Trip Tucker had gone through some embarrassing times in his life. Having a lobster firmly attach itself to him while he had been skinny-dipping on a dare several years back had been pretty bad. Having to tell T'Pol he had broken into her personal communications came to mind. But Enterprise's engineer was beginning to think that walking down a street crowded with Risans and other space tourists in nothing but his Starfleet-issued underwear had to be the worst.
Malcolm Reed was holding up better, at least outwardly. The armory officer was walking with his head up and shoulders back, while Trip felt like skulking through a back alley. *Must be that stiff upper lip,* Trip thought. Only the redness of Malcolm's ears lent any clue to what he was really feeling. Not to mention he reeked horribly. Trip had no idea what had been in that bottle he had broken to cut through their bindings, but he was (albeit guiltily) glad that most of it had gotten on his companion.
It seemed as if all the people thronging the streets were stopping and staring at the two humans. Many of them moved away quickly, hands or appendages covering whatever olfactory openings they had. Trip tried to ignore them, focusing instead on making his way toward the rendezvous point. He was not looking forward to explaining this to Captain Archer.
Trip mentally kicked himself again, although he was sure if he asked Malcolm to give him a real kick, Malcolm would've gladly obliged. It seemed that he did this everytime he went on leave. Trip loved his job. He truly did. But almost 11 months cooped up on Enterprise had taken "cabin fever" to new heights. When he had been set loose on a planet exclusively designed as a vacation world, he had lost all common sense. And to make it worse, he had drug Malcolm into it. Granted, Trip hadn't known those two lovely creatures had really been ugly muggers...
Trip's mental wanderings were interrupted by Malcolm's rough tug on his arm. "What?" he asked, flicking a sideward glance at the other man. Malcolm jabbed an index finger ahead and to the left of where they were walking. Trip turned his head and leaned slightly from side to side, trying to see what Malcolm was pointing out.
Then he saw a familiar swing of black hair. "It's Hoshi." Malcolm merely fixed Trip with a stare that screamed 'I know that!'
"Are we gonna yell at her or what?" The expression on Malcolm's face said he'd rather die than be seen in his present state. Trip could sympathize.
The decision was taken out of their hands, however, when's Hoshi's head whipped around. She spotted them instantly and smiled. Apparently she couldn't see their current state of dress from where she was. But that was going to change any moment as she began to make her way toward them. For the first time since they left the bar, Malcolm spoke. "Forgot about her bloody good sense of hearing," he mumbled under his breath.
It was a clear case of fight or flight. Trip's sense of pride insisted he find something to hide behind. But for the first time since he set foot on Risa, reason won out. She was going to see them sooner or later. Suddenly he realized that Malcolm was no longer beside him. Trip twisted his head around to see him edging back and behind Trip. The sheer absurdity of the situation struck Trip, and he felt a grin spread across his face. Here was a man who could walk half-naked down a street of strangers but panicked when Hoshi Sato showed up. Interesting.
"Oh, no ya don't." Trip pulled Malcolm forward, earning another frosty stare.
The ship's linguist slid around a last knot of people....and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went wide and her eyebrows leapt upward. Then Hoshi's gaze traveled up and down the two men, taking in the scene. Trip tried not to fidget, then noticed that Malcolm's ears had grown even redder. Trying to scrape up the dregs of his dignity, Trip harrumphed to get Hoshi's attention. She looked back up, her surprised expression still on her face. "Hi, Hoshi," Trip chirped, lifting a hand.
She blinked several times rapidly before responding. "Hello." Trip couldn't help but wonder why she was so flabbergasted; it wasn't as if she had never seen them in skivvies. He supposed it must be the circumstances. She took a step closer, then her nose wrinkled in disgust. "You stink."
Malcolm shifted from foot to foot and shot Trip another accusatory glare. Trip opened his mouth to try to explain and defend himself at the same time. But he was headed of by Hoshi's raised hand. "No, I don't want to hear the story." Both men let out a breath simultaneously. Then Hoshi smiled mischievously. "Yet." She watched them share another glance, this one of nervousness.
"Follow me." Hoshi turned and began to thread back through the crowd, leaving Trip and Malcolm to scramble after her. They walked several blocks up the street, leaving whispers and looks in their wake, until Hoshi stopped at one of the many stalls that lined one side. She began speaking in rapid fire Risan with the woman in the stall. The woman looked at the blue-clad men and made no attempt to hide her laughter. Hoshi joined in, causing Malcolm to comment sarcastically, "Good to know we're so entertaining."
The conversation ended, and the two women exchanged something. As Hoshi returned, she shook out two homespun shirts and handed one to each of them. They lunged forward, Malcolm saying "Thank you, Hoshi," at the same time as Trip's "I owe ya one, Hoshi."
She nodded to Malcolm. "You're welcome." Then she turned to Trip. "And I'll remember that."
It took a block before Trip realized there were no fastenings on the shirt. He settled for wrapping it completely around himself. Looking up, he saw the Enterprise shuttlepod sitting serenely on its launch pad. The hatch was wide open, and Captain Jonathan Archer was standing beside it, holding his dog Porthos. Archer was staring at the ground, absently rubbing Porthos's head. The look on his face was thoughtful and more than a little melancholy. Trip wondered what his friend had been up to these two days and two nights.
Porthos caught sight of the trio and immediately began barking and wiggling around in his owner's arms. Archer looked up. His brow furrowed as he took in the sight of his approaching officers. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, closed it, then opened it again. Finally he shook his head. "Hello, Hoshi....Trip...Malcolm." Trip met his captain's gaze, which was equal parts question and amusement.
Hoshi looked around the launch area. "Where's Travis?"
Archer replied, "He's already back on Enterprise." The helmsman, Ensign Travis Mayweather, had broken a leg rock climbing. "What say we join him?"
"Gladly," Malcolm said.
The ride back to Enterprise was relatively quiet, with both Hoshi and Archer staring out of windows, lost in their own thoughts. Porthos scampered around the cabin getting reacquainted with his friends, especially Malcolm, whom he decided smelled interesting. Trip and Malcolm shook hands, acknowledging that neither of them could count this vacation among their finest moments, and Malcolm's mouth twisted in a sardonic smile as he leaned back. "Well, we can't say we were bored now, can we?"
Trip chuckled in agreement as the shuttlepod neared the ship. He also leaned back with a long sigh. In the end, maybe it hadn't been so bad. All they had lost were their clothes and some of their pride. And until the journey to the "subterranean gardens," it had been fun. He smiled to himself as the docking clamps locked onto the pod.
That smile vanished instantly as Archer turned in his seat. "Oh Trip, did you remember to bring back a souvenir for T'Pol?"
END