AN: Thanks for letting me know what you think! On to the final part...

Chapter 3

Entering the remodeled cargo bay for the first time, Malcolm had to admit that they'd done quite an impressive job. He hadn't thought about the details before, such as the fact that it was impossible to dig a hole into the deck; a problem the designers had solved by constructing an elevated area into which they'd set the pool.

Trip immediately bounded up the steps and turned around, waving for Malcolm to follow him. "You gotta look at this, Mal!"

Slowly, Malcolm followed him up the stairs, feeling as if someone had cranked up the gravity plating under his feet. In a way, the construction reminded him of the scaffolds they'd had during the French Revolution, only that there was a swimming pool rather than a guillotine waiting on top.

He mounted the last step and looked around. It was quite impressive indeed. They'd tiled the area around the pool and even part of the walls, and there was a nice arrangement of deckchairs and low tables at the back of the pool – the "leisure area", he assumed. Chang's palm tree stood in one corner next to a couple of curtained cubicles Malcolm expected were for changing.

Yes, quite nice. If one ignored the pool, that was. He hadn't expected it to be quite so... big.

Trip, in the meantime, had shed his jeans and t-shirt, revealing a pair of trunks printed with large yellow and orange flowers. He tossed his clothes unceremoniously onto one of the deckchairs and without further ado jumped into the water. He went under and Malcolm took an instinctive step towards the pool, the old panic twisting his stomach. Then, Trip's wet head broke through the surface and Malcolm relaxed slightly when he saw the wide grin on the Chief Engineer's face.

"Come on in!" Trip waved at him. "Water's great!"

Malcolm managed a weak smile back and began to make his way to the changing cubicles. He'd taken a shower before coming here, but hadn't thought of putting on his trunks when he got dressed. Maybe his subconscious had still nurtured the hope that he wouldn't have to wear them, after all.

He closed the curtain behind him and unfolded the small bundle he'd brought: towel, trunks, bottle of drinking water. Now all he needed was his courage.

It was ridiculous, that the mere sight of a water-filled basin should reduce him to this. He was no frightened six-year-old, and he'd passed his required swimming tests in training; he'd actually done quite well in them. In comparison, the prospect of treading water and tossing a ball back and forth wasn't so terrible. Was it?

The pineapple trunks fit perfectly, he noticed as he slipped into them. Maybe that was a good sign.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the cubicle. Trip was doing laps around the pool and Malcolm watched, admiring the laid-back ease of Trip's strokes. The man was clearly in his element.

As if he'd realized that he had an audience, Trip raised his head and smiled, then swam over to where Malcolm was standing.

"Probably the last time in a while that I get the place to myself," he said and pulled himself onto the edge. "This is the single best idea Command had since they got rid of the anti-fraternization rules."

"I thought it was the Captain's idea."

"It was, but Forrest pushed it through." Trip plopped back into the pool, sloshing water over Malcolm's bare feet. "You coming in?"

"We should probably get everything ready," Malcolm said. That was why they'd come here earlier, to set up the goals Trip had quickly assembled out of two nets and several aluminium rods.

Trip indicated the two frames that were sitting in a corner by the stairs. "If you hold them, I can fix them from in here."

Malcolm nodded; he was fine with any plan that allowed him to stay on firm ground. The aluminium constructions came with two hooks that went over the edge of the pool, and all Trip had to do was to tighten a couple of screws to hold them in place. Malcolm wondered why the Chief Engineer had enlisted his help for this, then remembered that Trip had probably thought he was doing him a favor.

"How does it look?" Trip wanted to know after the second goal was fastened to the edge. Malcolm surveyed the scene. It looked like a pool with two aluminium frames attached to each end, but he knew that wasn't what Trip wanted to hear.

"Almost like the real thing," he said.

"Great," Trip smiled and dove under, swimming the length of pool under water before he emerged at the other end, dripping wet and grinning. "Come on in, we can still do a couple of laps before the others come."

Malcolm had just opened his mouth to excuse himself somehow – going to the bathroom came to mind, or maybe an emergency in the Armory – when the door opened and the Captain came in, followed by Travis, Hoshi and Phlox.

"Malcolm," Archer smiled at him as he climbed the stairs. "All ready to get started I see."

Malcolm was saved from answering by a strange noise from the foot of the stairs. He didn't recognize it immediately for what it was, and only when Archer turned around did he realize that it was Porthos producing the sound, growling in a way he'd never heard before.

Archer went back down the stairs, and Malcolm could hear him talking quietly to the dog. "Come on, boy, what's up? What's wrong? You afraid of something?"

To Malcolm, it seemed obvious that he was, and he wondered why Captain Archer had brought the dog here. Surely beagles couldn't be trained to play water polo, especially not Porthos; he knew for a fact that the Captain's dog didn't even play fetch. Personally, he'd always found that rather endearing; really, why should anyone want to run after a rubber ball?

Or dive after it. Cats would never do that kind of thing. Malcolm had always liked cats.

In the meantime, Archer had solved the problem by simply picking Porthos up and carrying him up the stairs. Porthos didn't seem too happy about it; he was still growling, a low, dangerous sound that turned into a loud bark once he came in sight of the pool.

"Fascinating," Phlox commented. "I had no idea canines were afraid of water."

"They're not," Archer said, with a rather confused look at his unhappy dog. "At least they shouldn't be... quiet, Porthos!"

Porthos let out another bark as if in defiance, then went back to his quiet growling of before. When Archer set him down on the tiles, Malcolm saw that the dog's tail was firmly tucked behind his hind legs.

Trip had climbed onto the edge of the pool where he sat, dripping wet and holding out a hand to the dog.

"C'mon, Port, what's up, buddy? What d'you say the two of us go for a swim?"

Porthos didn't seem at all enthusiastic at the suggestion. Usually he'd run to Trip, lick his hand and allow the engineer to ruffle the fur behind his ears, but now he only retreated further.

"Poor little guy," Hoshi said. She'd slipped out of her clothes, revealing a black, one-piece bathing suit beneath. "I don't think he wants to go for a swim, Trip."

"He's never behaved like this before." Archer frowned at the cowering dog. "I wonder what's wrong with him."

Malcolm thought that it was fairly obvious what was wrong with Porthos; growling and cowering didn't seem such an absurd reaction in the face of a huge and dangerous body of water that could easily swallow small beagles. Or Armory Officers.

He startled when someone clapped him on the back. "Nice trunks," Travis said, and Malcolm sighed inwardly.

"Thank you," he replied, aware that Trip was in hearing range and probably listening. "I like them too. Something different."

"Very different."

"Yes," Malcolm glowered at the helmsman, his back to the pool so Trip wouldn't see his expression. "Very."

Travis grinned but didn't press the subject.

"So, Captain, how do we proceed from here?"

Malcolm turned and was faced with the rather surreal sight of Phlox in a pair of bright green swimming trunks. The doctor looked if he couldn't wait to jump in and participate in yet another fascinating human sport.

"We split up into our teams," Archer indicated for Travis and Hoshi to move over to the far side of the pool. "We should probably do a few practice rounds before we play a real match, get the rules down and everything."

Malcolm watched Phlox climb down the ladder, surprised when the doctor gracefully slipped into the pool and began to part the water with strong strokes. The doctor didn't exactly look like the typical athletic swimmer, but he seemed to feel quite at home.

"Malcolm?" Trip asked. "You coming in?"

Malcolm couldn't think of any reason why he shouldn't, except that he didn't like the way the water sloshed against the edge of the pool, or the way it would close around his ankles as if it wanted to drag him down.

He started to walk towards the ladder. Two and a half meters to the bottom, he thought. We got the shallow end, which means that it's only about 1,60. His feet would just be able touch the tiled floor. He might still be required to tread water at some point, but he wouldn't... float. He hated the idea of floating. Even the word itself sounded unpleasant, like a viscous liquid filling his mouth.

The ladder looked sturdy enough, so that part shouldn't be too bad. He turned his back to the pool and kept his eyes firmly on the opposite wall, staring at the tiles as he slowly, slowly lowered his right foot and set it down on the first step that was under water. The water was cool, and if he didn't move, he could almost ignore that it was there. Almost.

Left foot. He noticed that he was gripping the ladder too hard and deliberately loosened his grip, forcing himself to concentrate on the wall tiles. They were pale blue, as was the floor and the pool itself. He began to count them, starting with the topmost row. It took him twenty tiles to get down another step. Now his knees were almost immersed, and he could feel the water moving, sloshing around.

"Mal, you okay?"

That was Trip. Suddenly Malcolm remembered that a lot of people thought it was great fun to grab someone and dunk them under. Clinging to the ladder, half-in and half out of the water, he probably presented the ideal target.

"Fine," he managed, and forced himself to climb down another step. It was easier with his eyes closed, he noticed. Then again, that way he couldn't distract himself by counting the tiles, and he needed to distract himself. If he didn't, he'd start wondering how the hell he was going to get through an entire game of water polo if he couldn't even climb into the pool, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

Back at Training Camp, he'd used to go through weapons schematics in his mind, adjusting the components and calculating trajectories. And, although he would never tell anyone, he'd usually had a glass of whisky or two before he joined the rest of the trainees at the pool. No one had ever noticed, and it had helped. Maybe he should have finished the bottle of scotch he had in his quarters before coming here.

This was ridiculous. He knew nothing was going to happen to him, and he knew that he could easily keep himself afloat once he let go. There was that word again. Malcolm gritted his teeth and let himself slip into the water, one hand still on the ladder.

He could do this. He could. He had passed a test, for God's sake.

Somehow, the first stroke he did carried him to the edge of the pool, and his hands reached out seemingly on their own. He couldn't seem to let go no matter what he told himself. It wasn't safe.

Trip appeared next to him, a concerned expression on his face.

"Malcolm, are you sure you're-"

An explosion of sound from the other end of the pool interrupted him. Malcolm turned his head and saw Porthos, a small bundle of fury, running back and forth next to the pool and barking like crazy. The Captain had joined Hoshi and Travis in the water, staring in disbelief at his snarling beagle.

"Porthos, stop it!"

The frenzied barking grew louder at the sound of Archer's voice. For a moment, it seemed as if Porthos would fling himself into the pool to save his master, but his heroism failed him at the last second and he backed off again, howling and barking even louder than before.

"Porthos!" Archer swam to the edge and began to climb out of the water. Porthos watched carefully until his master was finally standing on firm ground again. Only then did he come closer and tried to lick Archer's hand, his little tail wagging like a windshield wiper on high speed.

Hoshi laughed. "I don't think Porthos is going to let you back in, sir."

Archer crouched down next to his dog, trying to reassure the trembling animal. "I don't understand it. He's never been like this before."

"You never took him swimming before," Trip pointed out. "Looks like Porthos here has aquaphobia."

Somehow, the word registered with Malcolm in a way nothing else had, and he suddenly found that he could move again. It wasn't even that hard to let go of the edge and do the two strokes over to the ladder, and when his feet touched the steps, the cold panic in his stomach was almost gone.

He climbed out of the water, and sighed with relief when he felt the firm, smooth tiles under his feet.

"Sir, if you don't mind I could take Porthos for a walk."

Archer looked up at him. "Are you sure, Malcolm?"

Malcolm allowed himself a tiny smile that only Archer could see, relieved when he saw understanding on the Captain's face. "Quite sure, sir. I could ask Ensign Müller to stand in for me. From what I hear, he's quite a good handball player."

Archer nodded. "Okay then. I think Porthos could do with a little change of scenery."

Malcolm went over to the comm, trying very hard to keep the emerging grin off his face. He wasn't going to have to go back in. And even though Archer might suspect that he wasn't exactly disappointed, he hadn't embarrassed or made a fool of himself.

He punched the comm button. "Reed to Armory."

"Müller here."

"Just the man I was looking for," Malcolm smiled.

"Sir?"

"Would you by any chance be interested in joining a game of water polo, Ensign? If you're not too busy, that is."

"Really?" Müller sounded excited, Malcolm noted with relief. "Sir?"

"Really," Malcolm said. "We're all set to get started, but I'm afraid something's come up and I won't be able to play. I thought, since you're a handball player-"

"I'll be right there!" It was the first time ever that Müller had interrupted his superior. Malcolm could almost picture the man jumping up and down next to the comm, and wondered not for the first time why the prospect of fooling around in several hundred gallons of water had so many people trembling with ecstasy.

Not that he was complaining. "Thank you, Ensign."

"I'll go get my swimming trunks!" Müller signed off, and Malcolm turned around to Archer.

"I believe Ensign Müller's happy to stand in for me."

"Well then," Archer bent down and picked Porthos up, "I'll guess I'll see you two later."

It was a good thing that Chef still owed him a favor, Malcolm thought as he went over to the changing cubicles. He needed cheese, and he needed a lot of it. As far as he was concerned, Porthos had never deserved it more than he had today.

Malcolm settled back on his bunk and reached for the book on his nightstand. He'd borrowed it from Hoshi a few days ago; a thriller about a desert kidnapping which mostly revolved around the hostages' long march through dry and hot terrain. After today, the idea seemed rather appealing.

There was a soft snore from the foot of the bed, and Malcolm lowered his padd, smiling at the sight. Porthos had fallen asleep, his long ears flopping over his eyes. The empty plate next to him was sparkling clean, not a single crumb left. Malcolm had discovered that Porthos had quite the distinguished taste when it came to cheese, and preferred Blue Stilton over everything else.

He turned back to his padd and had just found the passage where he'd left off when the door signal chimed.

"Come in," he called, and quickly laid the padd aside. It was probably Archer who had come for Porthos. He should've hidden the plate, he thought as he got up. After all, Porthos wasn't officially allowed to have cheese, even if it had only been a few slices.

When he saw who his visitor was, Malcolm smiled, relieved. Trip's hair was still slightly damp and he had a towel slung across his shoulder as if he'd come straight from the pool. He probably had, Malcolm realized, even though it was almost three hours ago that he'd left Cargo Bay 2 with Porthos in tow.

"Hey Mal." Trip grinned when he saw the sleeping beagle. "Looks like you two are havin' a good time."

"We are, actually." Malcolm sat back down on his bed, indicating for Trip to take a seat on the sofa. "So, who won?"

Trip sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jon's team won the first game, but then Bernhard wanted a re-match and our team won. Then Jon wanted to play again and we got a tie, so he and Bernhard decided to play one-on-one with Travis and me as goalies."

Malcolm blinked. "Who won?"

"Jon, but it was close. Bernhard's got a mean left throw."

"I'm sure the Captain appreciated his efforts."

Trip grinned tiredly. "Jon's ecstatic. The two of them are sitting in the messhall right now and discussing who to pick for their team."

"A water polo team?" Malcolm hoped with all his heart that Müller wouldn't feel obligated to suggest his superior as a possible addition.

"Yep. They're gonna practice twice a week from now on."

"You're not going to play then?" Malcolm asked. He'd noticed that Trip had said "they" rather than "we".

Trip shook his head. "Naw, don't think so. Water polo's fun once in a while, but generally I'd rather do laps. I'm not into team sports all that much. Besides..." He grinned a little. "I don't think I'll make it onto their list, anyway."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "No?"

Trip shook his head. "Not after I let in that last-minute goal. I think Bernhard wanted to dunk me under."

Malcolm grinned at the mental image. "He wouldn't dunk a superior officer."

"Oh, I don't know. The man's a maniac in the pool, almost as bad as Jon."

"Then I suppose it was a good thing he stood in for me."

"Yeah." Trip gave him a long look, then, "You didn't seem too disappointed that you didn't get a chance to play."

Malcolm sighed. He'd known when he'd left the cargo bay that Trip had noticed, even if no one else had. Well, it would've been difficult not to notice, with him clinging to the pool's edge like that.

"No," he admitted. "I wasn't."

"Oh."

"I have aquaphobia," Malcolm said, and it wasn't nearly as hard as he'd imagined. He smiled a little. "Just like Porthos, it seems."

Trip nodded slowly. "So why d'you agree to play?"

"I didn't exactly want to bring it up in front of everybody," Malcolm said, avoiding Trip's eyes as he reached out to pet the sleeping dog. "Besides, we needed an even number of players for the teams."

Besides, I thought I could do it. He was still slightly ashamed of the way he'd panicked, holding on to the ladder for dear life.

"I'd appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us."

Trip nodded. "I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you want. I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of, though."

Malcolm shrugged. "I suppose not."

"So what happened?"

Malcolm looked back at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what made you so afraid of water?"

"Nothing," Malcolm shook his head. "I didn't almost drown as a child, or anything like that. I've just always been afraid of water. I don't know why."

Trip nodded again and then rubbed his hand across his nose, the way he always did when he was embarrassed. "Sorry I rambled on about the pool like that. Must've gotten on your nerves after a while."

It had, but Malcolm wasn't going to say so. He smiled. "It's fine."

And it was, he realized. Maybe it could have been fine from the very beginning, if he hadn't been so blockheaded and had just told them.

Porthos sighed in his sleep and turned onto his back, and Malcolm obligingly began to scratch the dog's tummy. There had been a time when he hadn't approved of having pets aboard, but that was long ago. Pets did no harm, and if you thought about it, pools didn't either. Not really.

A low sound came from the sofa, and Malcolm glanced up again. Trip's head was drooping onto his chest, and the towel had slipped out of his hands as he snored softly. Obviously, three hours of water polo had taken their toll.

Malcolm got up and spread a blanket over the sleeping man before he settled back down on the bed with his book, at ease with himself and the world. He began to read while Trip and Porthos slept, their soft snoring filling the otherwise quiet room.

FIN

A piece of cheese for everyone who leaves a review :)!