Gigi Sinclair

"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 pharr. 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.