Title: Every Minute Of It

Author: Sita Z

Genre: Humor

Rating: K

Summary: Malcolm enjoys every minute of it.

Disclaimer: Paramount doesn't seem to want them anymore, can I have them? Please? No? Didn't think so :).

AN: The idea just popped into my head today, and, oh well... big thanks to Gabi for her wonderful emergency beta reading ;-)! BTW, to anyone who reads "The Miles That Lay Ahead", this is not the story she said I'm working on, just some crazy delirium-induced idea of mine; the other story should be coming up... soon -coughs-... in a while, anyway ;-).

Please read and review!

"Cap'n..."

"Yeah?"

Trip Tucker paused and glanced at something across the room, his eyebrows drawing together at what he saw.

"Well, I'm not quite sure how to put this, but... you think there's somethin' wrong with Malcolm?"

Lowering his knife and fork, Jonathan Archer turned around and looked across the messhall at the object of Trip's attention.

Malcolm Reed, prim and proper Armory Officer of the starship Enterprise, priding himself on representing the British nation on Earth's very first warp five vessel, was currently engaging in a series of spontaneous target exercises with his spoon. Just as Jon was watching, Malcolm gathered up another spoonful of mashed potatoes, and, squeezing one eye shut to get a better aim, he catapulted it into the air. In a graceful arc, the projectile sailed towards the wall, transforming into a cowpat-like shape on collision. Looking closer, Jon noticed that the wall across Malcolm's table was adorned with several of those colorful spots, the green ones apparently representing spinach.

Reed didn't seem to mind that all the tables around him had been deserted (their former occupants had obviously been in a great hurry to leave the testing ground, their abandoned plates still sitting where they had left them). Humming softly to himself, the Lieutenant twirled his spoon between his fingers, trying to decide whether another speck of green would form a nice contrast to the potato pattern.

Jon turned back to Trip. "What do you mean?"

Trip frowned, lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "Well... look at him! He's havin' mashed potatoes! Malcolm hates mashed potatoes!"

The Captain threw another glance at his Armory Officer who was dreamily contemplating the perfectly round spot his spinach bomb had created next to the potato cowpats, then returned his attention to his steak.

"He's fine," he said firmly. "I think you're imagining things, Trip."

XXX

The turbo lift doors slid aside, revealing a very happy-looking Malcolm Reed. His hair, normally neat and tidy to a fault, stuck up in all directions, like the spines of a rather confused hedgehog. To match his unusual hairdo, Malcolm had decided to wear his black undershirt over the uniform - the wrong way around.

Swaying a little, the Lieutenant stood in front of the turbolift for a moment, apparently trying to figure out which direction to take. Finally he tottered down the few steps to the Captain's chair, almost losing his balance before he managed to catch hold of the backrest.

"Lieutenant Reed reporting to duty, sir." He smiled at Jon in a way that suggested they had just shared an incredibly funny inside joke. "Reporting, sir. To duty. I'm right here, sir, right on duty."

Again, Malcolm came dangerously close to toppling right into the Captain's lap, his feet trying to go into two directions at once.

Jon nodded, determinedly ignoring the looks he was getting from the rest of the bridge crew. "That's great, Malcolm," he said. "Now why don't you go to your station and-"

"Go to my station, yes, that's right. To my station."

He glanced around the room, as though he was hoping for a sign saying "Malcolm's chair". Discreetly, Jon nudged him into the right direction.

"Oh, right! Thank you, sir! You know, sometimes you get that feeling that some place that you know perfectly well suddenly looks completely different, like the things move around on their own and change position, and it's hard to keep track where-"

"Yes yes, of course," Jon said quickly, seeing Hoshi stare wide-eyed while Trip was doing his best cat-fish impression. T'Pol, of course, seemed completely unimpressed, never looking up from her readings. "Why don't you go and sit down, Malcolm, your station's right over there."

"Brilliant idea, sir."

Seeing Malcolm plonk down on his chair, Jon breathed a secret sigh of relief.

A minute later, a strange squeaking noise caught his attention and he turned his head, only to see Malcolm spinning around on his swivel chair, using his console to gain momentum.

"Wooohooo, here we go!"

Jon briefly closed his eyes, then cleared his throat distinctly enough to be heard over the Lieutenant's excited whooping.

"Malcolm."

Holding on to the control board, Malcolm brought the chair to an abrupt stop, almost falling off in the process. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again."

Something on the tactical displays seemed to catch his attention, and he leaned very close to his console, squinting his eyes as if trying to read something written there in miniature letters. A moment later he jumped back, blinking and rubbing his eyes. When he looked up again, Jon saw that one of his pupils was slightly larger than the other, giving him a somewhat cross-eyed appearance.

"Are those things supposed to be so... so kaleidoscopical, sir?"

Jon felt someone touch his arm and turned around. Travis had left his station, leaning closer to the Captain while his eyes were still on Malcolm.

"Sir, I'm sorry if I'm out of line, but are you sure everything's alright with Malcolm?"

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Malcolm? What are you talking about?"

Travis frowned. "Well, he... he was late for his shift, sir. Malcolm's never late for his shift. Do you really think it's a good idea to let him join the away team?"

"I appreciate your concern, Ensign, but there's nothing to worry about." Jon kept his eyes firmly fixed on the main view screen. "Malcolm's just fine."

XXX

The shuttle approached the planet's atmosphere, Ensign Harris doing a great job given the fact that it was the first time she piloted a pod outside a simulation cubicle.

Jon let his eyes wander over the small away team that consisted of Trip, Hoshi, Travis and, of course, Malcolm. Once again, the Armory Officer was the center of attention, even though he didn't seem to be aware of the fact that everyone's eyes were fixed on him. Jon couldn't quite decide what was the most fascinating: The pair of binoculars around his neck, the fact that he was wearing his left boot on his right foot and the other way around, or the way he stared at the ceiling, bouncing on his chair and hiccuping every now and then.

"What... what are the binoculars for, Malcolm?" Trip finally ventured, eyeing his friend as if he had suddenly grown a second head. Malcolm stopped bouncing and turned his head in a slow, dazed movement.

"Trip?"

"Yeah." Trip raised his eyebrows. "I was jus' wonderin' what you need the binoculars for."

"Binoculars?" Malcolm frowned, then glanced down at his chest. "Oh, right... security measure, you know."

He hiccuped again, resuming his inspection of the ceiling.

Trip shook his head, muttering under his breath. "I don't even wanna know."

In the meantime, the shuttle had broken through the bottom layers of the planet's atmosphere. A few seconds later they passed the last clouds, the front window allowing a great view of the green, meadowy landscape below. According to T'Pol's findings, the planet had a never-changing temperature of 23 degrees, which created a climate that could be best described as "eternal spring" (Jon had been surprised to hear his science officer coin such a poetic phrase, even though the quotation marks had been audible in her voice). The lush greenery below seemed to stretch endlessly in front of their eyes, and Jon lost himself in the sight - for exactly one and a half seconds. Then a movement in the front caught his attention, and he looked up only to see Malcolm sliding into the pilot's seat.

"Thank you, Ensign," Reed said to Harris who had respectfully moved to the back. "Very well done."

"No, Malcolm!"

Jon jumped up, but it was too late. The shuttle did a loop, causing everyone to scream and clutch each other in terror, then another one before it dived nose-first towards the ground.

"MALCOLM!"

The ground rushed towards them at an incredible speed, but a second before the collision would have turned them into a pile of metal with a little red spattered here and there, Malcolm pulled up the nose again, sending the rest of the away team flying to the back.

He flew another elegant arc, then set the shuttle down as gently as a feather coming to rest on the ground.

"You were saying, sir?"

Jon picked himself up off the floor, sighing inwardly when he heard Hoshi's voice next to his ear.

"Could I speak to you for a moment, sir?"

He followed her to the back of the shuttle. "What is it, Hoshi?"

She bit her lip. "Sir, I'm sorry to say so, but I believe there's something wrong with Lieutenant Reed."

Jon rubbed his back, knowing there was going to be a bruise. "What makes you think so, Ensign?"

Hoshi cast a careful glance at the helm. "Well, he's not wearing a phase pistol, for one thing. Malcolm always wears a phase pistol on away missions."

Jon smiled at her, but the expression was a little strained. "Thanks for letting me know, Hoshi, but I'm sure Malcolm's alright. He's just fine."

XXX

"Cap'n!"

Jon looked up from the plant he had been studying and saw Trip running towards him. The engineer's face was red, his arms swinging at his sides.

"What's wrong, Trip?"

"Cap'n, you gotta look at this!"

Wearily, Jon got up. He had a suspicion that he was not going to like this.

"Trip, if it's..."

But Trip wasn't listening, hurrying back to where he had come from. Jon followed him, walking through a clump of trees which after a few dozen meters gave way to a huge meadow overgrown with all sorts of alien flowers. The colors were blinding: red, yellow, pink and blue, the grass a few shades darker than the grass back on Earth, forming a striking contrast to the bright spots in between.

Hoshi, Travis and Ensign Harris, however, standing at the edge of the field, seemed completely oblivious to the scenery. Their eyes were fixed on... something... about two hundred meters away, a distant figure frolicking in the middle of the flowery meadow. Even at this distance, there was no denying that the figure was wearing absolutely nothing.

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, then bent down to pick up the discarded Starfleet uniform Malcolm had left at the edge of the meadow. Ignoring his officers' stares, he pulled his communicator out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Archer to Dr. Phlox."

"Phlox here," the doctor's sing-song voice answered a second later. "Captain, I assume your call is about Lieutenant Reed."

"Indeed." Jon paused. "Doc, I know we talked about this, and I know he really wanted to come along on this mission even though he knew the pollen would just about kill him, but I'm sorry..." He took a deep breath. "No more antihistamines while on duty."

I don't suffer from insanity - I enjoy every minute of it.

Unknown Source-

The End

AN II: Okay, maybe I should explain myself... this was written under the influence of a major dose of the stuff that made Malcolm hop naked through the fields, so please forgive me if I didn't make much sense ;-)... anyway, I love to hear what you think, so please review! Pretty please with an anti-allergy pill on top!