Malcolm. I thought I'd drop by and see how you are. Can I come in?"
He hesitated - and was lost. I powered forward and he had no option but to fall back, that is, unless he wanted to get into a 'scene' with me, and as I have already noted, Malcolm doesn't do well with 'scenes'. He prefers to stew in silence.
I glanced around. As usual everything was in its place, properly squared up relative to the straight edges in the room. I peered closer at the strangely-shaped lump on the shelf over his bunk. Hoshi had mentioned seeing it. She said it was supposed to be a sculpture of an animal of some kind - she couldn't tell what. I thought it was just - a mess. Although looking closer, I thought I could detect an ear, yes - two ears, eyes… she was right… another ear? There was something very wrong with this.
Malcolm interposed himself between me and the object, whatever it was.
"I'm fine, Trip."
He crossed his arms, exuding waves of un-welcome.
"I'm glad to hear it!" I slumped down onto his desk chair, brushing away some PADDs with my arm. Malcolm darted over to gather them up from the desk. With another frosty look at me, he found somewhere else for them where they could stay in tidy bliss together.
He remained standing, looking down his nose at me, and trying to get me to leave by sheer force of will.
I simply grinned. That might work on a green ensign, but not on me. I said, "I saw what you did to Phlox."
I could see various emotions playing across his face as he considered how to answer me.
Some people think Malcolm is as expressionless as a Vulcan most of the time, but like Vulcans, you just need to know how to read him. It's the eyes, if you're looking for a tip. His face might be set like stone, but he can't prevent a quick flash of whatever it is he is feeling before the shutters come down.
This time, I could see self-satisfaction, unholy glee and worry. The last one won out, as is often the case with him.
Malcolm abandoned his 'I'm so superior' pose and dropped down onto his bunk. He loosely clasped his hands together in front of him.
He said, "I didn't know it was Phlox. It was a mistake."
He doesn't like to make mistakes. I saw the scraped area on the knuckles of his right hand. He caught the direction of my gaze and squirmed a little, quickly covering the evidence with his other hand.
"Yeah. I can believe that," I said. "That's what I told Phlox."
He looked alarmed. "Didn't he believe me?"
I reassured Malcolm. "Oh, yeah. I vouched for you. I'm sure he knows it was an accident."
Malcolm nodded, relaxing back a little. He spoiled his case, though, by muttering how he wouldn't be stupid enough to attack 'the quack' on purpose.
"He's not a quack!" I said. After all he performs good work. Most of it on Malcolm. I don't know why he complains so much about Phlox.
Malcolm glared at me and dropped his head. He muttered again under his breath - Malcolm is a skilled mutterer - fidgeting away. I guessed he wanted to start pacing but my being there cramped his style.
They didn't sound to be the friendliest comments, from what I could pick up. I don't know why he's got it in for Phlox, but the guy can't do anything right if you listened to everything Malcolm says about him.
So - what had really happened at breakfast? As our conversation had petered out, I decided it was time to find out all.
"So, Malcolm. Are you okay now?" I put on my most concerned face and leaned forward.
He scowled at me and I rapidly pulled back.
"Well?" I prompted. "Are you okay?"
He said, with a dose of suspicion, "Why shouldn't I be 'okay'?"
I shrugged. "I saw you getting carted off to Sick Bay - unconscious."
He froze his impatient jiggling and a deep blush illuminated his face. Hmm? Embarrassment or annoyance? A mix of both, I reckoned.
"You saw…?" He ran his tongue along his lower lip. "Ahh, yes," he said, putting as much meaning as he could into the words. Meaning: I don't want to talk about it. He clamped his mouth shut in a tight line and crossed his arms. Yeah: I got the message. 'Go away. I don't want to talk.'
Got the message and… Tough!
"So - what happened?" I was not going to let him get away that easy.
"Noth- "
He stopped abruptly as he realized there were likely too many people as witnesses to claim it was nothing. He changed tack. "Uhh. Was the Mess Hall very busy?" There was a plaintive quality to this question.
I grinned at him. He licked his lips and tried a nonchalant grin back. Nope - don't buy that either, Mister Reed!
I can be nasty when I want. I laid it on thick. "Oh yeah. Cram full! Never seen so many people there!"
He went from red to sheet white in nanoseconds. That was amazing and kinda worrying. Didn't that mean his blood flow was racing around at warp speed? I felt guilty about it. I tried a more sympathetic approach. After all, he is my friend.
"Are you alright, Malcolm? Anything I can do?" Aren't you supposed to shove their head between their knees or something? Or give them hot tea? "What happened?"
He blinked and thought a moment, his color evening out to a bright pink. "Err, I hit my head."
"When?" I could swear he had only been sitting on his bunk. How could he have done that?
"Uhh, when I was at breakfast with the Captain."
Oh. At breakfast. But-
"How?" There are no low beams in the Captain's dining room. And Malcolm's not exactly the tallest crewmember, is he?
"I slipped. Fell over."
"What? You're kidding?" The decking meets full safety standards. That simply shouldn't happen. I wondered if the Captain had entered an accident report yet. It needed to be added to the Agenda for the next Health and Safety meeting.
Malcolm turned his head and waved a hand vaguely at the evidence. "Look, Trip."
Well, yeah. There was a large lump on the back of his head. "Nasty. What's that pale yellow stuff on it?" I didn't like to say it looked like gunk. Nasty gunk.
"Oh. It's supposed to be a healing gel from one of the Doctor's creatures. You know, the transparent… er… something or other. Anyway, Phlox told me not to wash it off yet."
"Oh." It looked… horrible. That explained why he hadn't got changed out of his uniform, though.
Malcolm gave me a glassy stare and then said, "Excuse me." He grabbed something from a box and stuffed it in his mouth. "Medicine," he explained indistinctly, as he chewed.
Amazing! The Doc had managed to get him to take his medication without standing over him with a baseball bat - metaphorically speaking, of course. Although, I think sometimes Phlox wished he had the real thing available in his medical kit.
Perhaps it was the effect of that bump to the head that was making Malcolm more amenable?
Malcolm certainly was becoming a lot calmer. He relaxed back with his eyes closed and appeared to drift off. I found that a tad worrying. Aren't you supposed to keep people that have had head injuries awake?
"Hey! Malcolm!" I exerted prudence and did not give him a shake - not yet. I would if my words had no effect, but I didn't want to end up in Sick Bay myself if I could help it. I crossed my fingers and hoped for a response.
Malcolm opened one eye partway, and gave a small smile. "Yes, Trip?"
"Are you sure you're okay?" I was poised to call Phlox, to tell the truth. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something out of kilter here. "You seem a little… out of it."
Malcolm slowly pushed himself more upright and fully opened both eyes. "Yeah. I feel fine. " He sounded surprised. "Very good, actually…" He gave me a broader smile.
This was not the man who had wanted to bounce me out of his quarters a moment ago. He did seem more content, though. What could I say to Phlox? That the Lieutenant was relaxed, happy and calm, whereas really he should be wound up as tight as a watch spring and ready to explode.
Perhaps Phlox's medicine was working?
I decided not to concern myself anymore with medical matters. I still had more digging to do. I crossed my legs, leaned back and said casually, "All set for this evening?"
Malcolm gazed at me perplexed.
I enlightened him. "The water polo? With the Captain?"
Malcolm inhaled sharply, then let his breath out in stages. "Ahh. The water polo. Um. Yes…The Captain and I…"
He stopped and took another deep breath.
"Yeah? What?"
"The Captain and I have decided to discontinue our water polo sessions. By mutual consent." He gave a huge smile.
I could not believe it.
After all that fuss Malcolm'd made beforehand, all that messing about trying to get out of it: just like that - no more water polo. They hadn't even watched any at breakfast – they can't have done! Malcolm was only in the Captain's dining room for a few minutes.
I absolutely couldn't believe it! It didn't make sense. 'Mutual consent' Malcolm had said? I knew for a fact Malcolm couldn't even contemplate doing the sensible thing, and go explain to the Captain that it had all been a big mistake - that he wasn't interested in the sport after all. He'd spent enough time whining to me about his problem!
And 'mutual' - that meant the Captain was in full agreement too! That was even more unbelievable. The Captain had been crowing for days about finally getting Malcolm interested in a sport, and considering it happened to be his beloved water polo, to boot - that was the icing on the cake.
There was nothing – nothing! – that would have induced the Captain to abandon his plans to educate Malcolm in 'the most fantastic sport ever'.
Only Malcolm begging the Captain to desist would have done it. And Malcolm would never do that. Not yet, anyhow.
Harry Houdini had nothing on Malcolm Reed.
I felt my head start to spin. Malcolm was watching me with huge amusement.
I wanted to inquire further, to get to the bottom of this mystery. How had he done it? I opened my mouth to ask him. But then I saw the most smug, self-satisfied grin ever to grace Malcolm Reed's face, and could not give him the pleasure. No way!
I stumbled out a: "Uhh. That's great. For you, I mean. Uhh. Mutual consent, huh?"
"Yes. Mutual consent." Accompanied by another smirk. He knew I was desperate to know more, and that what he had just told me was meaningless.
He was virtually daring me to ask, to probe deeper, but I refused to give in to him.
Suddenly, I had had enough. Friend or no friend, there is only so much a man can take of that! There was another source of information - the Captain. Malcolm was not that crucial, whatever he might think, the arrogant…
"Well." I said, forcing a smile. "I'm pleased you're feeling better. I better get back to Engineering now."
"Okay, Trip. Thanks for calling." He was almost laughing at me. I could see him battling to keep a straight face.
"Right. No problem."
I let myself out and marched off down the corridor, with no answers but a big mystery. Then I realized all bets were off. Enterprise would be an unhappy ship when everyone heard about that. It had been the talking point for days, and to have no proper resolution… Well, it wouldn't go down too good.
Oh well, that was for Travis to sort out. I had the infinitely easier task of dealing with that plasma injector problem. I could forget about the Great Water Polo Escape... couldn't I?
TBC