A Fine Mess

A Fine Mess

A Fine Mess

By Chianna

PG - Action/Adventure/Romance

DISCLAIMER: Paramount is master of this universe, my little corner is mortgaged to the hilt so don’t sue me. I’m just taking these characters out for a little ride and I promise to return them with no dents or dings.

First Time Fan Fic Writers Lament: Though a fan for years, a canon to me is just something you shoot – any violations are completely unintentional and I appreciate any suggestions. R&R please and I promise (hope) this will get better as I go.

Alternate Title: Trip Tucker and the Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad, No Good Day, Week or however long this story lasts.

Chapter 1 - Something’s Burning

I’d be equally as willing/ For a Dentist to be drilling/ Than to ever let a woman in my life. – Prof. Higgins in My Fair Lady

08:00

Working on one of a series of burned out relays after their latest “encounter” with a less than friendly first contact, Charles “Trip” Tucker decided that there really was not much to this diplomacy thing. He had already formulated a theory that he was more than willing to share with Subcommander T’pol. The aliens they encountered seemed to have only 3 basic agendas:

1. Help us please, since we can’t help ourselves.

2. Help us please, but did we happen to mention that we have a hidden agenda and you’re not gonna like it?

3. Who the hell invited your sorry asses over here? Does anyone have a firing solution locked on ‘em yet?

“Maybe, I should design a sensor net that analyzes alien intentions. I could beta test it on T’pol,” Trip grumbled to no one in particular.

Speak of the devil, he thought, as it seemed just thinking of her seemed to materialize her in front of him faster than a transporter beam.

As T’pol approached, she fixed Trip with an assessing glare, “The Captain has asked for me to assess your progress on getting the sensor array and transporters back online.”

Come to think of it, mused Trip, have I ever seen any other look on a Vulcan’s face, but an “assessing glare?” Trip fixed the Vulcan with a lopsided grin. “Well let me see, we have twenty-seven fried relays. I have three teams work’n on repairing ‘em and they’ve taken care of fifteen in the last 3 hours. This one here would make sixteen. So, hmmmm, if I fall back on my elementary algebra…we should have this all wrapped up in less than 3 hours.”

“Commander,”

Wait! Was that a flash of exasperation, on T’pol’s face? Well, I have managed to tweak at least one emotion from her consistently, he wryly concluded.

“Your mastery of rudimentary mathematics is not presently at issue here. We are currently occupying a seemingly hostile area of space and the scanner’s functionality is critical to assessing our tactical exposures. Is there anyway to expedite your efficiency?”

Trip exchanged glare for neutral stare for a moment. I guess the old adage “if you can’t dazzle ‘em with intelligence, baffle ‘em with bull shit” does not apply in the Subcommander’s case, he thought.

“We’ll prioritize sensor relays. There’s certainly no place ‘round here anyone would care to beam down to anyway. Tell the Capt’n, he can count on the sensors up and run’n in the next hour.

“That shall be adequate Commander,” replied T’pol. She gracefully turned and glided out of view leaving a frosted Chief Engineer holding a spanner in a way that it was not designed and contemplating potential uses that surely were not identified in the tool’s initial design specs.

“Your welcome, your royal Vulcan princess…She is the most piss-tercating female anything I have ever had the misfortune to…” mumbled Trip, he thought to himself.

“Talk to? Have you ever contemplated why she seems to bring out the worst in your sorry excuse of what you loosely refer to as communication?” injected Reed as he rounded the corner leading to engineering. “By the by, that panel seems to be smoking behind you.”

Trip spun and sighed as he contemplated life, smoking relays and his penchant for being the human equivalent of a comic straight man for the universe. “Are you here to help or to further point out my failings as a Chief Engineer? Right now I don’t need hecklers in the cheap seats.”

Malcolm shrugged, adding “As Armory Officer I have a vested interest in seeing the sensors up and running. So the Captain said that I could lend you assistance. But if you’d rather I didn’t…”

“Stop right there, Mister Reed. Consider yourself drafted into Engineering – with my thanks.” Tapping the comm panel, Trip notified the other engineering teams of the sensor relay repair priority. He turned, smiling to himself and thought, maybe, just maybe my luck is finally turning.

The universe had other ideas.

Continue to Chapter 2

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