17The Trouble with Whiskey
A/N: Follows on from 'Clearances' but it isn't necessary to have read that. There is some minor violence/cursing in this story but I've tried to keep it commensurate with what was used in the TV show. Thanks to Will for the beta. Thanks for reading and reviewing and also to Annastesia LaFayette for the suggestions. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise belongs to CBS and Paramount. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter 3 - Faithful Companions
Present time
His Chief Engineer shifted awkwardly as he stood before him, the ensuing silence broken only by the gentle hum of the ship's life support systems and the distant sounds of two crew members as they walked past the junction at the end of the corridor. Trip's shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted. Malcolm still hadn't turned to face him.
"I'll say it again," Archer commanded this time. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Just a friendly sparring match. Got a little heated, that's all."
"Right, and who… let me guess. Lieutenant?"
Reed turned to fully face Archer.
"Sir."
Archer looked at the Tactical Officer's split lip and sighed hard. Friendly sparring match. He could hazard a guess at how that had gone. However, with no current sign of any animosity between the two; they weren't at each other's throats or trying to knock seven bells out of each other he wasn't worried in the slightest although he wasn't going to let them off the hook just yet. He would, he decided, have a little fun first.
"It's just a cut, Sir. Nothing major. I'm sure I'll hardly notice it in the morning."
"Hardly. And I suppose you'll hardly notice that eye in the morning, Commander?"
"I wouldn't say that, Cap'n. Malcolm here's got a mean backhand."
"Enough!" Archer said with more than just a little force that his commander snapped his mouth shut. "Why didn't you wear protective gear?" he asked more softly.
"We were only practising blocking techniques, evasive manoeuvres, the usual drill exercises, Sir," Malcolm explained.
"And?" Archer waved his hands highlighting their injuries.
"And it was my fault, Sir," Trip stated firmly. "I escalated it, got a bit overheated. I challenged Lieutenant Reed and…"
"That's not true, Sir. I provoked the Commander."
Archer could see each of them eager to fall on his own sword and he knew he wouldn't get a straight answer from either. Chuckling inwardly he decided to let them both sweat just a little longer. "Okay, I get it. You're both to blame. And… as a result," Archer said sternly, "You," he looked pointedly at Trip, "end up with a black eye. Whilst you," he said turning to stare at Malcolm, "end up with a split lip."
As both his Chief Engineer and Armoury Officer were now looking suitably embarrassed, Archer shook his head. Satisfied that their injuries weren't too serious and knowing that both men were sensible enough to know when to use the services of Doctor Phlox he decided that the farce had gone on long enough. They both deserved a reprieve from his mock scolding. "Who won?" he asked with a glint in his eye, any hint of a reprimand gone from his voice.
"Cap'n?"
"Sir?"
"I asked who won," Archer replied eager to know the outcome. Both men were good, with test scores well above average. If he was a betting man his money would have been on the Lieutenant. Trip could be a little scrappy but he was inventive whereas Malcolm was precise, more calculated.
"Malcolm. Three points to two," Trip responded, the relief evident on the engineer's face.
"Good. Why don't you schedule some more sessions, Malcolm. Sounds like you could do with the practice, Trip."
"Aye, Sir." Malcolm smirked.
As Archer spun and walked off down the corridor back the way he came, Malcolm turned to face Trip eyeing his expression. "I wouldn't let the Captain catch you rolling your eyes at him," Malcolm said grinning.
Trip sighed as they exchanged a 'well that could have been a lot worse' look before the pair turned and began to head in the direction of the turbolift once more.
"Oh and Commander," Archer called loudly from over his shoulder, "the grav systems on E deck please. Before you both start on that bottle of Irish Whiskey you've got stashed in your quarters. You know… the one that you think I don't know about."
Tucker pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek before blowing out a deep breath. How the Hell?!
"ROSTOV!"
Trip carefully poured another two fingers of Irish whiskey into Malcolm's glass, one that he'd swiped from the mess hall, before topping up his own. He leaned forward handing a glass to Malcolm who had been relaxing for the past fifty minutes in the only tub chair in Trip's quarters. It was late. Trip slowly sat down in his desk chair and leaned back. They were already half of the way through the bottle of Irish whiskey that Trip had secretly stashed in his quarters a few months back. He took a sip and swallowed feeling the warm path the liquid left as it made its way down through his oesophagus and into his stomach.
"Rostov okay?" Malcolm asked. "I saw him coming out sickbay earlier."
"He'll be fine by morning. Don't worry, Malcolm. He'll still be okay to adjust the power flow to the armoury tomorrow if that's what's worrying you."
"Of course not." Malcolm sipped his whiskey then leant forwards towards Trip and asked in a low voice. "You didn't… you know?"
"What kind of a bastard do you think I am? I work 'em hard. I might yell at 'em sometimes but…" Trip caught sight of a glint in Malcolm's eye and a smirk beginning to form on his friend's face. He shook his head and took a sip from his glass, annoyed he'd taken the bait. "He slipped in the mess hall - twisted his ankle."
Malcolm nodded in acknowledgment.
"Just a light sprain so the Doc says. Painkillers, rest overnight – be fine by morning."
"That's good."
"Yeah. 'm keepin' an eye on him. He's a good one; young but loads of potential. Honestly, you should've seen him in sickbay; he was more embarrassed than anything else." Trip smirked and shook his head. "Poor guy. Couldn't wait to get out of there. Phlox would have had to strap him down if I hadn't left when I did."
"What's he embarrassed for? So he twisted his ankle. It could have happened to anyone."
"Nah… wasn't the ankle he was embarrassed about." Trip took another swig before locking eyes with Malcolm. "He found out that I found out he bet on you to win."
"Ah… ouch." Malcolm chuckled.
"Don't get too smug." Trip paused dramatically. "Your guy Tanner bet on me."
"Tanner! But he was... the sneaky little…"
"Now, now, Malcolm… let it go," he smirked. "Drink up."
Trip studied Malcolm as he shook his head, sighed and then downed the rest of his drink.
"You know, Trip, this is not bad stuff. I could get used to this."
Trip leaned forward and poured another measure into the proffered glass, topped up his own and then looked at Malcolm quizzically. "What d'ya like Malcolm?"
"What do you mean?"
"To do. In your… free time," he said, waving his hands around, oblivious to the whiskey that sloshed over the top of his glass and onto the floor.
"Free time?"
"Okay…so yeah, I know we, you, me, we–we haven't had much free time lately. God knows feels like months since we got any proper free time," Trip mused before taking a large swig of whiskey.
"It's been two weeks, at least I think ish been two."
"Months…weeks. You said ish."
"I did not."
The steadfast reply was followed by a painstakingly cautious attempt by the armoury office to down his glass alluding to the appearance of being in complete control. Trip was having none of it.
"'kay. Stop evading the question. C'mon, what d'ya like, Malcolm? When we do have –you know– free time. Downtime. R and R. When you wanna relax, what d'ya do?"
"Read."
"Okay," Trip said sitting up with a more formal stance before asking deadpan. "What d'ya like, Reed?"
He couldn't help the laugh that escaped and watched as Malcolm hung his head in exasperation and heard the small groan that emanated from his friend's direction. He thought he'd offended the guy and was about to apologise before Trip saw his fellow officer's shoulders starting to jiggle up and down and heard the beginnings of a low chuckle from his friend which soon morphed into a combined laughing and coughing fit.
"Sorry – couldn't resist," he said taking another sip from his glass. "What. Do. You. Like. To. Read, Reed?"
"Books."
The two officers collapsed in hysterics. Trip leaned back a little too forcefully causing his chair to wheel backwards whilst he slid forwards. Spilling a good deal of his drink in the process, Trip landed unceremoniously on his ass on the floor of his quarters. He slugged the remaining few drops of liquid. Malcolm, still sat in his chair, leaned towards him offering him a hand up but overbalanced, falling forwards onto his hands and knees unsuccessfully trying to cover his mistake.
"God this is potent," Malcolm declared approvingly. "If we run out of warp plasma, a bottle of this'll keep the ship going for a month!"
"I know," Trip chuckled grabbing the whiskey bottle from his desk and then manoeuvring into a more comfortable sitting position on the floor of his quarters. Malcolm joined him on the floor opposite and thrust his glass forward in anticipation. Trip obliged before topping up his own. "Pity this is the only bottle."
"You sure?"
"Uh huh."
"I thought he had a stash."
"I looked. Chef's been a little surr, surrepsh, supetitious… secretive recently."
"Figures. You've had quite a few bottles from his personal stash recently."
"Yeah. He's not giving anything away."
"Pity."
"'m working on it though."
They sipped in silence for a minute before Malcolm spoke up.
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah, you. I know you like movies."
"Yeah. Movies. I like movies." Trip shifted position to sit cross legged and then took a sip of whiskey. He liked lots of things but there was one thing he really truly missed. "You know what I miss, Malcolm."
"What?"
"I miss the ocean."
"The ocean?"
"Yeah, the ocean… being on the ocean, in the ocean." Trip tipped his head up and back, closing his eyes briefly as he retreated inwardly drawing a mental picture, feeling sensations past. "Oh yeah," he continued, turning his head and looking out of the window at the stars beyond, "that cool breeze, a blueness that goes on forever, a man can lose himself over and over in that, and that's just the surface you see. The best bit's when you delve deeper, what you can't see from above… well that's incredible. 's a real privilege to go under, beneath the surface 'n' take a peek at those hidden depths. You get to look into all kinds of nooks, around corners, under all kinds of rocks and when you go into uncharted territory, when you can't see, well you just have to feel your way around, uncover all those layers and then…" Trip touched his glass to his lips, pausing briefly before taking a sip and continuing, "then you go even deeper. No tellin' what you might uncover or what could be behind any one of those little nooks? One minute you're witnessing something so small but still as insanely beautiful as the… the Great Plume of Agosoria, and the next, well the next you're dodging the wrath of a Moray Eel. Never know what you're gonna get with her; beauty or danger. Never know until it's on you. It's all unknown beneath that surface. That's what's makes it so exciting–imagine exploring all that. I'm telling you, Malcolm, when she opens up to you–when those depths are uncovered–it's a wonderful thing."
Trip continued to stare out of the window in silence as Malcolm slowly sipped his drink.
"She?"
"Huh?" Trip turned to face Malcolm realising a tad too late his minor lapse whilst lost in thought.
"You said she."
"Yeah, the ocean."
"The ocean's a she?"
"Sure. Thought you of all people would've understood that, you being from Navy blood. Ocean's always been a she," he covered. "Like the Enterprise and her engines."
"I bet you named your first car too, didn't you?"
"First bicycle, car, laser micrometre, plasma torch, hyperspanner... named 'em all, and they were all a she. Take it from me, Malcolm, the ocean's a she."
"If you say so."
"I do." Trip watched Malcolm as he hesitated briefly then downed the rest of his drink.
"Well I can't say that I miss it."
"No?"
"No. Top me up will you."
The resolution with which Malcolm had replied was not lost on Trip and he filed a mental note to ask why later. Now was obviously not a good time to press him on the subject he surmised as he poured another two fingers of Whiskey into Malcolm's glass. It was when he was in the middle of stoppering the bottle that his friend sitting opposite drew his attention once more.
"It's just hard sometimes."
"How?"
"This mission. It doesn't always leave a lot of time for… other things."
"Well we knew that when we signed up, Malcolm. Besides," Trip winked, "I'm sure if you really try hard enough you'll find the time for… other things."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant."
"It's easy for you. You just give 'em a smile, offer to tweak their injectors and your plasma's in their conduits."
Trip found himself tensing. "Remind me, Malcolm, how many messages did you record to your exes when we were holed up in shuttlepod one freezing our asses off?"
"That has nothing to do with this. One, they were before I joined Enterprise and two, I certainly didn't sleep with all of them. Not everything is about sex, Trip."
"Did I say it was? You were the one who brought it up, Malcolm. Not nice is it, when friends make assumptions. You think that's all I'm interested in. You think just 'cause I get a bit of attention… just 'cause a woman flirts with me and I flirt back I must be sleeping with her," Trip spat out watching as Malcolm huffed and took a swig of whiskey. "Okay, so I'm not denying it, the attention's nice. Yeah, I like it, but that's it, Malcolm. It never goes anywhere. I don't let it. It's not an option." Not on a ship where you're the senior officer to virtually everyone on board. Trip downed the rest of the liquid in his glass.
"I, well I didn't…"
"This isn't easy for any of us, Malcolm." Trip's voice softened as he continued, "Look, just talk to people. You've got options. You're a nice guy... funny. Let people see that. Where's the easy going Malcolm that I went to Risa with? Where's the Malcolm that initiated first contact in that bar?"
"Perhaps that's the problem."
"How come?"
"Well there haven't been any bars. I mean, I can't complain but…"
"You are complaining," Trip stated.
"So I am. Well spotted. Well I don't want to complain but all we seem to have done recently is upgrades and repairs. We've had no first contacts, no second contacts, no new planets, no surveys, nothing. As for R and R… if we're lucky we get to go to 'movie night' or play the occasional game of basketball. We need some shore leave, Trip, and I think I can say with some certainty that there's definitely no Risa on the cards, not now or anytime soon."
Trip studied Malcolm noticing the slight flinch as he downed the remainder of his whiskey. The armoury officer's lip looked red and swollen around the small cut and was obviously sore although he knew Malcolm wouldn't state as much. "You're forgetting nine ball," Trip said quietly as he poured them both another measure of whiskey.
"Yeah…" Malcolm sighed before taking a sip from his newly filled glass, "only when Ensign Almack and Crewman Dillard are not hogging the table."
Trip agreed. The last few weeks had been a long slog of upgrades, repairs and routine. He thrived on adventure, needed to get off the ship, go on away missions, have first contact and meet new people. There'd been nothing and it was stifling him. "Yeah, but it's not all bad," Trip quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "At least we're not getting shot at."
"Why do you have to be so bloody optimistic?" Malcolm huffed. "I'm very well aware that we're not getting shot at and believe me I am very grateful, but we've not set foot off this ship for at least six weeks now. For all the vastness of space it's pretty claustrophobic."
"We'll get an away mission soon."
"If you say so," Malcolm replied before taking a sip from his glass.
"We have to. I'll go crazy if we don't."
"How would one tell, Commander?" Malcolm smirked.
"Hey! Alright, Lieutenant, what about this then? Say we don't get an away mission. No first contacts in sight. You're running simulations following the weapons recalibrations, right?"
Malcolm nodded.
"Well come up with some reason for a practical test. Somethin' the Captain'll go for. We can send Travis out in a shuttlepod with Tanner and Rostov. They can put a couple of markers out for shootin' practice. You'll get to blow something up," Trip stated before taking a swig from his glass. "Although with your lack of practice recently I suggest you don't start firing until the pod's safely back on Enterprise!"
"Bastard!"
Trip grinned and dodged a half-hearted slap to his leg from the armoury officer.
"Speaking of Captain Archer, how is he? Did you get his quarters fixed?"
"Pfft… done. All sorted. Five minute job when you know what you're looking for. Don't tell him that though."
"Really?"
"Really."
"I think that calls for a drink, Commander."
"I think you're right, Lieutenant," Trip replied, the sound of glass clinking as the pair non-too gracefully knocked glasses together.
The two friends sat together on the floor of Trip's quarters, happily sipping their whiskey, talking and not talking for the next thirty minutes until Trip's door comm chimed.
"Who is it?" Trip called out.
"It's me, Trip." Archer's voice rang through the comm.
Crap. Trip and Malcolm hurriedly got to their feet and swayed before sitting straight back down. Trip in his desk chair and Malcolm back in the tub chair.
"God we're in trouble, now," Trip stated.
"But we're not on duty."
"It's not that. The Cap'n'll be fine with us having a drink as long as we're okay for duty tomorrow–Phlox will help with that–and as long as we don't make a habit of it."
"What then?"
"We've drunk it all," he said holding the bottle aloft. The last remaining evidence of Whiskey sloshed at the bottom of the bottle clearly visible. Trip noted that Malcolm was understandably confused.
"There's none left?"
Trip took a swig from the bottle. "Nope."
"Not even a little?"
Trip handed Malcolm the bottle. "Here, you have a look," he said grinning.
Malcolm looked at the bottle and then downed the remaining liquid swaying a little as he did. "You're right, Commander. Not a single drop. Nothing."
"Nothing, Malcolm."
The door comm chimed again. "Is everything okay, Trip?" came Archer's disembodied voice over the link.
Trip stood, grabbed the empty bottle from Malcolm and placed it on his desk behind him, before readying himself. "It's fine Captain, come in."
Archer had already stopped by Malcolm's quarters intending to thank him for the work he and his team had been doing on the weapons recalibration but he'd got no answer. To be honest, Archer wasn't sure he'd be welcome dropping by Trip's quarters either at this late hour but he'd felt a little bad earlier ordering Trip to fix a minor intermittent problem with the grav systems in his quarters especially when the guy had looked about ready to crash. However, both he and more importantly his faithful companion were very much in his debt now that Trip had fixed the malfunction.
When he'd returned to his quarters after his evening stroll, Archer had found that Porthos had left him a little surprise and he was relieved that he probably wouldn't be needing the veterinary services of Phlox for the time being – not now that the third finger had materialised. Porthos had seemed better in himself, trying to lick Archer's hand as he stroked his head, and so after he'd finished up the daily reports and logs for Starfleet he'd left Porthos curled up in his bed sleeping peacefully as he went to find both Malcolm and Trip.
He'd already pressed Trip's door comm, announced his presence and then–when Trip had left him waiting–pressed the door comm again wondering if something was up. As it would happen, he wasn't that far off.
The door to Trip's quarters slid open and Archer entered, quickly spotting both his Chief Engineer and Tactical Officer looking more than slightly inebriated. He waved a hand in dismissal as Malcolm attempted to stand and watched the grateful armoury officer settle back into his chair. He surveyed the duo again. Trip's black eye had developed further and Malcolm's spit lip looked more puffy and red than earlier that evening when he'd caught the pair outside the gym.
"I thought I might find you both here," he said holding aloft an unopened bottle of Irish whiskey and an extra glass. "Wondered whether you would mind if I joined you?"
As he spotted the empty bottle on Trip's desk, two empty glasses were thrust in his direction. Shaking his head at the two grinning officers, Archer opened the bottle and began to pour, "Seems I arrived at just the right time."
The End
A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it. Take care and stay safe.
