The BLTS Archive - An Acceptable Risk by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com) --- Archive: by permission Disclaimer: I don't own them. They were born in other creative minds but they keep intruding into mine, so what's a girl to do? In this instance, quoted dialogue also belongs to Paramount all original dialogue and ideas are my own. Spoilers: Silent Enemy - Mild --- "The stabilizer on cannon port two checks out ok, sir," Eddie says. I glance at him with narrowed eyes. "Port one or port two?" "Port one, sir - sorry." "Get it right!" I know I am snapping but this is important. We cannot afford to bungle this job; too much is riding on it. Get it right, Malcolm. I will not tolerate negligence or incompetence! My father is a man of exacting standards. He drives himself hard, and expects the same from others around him. I don't recall him ever physically striking anyone but his tongue inflicted more pain than a physical beating ever could. My mother, Madeline and I bore the brunt of it more times than I care to recall. The flash from my past lasts only a second but as these things can tend to do - it shakes me to my core. I realise my father's voice has spoken through my own lips. It irritates me, and I walk away from Eddie. "Start on those beam emitters." I head towards a Jeffries tube, wanting to be alone. Trip joins me as I reach the hatch; tells me the targeting arrays will be on line in an hour. I turn to him and our eyes meet for an instant. "We should be aligning them by now! Not installing them!" You are wasting time, Malcolm. I expected better from you! Your father is in one of his moods, dear. Best you keep out of his way. He's been spitting sparks all evening. My mother - ever the facilitator - trying to act as a buffer between the admiral and myself. When I was younger, I appreciated it. Later I came to see it as weakness. I am too much my father's son. I push the past aside once more and reach for the relay I want to adjust. Sparks fly and my hand and arm catch the full force of the shock. I recoil, swearing, and shrug Trip's hand off as he hurries to my side. I cannot bear to be touched when I am irritated! "I'm fine!" I tell him. "I told them to depolarise those relays." More incompetence. It grates on me. "What are you trying to do?" "Bypass the EPS grid." "Why?" "Well we can draw power for the cannons directly from the impulse drive." This is the first he has heard of my idea. I didn't pass it with him first and he is about to prove my hunch about it right, I can read it in his eyes. I expected him to oppose the idea. What I didn't expect was that he would pull rank on me. We stand, face-to-face, eyes locked as I try to stare him down. He knows how important this is to me. I explained that - at least I thought I did when we met earlier. "I wanna get this job done as quickly as you do, Lieutenant…but not if it means taking risks that could get our people killed." He has drawn the line. He stares into my eyes, daring me to step over it. This is no longer about Malcolm and Trip, lovers -- friends. It has come down to Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. Resentment seethes for a moment and I choke it down; take a half step back breaking the eye contact. "Yes, sir." I avoid him the rest of that day, declining his invitation to join him after work in the mess hall. The fact that he used his position to influence me has cut deeper than I wish to admit. He has never once drawn the difference in rank between us into any discussion before today. That he has done so now hurts and I am unwilling to let the grudge pass lightly. The next day is taken up with aligning and calibrating the weapons after Trip makes a peace offering in the form of helping me to test my idea. Of course it turns out to be an unmitigated disaster. The cannons obliterate the peak that the captain asked me to 'shave a few meters off the top of.'" I am glad Trip is on the bridge. I don't want to see the look in his eyes. He is right, I am wrong, and the ship is damaged due to my stupidity. But it is all over now, I stand outside his quarters debating myself over whether to press the call button or not. I know he is 'at home.' He left soon after we shared the cake with Hoshi and the captain in the armoury; made some excuse about needing to catch up on some reports. I didn't miss the brief glance he sent me as he left. I followed him a short time later. How could I not? Charles Tucker draws me as irresistibly as a magnet draws iron filings. I want to be with him, to let the tension and irritation drain away in the warm glow of his blue eyes. I want to feel his arms surround me; hear him whisper my name the way only Trip can. Yet, some small, stubborn part of me wants to resist. Can I really afford to let myself go like this? I know the cost of such relationships; this is not the first one I have considered. I know he will want me to let him in. The gentle probing will start: 'What do you think of this, how do you feel about that?' I have never been comfortable with sharing myself. It is something I have rarely done. I was never encouraged to do so at home and keeping to myself is a habit I have grown too accustomed to over the years. Some people say I am taciturn. I don't think I am. I merely never learned the gregarious habits of my shipmates. I find it tremendously tiring; conversation is not a strong point with me as I am sure Ensign Sato now realises. I am much more at home, and at peace, amongst my computers, scanners, and targeting arrays. I sigh softly and stare at Trip's door for a long moment. I know that going in there means I am making an agreement with myself and with him that I will finally learn to open up. That for once, I will allow someone inside the shell. I raise my hand and press the button. I have counted the cost -- I think it is an acceptable risk. . --- The End