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"Chocophoria"
Rating: PG-13 Please read and review! Thanks! Six Trip Tucker nodded as Lieutenant Anna Hess finished up a routine repair on the secondary environmental circuits. “Thanks for doin’ this. I know this isn’t your shift.” “Well, I heard Mike got his knee hurt and I thought I’d help out,” Hess said. “How’s he doing?” “Restin’ comfortably in his quarters. Half of the department’s been by to see if he needs anythin’.” Hess nodded and said, “I’d better go check up on him, then. Just in case.” “I think he’d really appreciate that, Anna,” Trip said. He watched as his second-in-command disappeared down the access ladder to the lower deck. Hmmm...somethin’ going on here I don’t know about? He inclined his head, then chuckled. Naaah. Anna and Mike? They’re at each other’s throats all the time. She’s more likely to push him out an airlock. Still, that’s a nice gesture, checkin’ up on him after he got nailed by that spanner—huh? Wait a minute. There, at the edge of the deck, lay the spanner in question. Trip frowned and picked it up. It had to be someone else’s, since he’d put his own in his toolbox so no one else would stumble over it. But, he ran his finger along one edge of it and felt his initials scratched on the side: CT III. On its other side was another set of initials: IS 2148. Yeah, I oughta give Isabel her spanner back sometime, he thought with a nostalgic smile, but it’ll be a while, so I gotta take care of it for her. Keep it away from spanner thieves like Mike. He chuckled again and put the spanner in his belt, then climbed down the ladder. “Archer to Tucker.” Trip headed for the wall com. “Tucker here, Cap’n.” “Trip, I need to see you in my Ready Room right away.” “On my way, Cap’n.” Ten minutes later, he gave Jon Archer and T’Pol a look of disbelief. “Come again?” he asked. T’Pol didn’t quite sigh, but she gave Trip a look of exasperation. “I asked whether or not you have noticed anything amiss in the behavior patterns of your engineering staff.” He thought for a long moment. “Well, Mike Rostov slipped on my spanner in the conduits and needed help gettin’ to Sickbay. Some of the guys in Cargo Bay 2 accidentally moved the wrong cargo container and the whole row fell on ‘em. Hess asked about Rostov’s condition, but that’s ‘cause she was concerned about him. But nothin’ serious, like anyone going crazy or anythin’ like that.” “Have you heard anything from the Armory this morning?” Jon asked. Trip frowned. “Come to think of it, no. Then again, doesn’t Malcolm have the day off today?” “So does Hoshi. So does Travis,” added Jon. “All three of them on the same day? That’s kinda weird. They’re not sick or anything, are they?” T’Pol shook her head and said, “There has been an unusual number of accidents of board the ship since we left Dnayu. Also, there has also been an alarming rate of shift-trading among the crew. Other department heads have noticed subtle differences in the behavior of their subordinates, not drastic, but enough to be noticed.” Trip frowned as he digested the information. “You’re sayin’ the crew’s under the influence of somethin’? Like a drug?” Jon and T’Pol glanced at each other, and Trip saw some kind of unspoken communication between the two. What the hell’s going on here? Never seen the two of ‘em share that kinda expression before. There somethin’ goin’ on I don’t know about? Trip was surprised at the surge of jealousy that accompanied that thought. Whoa. Hold yer horses, Tucker. The captain turned his attention back to Trip. “When you had the mokka last night, did you experience any...strange effects?” The engineer shrugged and said, “The piece I had tasted like pecans covered in chocolate. At Chef’s little reception at the dining hall, I sat with Hoshi, Liz and Phlox and we had some of the cookies and the cake. Gave me quite a sugar buzz, kinda like when I’ve had too many cups of coffee...” Again, Jon and T’Pol traded glances, then T’Pol asked, “Who was at the reception?” Trip nearly retorted his answer, then he remembered that neither T’Pol nor Jon had been there. He forced his tone to be calm. “Let’s see...everyone who attended Movie night...Mike Rostov, Anna Hess, me, Liz, Phlox, Hoshi, Ensign Mueller from the Armory, Ethan Novakovich...” He frowned. “Malcolm was there for the first movie, but then he got called away to the Armory for an emergency.” “Did everyone eat their piece of mokka, in addition to what was at the reception?” asked T’Pol. Trip tried to remember. “I think so, wait—no. Ensign Trace and Crewman Vishna are both allergic to chocolate, so they gave their pieces to other people, and they opted for the non-mokka treats at the reception. As I said, Malcolm left early, and I hadn’t seen him eat his, but he could’ve done it later.” “I have asked Doctor Phlox to do physical scans of some crewmembers who ingested the mokka, myself included,” T’Pol said. “He should have those scans analyzed by now.” “Let’s check.” Jon tapped the com button on his desk. “Archer to Phlox.” The Denobulan’s answer was immediate. “Phlox here, Captain.” “Doctor, do you have your scans completed?” T’Pol asked. “I have just completed them, and there have been some rather disturbing results. I was about to call you to Sickbay.” Jon and Trip exchanged looks. “We’re on our way, Doctor. Archer, out.” They went to the Ready Room door, expecting it to open for them, but Archer walked right into it. He staggered back, holding his hand. “Ow!” he yelled. “What the—“ “Are you injured, Captain?” asked T’Pol. She put a steadying hand on his arm as Archer tried to regain his balance. Trip frowned as her hand remained on that arm a second longer than necessary. “Just my pride, T’Pol,” he said ruefully. “I don’t remember setting the locking mechanism.” Trip opened his mouth, but caught himself again before he said something stupid. T’Pol touched the controls, but nothing happened. “The door is not locked. The control mechanism is jammed, Captain.” “Let me at ‘em. I oughta be able to hotwire ‘em open,” Trip said, and he proceeded to open the panel and fiddle with the circuits. “Armory to Captain Archer.” Jon went back to the com button and pushed it. “Archer.” “Sir, the Armory doors are jammed shut. No one can get in or out,” came the heavily Germanic voice of Ensign Mueller. “I’ve alerted Lieutenant Commander Reed, but he’s not answering his page.” “Malcolm’s not answering a call from the Armory?” Trip repeated in a tone of utter astonishment. “Bernhard, you sure?” “I’ve called everywhere I could think of, Commander Tucker: his quarters, the Mess Hall, the Observation Lounge, the gym—“ “Where the hell could he be??” Trip burst out. Suddenly, he remembered the look on Hess’s face when she asked about Rostov, then his mind made a completely illogical leap. He sighed and looked back at Jon, who seemed to be coming to the same conclusion. “Um, Bernhard—“ “Sir?” “Did you try Lieutenant Sato’s quarters?” There was an awkward silence on the com. T’Pol raised her eyebrow, but said nothing. Finally, Mueller stammered, “Uh, no sir. I didn’t think to—“ “Try there. If she’s not answering her com, you might as well send a team to pick Malcolm up,” Jon said with a resigned look on his face. “We’re having trouble with the Ready Room door, so it might be a little while before we can help.” “Ah, yes, sir. Mueller, out.” The channel snapped shut. Trip shook his head; he didn’t envy Bernhard’s job, having to interrupt his boss on his day off. Then again... The com erupted again. “Skosky to Commander Tucker. We’re having trouble with the doors to Cargo Bay Two—“ “Lemme guess. Jammed shut?” “No, sir. Jammed open. We can’t get them closed.” Trip swore under his breath, not caring that his superior officers were within hearing range. “Page Hess. If she’s not there, call Kelby. I’m doin’ some repair work on the Bridge, so I’ll finish up here and get there as soon as I can.” “Yes, sir. Skosky, out.” Trip shook his head and twisted two wires together. “There, that should do it—“ Seconds passed. Then a full minute. The Ready Room doors stayed closed. Trip’s face fell. “Wait a minute—that was supposed to work—“ T’Pol looked as irritated as a Vulcan could be. “We might call Phlox and have him relay the results of his analyses that way.” Archer nodded, then switched channels yet again. “Archer to Sickbay.” There was no answer, then Archer repeated the call, with no response. “It seems like we’ve got some kinda gremlin’,” Trip said. He flashed a smile at T’Pol. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We’re gonna get outta here so you can get to your data. Just gimme a little more time.” “Thank you...Trip.” She looked over at Captain Archer and mouthed, Darlin’? Archer sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. It was going to be a long afternoon. |
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