The BLTS Archive - One-Track Mind
by Gigi Sinclair (gigitrek@gmail.com)

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Archive: Sure, Kylie Lee, BLTS

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns it all (damn them!)

I originally wrote this one for the House of Tucker fanfiction contest
(where it won in the humour category!  Yay!)  No real pairing, because
there was no shipperfic allowed.  So you can pick your favourite, and
that's the one I was really writing about.  It's interactive fic!

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"Oh, Trip.  There you are."  Captain Archer turned to face his chief
engineer as Trip entered the ready room.

"What can I do for you, Captain?"  Trip tried not to glance too
obviously at the chronometer.  Twelve minutes till he was off-shift.
Four minutes and forty-seven seconds to get from Engineering to his
quarters, if the turbolift wasn't slow.  That made sixteen minutes and
forty-seven seconds, give or take.

"Actually, Trip," Trip looked up to see that Archer's face had turned
an unusual shade of pink.  "I was wondering if you might want to get
together tonight. You know for a beer."  Archer cleared his throat.
"Or something."

"Sorry, Captain, I'm all tied up."

Trip left Archer furrowing his forehead.  He didn't get far.  T'Pol
accosted him before he made it off the bridge.

"Ah, Commander.  How fortunate that I encountered you."

"Yeah, Sub-commander?"  Trip shifted from one foot to the other.

"I recall that, when Kov and the others were visiting, you expressed
an interest in the concept of pon farr. I have obtained some
interesting information on the subject.  If you like, we could peruse
it together, perhaps in my quarters..."

Trip shook his head firmly.  "Thanks, but no thanks, T'Pol.  I'm
busy."

He had almost made it to Engineering when he was cut off by Malcolm
Reed, brandishing a phase pistol.

"There you are, Trip.  Would you mind taking a look at my weapon? It's
been a little dodgy lately, and you're the only one who knows how to
handle it."

Trip sidestepped him, calling:  "Leave the pistol on my desk, I'll
take a look at it tomorrow," over his shoulder.

Trip finished his shift, his eyes on the chronometer all the while.
When it was nearly time to go, Rostov started yammering about new
positions for the power couplings, but Trip just told him to put it in
an email.

Trip was tapping his foot and trying not to look too impatient when
the turbolift arrived and Hoshi stepped out.  She smiled when she saw
him.

"Commander Tucker!  Just the man I wanted to see."

"Really?"  He tried to sound politely interested as he motioned for
Ensign Mayweather to hold the lift.  "What is it?"

"Weren't you asking me about Klingon lessons?  I have some free time.
If you want, I could show you some tongue exercises, maybe look at a
few irregular declensions..."

"Some other time, Hoshi."  Trip stepped into the lift.

"Going home already, Commander?"  Travis turned to him as the doors
slid shut. "Sure I can't interest you in a little zero-g workout?"

Trip sighed and decided to give up on politeness.  "No."

When he finally got to his quarters, Trip locked the door and, as an
extra measure, put on a Do Not Disturb order.  In case Phlox had a
sudden urge to conduct a physical or something.

Once he was sure he was safe, Trip took a deep breath and sat in front
of his computer.  This was the moment he'd been waiting for.  It was
only proper he savour it.

For at least a second.  That was all the savouring Trip could stand.
His hand shaking in anticipation, Trip flicked on the screen and
opened his mailbox.  A few more clicks, and there she was, in all her
naked, uninhibited glory.

Trip's breath caught in his throat and he shifted, resisting the urge
to caress the picture.  He wished he were a poet, so he could do her
justice, but he was an engineer, so the caption beneath her picture
had to suffice.

The brand-new, hot-off-the-manufacturing-line,
cutting-edge-of-technology mach three plasma coil.  Now that, Trip
thought, sighing in pleasure, was worth waiting for.

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The End