Chapter Text
Commander Trip Tucker hit hard beside the door as it snicked open. He rarely lost his cool. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to maintain calm. But he had just had a little interview with Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, the armory officer, and he was just about ready to deck the man.
The silent ship had attacked without reason, and now it was dogging them. They were undergunned; their present weaponry hadn't made a dent. The phase cannons Enterprise was equipped for—weapons that just might work against that ship—hadn't yet been installed. Enterprise had left Jupiter Station almost without warning on its first mission, and although the cannon ports were in place, they only had one prototype phase cannon.
Tucker and Reed had had a quick meeting and decided to help along Captain Archer's plan to return to Jupiter Station to have the techs put in the weaponry. Tucker knew his crew, and he knew they could do it just as well, if not better, than the techs in Jupiter Station. His men were pulling double shifts to get the job done. They were installing the existing phase cannon and using it and the specs to build two more.
Tucker stepped into the lift and automatically set his destination, gritting his teeth. He'd run into Reed just as the targeting scanners were being calibrated—and a good thing, too. Reed, acting as though he actually had the authority to do so, had decided to route the power for the cannons directly from the impulse engines, and the relays between, Tucker thought, would likely blow. It had apparently not occurred to Reed to run this little notion by Tucker first. The man clearly thought he had more power and autonomy than he did. Tucker had jerked him back.
"The relays were rated to handle that much power," Reed had said, the tone of his voice indicating his irritation at having to state the obvious. He'd pointed out that the inverters would cut in if there was an overload. "I've run a dozen simulations. It's an acceptable risk."
"I'll run you a dozen simulations," Tucker muttered to himself, exiting the lift and heading for the cafeteria. He smiled and exchanged a breezy greeting with an ensign. He really needed to get something to eat, because he sure wasn't going to get any sleep. "Cocky bastard." He'd told Reed, "When it comes to my fine ship's systems, why don't you let the chief engineer decide what's an acceptable risk?"
They were nose to nose, faces inches apart, about ready to come to blows, Tucker pointing out that shortcuts could kill, when Reed had backed down. He'd broken eye contact and said simply, "Yes, sir." Well, Tucker admitted to himself, he'd pretty much pulled rank on the guy. Reed was only a lieutenant. Tucker particularly hated winning arguments by pulling rank. But the way Reed always said "sir": it was "sir," to rhyme with "incompetent bastard." It just dripped with contempt, especially with that little pause in front of it, which implied that it was an afterthought. Or maybe it was just Reed's British accent.
Well, Reed could play with his guns all he wanted. He just needed to leave the ship's power systems alone. Usually he got along fine with his colleague—in fact, they saw a lot of each other and got on well as a rule—but when Reed decided he was right, he simply would not back down. Sometimes, when he actually bothered to try to convince someone of his point of view, rather than simply bludgeoning him with it, he would try logic first, then emotion, apparently not noticing that no still meant no.
Reed had an odd intensity sometimes. Tucker couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had felt it when the two of them were standing face to face, arguing. He didn't know what would happen if that tension ever snapped. Fisticuffs would ensue, no doubt. Reed was smaller than him, but only by a few inches, but he would be dogged in a fight. But—Reed would back down. Because Tucker outranked him.
"Trip!" Ensign Hoshi Sato, the communications expert, waved at him. She had a mug of coffee and a half-eaten muffin in front of her. "Can I ask you a question?" She gestured to the empty chair next to her.
Trip set his tray of ravioli down next to Sato's and sat. "Shoot."
"How well do you know Malcolm Reed?"
Trip groaned.
"What?"
"Are you going to ask me what his favorite food is?"
"How did you know?"
"You're not the first person to ask me that today. I don't know what his favorite food is. I don't care what his favorite food is."
Sato looked surprised. "I thought you liked Lieutenant Reed."
"I like him fine. I'm just mad at him right now."
"Why, what'd he do?"
Tucker picked up his fork and toyed with a piece of ravioli. "He wanted to bypass the EPS grid and plug those phase cannons of his right into the impulse engines."
Sato shrugged. "So?"
"So you're not supposed to do that. It might blow up. Those cannons draw a lot of power, and I want to make real sure that the infrastructure between the power source and the cannons will hold." He morosely took a bite of ravioli.
"Well, won't the inverters cut in if there's a power surge?"
Tucker cocked an eyebrow at her. "You been talking to Malcolm? He said the same thing."
"I reviewed Enterprise's specs pretty thoroughly when I took this post. After all, communications ties in with engineering, and I have to review the communications systems to authorize you tech guys to do repairs. What did you think of his simulations? I assume he ran simulations."
"Yes, of course. But I didn't review them."
Sato used a finger to free a chunk from her muffin. "Trip, I seriously doubt that Lieutenant Reed will blow up the ship."
"I'm not so sure. He said it was an acceptable risk. His words. Like he can decide what's acceptable when it's an engineering concern."
"Ohhh, I think I get it."
Tucker gave her a look and turned his attention back to the food. "Okay, I'll bite. What?"
Sato leaned forward and dropped her voice, smiling wickedly. "He didn't ask permission. He had this great idea but he didn't get permission."
Tucker tossed down his fork and looked her in the eye. "No, he did not."
"What's that saying? It's easier to obtain forgiveness than permission?"
"Yeah, I've heard that one." Tucker dabbed his bread in the ravioli's sauce. "I guess I'd better review Malcolm's simulations." Trust Sato to cut to the chase. It wasn't a bad idea. What did he expect, a tactful Reed? That would never happen. Tucker had to admit he was kind of—well, proprietary about Enterprise.
"I guess you'd better." Sato picked up her empty plate and her mug and got up to leave. "I think I'll visit Doctor Phlox in sick bay later today and see if he knows anything about Lieutenant Reed's food preferences. I see them eating breakfast together a lot."
"Good luck on your mission."
Sato tapped her finger on the top of the table to punctuate her words. "As God is my witness, I will find out Lieutenant Reed's favorite food."