Surprise

Surprise

by: SandyKitten

Email: (sandykitten22@yahoo)
Season 1 or 2--happy fluff from happier times.
CATEGORY: Humor/General; Trip/Reed friendship, Trip/T’Pol, Trip/Archer friendship (implied).
RATING: G
FEEDBACK and ARCHIVING: “The system works, the system called: reciprocity” (Chicago). I love feedback, as long as it’s done politely. In fact, my life is beginning to revolve around it… is this natural? As for archiving, absolutely! Just as long as you ask first. ;-)
DISCLAIMER: Virtually all of this, sans plot, is somebody else’s…. Paramount, or the Star Trek Powers That Be, I don’t know. It’s not mine.
NOTES: Set in mid-Season 2 or earlier… This was posted on ff.net a while ago, but it’s been revised and impeccably betaed by Sam Q, to whom I give my heartfelt thanks and admiration of authoring talent!
______________________

“Absolutely not!”

Trip’s outraged expression was entirely too innocent to be believed. “Aw, come on, Mal! You know it’s for a good cause!”

“I will not –“ Reed looked about nervously, making sure the armory was deserted apart from themselves, and lowering his voice just in case. The irrepressible engineer’s plans always seemed to involve them ending up in, well, compromising positions and a good deal more trouble than was strictly necessary. It was, in Reed’s opinion, a good idea to not have any witnesses who could conceivably add “conspiracy to commit mayhem” charges at their court-martial. “I will not break into the security overrides! Especially not the ones for the Captain’s quarters!”

Malcolm had very vivid memories of some of the commander’s last ideas, and had no desire to repeat them, no matter how much his friend resembled nothing so much as a kicked puppy at his flat refusal. Sub-commander T’Pol had decidedly not brought anything cute and cuddly to mind when the two officers had been unceremoniously dumped on their hands and knees in front of her on the bridge after ‘exploring’ the repair station, nor had the Captain after their ‘vacation’ on Risa. And Reed didn’t even want to think about last April Fool’s Day. Even Phlox wasn’t sure if the scar would go away or not.

“No one’s going ta find out, Mal! It’ll only take a minute!”

Reed’s stoic features didn’t change.

Trip tried a different tack. “Just think of it as doing a favor for the Cap’n. You know he’s been feeling a bit down lately. This is just what he needs!”

Malcolm’s disbelieving grey eyes told too-innocent blue what they thought of his ‘good idea’.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. “All right. I can see that doin’ friends a simple favor doesn’t mean much. I’ll just be goin’, then… I have to talk to a certain Ensign, anyway. Seems she’s been wondering who sent her those flowers on Valentine’s Day. Sure would be a shame if she never found out…”

Reed’s eyes narrowed at Trip’s retreating back. “You wouldn’t.”

Trip stopped a few feet from the door.

“I seem to recall a certain someone giving a certain someone else their shore leave so that the certain someone could get those flowers.” Trip sighed theatrically. “No good deed goes unpunished, or so they say.”

Malcolm knew no good could come of this, but Trip was a master of the skillful trap. He wouldn’t be surprised if the engineer had agreed to give up his leave with half a mind to use it in just this situation.

“All right.”

“What was that? You say somethin’, Mal?”

“All right! All right! I’ll do it.”

“Really? That’s great! I know the Cap’n’s going ta love this.”

“I hope you know this is blackmail.”

“Malcolm Reed! I’m outraged at the very thought.”

Reed scowled at him, and the engineer gave him a playful smile in return.

“Okay. Now all you have ta do is just reroute the security system so I can get in there and make these, uh, upgrades, and then just kill the security lock for a half-hour or so.”

Trip stabbed a finger at his PADD, in which his plans were listed in detail, smiling innocently while he explained as if to say, See? It’s simple, no problem at all! This is nothing at all like all those other times my plans mysteriously changed or something, totally beyond my control, went wrong and got the both of us in a teensy-weensy bit of trouble. Not at all.

Malcolm didn’t buy it for an instant, but by this point he was rather resigned to this particular escapade meeting an untimely and extremely embarrassing end.

As usual.

“You’re absolutely sure the Captain won’t have a problem with this?”

The mischievous glint in Trip’s eye, that, if Malcolm wasn’t mistaken, meant he was up to absolutely no good, wasn’t hidden by the engineer’s innocent expression. “Nah, course not! Don’t ya trust me?”

Malcolm shot him an exasperated look. “Not entirely.”

At Trip’s wounded expression, Malcolm sighed and conceded defeat.

“Fine. I’ll need a couple hours to bypass the lockout to his quarters,” which Malcolm himself had specifically designed to resist being broken, “and then you’ll have time to access what you need.”

“Good man. You’re sure you don’t want ta help with the alterations? Travis and Hoshi have, uh, volunteered their services already.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one, thanks.”

Trip grinned. “You’re a wild and crazy man, Malcolm.”

“Let’s not ruin the moment.”

Tucker’s lighthearted laugh followed him out the corridor, presumably to recruit another unsuspecting crewmember into his merry bunch of bandits.

Reed hoped he’d survive this with his rank intact.

____________________

“Sub-commander!”

T’Pol stopped in the doorway, confronted by a disturbing array of brightly colored objects strewn around the room. Strings of colored paper in obscenely mismatching colors hung in strands stretching across the ceiling, accompanied by a plethora of plastic objects in similar colors floating nearby.

Ensigns Sato and Mayweather, aided and abetted by Phlox, stood in the midst of the destruction, affixing what appeared to be a large ball covered in mirrors to the ceiling. Various crewmembers spread more clutter into the fray, while some stood, armed with still more rubbish. Some appeared to be festooning each other, for no discernable reason, and in general adding to the mayhem that had once been a relatively ordered room.

T’Pol was abruptly pulled into the room by the person calling her rank - Tucker. The engineer had bits of paper in his hair, what appeared to be pieces of adhesive stuck to his arm, and a bowl of an unidentified substance in his hand. “You’re just in time! We’re almost done.”

He shoved the bowl into her hands and turned to continue to oversee the chaos, pushing his sleeves up to rest at his elbows.

T’Pol stared at the whitish substance with distaste. It fails to surprise me that this… physical embodiment of illogic seems to be orchestrated entirely by Commander Tucker.

What was unexpected, she realized, as she continued to observe the interactions around her, was the fact that underneath the prevailing chaos was a level of control, as Tucker efficiently led the attack on aesthetics. The noise level was such that even her Vulcan hearing could not make out exactly what was said across the room, but the engineer would point out an area that had somehow managed to escape the mayhem - and seconds later it became as defiled as the rest of the room by smiling and laughing crewmembers armed to the teeth with debris of lurid pigmentation. Even Lieutenant Reed, the most stoic of his fellow humans, was smiling and pouring colored liquids into smaller containers at a table nearby.

And yet, somehow, her Vulcan sensibilities were not as affronted as they might have been. As they should have been. An unsettling observation, to say the least.

This… is an improvement to the crew morale, she finally concluded.

Still holding the container, a safe distance away from her uniform, she walked over to where Tucker was testing the sound system. Several crewmembers applauded as the lights blinked and changed color in time to what was optimistically being declared ‘music’. The engineer bowed, smiling, as the Captain’s beagle, fur changed to truly appalling shades of orange and pink, raced by in spirited pursuit of yet another floating plastic object.

“Commander?”

Tucker turned at her call, and gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Like it?”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow in disdain. “This display is offensive on levels I cannot begin to describe.”

Tucker frowned good-naturedly at her. “Whaddaya mean by that?”

She gave a pointed glance to where Mayweather, Sato, and Phlox were still struggling with the mirrored object.

“That’s a disco ball!”

“It is illogical.”

“That’s the point! Nothing about the 1970’s was logical. Parties aren’t supposed to be logical! Jeez, T’Pol, you knew what this was about when I asked you to come.”

“I was unaware that this level of chaos would be present when I agreed.”

“Come on, T’Pol,” he cajoled, “It’s not like I’m asking you to get drunk or somethin’!”

“Indeed.”

He sighed. “Well, no one’s forcing ya. If you want, think of it as a learning experience. An observation of human behavior.” At her skeptical look, he added, “Look, at these kind of things people want their friends to be there. I think I’d mean a lot to the Captain if you stayed.” And to me, he thought, but didn’t say.

T’Pol waited a beat, then offered the bowl she held stiffly. “Where shall I put this?”

Tucker’s face broke into a broad grin. “That’s the spirit, T’Pol! Uh, just put it with the other dips, where Malcolm is.”

She nodded, and made her way over to Reed, avoiding Mayweather, Sato, and Phlox, who had fallen, limbs hopelessly entwined, after succeeding in hanging the ‘disco ball’.

Placing the bowl with its fellows, T’Pol looked up as the ringleader of the entire affair checked the time and announced, “Okay, people. We’ve only got a few minutes. Places!”

Nonplussed, she followed the tide of crewmembers, giggling and talking excitedly, as they began to crouch behind a large table bearing a cake emblazoned with the words “Happy Forty-Third, Captain Archer!” and what seemed to be candles, (“The trick kind!” she heard someone say) a definite fire hazard. Reaching into a large bag, Tucker began handing out cone-shaped devices, as garishly ornamented as the rest of the room.

Tucker shoved one into her hands, cheerfully instructing her to “Put it on!”

T’Pol regarded it as if it were a snake posed to strike.

Tucker laughed. “Here, I’ll help you.” Turning it so that the tip faced upwards, he placed the cone on her head gently, spreading the elastic under her chin and brushing it lightly behind her ears.

“It’s a hat, T’Pol,” he chuckled, misinterpreting her sudden stiffness at the unexpectedly pleasant sensation of his fingers touching the tips of her ears.

“My head is not cold.”

“Yeah,” Ensign Sato’s voice added to the groans of dissent. “Why do we have to wear these things again?”

“Because,” the engineer said in all seriousness, snapping his own hat’s elastic sharply, “It’s tradition!”

A few minutes later, all the hats had been given out, along with strict instructions given not to remove them, and T’Pol found herself facing the pink-and-orange beagle, adorned with a miniature version of the abomination the rest of the crew wore grudgingly, its tail waving aimlessly from side to side. It is a testament to Commander Tucker’s charisma – and lack of taste - that the entire crew’s dignity has become a thing of the past.

Tucker turned the lights out with a last smile to T’Pol and an, “Everybody ready?”

After the vigorous shouts of assent had died down, T’Pol chanced a soft question to Sato, who was to her immediate left. “Ensign, why are the lights out?”

Before she could answer, hisses of, “Quiet! He’s coming!” and “Sssshh!” remonstrated the room in general. Interesting. We appear to be concealing ourselves from someone, in the dark, behind the questionable protection of a large folding table. Yet, this activity would normally be accompanied by a feeling of fear or apprehension, which is at odds with the stated purpose of this gathering. Illogical. Paradoxical, to be precise. However… it is typical behavior of Commander Tucker.

And then, the sound of the door opening reached her ears, the lights came on, and –

“SURPRISE!!!”
___________

*end*

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Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

A whole mess of folks have made comments

Wonderful story. The thoughts were sooo T´Pol! LOL! I liked it very much!

Oh, I´ve forgotten something: More?

Nice... very nice.

Okay, superb build up, come on now - we need a PARTY!!!!!!! Illogical but ESSENTIAL! Ali D :~)
Hip hip...

Loved it! Totally Season2 T'Pol. I loved how you looked at the entire thing through her eyes. Because of your great descriptions, I can definitely see how it would offend her delicate sensibilities. :D)

Very well written. Very true to character. Will we see a part two to follow...the party?

AND?? Where's the rest of it!? It's great so far. :)

Thank you all for your kind comments! I hadn't planned on making a part 2 - I'm working on another, much, much longer T/T story that is currently working on ME... ;-/ I'll see what I can do!
Thanks again,
-Sandy

Struff,stop calling him mal its a sheila's(womens)name!Malcome is a bloke's(mans)name and hes a bloke whatever his sexual preference.True to character and entertaining story,thankyou Hoo-Roo.

Rising eyebrows, wonders where in the world "Mal" is a woman's name. It isn't in any part of England *I* know of.

Mal is often short for Mallory here. I call my friend that. LOL. I kind of liked it. If I were Malcolm I'd be pissed, but maybe he doesn't get it either.

Mellony!its a sheila's name.When I was a girl I had a mate with that name hence my previous whinge.The character of Malcom in the show is an attractive man and there-for Id like him to have a blokey (manly) nic name.That was all my above whinge was about,have a nice one (day or night) and Hoo-roo.

Love it! "debris of lurid pigmentation." Excellent.