Archive of Our Own

“You have no sense of humor and no idea how to have fun.”

The words kept echoing in Lieutenant Malcolm Reed’s head in the sometimes insufferable voice of Commander Trip Tucker as he sat in his quarters. The commander had, once again, tried to make Reed the focus of some sophomoric joke, and when Reed had resisted, Trip had insisted that he had no sense of humor at all, nor did he have any idea of how to have fun.

Normally the commander’s insistence would not have bothered him. Usually he’d just snort or shake his head in denial then go about his business, but for some reason that Malcolm couldn’t quite put his finger on, it had this time. Maybe it was the repetitiveness of the comment. Maybe it was the fact that Trip had said it louder than usual this time. Maybe it was that Trip said it in the mess hall in full earshot of a good portion of the crew, or maybe it was a combination of all three. Either way, this time, it bothered Malcolm severely.

He knew how to have fun. Of course he did. Everyone knew how to have fun. It was just that his idea of fun severely differed from Trip’s and Trip knew it, the bastard. And suddenly, something clicked in Malcolm’s brain and he sat up straight in his chair.

“I’ll show Trip I know how to have fun,” Malcolm said to himself, a smile on his face. “I’ll show him and the entire bloody ship that I can. Your challenge is accepted, Commander.”

But how to do it was another matter entirely. Malcolm thought long and hard about what he could do; Trip’s sense of humor was such that the littlest thing could set him off laughing, so there was a wide range of ways Malcolm could show him up in the humor department. Trip’s favorite sort of joke seemed to be small jokes and pranks at the expense of hapless crew members; all in good fun, of course, and nobody ever got physically hurt, but still involved a patsy of some sort who didn’t know what was going to happen to them. And therein lay the issue: Malcolm Reed, for all his claims to have a sense of humor, had no idea how to pull a prank on someone.

“But I know someone who does,” he said, standing up quickly. Brushing off his uniform, he left his quarters and went down to Engineering, hoping that the person he was looking for was still on duty and had time for a small chat.

“Let me get this straight, Lieutenant. You want my help pranking Commander Tucker?” Stewart Rivers repeated Malcolm’s words back to him in a tone that clearly said “Are you out of your damn mind?” as he inspected one of the Enterprise’s engines. Of all the engineers-hell, of all the crewmen on the Enterprise in general-it was widely acknowledged that Stewart Rivers was a master of the subtle-and sometimes not-so-subtle-prank. So it was to him that Malcolm took his rather strange dilemma.

It didn’t surprise Malcolm that Rivers was a bit hesitant, or that Rivers probably thought he was insane, so he just nodded his assent. “Yes,” he said, dropping his voice to just above a whisper so the hum of the engines could drown out their conversation. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about pranking someone and what it would entail, so I’ve come to the source.”

“Ah, I see,” Rivers said, a grin on his face. “You’ve come to the master for guidance. You’ve made an excellent choice, Grasshopper. But before we begin your training, there are three things I need to know.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. Rivers also had a reputation for taking nothing serious except his job and his fun. “All right, what are they?”

“What are they, MASTER,” Rivers said, clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve come to the master, to become the student. Show a little respect.”

“Rivers, Trip is going to be on duty shortly, and if you don’t start becoming a bit more helpful, my foot is going to become the master of your arse,” Malcolm said, starting to get annoyed with the engineer’s shenanigans. “Am I making myself clear?”

Rivers chuckled and threw his hands up in defeat. “All right Lieutenant, I surrender. You don’t have to call me “master.” But seriously, three things I need to know. The first thing is “Are you serious about wanting to learn the fine art of pranking”?”

Malcolm nodded. “I am.”

“Good,” Rivers said happily. “The second thing is, “Are you willing to spare no expense to make your prank dreams a reality,” and no, you don’t have to give ME the money.”

“Again, I am,” Malcolm said, starting to become a little bit suspicious. “How much money?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment, my dear student,” Rivers said. “And the final thing is more of a direct question. This sudden desire to learn about the wide world of pranking wouldn’t have anything to do with Commander Tucker telling the entire mess hall that you have no sense of humor after you threw his whoopee cushion at his head after sitting on it, would it?”

Malcolm sighed defeatedly. “Actually, it has everything to do with that particular incident,” he said. “I promise you, Rivers, I do have a sense of humor. It’s a more refined and less juvenile sense of humor than the one that seems to be shared between you and Commander Tucker, but it exists all the same, and I’ve become rather tired of Commander Tucker insisting otherwise. I want to prove to him that I do have a sense of humor and that it can be an equal to his.”

Rivers smiled and nodded. “Then you’ve come to the right person for the right reasons,” he said, finishing his inspection of the engine. “You’re going to be annoyed with me, Lieutenant Reed, because there’s really not much I can teach you. But I’ll tell you everything I know about pranking someone.”

Malcolm looked puzzled. “What do you mean, “There’s not much to learn”?” he asked. “I thought there was an elaborate system in place that needed to be learned in order to create the perfect prank.”

“Lesson One: Forget all of your expectations about how pranking SHOULD go,” Rivers said, sitting down next to the engine and motioning for Malcolm to join him. “Because to be quite blunt about it, your expectations are for shit. There’s never a set format that applies to every prank, because every prank, big or small, is different in method and execution. Pranking is not a “One gag fits all” business. It’s more like being a tailor than anything; you’re crafting something that is unique, but hopefully can be appreciated by everyone, including the stiff wearing it.”

“But there are a general set of guidelines, isn’t there?” Malcolm asked, sitting down next to Rivers. “A sort of set of basic rules?”

“There are indeed,” Rivers said. “Well, really, there are only two. The first and foremost of those basic rules is “Don’t cause the prank victim to experience physical injury or death.” A prank should be funny, and cause mild annoyance, not hospital bills or funeral expenses. That’s the most important one. You want to make the person you’re pranking hopefully laugh, not send them to the hospital or kill them with it.”

“Although there are days I would very much like to end Commander Tucker’s existence,” Malcolm said offhandedly. He quickly looked at the engineer, who was laughing to himself. “You didn’t hear that, Rivers. It was never said.”

“What was never said?” Rivers said, trying his best attempt at an innocent facial expression.

“Exactly,” Malcolm said. “And the second thing?”

“The second thing is “Have fun.” Pranks have to be enjoyable not only for the person you’re pulling the prank on, but for you as well. You have to have fun with what you’re doing, or else nobody else is. That’s why Commander Tucker had so many people laughing with the whoopee cushion gag. He takes pride in his pranks, and other people can sense that. Know your audience. Play to your audience. But damn it, have fun with it when you’re doing it.”

Malcolm nodded again. “Noted,” he said. “And do you have any specific advice from your years of pranking experience that you’d mind sharing with me?”

“Start small,” Rivers said. “Don’t think you can go grand-scale right away, because you can’t. The smallest, most subtle pranks are the most effective, like the whoopee cushion. When done properly, it’s a quick and easy prank to pull off. I’d recommend you start with something like that or a joy buzzer. Joy buzzers are the most subtle prank you can start with, because nobody knows it’s coming until they shake hands with you, and then BAM! Mild electric shock to their hand, and you walk away laughing.”

“I do believe I can manage something small like that,” Malcolm said. “Anything else?”

“Farts are always hilarious,” Rivers said bluntly. “Learn that, and your life will be much easier. Going back to the whoopee cushion again, that’s why that gag gets laughs every single time it’s used. The small child in everyone loves a good fart or fart joke; it reminds us of the simple joys of childhood, when one could fart in public and nobody would judge you or say you’re a disgusting human being.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but grin at the slightly bitter tone Rivers’ voice took on at the end of his sentence. “It sounds to me like you and Hess have been having some disagreements on that point,” he said slyly. The relationship between Rivers and Hess was something of an open secret on the Enterprise, but he doubted highly that Rivers knew how far around the ship the news had made it.

Sure enough, Rivers blinked in shock. “I’m not even going to ask how you know about that,” he said. “But yeah, she didn’t take too kindly to me waking her up with farts the other night. I couldn’t think of any other way to do it. The woman sleeps like the dead.” He shook his head, as if to get himself focused on the topic at hand once more. “Anyways, understand that farts are funny and start small with your pranks. That’s my main advice. The larger, more elaborate pranks are going to cost you money, so don’t jump into them right away. Other than that, like I said, there’s not much to teach. Pranking is definitely a “learn as you go” kind of skill.”

Malcolm smiled. “I will be sure to keep that in mind,” he said, standing up and brushing the dust from the Engineering floor off his uniform as he did. “I appreciate your assistance, Rivers. I’m sure it will be most helpful to me in this little endeavor of mine.”

“Happy to help,” Rivers said, not moving from his position on the floor. “If you need anything else, like romantic advice, you’re probably best to go to someone else, but for help with engine troubles and pranks, I’m your guy. You need help pulling off a prank in the future, come to me. I’ll see what I can do for you, Grasshopper.”

“I may very well need to take you up on that, depending on what happens next,” Malcolm said, walking towards the doors of Engineering. He stopped suddenly and turned around. “Oh, and Rivers?”

“Yes Lieutenant?”

“Might I suggest that you try using an extremely loud alarm clock the next time you wish to wake Hess up? It may earn you less time sleeping on the floor.”

Rivers smiled and saluted. “Duly noted, Lieutenant,” he said. “You have fun now. Don’t pull any pranks I wouldn’t pull.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” Malcolm said, leaving Engineering. To himself he muttered “Because if we’re to be honest, there is no prank that you WOULDN’T attempt.”

Malcolm decided that taking Rivers’ advice and starting small would be the best course of action, and to that end, he decided that he needed to be patient and wait until the next time the Enterprise was on Earth to obtain all he would need. When leave finally came and the Enterprise left her crew on Earth while some much needed repairs were made, Malcolm made his way to the nearest joke shop and purchased a few old standards that the shopkeeper had assured him were still popular: a joy buzzer, a can of nuts with cloth snakes inside, and in keeping with the advice Rivers had given him, a small remote-controlled fart machine.

He smuggled everything back to the Enterprise as quickly as he could, taking great care not to let Captain Archer or Trip see his purchases. Once in his quarters, he unpacked everything and carefully hid the can of nuts and the fart machine in one of his dresser drawers, then opened the packaging on the joy buzzer.

“If this doesn’t teach Trip Tucker that I can be just as juvenile as he is, nothing will,” Malcolm said confidently, slipping the small buzzer onto his right hand. He knew that Trip would be in the mess hall, regaling anyone who would listen (which usually ended up being the ensigns and anyone within earshot) with tales of the exploits and jokes of his younger years. It was the perfect opportunity.

Walking to the mess hall, Malcolm could feel his heart start to pound a little harder in his chest. He couldn’t believe it, but he was nervous. What if Trip figured out what he was up to and everything went awry? What if Rivers gave Malcolm up to not only Trip, but Captain Archer as well? And worst of all: what if nobody laughed?

Malcolm tried to shake off his doubts, because under the nervousness was something else: a feeling of excitement. He was going to prank Trip Tucker in full view of the mess hall, and he was damn near skipping with excitement. If all went well, it would show Trip that Malcolm had just as much of a sense of humor as he did, and it would give the crew a much-needed laugh.

As Malcolm had expected, Trip was in the middle of the mess hall, surrounded by other members of the crew, in the middle of a story that involved a lot of arm-waving and funny faces. The assembled crew was laughing loudly, and it wasn’t until Malcolm was standing nearly nose to nose with Trip and cleared his throat did the commander even realize he was there.

“Malcolm!” Trip said happily, clapping Reed on the shoulder. “Enjoying leave so far?”

“So far,” Malcolm said, trying to act normal. “We’re not here for very long so unfortunately, there’s a very limited number of things I can do off ship, but I’ve found some ways to amuse myself.”

“I’m sure you have,” Trip said. “I’m just telling everyone about the time my little sister punched a kid out on the playground when we were kids. He was messing with another kid and Elizabeth got mad as hell and dropped him with one punch.”

Malcolm grinned. He’d heard the story before, but the mental image of Elizabeth Tucker as a small child knocking another child to the ground with only one punch always brought a smile to his face. “A wonderful story,” he said. “But, ah, there’s something I wanted to say to you that doesn’t involve tales of your sister’s fighting prowess.”

“What’s that?” Trip asked.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. My reaction was, to be frank, an overreaction. You’re my friend as well as my superior officer, and throwing the whoopee cushion at your head was a poor decision on my part made worse by how public it was. I’m sorry, Trip,” Malcolm said, extending his right hand.

Trip looked confused for a moment, then laughed. “You didn’t hit me, so there’s no harm done,” he said. “Just be glad I didn’t throw your ass in the brig.” As he spoke, he grabbed Malcolm’s outstretched hand to shake it. Moments later, Trip Tucker let out a loud yelp and jumped backwards, holding his hand and wincing as the table went silent.

“What the hell?” was all Trip could manage to get out before Malcolm, to the surprise of all present, burst out laughing.

“A little surprise, that’s all,” Malcolm said, lifting his hand to reveal the joy buzzer wedged firmly against his palm. Trip’s eyes widened as he saw the joy buzzer and the table burst out laughing as well when they realized that Malcolm had finally gotten one over on Trip. “Enjoy your leave, Commander,” Malcolm said, turning to leave the mess hall with a smile on his face.

Hours later, Trip was pacing around Captain Archer’s quarters, still in shock. “I can’t believe that son of a bitch got me!” he said. “It was damn near perfect! I never saw it coming!”

Archer chuckled from his bed, where he was sitting with Porthos on his lap. “Who knew Malcolm had it in him to get one over on the great Trip Tucker?” he said, gently scratching Porthos’ back.

“I sure as hell didn’t,” Trip said. “You know, I should’ve been suspicious when he said he wanted to apologize for throwing the whoopee cushion at my head. Malcolm Reed never apologizes for anything like that. It should’ve tipped me off that something wasn’t right. I should’ve known. How did I not guess that he had something planned?”

“Because it’s Malcolm. It’s not the sort of thing you’d expect from Malcolm,” Archer said pointedly. “But it looks like he’s learned the value of a good prank.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that he has no sense of humor,” Trip mused. “I probably deserved the joy buzzer.”

“No, you deserved the whoopee cushion he threw at your head. As your captain, I should have you both confined to quarters, but as your friend, I think it’s hilarious and that you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you. You know how trigger happy Malcolm can get.”

Trip shuddered. “I do indeed,” he said, recalling an incident on their last leave when Malcolm had been startled by a new ensign coming into the Armory when he wasn’t expecting them and singing the poor man’s uniform with an unintentional blast from the phase-pistol he had been holding at the time. “The man’s a damn menace around those weapons, Jon.”

“But he’s one of the best at knowing how to use them when the time comes,” Archer argued. “And for that reason, you probably want to discontinue any thoughts of pissing him off. Having our armory officer mad at our chief engineer is probably not a good idea.”

“Oh, I won’t piss him off,” Trip said with a grin. “But I WILL be returning the favor.”

Archer groaned. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said. “Just try not to get yourself killed, Trip. I need my chief engineer alive.”

“I’ll be alive and well and amused,” Trip said. “You can count on that.” He threw a mock salute at Archer and left the captain’s quarters, the wheels in his mind turning as he did. He considered himself to be an expert at pranking and catching people off guard, yet somehow Malcolm had managed to beat him at his own game. He was impressed and a little bit jealous that Malcolm had managed it on the first try. He had to figure out a way to get Malcolm back, and soon. He just couldn’t let anyone, much less a lieutenant, take his place like that. Suddenly, it hit him.

“Those damn phase pistols,” he said with a grin. “Those damn phase pistols.”

A few days later, Malcolm was in the Armory, intent on demonstrating a new technique for dueling with phase-pistols for a group of ensigns. He’d somehow managed to rope Major Hayes, one of the MACOs, into being his partner for the demonstration, and Trip knew in advance that a large group of crew members apart from the hapless ensigns would be present. It was the perfect opportunity to reward Malcolm for the joy buzzer.

As the demonstration began, Trip slipped into the back of the Armory and waited by the door in case he needed to beat a hasty retreat from an angered Malcolm. At the far end of the Armory, Malcolm was talking and gesticulating with the phase-pistol, and Trip winced. A phase-pistol in the hands of anyone waving it around like that had the potential to be extremely dangerous, but in the case of Lieutenant Malcolm “Shoot First Ask Questions Later” Reed, it was almost a guarantee that someone was going to be shot.

Ten minutes into the demonstration, Malcolm was prodding Hayes into re-enacting an old-fashioned “Ten Paces” duel, and Trip’s eyes lit up. Here was the moment he had been waiting for; he was moments away from seeing something both hilarious and possibly terrifying, depending on how mad Malcolm was when all was said and done. He stood at attention and waited.

Malcolm and Hayes were back to back with their phase-pistols at chest level. They walked ten small paces away from each other, then turned and fired the phase-pistols directly at each other’s chests. But instead of the same sort of blast that had singed a small hole in the uniform of the poor ensign who had surprised Malcolm, the lieutenant and the MACO were each hit with a long blast of water.

The audience was silent for a moment, and then the armory was filled with the sound of raucous laughter as Malcolm and Hayes stood silent in front of them, trying to figure out what had happened. Trip began to laugh hysterically into his hands as the two men went from silent to shouting, each apparently blaming the other for the mishap, each waving their respective phase-pistol in the air and wildly gesticulating as they argued.

After nearly ten consecutive minutes of arguing, Hayes stopped and looked at his gun, examining it closely for the first time since the demonstration began. Much to Trip’s amusement, Malcolm was still shouting at him as Hayes turned the gun over once, twice, and then pulled at something on the bottom of the gun, causing a rush of water to exit the gun and splash the entire first row of the demonstration audience.

“It’s a damn water gun!” Trip heard Hayes yell at the front of the room.

“What do you mean, “It’s a water gun”?” Malcolm asked, finally stopping to take a breath. In the back of the room, Trip was trying desperately to keep his laughter silent.

“The bottom of the pistol, where the magazine would go on the old guns,” Hayes said. “Pull on that right there and watch what happens.”

Malcolm did as Hayes instructed and a second rush of water splashed his feet and the demonstration audience again. “Bloody hell,” he swore. “It IS a water gun! Hayes, this was your idea!”

“The hell it was!” Hayes swore. “Why would I replace the phase-pistols with water guns, Lieutenant? Do I look like a damn clown to you?”

Realization dawned on Malcolm. “No, you don’t,” he said, slowly turning to the back of the room. As his eyes met those of his best friend, Trip finally lost control of his laughter and began to laugh loudly with the rest of the audience. “Tucker…” he muttered so only he and Hayes could hear him. “I should have known. That bloody bastard.”

“So what do we do now?” Hayes asked, trying to dab dry a spot on his pants leg where the water had splashed him and failing.

“We do nothing,” Malcolm said. “I, on the other hand, will find a way to repay Commander Tucker for his generous gift of laughter. And I think I already have an idea of how I’m going to do it.”

“Good morning Fearless Leader!”

Trip groaned. “Rivers, it’s too damn early,” he said, waving at the engineer as he entered Engineering. Trip was in a bad mood; a crew member in the quarters next to his had spent the better part of the evening either having extremely loud sexual intercourse or extremely loud gastrointestinal problems and he hadn’t slept at all for the past two days. Given that Chef had made Stew Surprise two days in a row, he was willing to give the crew member the benefit of the doubt and assume the moaning he heard was from gastrointestinal distress, but the lack of sleep had definitely taken its toll. “How are my babies running today?”

“Everything seems nominal,” Rivers said. “They may need more oil, though. I thought I heard them squeaking for it earlier when I cam in.”

“We’re running warp engines, not the Tin Man,” Trip said as he walked over to his toolbox. “In all seriousness Rivers, does anything sound wrong?”

“In all seriousness, Engine 2 sounds like something small is loose,” Rivers replied. “I tried taking a look as best I could, but I don’t have the authority to shut her down for repairs, and doing so mid-flight probably wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“We’re docking at Risa in ten minutes,” Trip said. “I’ll take a look then. Until then, don’t let anyone bother me. I’m going to be taking a nap.”

“Ah, Lieutenant Peacock was keeping you awake last night I’m guessing?” Rivers chuckled.

“Yeah,” Trip said, lying down next to his toolbox and closing his eyes. “Couldn’t tell from the sounds what exactly was going on, but she sounded like she was having sex or trying to make the toilet in her quarters explode. I’m starting to hope it was sex.”

Rivers shook his head. “It was the Stew Surprise,” he said. “Apparently her digestive system has problems digesting the meat Chef uses for it and...well, you heard the results last night.”

Trip wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Why couldn’t it have just been loud sex?” he groaned.

“I don’t know, but apparently the result was a perfect ten,” Rivers said with a laugh.

Trip shook his head. “I didn’t need to know that,” he muttered as he rolled over and went to sleep. His nap was relatively peaceful, and ten minutes later when Rivers woke him up by throwing a rolled up dirty cloth at his head, he was refreshed and ready to get to work. A quick word to Captain Archer about needing to check on Engine 2, a scan of his toolbox...and all hell broke loose.

“Where the hell is my spanner?” Trip yelled, frantically digging through the toolbox. “Where the actual hell is my goddamned spanner?”

“Call me crazy, but I’m guessing your spanner is missing?” Rivers said, looking up from the PADD he was reading.

“This isn’t the time for wisecracking Rivers,” Trip growled. “My spanner is definitely missing. It’s not in my toolbox.”

“Did you take it back to your quarters?” Rivers asked, starting to sound a little scared. Everyone on the Enterprise knew how possessive Trip Tucker was of his spanner, and with said spanner missing and a lack of sleep combined, Trip was going to be hell to work with.

“Why the hell would I take my spanner back to my quarters?” Trip asked. “And don’t say “For some alone time” or I’ll have you confined to your quarters WITHOUT Hess.”

“To make sure nobody steals it?”

Trip paused. “A good answer, and one that saves your ass, but no. I didn’t take it back to my quarters. I always keep it locked up with my other tools, and it’s always here.”

“Lemme take a look around over here,” Rivers offered, putting down his PADD and standing up, taking a moment to stretch his legs which were stiff from sitting cross-legged in a corner for ten minutes. “See if I can locate the Almighty Spanner.”

Trip narrowed his eyes. “You’re being unusually helpful,” he said suspiciously. “You have anything to do with this Rivers?”

Rivers stared at Trip as if the commander had suddenly sprouted nipples on his wrist again. “Look Commander, as much as I love a good joke, I’m not stupid. I know that a man or woman touches your spanner at risk to their own life and limb. Why the hell would I risk losing body parts that Hess-and Phlox too, for that matter, because it makes his job a lot easier-much prefers to be attached to my torso for a laugh?”

Trip sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry Rivers. You know better than to take my spanner for a…” He trailed off as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“What is it, Commander?” Rivers asked.

“You wouldn’t hide my spanner for a laugh, but I know someone who would,” Trip said.

“Who?”

“Lieutenant Reed.”

“I was unaware that Lieutenant Reed had a death wish,” Rivers said. “Go figure.”

“It’s revenge,” Trip said. “A week or so ago, he was trying to put on a dueling demonstration in the Armory with Hayes. I replaced the phase-pistols with water guns, and he looked really pissed off.”

Rivers laughed. “So THAT’S where that video of Lieutenant Reed and Hayes arguing came from,” he said. “It’s been going around the ship all week. It’s one of the best arguments I’ve ever seen. That was your fault?”

Trip grinned. “A friend of mine on Earth makes custom phase-pistols and other weaponry for fun, and I asked him if he could make me two water guns that looked exactly like phase-pistols. He was eager to accept the challenge, and I got them a day or two before the demonstration. It was easy to get into the Armory and switch the pistols around; I just waited until Malcolm was on the bridge and walked in.”

“So you think Lieutenant Reed took your spanner in retaliation?” Rivers asked.

“I’m positive that he did,” Trip said. “I’m also positive that it’s still in this room somewhere. Malcolm wouldn’t have taken it far.”

“I’m surprised he took it at all,” Rivers said, starting to look around Engineering with Trip. “Really, you would think the man would know better.”

After scouring Engineering with much swearing on the part of Trip and contacting the other decks to put them on alert for the missing spanner, the two were unable to locate the missing tool. “Where the fuck is it?” Trip swore, stomping his feet in frustration. “He couldn’t have gotten far with it!”

“Maybe we’re not thinking of the obvious,” Rivers said. “Maybe he’s hidden it in plain sight and we’re missing it somehow.”

“We’ve looked every damn place in this room!” Trip said angrily. “It’s not fucking here!”

Just then, the comm panel lit up and a voice filled the room. “Uh, Commander Tucker?” a hesitant voice said.

“What!?” Trip yelled, still stomping around Engineering.

“We, uh, we found your spanner...you might want to come see this…”

Trip stopped dead in his tracks. “You found my spanner?” he repeated.

“Yeah, we, uh, we found it all right…”

“Where are you?” Trip demanded.

“The bow plate…” the voice said hesitantly.

Trip let out a groan of frustration. “I know what the son of a bitch has done with it,” he said, pulling Rivers out of Engineering by the arm. “Come on, we’re going to get that spanner back.”

Ten minutes later, Trip was standing near the bow plate looking up in disbelief at what he was seeing while Rivers and the nervous ensign who had contacted Engineering were in tears laughing; there, in the sweet spot, was the missing spanner, floating happily in the air.

“I have to give Lieutenant Reed credit,” Rivers said, managing to briefly regain his ability to speak. “That is one of the most inventive uses of the sweet spot that I’ve ever seen.”

“That son of a bitch!” Trip swore again. “How’d he manage to get into the toolbox to begin with?”

“Did you leave it locked yesterday?” Rivers asked. “You know, after you left?”

“It was locked this morning,” Trip said. “But you know, I don’t remember locking it before I left my shift. We were so busy with the inspections and the Columbia’s visit that I don’t remember locking it. He must have gotten into it and then locked it up afterwards. Was Malcolm in Engineering at all yesterday after I left?”

“Now that you mention it,” Rivers said thoughtfully. “He was for about ten minutes yesterday. He came in to ask me if I knew how you’d managed to switch out the phase-pistols and to yell at me to delete the video of him chewing Hayes a new asshole from my PADD because he was tired of people asking him about it and he figured I was sending it around to people on the Columbia.”

“And did you?”

Rivers grinned. “Of course I did,” he said happily, obviously pleased with himself. “Why would I let such a great piece of cinema go unviewed by my fellow Starfleet colleagues?”

Trip snorted. “And the people from Columbia who were on board yesterday were asking Malcolm about it, which made him mad.”

“He seemed especially pissed off that Commander Fletcher and Captain Hernandez saw it,” Rivers recalled. “He stomped out muttering something about them laughing the hardest at it. I wasn’t paying attention to what he did after he yelled at me. I just naturally assumed that he was sabotaging my tool box. Didn’t occur to me that he was going to take it out on your poor sweet innocent spanner.”

Trip narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, Rivers,” he said. He looked up at the sweet spot and sighed. “Goddamnit, I’m gonna have to go get that, aren’t I?”

“I’m not doing it,” Rivers said.

“Why not?”

“You yelled at me.”

Trip groaned and smacked his forehead with his hand. “Goddamnit Rivers, I outrank you. I could order you to do it.”

“You could,” Rivers conceded. “But Ensign Carpenter here and myself are both in need of coffee, so we’re going to go to the mess and try to find some that isn’t sludge, so I won’t be here for you to order. Bye Commander!” With that he swiftly shoved the aforementioned ensign out the door and disappeared.

Trip sighed again. “I’ll have that son of a bitch confined to quarters if it’s the last thing I do,” he muttered to himself as he climbed up to the sweet spot. He figured he could just balance on the generator and reach out for the spanner, and hopefully grab it without actually having to get too far into the sweet spot. He’d almost succeeded when a noise from below made him slip, and Trip found himself upside down, holding the spanner and looking at Malcolm Reed, who was laughing hysterically at him.

“Goddamnit Reed,” Trip swore for the uncountable time that day. “This is your fault.”

“I wasn’t the one who decided to venture to the outskirts of the sweet spot to get his spanner,” Malcolm said, trying to sound innocent. “By the way, glad you found it. But a word of advice, Trip.”

“And what advice could you possibly give me?” Trip said sarcastically.

“One does not simply mess around with an armory officer’s phase-pistols and get away with it,” Malcolm said as he walked away laughing.

Trip swore profusely and shook his spanner, now safely in his hand, in Malcolm’s direction as he left. “When I get down from here, you are so gonna get it,” he said. “Mark my words Reed, you’re gonna pay for this!”

“And he was stuck up there for how long?” Rivers said with a laugh. He had ventured to the bridge to deliver a message to the captain and decided to stick around for a while to speak to Malcolm since there was nothing else going on outside the ship or in the engines. Trip had been grumpy as hell for the past two weeks since the spanner incident, muttering about Malcolm and something related to the spanner theft that he, any time he was asked, declared he “didn’t want to talk about,” which only served to make Rivers and the other engineers that much more curious. Rivers had been chosen not only to deliver the message to the captain, but also to get the information from Malcolm about what had happened after he and Ensign Carpenter had left.

Malcolm smiled. “Three hours,” he replied. “I paid Ensign Carpenter to put small magnets at the top of the sweet spot so that any time Trip got near them with his spanner, they’d repel him. It effectively kept him hostage in the sweet spot until she could get back to remove the magnets.”

Rivers snorted loudly, earning disapproving looks from the rest of the bridge crew, whom he waved cheerfully to in response. “That was brilliant, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’ve taken my advice to heart. But I’m a little bit worried.”

“About what?” Malcolm said, briefly checking his console to make sure there was nothing on his screens to worry about. “Nobody has been injured or killed, and everyone seems to be quite sure of my sense of humor now. I think the plan has worked beautifully.”

“Oh, that it has. I’m not denying that,” Rivers said. “And I’m extremely proud of you, Grasshopper. I’m just worried that this is going to escalate to the point that both of you end up in the brig and I end up with Commander Tucker’s job. I don’t think I’m ready for that responsibility. To be honest, I’m actively avoiding that sort of responsibility.”

“Have no fear,” Malcolm said, a serene grin on his face. “Commander Tucker and I both know what could happen if this gets too out of hand. I severely doubt that anything the two of us get into will go that far.”

“Malcolm, can we get a test of the alert system?” Archer said, breaking into the conversation with the nonchalant grace that could only come from a Starfleet captain.

“Of course, sir,” Malcolm said. He reached over and pressed the button on his console to activate the newly revamped alert system, and to his surprise, a loud series of fart noises emanated from the console and echoed across the bridge.

Archer raised his eyebrow and turned slowly to face Malcolm, whose face was bright red and bore an expression of extreme confusion. “Lieutenant Reed,” he said slowly, trying hard not to show his amusement. “What was that?”

“I have no idea, sir,” Malcolm stammered, trying to access the alert system program to figure out what had been done to it. “It wasn’t doing that yesterday.”

“Could you please find out what is making it do that?” Archer said, biting his lower lip. “I don’t know much about the alert system, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the noise it’s meant to be making…”

Malcolm nodded and began pressing more buttons as he accessed the alert system’s programming. However, things immediately went from bad to worse as each successive button pushed caused the bridge to be filled with more fart noises and what could only be described as early 19th-century polka music, and with every button pushed, more members of the bridge crew, with the exception of T’Pol and Captain Archer, lost their battle to not laugh hysterically.

Twenty minutes later, Malcolm finally managed to get the polka and flatulence noises to cease and the alert system was successfully tested. “That bloody wanker,” he muttered to Rivers, who was leaning on the console and holding his sides. “It had to have been Trip. Nobody else could have done this.”

“Commander Tucker has managed to impress me,” Rivers said, standing upright again. “I haven’t laughed that hard at something in ages. I wonder where he got the fart noise chips. They sound like they came from a fart machine or something.”

Malcolm’s face went white. “Oh shit,” he muttered. He checked the time and noticed with relief that he was at the end of his shit. “Captain, I’m going to go lie down and try not to die from embarrassment,” he said. “I’ll make sure Rivers here gets back to Engineering.” Malcolm quickly left the bridge with Rivers behind him and just barely missed Captain Archer finally break down giggling over the memory of the whole incident.

“What’s wrong?” Rivers said, hurrying to keep pace with Malcolm as he strode quickly back to B deck.

“One of the things I bought when we were on Earth for leave at the joke shop was a fart machine,” Malcolm said.

“And Commander Tucker knows you have one?” Rivers asked. “How did he find out?”

“Commander Tucker knows I have one,” Malcolm confirmed. “And he found out because the other night, we were drinking in my quarters and I left him unattended for five minutes to use the restroom. He must have found it then.”

“And you didn’t find it at all suspicious that Commander Tucker was suddenly very forgiving of you? Because honestly, I would’ve been suspicious.”

“I never gave it a second thought,” Malcolm confessed. “It’s not unusual for Trip to be grumpy for a while to everyone else but be on good terms with me. He came over with a bottle of bourbon and I just assumed everything was going to be fine again. Clearly I was mistaken.”

When they reached Malcolm’s quarters and entered, Malcolm looked at the bed and groaned, his worst fears confirmed. On his bed lay the fart machine, completely dismantled; parts of the machine were scattered around the bed, and a note written on actual paper lay on top of the box that had once housed the components now lying on Malcolm’s bed.

“The sound chips are missing,” Rivers confirmed, looking through the debris. “Looks like he took the casing off and then took the sound chips with him.”

“He must have rewired my console while I was off-duty,” Malcolm said, picking up the note. He scanned it quickly and groaned again in disbelief.

“What does it say?” Rivers asked, looking over Malcolm’s shoulder in a feeble attempt to read the note for himself.

“It says “One does not simply mess with the chief engineer’s spanner and gets away with it.” That’s what it says,” Malcolm responded, crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room. “God only knows how Commander Tucker managed to get the paper to actually write a note like he was in the school room, but he’s managed to do it.”

“Clever of him, when you think about it,” Rivers said, poking at the remains of the fart machine. “Did he take anything else?”

Malcolm quickly searched the drawers where he’d hidden the can of peanuts with the snake. “He didn’t take this,” he said, tossing the can to Rivers.

“Ooh, cashews,” Rivers said, looking hungrily at the can. “May I?”

“By all means,” Malcolm said graciously, a sly smile on his face that Rivers either didn’t see or was choosing to ignore.

Rivers smiled broadly and opened the can, sending the cloth snakes flying out of the can and into his face. He blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. “Touche, Lieutenant Reed,” he said, putting the empty can down next to the dismantled fart machine. “I should have known.”

“By now, you really should have,” Malcolm said, slamming the drawers shut. “Give that I’ve managed to get Commander Tucker with my pranks a few times.”

“It’s escalated, just as I said it would,” Rivers observed. “Hiding spanners and substituting in water guns is all well and good, but consoles are another matter entirely. This is going to cost you money if you escalate this.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that,” Malcolm said nonchalantly. “I’ve already got an idea for revenge forming in my head as we speak. And trust me, Rivers, when I say that you will definitely want to be in Engineering in a few weeks’ time during Commander Tucker’s shift.”

“It’ll take that long?” Rivers asked. “Just what exactly do you have planned, Lieutenant Reed?”

“Something bright and beautiful,” Malcolm said. “Just trust me. You will want to be present for that shift.”

Rivers grinned again and saluted Malcolm. “The student has become the teacher,” he said. “I am so damn proud of you, sir.”

“So was he mad?” Trip asked Rivers as he polished Engine 2. It was nearing the end of Rivers’ shift and Trip had been on the bridge for most of it, so he’d missed Rivers’ creative retelling of the incident with Malcolm’s console to the newly assigned ensigns.

“He seemed more embarrassed than anything,” Rivers said. “I’m not sure if it was the fart noises or the polka that embarrassed him more, but I’d be willing to bet it was the fart noises. Although if it were me, I’d be more embarrassed by the polka music than the farts. Polka is just annoying as hell. If I may ask, Commander, where the hell did you get polka music?”

“You didn’t ask about the fart noises,” Trip said with a grin.

“I found the remnants of the fart machine with Lieutenant Reed,” Rivers said, returning the grin. “So I know where those fart noises came from. I just don’t know where you got the polka chips.”

“An old family friend sent them to me,” Trip said. “I never had a use for them until now, because quite frankly, I hate polka. But I figured this would put them to good use.”

“An excellent idea,” Rivers said. He looked at the time and smiled. “And that’s my shift done. I’m off for my quarters to sleep.”

“Hess keeping you up at night?” Trip said slyly.

“Nope. Fear of Lieutenant Reed,” Rivers responded. “See you later Commander Tucker.” As he turned to leave, Rivers heard a loud exploding noise, a loud squelching noise, and the telltale sound of Trip Tucker swearing. He turned around and immediately hit the ground laughing; Trip was standing at his console, covered from head to toe in what could only be described as pink goop.

“I’m gonna kill Malcolm Reed, that stupid son of a bitch,” Trip swore, kicking the console and falling over to the floor as his foot slipped on the pink mess. He landed squarely on his behind in a puddle of the pink goop and swore again.

“What is it?” Rivers said, wiping a tear from his eye and edging closer to inspect the pink mess further. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before.”

“It’s fucking SILLY STRING,” Trip howled, trying to pull himself up by the console and accidentally hitting a button, sending another volley of pink silly string out of the console and directly into his face, causing the commander to sputter and spit silly string everywhere. “SILLY STRING.”

“They still make that?” Rivers asked, trying desperately not to let Trip see that he was laughing again. “I thought they stopped production on it in the later half of the 20th century. I never saw it in stores where I grew up anyways.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Trip said, trying again to regain his footing by grabbing a part of the console with no buttons and finally standing up. “The last thing anyone on Earth needs is for you to be anywhere near this stuff. But apparently, as evidenced by this mess that is now completely covering this half of Engineering, they do still make it.”

Rivers retrieved a cloth from the clean side of Engineering and tossed it to Trip, who immediately wiped off the rest of his face and gingerly began cleaning off the console. “I can always stick around and help you clean up,” he offered. “This looks like more than a one man job, and I don’t need to sleep that much. I can get some mops or something from the mess hall. I’m sure Chef has something lying around we can clean this up with.”

Trip sighed defeatedly. “Might as well,” he said. “Go up and get it and come back. I don’t want anyone else seeing this until I get myself cleaned off. And that’s an ORDER, Rivers.”

“Aye aye, Commander!” Rivers said, throwing a salute Trip’s way before departing.

Trip made sure that Rivers was gone, then ducked to a locker he kept in Engineering and pulled out a clean uniform. Quickly, he stripped off the now-pink uniform he was wearing, and after making sure that the silly string hadn’t soaked through to his blues, he donned the clean uniform and carefully made his way back to the console through the pink mess on the floor to start cleaning it off.

“You think you’ve won, Malcolm,” he said as he threw the rag over his shoulder and retrieved another one, then began cleaning again. “But believe me, this war is not over yet. I ain’t surrendering to you. Trip Tucker surrenders to nobody, not even in a prank war.”

By the time Rivers returned with a mop and bucket, Trip had managed to clean off the vast majority of his console. “Had any more sneak attacks?” Rivers asked, taking the initiative and beginning to mop up the pink mess without being asked or ordered. “There was a line in the mess hall and Chef was grumpy again.”

“When isn’t Chef grumpy?” Trip muttered to himself. To Rivers he said “A couple, but I think it’s all out of silly string. I’ve pushed the buttons a couple of time just to test them and nothing’s come out. I think we can finally get this mess cleaned up.”

“And while you’re cleaning, you’re of course going to be planning revenge on Lieutenant Reed?” Rivers guessed. He had a sneaking suspicion that Lieutenant Reed would be the victim of a prank sooner rather than later. It was common knowledge that Trip Tucker was protective of two things on the Enterprise: his spanner and Engineering in general. If either of the two were played around with or altered in any way, it made Commander Tucker extremely angry and vindictive. Rivers shuddered at the memory of how the commander had lost it at an ensign who had moved his spanner accidentally a week after Lieutenant Reed had hidden it in the sweet spot, although he couldn’t help but grin at the memory of the commander yelling “MINE!” as if he had been a small child.

“I was planning revenge on Lieutenant Reed the moment I got hit in the face with the damn silly string,” Trip said with an evil grin. “And I think I have the perfect idea. I’ll have to wait and see if I can manage it, but if I can rewire a console to play fart noises and polka music, I’m sure I can rewire this.”

“Uh-oh,” Rivers said. “What are you rewiring now?”

“You’ll see,” Trip said, using his “I have a surprise for you...and it’s awful” voice that scared many an ensign during his time on the Enterprise. “In the meantime, toss me another rag. I think I’ve got it almost cleaned...just gotta get this one button cleaned off…”

Rivers threw Trip another rag, and just as Trip began lightly cleaning the button, a brand new volley of pink silly string came exploding from the console.

It was later claimed that people could hear Commander Tucker swearing three decks up.

“I need a nice long nap,” Malcolm said to himself, walking down the hall to B deck after a long bridge shift. Negotiations with an alien race they had encountered had taken a turn for the nasty, and shots had been fired. In the end, everything was resolved and the Enterprise was allowed to leave peacefully, but there were a couple injuries and everyone on the bridge had been required to stay a few extra hours over their designated end time to make sure everything was cleared up and there were no sneak attacks from the aliens they’d encountered.

“A nice long comfortable nap,” he muttered, waving at Lieutenant Peacock as she exited her quarters and flipping Trip’s quarters the middle finger as he passed them. They hadn’t spoken to each other for a week, since the aftermath of the silly string prank. He’d gotten hell from Trip about covering Engineering with pink silly string, and his eloquent response of “Well, on the bright side, at least it wasn’t purple” was met with some of the most creative swearing he’d heard outside of England.

“Note to self: after nap is finished, do some investigating to see if Commander Tucker and myself share a common ancestor at all,” Malcolm said, finally reaching his quarters. He quickly dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, just letting his body readjust to the unusual softness of the bed.

“But that was a damn good prank,” he said out loud, smiling. “A damn good one. Trip never saw it coming, nor did Rivers. I’m just glad Rivers wasn’t collateral damage; I’d hate to have had him attacked by the silly string as well. Good thing he was on his way out when Trip started to press the console buttons.”

Malcolm was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that he was slowly rising off the bed towards the ceiling. “But Rivers is right. Maybe we shouldn’t escalate this any further. I think it may be time to consider calling a truce on this...but damn it, it’s too much fun. It’s the most fun I’ve had on this ship in ages. To be honest, I’m surprised that Captain Archer has let it go on this long without having either of us confined to-OUCH!”

Malcolm’s train of thought was broken by his head hitting the ceiling. “What the hell?” he asked aloud, and then looked up. “Has the ship started caving in?” he wondered. He reached for the PADD by his bed to send a message to Captain Archer, and his hand hit dead air. “This cannot be happening,” he said loudly. Slowly, Malcolm sat up and looked down to discover that, to his horror, he was floating directly above his bed.

“No, no, no,” Malcolm said, trying to reach down to the bed and turning himself upside down in the process. “Damn it! Tucker! This has to be his doing!” He righted himself again and tried to think of a way he could get himself down from the ceiling without alerting anyone to the fact that he, like Trip with the magnets in the sweet spot, was stuck in the air with a distinct lack of gravity to bring himself down to some form of Terra Firma again.

“How did he do it?” Malcolm wondered as he floated along the ceiling. “It’s nearly impossible to deliberately cause the environmental controls to malfunction. The only time I’ve ever seen it done was a demonstration on how one could sabotage someone’s quarters and make it look accidental, but everything apart from the gravity is working. Trip must have rewired the environmental controls to program anti-gravity into the main quarters. Sneaky bastard. I can’t for the life of me figure out how it was done.”

Malcolm casually floated over to the door of his quarters and sighed. “I guess I have to call someone in to fix this,” he said. “Although I must admit, this is quite relaxing and somewhat freeing.” He gracefully turned himself downward and pressed the comm button. “Malcolm Reed to the bridge.”

A crackly voice that sounded like Hoshi said “What do you need Malcolm? Archer’s in his quarters.”

“Well Hoshi, it’s a bit embarrassing,” Malcolm said, not quite sure where to begin.

“I’m going to stop you right there and ask if the problem involves nudity.”

“No, no nudity,” Malcolm said, raising an eyebrow. “Do I sound like Commander Tucker to you?”

He could hear Hoshi snickering on the other end of the comm. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that. What’s your problem?”

“It seems that Commander Tucker, in the name of escalating our prank war, has tampered with the environmental controls in my room. I’m currently floating near the ceiling of my room, and I’m upside down right now to operate the comm. Do you think you could send someone to fix this by any chance?”

There was silence on the other end of the comm line. “Malcolm, did you stop by the mess hall and get some bourbon after your shift?” Hoshi asked slowly.

“Hoshi, I am not lying or intoxicated, I promise you,” Malcolm said. “Could you please send someone to fix this in about two or three hours? I’m going to have to disconnect because the blood appears to be rushing to my head at a breakneck pace and I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy.”

“We can have someone down there sooner,” Hoshi said, sounding confused. “Why two or three hours?”

“Because I’m exhausted and I think I’m going to take a nap while I’m up here,” Malcolm said, sounding as exhausted as he felt. “Can I trust that I will not have anyone wake me by coming in to turn the gravity back on?”

“I’ll send them down in three and a half hours,” Hoshi said, clearly attempting to conceal a bout of the giggles. “This way you can sleep and be wide awake when you come crashing back down to the floor. We’ll get this taken care of for you.” The comm line disconnected to the sound of Hoshi letting out a loud squeak of laughter.

Malcolm childishly stuck his tongue out at the comm panel, then floated back over to his bed. “I’m going to take a nice long nap and plan how to reward Commander Tucker for his ingenuity at the same time,” he said. “And meanwhile, if someone decides to fix the gravity early, at least I won’t hit the floor when I fall from the sky.” He closed his eyes and immediately went to sleep, dreams of all the possible pranks he could play on Trip dancing through his head. Three hours later, when Malcolm woke up, further mental note to pay close attention when the environmental controls were being repaired.

Because if he didn’t pay close attention, he’d never be able to pull off the prank that he had dreamed up to win the prank war against Trip and prove once and for all that Malcolm Reed does, in fact, have a sense of humor. And pulling this prank off successfully was absolutely essential to his chances of victory.

“How did you do it? Come on Commander Tucker, tell me. I have to know how you managed to strand him like that! Everyone’s wondering how you did it!”

Trip grinned at the question. Three weeks later and people were still asking about how he managed to keep Malcolm Reed floating in his own chambers for nearly four and a half hours. The current interrogator was his next-door neighbor, Lieutenant Peacock, who had sat down at his table in the mess hall and practically begged him for the information. “Well, Lieutenant Peacock, if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he said, .

“You wouldn’t have to kill me,” the lieutenant replied. “I’m excellent at keeping secrets. There’s shit I’ve known about various friends from school for years that I’ve never told anyone. And they’re not even paying me to keep them either!”

“At least I know you won’t be susceptible to blackmail,” Trip said sarcastically, earning a grin from the lieutenant. “But in all seriousness, this could get back to Malcolm, and the last thing I need is for Malcolm Reed to know how I managed to shut off the gravity to his quarters.”

“Oh come on,” the lieutenant prodded, batting her eyes at Trip. “If you tell me, I promise I won’t touch Chef’s Stew Surprise again for a very long time...you won’t have to worry about being woken up in the middle of the night by odd and disturbing noises that could be confused for sexual intercourse!”

Trip thought long and hard about Lieutenant Peacock’s offer. “Well, I have to say Lieutenant, it’s a very very tempting offer,” he said when he finally spoke again. “God knows I’ve had enough sleepless nights because of your apparent physical incapability to lay off the Stew Surprise even though it makes you sick. And since you and Lieutenant Reed have never been best friends, I can almost guarantee that you won’t tell him how it was done.”

“I’ve waved at the man on my way out of my quarters and into my quarters,” the lieutenant said. “He’s so wrapped up in his work that he doesn’t really speak to me at all.”

“Still, I have to say, I’m a little suspicious,” Trip continued. “Given that it’s been three weeks and as of yet, I’ve seen nothing from Malcolm, how am I supposed to believe that this isn’t a ruse in order to get me to give him information about how to rewire the environmental controls through a third party.”

Lieutenant Peacock blinked. “Um, Commander Tucker? Can I speak freely?” she asked hesitantly.

“Go ahead Lieutenant,” Trip said.

“I, uh, I think you’ve put way too much thought into this…” Lieutenant Peacock replied. “I’m clever, but there’s not enough money in the galaxy that someone could pay me to teach them to rewire the environmental controls for a superior officer’s quarters. I rather enjoy being alive to enjoy my employment, thank you very much.”

Trip laughed. “Good point Lieutenant. Guess I’ve just been on edge because of this prank war. I’m starting to wonder if maybe we shouldn’t just call it a day with it before it goes too far.”

“You mean before you or Lieutenant Reed play a prank that causes the other serious bodily harm and possibly additional emotional pain and suffering?” Lieutenant Peacock suggested helpfully.

“Exactly,” Trip said. “Me and Malcolm, we’re friends. As much as I like playing pranks on the guy, I don’t want to end up hurting him.”

“So I guess him bumping his head on the ceiling of his quarters after you shut the gravity off doesn’t count?” the lieutenant said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Wait, he hurt himself?” Trip asked, suddenly feeling a little guilty. “How did you find this out?”

“He came into the infirmary after the gravity was restored to his room,” the lieutenant said, casually chewing on a few french fries as she spoke. “Was whinging and complaining about his head hurting because he cracked it off the ceiling. Phlox took a look at him and cleared him for active duty almost immediately. Left a wee bit of a lump on his forehead but nothing too extreme. He’s going to be fine.”

Trip snorted. “He seriously complained about a small lump on his head?” he said in disbelief.

Lieutenant Peacock giggled and nodded in the affirmative. “He said he thought he might have a concussion because his head hurt and he was dizzy. Phlox diagnosed him with a little bump on the head and sleep deprivation, and told him to go back to his quarters and take a nap on his bed instead of in the air. And then the Pyrithian bat got loose and bit him as he was leaving, so there was insult added to minor injury.”

Trip shook his head and grinned. “I feel bad for the poor bastard now,” he said. “But only a little bit, considering I’m not responsible for the bat biting him.”

“Phlox is responsible for the bat, and he doesn’t even feel bad for the bat biting Malcolm,” the lieutenant said. “He actually laughed. I’ve seen him smile, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh like that before.”

“In any case, that kinda sucks for Malcolm,” Trip said. “That bat’s bitten me before and it hurt like hell.”

“He’ll recover,” Lieutenant Peacock said confidently as she finished her french fries and stood to dispose of her tray. “Anyways, I’m done with my shift, and done with my food, so I’m going to go back to my quarters and take a nap.”

“I’m done too, actually,” Trip said, standing up with his tray as well. “Since we’re going the same direction, how about I walk you back to your quarters?”

“Why I do declare, Commander Tucker,” Lieutenant Peacock said, her voice taking on the most exaggerated caricature of a Southern accent she could come up with. “People are gonna talk about us if you do that, but I do so appreciate the offer. I accept!”

Trip laughed as they walked over to turn in their trays and throw out their garbage. “I’ve always been nothing but a perfect gentleman to the women I know, or anyone I know really unless they piss me off,” he said. “So if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, you tell them they’re full of shit. On my orders.”

“Gotcha,” the lieutenant said as they walked to B deck. “Commander Tucker is a perfect gentleman unless you piss him off and anyone who says otherwise is completely and totally full of shit, and he said I’m allowed to say that.”

“Well, not exactly with that phrasing, but you’ve got the gist, Lieutenant,” Trip said. The rest of the walk passed in silence, and after seeing Lieutenant Peacock safely to her door-where she once again begged him to tell her how he turned off the gravity in Malcolm’s quarters and again promised never to eat Stew Surprise again-Trip turned to the door of his own quarters, eager to go inside and have a nice long shower and sleep off the stress of the day.

The doors opened and the first thing Trip noticed was that it was extremely cold in his quarters. “Environmental controls must be on the fritz,” he muttered, walking across the room and sitting on his bed. He jumped up nearly immediately when he realized that the spot he’d sat on was wet.

“What the hell?” he said out loud. “Did Porthos and Captain Hernandez’s cat get in here or something?” It was only then that he noticed that where he’d sat down was not only wet, but white. “What the actual hell?”

It suddenly occurred to Trip that taking a good look around his quarters might be a good idea, and when he lifted his head and looked, his eyes grew wide with shock. His room was filled with what appeared to be, at first glance, a massive amount of an old Earth drug called cocaine. But when he put his hand in the white substance, it was cold and wet to the touch. And then it hit him; he knew exactly what he was looking at, what had filled his room. And it was only a few seconds later that Trip Tucker went completely ballistic.

“WHY IS THERE FUCKING SNOW IN MY ROOM?” he shouted, stomping around the room. The snow was everywhere; it covered his dresser, his chair, and even his bed. The floor was piled so high with snow that it was up to his knees, and there was a large pile of snow blocking the door to his bathroom as if to add a final insult.

Trip strode over to the door as best he could with all the snow and brushed a dusting of snow off the comm panel on the wall and nearly broke the button pushing it. “Commander Tucker to the bridge!” he shouted.

“What’s wrong, Trip?” Captain Archer asked.

“Some asshole filled my quarters with SNOW,” Trip said, sounding very much as if he was going to start crying from frustration and not caring who on the bridge heard him swearing and dangerously close to whining. “It’s EVERYWHERE. And I SAT in it!”

There was silence on the other end of the comm line, accompanied by what sounded to Trip like badly concealed giggles. “I hear you laughing, Ensign Mayweather!” he yelled. “You won’t be laughing later when I break my foot off in your-”

“All right, all right, calm down Trip,” Archer said, his voice sounding rather tight, as if he was trying to control his laughter as well. “No need to play Threaten The Ensigns again. I’ll send someone down to get the environmental controls looked at, and we’ll get your quarters cleaned out. In the meantime, try not to freeze to death.”

The comm line disconnected and Trip howled in frustration, then kicked the wall. “And what the hell am I supposed to do until all this snow gets the hell out of my quarters?” he shouted to nobody in particular. Almost immediately after shouting, he heard a knock at his door. “Come in, if you can get around all the damn snow.”

The door opened, and Trip turned around to face a sight that made him nearly purple with rage. Standing before him in his doorway was Malcolm Reed, wearing gloves, a parka, boots, and a shit-eating grin. “Do you want to build a snowman, Commander Tucker?” Malcolm asked, his glee at Trip’s discomfort evident in every word. “If so, we should probably start building it before this gets cleared out.”

“No, Lieutenant Reed,” Trip said, breathing heavily in an attempt to keep his temper at bay. “I do not want to build a goddamned snowman.”

“Well, what about a regular snowman then?” Malcolm replied, his eyes twinkling. “We don’t have to build one that’s been cursed by a specific deity. It would be a shame to waste all of this lovely snow.”

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. Trip’s cool demeanor disappeared as his brain put two and two together and he realized exactly how the snow had made its way into his quarters. With no hesitation, the commander completely snapped. flinging himself at the lieutenant with a strangled scream of anger and knocking Malcolm into the snow. “I DON’T WANT TO BUILD ANY KIND OF SNOWMAN!” Trip shouted as he and Malcolm landed in the snow. “I WANT THE SNOW YOU PUT IN MY QUARTERS TO GET THE HELL OUT!”

“Well, maybe the snow wouldn’t have made it into your quarters if you hadn’t turned the gravity off in MY quarters!” Malcolm shouted, struggling to shove Trip off of him. After no success, he finally picked up a handful of snow and dropped it down the back of Trip’s uniform. Trip howled with anger and jumped backwards, desperately trying to dance the snow out of his uniform.

“That was a dirty trick, Reed!” Trip shouted, picking up a handful of snow with his bare hands and flinging it at Malcolm. Malcolm opened his mouth to respond and was hit directly in the mouth by the snowball, causing him to cough and sputter. “Bullseye! That’ll teach you to mess with my damn spanner again!”

“And this will teach you not to lay a hand on my phase-pistols ever again!” Malcolm said, regaining his composure long enough to aim a snowball at Trip’s forehead and throw it. “How many times must I tell you not to touch my pistols? How many times, Tucker?”

Trip recoiled from the force of the snowball smacking into his forehead and fell backwards into the pile of snow by the bathroom door. “You started this!” he shouted, struggling to his feet. “You and your damn joy buzzer!” He ducked as Malcolm flung another snowball at his head, then launched one that hit Malcolm square in the stomach and caused the lieutenant to fall on his behind with a very undignified “Oof!” noise.

“It wasn’t me that started this at all!” Malcolm said as he stood up and brushed a pile of snow off his coat. “You and your bloody whoopee cushion started it! I should have shoved the damn thing down your throat instead of throwing it at your head, you tosspot piece of shit!”

Trip was stunned into silence. “Say that again, Lieutenant?” he said, his fingers clenching into a fist.

“You’re a tosspot piece of shit!” Malcolm spat. “And I’ve got a much better sense of humor than you do!”

“THE HELL YOU DO!” Trip shouted, lunging at Malcolm again. This time, instead of flinging snowballs, the two men began throwing punches, and were so busy rolling around in the snow attacking each other that they failed to notice Rivers and Lieutenant Peacock standing in the doorway where they’d been for nearly ten or so minutes, watching the fight and eating popcorn.

“You were right,” Lieutenant Peacock said, handing a piece of paper to Rivers. “That’s an IOU. Cash it in the next time we’re on Earth, and if you remind me I’ll take you and Hess out for dinner, just like it says on the paper.”

“You’re too kind, Lieutenant,” Rivers said with a grin, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth and then wincing as Malcolm landed a sharp kick directly between Trip’s legs. “Oh man, that was a low blow.”

“I don’t even have those bits and I crossed my legs just now,” Lieutenant Peacock said. “Lieutenant Reed fights dirty. I kinda like it.”

“Normally I would too, but kicking the genitals is just too damn far, especially when they’re already presumably cold from the snow,” Rivers said. “Think we should get the hose now?”

“If we want a Reedsicle and a Tuckersicle, then sure, let’s get a hose,” Peacock responded. “If you mean “Is now a good time to call for Captain Archer,” I concur. Reed’s got a black eye and Tucker’s nose is bleeding, in addition to the genital trauma. We should probably get the Captain to stop them killing each other.”

Rivers shook his head. “I told Lieutenant Reed this was going to get ugly if he kept it up, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“They’ll never learn,” Peacock said in the voice of a small child. As they watched the fight, a lieutenant who had just transferred onto the ship from Earth walked past and looked past the two into Trip’s quarters. The lieutenant’s eyes went wide from shock. “Um, Lieutenant?” Peacock asked, sounding as sweet as she could muster. “Could you please go get Captain Archer and let him know that his chief engineer and his senior armory officer are trying to kill each other? Rivers here and myself would, but someone has to make sure they don’t actually kill each other.”

“Well played, Lieutenant,” Rivers said as the other lieutenant departed for the bridge in shock. “Are we really going to make sure they don’t kill each other, or are we just going to watch the show until Captain Archer gets here?”

Lieutenant Peacock grinned at Rivers. “What do you think?” she said slyly, handing Rivers the bag of popcorn.

Rivers grinned back. “Hess is gonna love you, kid,” he said. “We might as well enjoy this show while it lasts. Because you know once Archer gets here, it’s getting broken up. I just wish I could watch this again.”

“I rigged a camera to record everything when I got Lieutenant Reed in here to rewire the environmental controls,” Lieutenant Peacock said with an evil smile. “I’ll send you the video as soon as I get the chip back.”

“Did you tell Reed how to rewire everything?” Rivers inquired.

Peacock shook her head. “He already knew how to do it,” she said. “He looked like he’d been practicing. It was that smooth and methodical.” A sound of footsteps down the corridor caused the two of them to look up, and they saw Captain Jonathan Archer stomping down the hallway towards them.

Rivers and Peacock looked at each other, looked at the still-grappling Trip and Malcolm, then back at each other. “Abandon ship!” they both shouted, and ran back to their own quarters to avoid what looked to be an extremely pissed-off Captain, shuddering at the thought of what their superior officers would be in for when Archer finally got them to stop trying to kill each other in the snow.

“What the hell is wrong with the two of you?”

Trip and Malcolm both winced at the sound of Archer’s yelling. “Please, not so loud Captain,” Malcolm said, shifting the ice pack from his eye to his ear to try and ease the pain. “Phlox says I actually have a concussion this time and my ears are ringing.”

“You’re damn lucky your ears are the only thing that are ringing, Malcolm!” Jon shouted. “By rights, I should have the both of you hearing the ringing of metal handcuffs around your wrists in the brig!”

“Clanging, sir,” Trip muttered, his head tilted back to stem the steady flow of blood that had started to come out of his nose again..

Archer turned and faced his best friend, the anger still overwhelmingly evident on his face. “What was that, Commander Tucker?”

“Handcuffs don’t ring, Jon. They clang. Y’know, because of the metal and the chain and all…” Trip said before trailing off at the sight of Jon’s angry expression.

“I swear to god Trip I will clang my foot right up your ass if you don’t cut out the wisecracking,” Jon said, making Malcolm let out an involuntary snort of laughter. “That goes for you too, Malcolm. Now I’m going to ask again: what the hell is wrong with you two? I get a report from the new lieutenant that two of my senior officers are having a knock down drag out fight in a snow pile that just happens to be in Trip’s quarters, and when I get there, you two are on the floor acting like a bunch of angry kids out on the playground and Peacock and Rivers are standing there watching you and eating popcorn!”

Neither Trip nor Malcolm said anything, and Jon sighed. “Someone has to explain this to me, because I’m at a complete and utter loss here. I don’t understand it at all. You two were just fine a few months ago, and then all of a sudden, the two of you are rolling around on the floor trying to murder each other with snow. How did all of this get started?”

Malcolm looked at Trip. “Do you want to start or shall I?” he asked.

Trip sighed and hung his head. “A few months ago, I put a whoopee cushion on Malcolm’s seat in the mess hall when he got up to get a drink. When he sat on it, it did its thing, and we all laughed except Malcolm. So Malcolm got pissed, threw the whoopee cushion at my head, and told me I was a wanker.”

“I’m well aware of that part of the story,” Acher said. “Continue.”

“Well, I got a little pissed off, because it was just a joke, and I told him that he didn’t know how to have fun and had no sense of humor, and Malcolm got pissed and stomped out of the mess hall,” Trip said. “A couple days after than, when we were on leave on Earth, I’m in the mess hall telling a story about Lizzie, and Malcolm comes up to me and apologizes, then offers me his hand to shake. I go to shake his hand, and all of a sudden I get zapped by a damn joy buzzer.”

Archer raised his eyebrow. “A joy buzzer? They still make those? Lieutenant Reed, where the hell did you manage to find a joy buzzer?”

“An old joke shop on Earth,” Malcolm said. “I was told that starting small for pranks was a good idea, so I decided to go for some old Earth standards. I got the joy buzzer, a can of nuts with cloth snakes inside, and a fart machine.”

“Wait a minute,” Trip said. “Who the hell did you talk to about pranks? I don’t remember ever having that particular conversation with you…” Slowly it dawned on him how Malcolm would have learned about how best to prank someone. There was, after all, only one other prankster on the ship besides himself. “Captain, permission to brutally murder Stewart Rivers when we’re done being yelled at?”

“Denied,” Archer said.

“Why not?”

“Because if you murder Rivers, you’ll start complaining about Engineering being short-staffed and you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself,” Archer pointed out. “And it would be the same if I transferred him. So no, you cannot murder him and you cannot have him transferred off the Enterprise.”

“Can I sell him to Captain Hernandez and Commander Fletcher the next time we rendezvous with Columbia?” Trip asked. “Commander Fletcher seems to think he’s hilarious.”

“Veronica has excellent taste that way,” Malcolm said with a grin, thinking of his old friend. “She’d probably pay top dollar for him if Captain Hernandez won’t.”

Jon groaned and buried his face in his hands. “If Columbia needs another engineer, you may OFFER Rivers to Captain Hernandez. OFFER. Not sell. Nor are you to try and sell him to Commander Fletcher, but again, you may offer him. But ONLY if Columbia needs another engineer the next time we see them. Under no other circumstances are you to try and shove Rivers off onto the Columbia crew otherwise. And no, you are not to shove him off any surfaces or out of any airlocks either. In any case, continue the explanation.”

“So, after Malcolm got me with the joy buzzer, I decided that retaliation was the best option,” Trip continued. “I mean, at that point, the pranks were just innocent fun. So I wrote to a friend back home who makes custom water guns and weapons and asked him to make me two water guns that looked exactly like phase-pistols.”

“The dueling demonstration,” Archer said, shaking his head. “I had a feeling that was your doing, Trip. And the spanner?”

“Was my retaliation for the water gun switch,” Malcolm said. “I was incredibly annoyed because not only had Trip made me look foolish in front of Hayes and the ensigns, I discovered afterwards that he’d hidden the phase-pistols we were supposed to use in an abandoned garbage chute. I take great care to make sure that the phase-pistols are always in top working condition so they can be used at a moment’s notice and there would be no risk of malfunction. When I found them later in their case, they were scuffed and smelly. So after Trip left his shift, I discovered he’d left the key to his toolbox behind in Engineering when I went down to speak to Rivers about deleting the video of me and Hayes splashing the audience.”

“So I DID lock up the toolbox!” Trip said. “I couldn’t remember if I’d done it or not.”

Malcolm nodded. “You did,” he confirmed. “I used the key to unlock the toolbox and slip the spanner up my sleeve when Rivers wasn’t looking, and then I locked the toolbox and went to the bow plate. I threw the spanner into the sweet spot, then used your access code to get into your quarters and drop the key off on your dresser, where you usually keep it.”

“You THREW MY SPANNER?” Trip yelped, a horrified expression on his face. “YOU THREW MY SPANNER?”

Jon glared at Trip. “What did I just tell you about killing crew members Trip?”

“You told me I couldn’t kill Rivers. You said nothing about whether or not I could murder Malcolm.”

“I’m saying it now,” Jon said, putting his “Damn it, I’m the Captain and I outrank you” face on. “You are not allowed to murder Malcolm either. Finish the story.”

“Well, needless to say, I decided to get Malcolm back for the spanner abuse,” Trip said. “So, I rigged his console-”

“The fart noises and polka music,” Jon said. “I think I know where this is going. Malcolm rigged your console to shoot pink silly string everywhere. You removed the gravity from his quarters, and Malcolm decided to fill your quarters with snow. At that point, you decided you’d had enough and figured beating the living hell out of him when he appeared to view the fruits of his labors was a good idea.”

“Pretty much,” Trip said.

“Sounds right,” Malcolm agreed. “Oh, and he took the fart machine I bought apart to get the sound chips for my console.”

“I decided to act like I wanted to apologize and showed up outside of Malcolm’s quarters with a bottle of bourbon,” Trip explained. “While Malcolm was off in the bathroom, I went through his dresser drawers and found it. I came back the next day when he was in the mess hall, took it apart, and then went to the bridge to do some “routine maintenance” on his console, which is when I rigged everything up.”

Jon was silent for a moment as everything he’d been told sunk in. “So what the two of you are basically telling me is that because Trip shot his mouth off, Malcolm decided to get revenge and it launched a full-scale prank war between the two of you ending with a fistfight in the snow in Trip’s quarters while Lieutenant Peacock and Rivers watched and did nothing.”

“I didn’t even realize they were there,” Trip said. “Guess I was so angry at Malcolm that I was more focused on fighting with him than anything else.”

“We really should have been more observant,” Malcolm agreed. “Remind me to ask Rivers if he sold tickets, because if he did, I do believe we are entitled to a portion of the profits.”

“I am seriously considering confining the two of you to your quarters for this,” Archer said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, confining Malcolm to his quarters anyways. We’d have to find somewhere else to confine you, Trip, until the snow gets cleared out. At least for the first couple of hours.”

“It’s going to take a couple of hours to clean up all that snow?” Malcolm said. “That’s fairly impressive. I didn’t expect the environmental controls to make that much…”

“In all honesty, I should have you confined to the brig for tampering with the environmental controls, Malcolm,” Jon said. “Did you even stop to think for a moment about what could happen if your rewiring job had gone wrong? You could have caused Trip serious injury, or even other crew members if it had managed to get into the main system for the environmental controls. Same with you and the antigravity controls Trip. Did neither of you stop and think about the consequences of your actions?”

The two men looked guiltily at the floor and shook their heads. “I didn’t think so,” Archer said. “It will never fail to amaze me how juvenile the two of you can act when you’re given the opportunity. I don’t know if it’s because I have too high an opinion of the two of you or because the two of you remind me of myself and AG Robinson when we were younger and just starting the Warp program. Either way, since this is the first time that you’ve both injured yourselves as a result of your little prank war and no one else in the crew was hurt, I’m going to be lenient.”

Trip and Malcolm both sighed with relief. “Thanks Jon,” Trip said, his head still tilted back due to the nosebleed. “It would be kind of hard to treat this thing from the brig.”

“Thank you Captain,” Malcolm echoed. “I didn’t think of what would happen at all. I just wanted to prove that I knew how to have fun like everyone else. I know I have a reputation on this ship as a bit of a stick in the mud, but I do know how to have fun.”

“Well, I do believe you’ve proved your point,” Jon said, a wry smile crossing his face. “I’m still confining the two of you to quarters for a couple of days, but I’m confining you together in Malcolm’s quarters, so you won’t be bored. And Trip, before you both go, I want you to go to the infirmary again to get that nosebleed taken care of. Have Phlox stuff a tissue or maybe some gauze up your nose and see if that stops it at all. Dismissed.”

Malcolm stood up and helped Trip to his feet, then led his friend out of Archer’s quarters and to the infirmary. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get that nosebleed stopped somehow,” Malcolm was saying as they left. “Maybe there’s an anti-coagulant or something Phlox can give you…” His voice trailed off as the door shut behind them.

When he was sure that they had gone, Archer turned to Porthos and grinned. “Be glad that you’re not human and don’t have to deal with issues between your crew members, boy,” he said. “Sometimes being the captain isn’t as fun as it looks. Other times, it’s nice to have the influence. Just watch.”

Archer turned to the comm panel and pressed a button. “Archer to Lieutenant Peacock,” he said.

“How can I help you, Captain?” Lieutenant Peacock’s voice came through the comm panel on Archer’s desk, sounding upbeat with the barest hint of underlying suspicion.

“I understand you and Rivers witnessed the fight between Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed,” Jon said, leaning back in his chair. “I saw the two of you standing in front of the door with what appeared to be popcorn. How did you end up watching the fight?”

“Well Captain,” Peacock began. “I was in my quarters, and Rivers had come by to talk about a book Hess had given him that we both liked, when we heard a commotion next door. Commander Tucker was swearing an awful lot, and we decided to go see what was going on. When we got there, they were already fighting, and we figured better to not get involved so neither of us got hurt, so we sent that newbie lieutenant to tell you what was happening.”

“And the popcorn?” Jon asked.

“We got hungry and decided to make a snack while we were talking about the book,” Peacock said, giggling a little. “So rather than let it get cold, we just brought it with us.”

“A good idea,” Jon said. He looked at Porthos and winked. “Just one more question before I let you go, Lieutenant.”

“What’s that, sir?” she asked.

“How much are you and Rivers charging for the chance to see the footage from the tape you two made of the fight? I’d be very interested in buying a copy…”