Malcolm and Hoshi: The Missing Scenes

Harbinger

Hoshi blinked in incredulous dismay at the disheveled and bloodied Tactical Officer who stood outside her door.

Oh, my God, it’s finally happened.

It had been only a matter of time, after all.  The staff in Engineering had started a pool on how long it would be before it happened, and her bet had been for three days ago.  Malcolm and his damned British self-control.  He’d lost her a fortune.  Still, she’d let him make it up to her.  Eventually.  And over a protracted number of nights.

“I hope Major Hayes looks worse,” she said at last.

“I wish the captain had been that sympathetic,” he commented wearily. 

“Ah.  You’ve been to the Bridge.”  It wasn’t a question.  She hadn’t had time to look around at him before he was dispatched in pursuit of the alien plunging through the ship, but she guessed that the captain had gotten a good look at the damage and found the opportunity later to express his displeasure.

The portions of his facial anatomy that weren’t starting to discolor with bruising flushed slightly.

“I had to report on the situation.  Trip had to go to Sickbay and Hayes had to debrief with the MACOs.”

“So you were the sacrificial victim.”  She crossed her arms and tried vainly not to grin.  “And I guess the captain wasn’t pleased.”

“To put it mildly.  We get the official carpet parade first thing tomorrow morning.”  Reed grimaced. 

“So who gets the winner’s medal?”

“I think we came out about equal, in all honesty.  He’s bloody good.  Better than I expected, to be honest.  If I hadn’t had a few tricks up my sleeve I think he’d have wiped the floor with me.”  He took a handkerchief out of one of his pockets and dabbed gingerly with it at his badly split lip.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to kiss it better,” she said in her severest voice.

“Well.  Something like that.  I ache practically everywhere.”  Malcolm peered at her hopefully.   Unfortunately his rapidly darkening left eye did not, as he evidently thought, enhance his masculine charms. 

“Well, you know what the cure for aching all over is?  A long hot shower and a nice long sleep.  Alone.”  She pushed him out of the doorway and pressed the door control button.  The steel panel hissed shut across his indignant consternation, and she laughed.

‘Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen.’

And she liked Malcolm keen.