“Massive protest in three, two, one...”

The ship’s chief engineer had barely finished the sentence when the chirp of the intercom notified him of the fact that someone requested entry to his quarters, and quite urgently too by the sound of it.

Malcolm Reed, Enterprise’s normally introverted and currently mildly inebriated tactical officer flashed his only real friend among the crew a knowing smile and put his empty bottle back into the crate.

“I believe this is my cue to take my leave,” he quipped in his clipped British accent, amused by the fact that their prediction had turned out to be quite so accurate.

He pushed the door button to leave it to Trip to deal with his visitor. Apparently expecting the room’s occupant to open the door for her, she started to speak as soon as it was open. “Commander Tucker, there is an urgent...”

Her impending monologue, quite laden with emotion for a Vulcan he had to admit, stopped as soon as Subcommander T’Pol noticed that she was not unloading on the human she had expected to be greeted by. The Brit nodded in her direction and ambled off into the direction of his quarters, trying to be not too shaky on his feet after consuming slightly more beer than even Captain Archer’s relaxed orders regarding alcoholic beverages allowed for.

There were no points for guessing why the ship’s resident Vulcan was standing in his door frame and Trip waved her in, unashamedly continuing to enjoy his beer. He had stopped counting, but it was probably the sixth or seventh pint. There was nothing wrong with that. After all he wasn’t such a light-weight as Malcolm.

It had been a classic ‘Hold my beer while I invent a sport’ idea to post what they did in the ship-wide intranet forum, and they hadn’t been prepared for how enthusiastically the idea had been received by most of the crew, and the captain of all people as well.

What they were prepared for however was the foreseeable visit from the ship’s science officer for the sole purpose of voicing her irritation about yet another infantile and emotional idea of her human crew mates. It was amazing how easily one could unsettle the same Vulcan officer who had unflinchingly bribed and smack-talked her way through the Klingon hierarchy to free the Captain from the penal colony on Rura Penthe just a week ago. All it had taken was a forum post, born from a beer idea that had gone viral among the ship’s crew.

“Come on in, Subcommander,” he said with an expectant grin and the Vulcan duly stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her. She fixed him with that questioning glance of hers, her stance rigid, both hands clasped behind the small of her back.

“You are consuming alcohol, Commander,” she stated the obvious and Trip couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll be eternally grateful for your reminding me of it, Subcommander,” he answered with a teasing, sarcastic ring to his voice. “I had almost convinced myself I was accidentally inventing the warp seven engine.”

“It appears you were inventing something, Commander. This inane suggestion of celebrating an imaginary ‘National Nude Day’ can only be the result of your progressing inebriation.”

For her standards, T’Pol’s words were delivered quite hotly, he noticed.

“Even the Cap’n seems to think it is a good idea,” he replied neutrally. “As do at least thirty other people, including almost all the bridge crew and Doctor Phlox.”

He pointed at the growing number of people on the still active forum display who had selected ‘Hell, yeah’ in the attached poll.

“You cannot simply invent a hypothetical holiday for the purpose of forcing crew members to undress,” the Vulcan insisted.

Now that was an implication that he didn’t quite care for. In her roundabout way T’Pol had accused him of being a peeping tom who had invented the Nude Day to gawk at female crew members. He indicated her to take a seat and to his surprise the Vulcan did so.

“First of all, Subcommander, the National Nude Day isn’t an invention of mine. It was a fad in the early twenty-first century when many cultures back on Earth were still rather prudish when it came to ditching the frock, especially in public. And if anything, I suggested celebrating it because I want to go naked for a day without people questioning my sanity.”

“You wish to undress in public?” she asked and it wasn’t hard to see that she was definitely questioning his sanity at this very moment.

“T’Pol, why do you think half the crew said it was a great idea within twenty minutes?” he asked, pointing his thumb at the screen again. “Going naked for a while can be quite a liberating experience. And liberation is a great thing when you’ve spent two years cooped up in the close confines of a star ship. And besides, humans didn’t invent clothing to hide their bodies. We started wearing fur and leather so we could survive in regions with a climate that was too cold to go without.”

“You have not considered the consequences of your suggestion,” the science officer reminded him. “Being exposed to the sight of each other’s unclothed physique may encourage crew members to engage in sexual relations. According to studies undertaken by the Vulcan science directorate, the sight of an unclothed female body is causing strong arousal in human males.”

“As does the sight of a well-muscled man in a female, Subcommander. And where’s the problem? All people aboard are over eighteen years old and as long as there is no coercion involved we are dealing with potential cases of two or more consenting adults engaging in sexual activities. The proposal says quite explicitly that normal Starship regulations apply again the next day and that includes the ban on certain types of fraternization.”

He felt quite a bit of pride for his ability to deliver his argument in a quiet and calm manner, considering that he had already several beers in his system and that the Vulcan was the one crew member who knew where all his buttons were and how to push them. It was a rare occurrence to last that long in an argument without getting irritated with her.

“The Captain will most likely revise his initially supportive opinion if he realizes these potential consequences of your proposal,” she replied and he noticed that she still eyed his beer bottle with suspicion, or was it curiosity?

He had seen her mildly buzzed twice in the last few months. The first time after she had told Jon and him that tall tale of her grandmother over several glasses of wine, and then after celebrating the cease fire the Captain had brokered between her people and the Andorians at Paan Mokar. Perhaps the ship’s resident Vulcan had developed a liking for being a bit tipsy?

“Feel free to help yourself,” he said, pointing the neck of his nearly empty bottle at the crate which still contained half a dozen untouched bottles of finest brew. “As for the Captain. I think that he’s well aware of these potential consequences and that’s exactly why he supports it.”

He smiled when she actually did rise to fetch one of the bottles. T’Pol would never have stood down from a challenge like that, knowing that he would tease her about it if she had declined. She took out a cloth from her pocket and wiped the rim of the bottle after making sure to open it with as little sound as possible. She tasted the drink, but being a Vulcan she did of course show no signs of whether she liked it or not.

“You are claiming that the Captain supports your idea specifically to allow crew members to engage in sexual relations?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “That logic is unusual even by your standards, Commander Tucker.”

He ignored her mild insult and exchanged his empty bottle for a new one instead. “Subcommander, I’m sure you are familiar with the mission statistics and that means you know that twenty-five crew members, including the two of us, have been on away missions so far. That means we have sixty people on board, who have not been off this ship since we left space dock two years ago. That’s sixty people who haven’t breathed any fresh air for two years, and unless they’ve been breaking the rules, they haven’t had any sexual contact with anyone but their own hands.”

“Unlike you, Commander,” she challenged him and Trip thought he heard the same undercurrent of jealousy that she had displayed on that crashed ship where they had encountered Liana, her father and a whole bunch of holograms.

“Unlike me, Subcommander,” he conceded with a lopsided grin. “Although I repeat my insistence that it was Kaitaama who attacked me and I was merely unwilling to defend myself.”

“Of course, Commander,” she replied dryly.

“Anyway,” he continued, ignoring her reply. “The Captain could of course drop the no-frats, but then this crew would probably implode. People would start relationships and break up again with all the emotional baggage that comes with it. Using our idea, the Captain can allow everything for a day, people let off steam and things go back to normal the next day. As an added bonus, since it is technically a very large away mission, Phlox gets to check everyone to make sure that contraceptives are used and we don’t turn into a Chlamydia bomber.”

To his surprise T’Pol had already emptied her bottle and following his example she simply exchanged it for a new one. He grinned for a moment when she wasn’t looking.

“May I inquire how you came into possession of such a large amount of alcoholic beverages?” the Vulcan asked and Trip noticed with amusement that she sat back on his bunk slightly more comfortably than her usual ‘rigid back’ style.

“Snuffing out my trade secrets, Subcommander?” he challenged her and tried to mimic her raised eyebrow. “If you need to know; two of my engineers are running a brewery with the authorization of Captain Archer.”

“Engineering is hardly a suitable environment to produce beverages,” she replied and put down the bottle, apparently thinking that the stuff was cooked up by greasy engineers behind the warp reactor.

“It is produced in a clean-room and the production process is strictly supervised by Doctor Phlox in terms of hygienic conditions and substance quality. You have nothing to fear, Subcommander.”

“Since when does the ship have a clean-room?”

“Remember section forty-seven on C-deck?” he asked.

“According to the ship’s designs it should house a large water tank,” the science officer quoted from memory. “But according to later engineering reports you disallowed the construction.”

“I did, because someone forgot to think about what happens when two-hundred fifty-six tons of water float out of a swimming pool if the grav-plating conks outs. That is why it now houses a clean room and a brewery installation instead.”

He saw her ponder his explanation and apparently she was now confident enough again to continue emptying her second beer.

“There is one thing I don’t understand,” he wondered and looked at her. “Why did you get so upset by our idea of a Nude Day? The proposal said quite clearly that participation was strictly voluntary. That means if you are afraid of going naked, you can just stay aboard and command the skeleton crew. We’ve got to leave one on the ship anyway.”

“Vulcans do not experience fear,” she insisted, evading a straight answer.

“Then I must say Vulcans have a problem,” he lobbed the challenge back at her. “Fear is what warns us of potential danger, and I know for a fact that Vulcans do experience fear, because you are afraid right now. The thought of being seen without clothes is creeping you out and frankly I can’t really understand it.”

“You cannot understand why I would be ... uncomfortable with the thought of undressing in public?” she asked, not even contesting his theory, which was her usual way of admitting something without really admitting it.

“No, I can’t. I mean we’ve been in decon together what ... ten times, a dozen? And you weren’t wearing anything but your underwear. Trust me that bit of fabric leaves very few blanks to fill in by imagination.”

“You are creating mental images of me without clothes?” she asked back and she almost gasped, in fact he saw her catching a gasp at the last moment. Of course now was the time to weigh his response very carefully. Who was he kidding – he had several beers in the system.

“Yes I do, T’Pol,” he replied dropping the rank. “And to be honest, every straight male and probably some females too have done that a few dozen times by now. I guess Vulcans don’t care about these things but you are, by a long margin, the most attractive woman on this ship.”

He could see a slight greenish blush creep up her cheeks, probably helped by the beer as well as she was halfway into her third bottle already.

“There is a ranking?” she asked and by way of answer the chief engineer shrugged.

“Malcolm ran a poll in the forums a couple months back. I could look up the numbers, but I think you got about eighty percent of the votes, beating Hoshi and Liz Cutler to the win. And I might add that you got the majority of female votes as well.”

She stared at him, still blushing. For several moments she wasn’t unable to answer, but then she suddenly cast her eyes down.

“Everybody would be staring at me,” she said.

That was interesting in several aspects. First of all this was a pretty clear admission that she was indeed afraid. And secondly T’Pol was apparently still considering to participate in the event. That was quite a change from the upset Vulcan who had stormed in here about an hour ago.

“No they won’t,” he said, softening his voice. “I’m not going to lie. Many people expect that you won’t join in anyway, but they will also hope you do, and they will look at you because they’re curious. But nobody will stare, for three reasons. First, it’s considered rude. Second, whoever would think of staring at someone else knows that he or she could be stared at as well. You aren’t gonna do something that you don’t want to happen to yourself, are ya? And Third, and that’s especially true for the men, if you’re naked there’s a very obvious indication when you have, well, ‘those’ kinda thoughts about someone. Nobody is going to risk that sort of embarrassment.”

“But that is easy for you to say,” she insisted. “You are not in my position. There are no crew members waiting to inspect your unclothed physique.”

“Are you kidding me T’Pol?” he said with a chuckle and pointed at the screen. “I can name at least three female crew members from engineering alone who have made it very clear in the past that, if it wasn’t for the no-frats, they would invite me into their bed. And all three of them have already signed up for the Nude Day. They will be chomping at the bit to see the chief engineer ditch the frock. But when they have given me the once-over that will be that. They won’t be ogling me all day for the reasons I’ve explained earlier.”

He should have seen it coming. He had cornered T’Pol into admitting a weakness and her usual reaction to that was to deflect interest from herself to him and she did just that.

“Since you explained that engaging in sexual relations is an acceptable consequence of this proposal, do I take that to mean that you prepare to indulge one if not all of these females?”