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"Strike Three"
Rating: PG Penny For Your Thoughts (3) Archer had stopped really listening to Malcolm five halls ago. Typical of Malcolm, he had gone into great detail of explaining why he needed to route more power to the cannons and Archer had already decided the answer was yes six halls ago. He was now politely waiting for Malcolm to finish babbling so he could tell him. Meanwhile, he was mentally composing a report to Starfleet detailing their last contact with aliens. “Sir?” Malcolm said. “Yeah?” Archer replied, focusing his mind back on the conversation. “So all of that will be all right, sir?” Malcolm finished, looking sidelong at Archer. “Yes,” Archer said. “Of course. You have my permission to proceed.” Malcolm stopped short. Archer didn’t notice Malcolm wasn’t beside him or talking until he was about to turn a corner. Archer turned, looking back at Malcolm. Malcolm had a finger pressed against his lips and was trying not to laugh. Archer walked back to him. “What’s wrong?” Archer asked Malcolm. “Sir,” Malcolm chuckled. “Sir, I really don’t think you heard most of what I’ve been talking about.” “Sure I did,” Archer protested, to proud to admit that he hadn’t been listening to his Lieutenant. “I heard everything you were talking about and you have my approval.” “Oh! My mistake, sir. My sincerest apologies for accusing you of not listening to me.” A sly smile played at the corners of his lips. “I’ll get started right away blowing those holes in the decks E and F.” “What?” “The holes, sir, that you just gave me your approval to make. Would you like me to go over that part of the request again?” “Holes for what?” “Sir,” Malcolm lowered his voice, but the mischievous glint that Archer had seen only a few times appeared his eyes, “I hate to insult you again, but were you really listening to me? I asked if I could blow holes in decks E and F to make room for an Olympic sized swimming pool.” Malcolm pressed his lips together in a tight smile and was holding in his laughter. Archer smiled, looking down. “No, Mister Reed, I don’t approve of that. However,” Archer looked up at him. “If you need permission to route more power to the canons, I don’t have a problem with it. Just make sure you talk to Trip first.” Archer turned to continue his journey back to the bridge. Malcolm cleared his throat, crossing his arms across his chest. “And, uhm, what of the elephant, sir?” Malcolm asked. Archer slowed to a stop. He turned, smiling at Malcolm’s ornery smirk. Archer walked back to stand in front of Malcolm. He crossed his arms, asking, “How much of this did you really say?” “Well, sir,” Malcolm grinned. “I asked about getting a pet elephant for the children and the swimming pool. I also asked if you thought a wet T-shirt contest would boost moral. You muttered something close to yes. And then I asked about you putting in a request to make Chef the captain. You nodded and said that sounded good.” Archer laughed. “Was there anything I didn’t I agree to?” Malcolm thought. “Yes, sir. I also asked if we could pick a fight with the Klingons to test out the weapons. That you did mutter something like ‘We’ll see.’” Archer leaned toward Malcolm. “Dismissed, Lieutenant Reed.” Malcolm grinned. “Aye, Captain,” Malcolm turned and walked in the direction they had just come. “Oh, and Malcolm...” Malcolm stopped and turned. “Yes, sir?” Archer grinned. “I think Chef would make a lousy captain. He’d want to battle with lemon meringue pies and blueberry pancakes. I don’t think that would damage many ships. You’d be very disappointed in his tactical abilities, I’m afraid.” “Yes, sir, that I would.” Malcolm walked away, chuckling to himself. Archer turned and continued toward the bridge. |
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