Oral Tradition
Disclaimer: B&B own all. Except Granny Postlethwaite.
Malcolm was relaxing in his quarters with the latest issue of 'Jane's Defence Weekly' when the door chime went.
"Come in."
The door slid open to reveal Trip and Travis, both grinning and slightly out of breath. Malcolm's Tactical Officer Sense smelled a rat.
"Hi Mal, just thought we'd, y'know, come visit."
"Why?"
His question was interrupted by a chirp from the communicator on his desk.
"Lieutenant? I have an incoming transmission from earth for you, sir."
"Who from?"
The crewman on communications for the beta shift cleared her throat, "they said 'tell him it's his granny dear, but don't wake him up if he's asleep, I know how he gets when he doesn't get his sleep', sir."
Malcolm turned to glare at the other two officers. "You knew."
"Who, us? Now, why would we do a thing like that?"
"Because you like seeing me humiliated, commander."
"Yeah, knew there was a reason."
Malcolm slumped into his chair, and the other two perched on his bed.
"Better put it through."
The screen came to life. "Ooh, hello Malcolm dear. You are looking better. You've had that haircut I see."
Malcolm considered correcting his grandmother, telling her that the last time she'd actually talked to Hoshi, but decided that he really couldn't be bothered. It would only confuse her more. "Hello Grandma."
She caught sight of the other two in the room. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"
"Sorry. This is Commander Charles Tucker III-"
"Pleasure to meet you m'am."
"Oh! A Commander. How dashing."
"And this is Ensign Travis Mayweather."
"Hello."
"Another fine young man. But Malcolm, what are you doing fraternising with other ranks? Isn't that against the rules?"
Trip cut in, "well, I'm the only commander on the ship, so if I don't fraternise I don't get to talk to anyone."
Malcolm's grandmother laughed. "I'd better introduce myself. I'm Malcolm's grandmother--on his *mother's* side you understand. You can call me Britney, Mr. Tucker."
"In that case you'd better call me Trip, Britney."
Malcolm's grandma giggled, and Malcolm glared at Trip. Trip was deliberately trying to charm his grandma. She seemed to collect herself and turned back to Malcolm.
"Malcolm you haven't got into trouble with any nasty aliens recently have you? I get so worried. I was watching this programme about aliens that got inside you, and they grew, and then they came out..."
"That's a film grandma."
"I thought it was a documentary."
"No, it's made up. Really."
"Oh. Have you got a girlfriend yet? I want great-grandchildren. I'm not getting any younger, and you sister's not exactly attracting many men."
Malcolm paused. When his grandma insulted someone it generally meant they'd done something specific, and he'd better find out what before she defamed his sister to half the planet.
"What has Maddy done, grandma?"
"She never visits anymore."
"You have moved to Florida. She used to live about five minutes down the road. Of course she visits less often."
"There's no need to use that tone of voice on me young man!"
"Sorry grandma. How's the new house?"
"It's all very exciting. There are lizards on the trees. And the house has air conditioning."
Trip butted in. "You don't have air-con in England?"
"Don't interrupt, young man, it's very rude. It's never this hot in England, so it would be a waste of money, of course. Does your ship have air conditioning?"
"Yes, otherwise we'd freeze to death or suffocate."
"Oh, of course. How silly of me. Ah, now I remember what I rang you for. I need you to finish reading my story to me."
"Pardon?"
"Your sister started reading me a story, and I want it finished. You know my eyesight's not the best..." Malcolm mentally added that her eyesight could see money on the ground forty feet away, but not 'do not walk on the grass' signs. "I've sent a copy over the thingy, whatsit-"
"The subspace, grandma."
"And I've put a bookmark in it for you."
"Couldn't you ring Maddy? It's costing you ten times as much to ring me."
"Yes, but she's never in, and you are because you can't leave. Actually, Mr. Tucker? You do have a lovely speaking voice. Could you read the story to me?"
Malcolm noted Trip's expression with smug satisfaction. He had come here to watch Malcolm be humiliated, not be drawn into this himself. Malcolm gave up his seat and plonked himself on the bed. He knew what his grandma liked to read. This was going to be fun.
"Are you sure you want me to do this?"
"Yes dear. Have you got the book there?"
The book had been downloaded onto a datapad, which Trip picked up. He cleared his throat, and read in a 'school reading' monolgue. "Jeremy looked into Shirley's storm-clouded eyes. 'Yes, now. Please.'. He slid his hand up her dress, kissing her as he moved upwards. His fingers slid inside her lace panties and caressed her..." Trip half choked and stopped. Malcolm and Travis were trying not to be too obvious about laughing.
"Yes dear? Caressed her what?"
"Are you sure this is suitable?"
"Oh, yes, I've read lots of her books before. My favourite is where they have sex in the carriage and don't hear the highwayman coming. And then he joins in."
Trip looked utterly stunned. "I... I... I can't read this."
"Why dear? You're a bit old to be innocent."
Trip had blushed an interesting colour. "It's just not the sort of thing for a grandmother. Ma'am."
Travis looked confused. "Hey, my grandmother does it too. She's blind, she gets the books out in braille, then she reads them to her guide-dog. And they're gay porn."
Malcolm's grandmother brightened considerably. "Really? If I'd known you weren't going to object... I'll send you the other book. This one's much more exciting. There we go, bookmark's in this one too."
Trip picked up the datapad with trepidation. He read. And then he went pale and dropped it.
"Oh, I see. You're not comfortable reading it in front of your friends, is that it? Well, this is costing me some money, so if you could record it for me, and then send it to me, Mr. Tucker? I really would be so grateful. Thank you for introducing me to your friends, Malcolm, and do take care. Don't go touching anything strange without washing your hands afterwards."
The connection was severed.
"Your grandma seems real nice Malcolm. Trip, you wouldn't mind making a copy of that for my grandma? See, it's her birthday soon, and you can't get a present back in time."
Trip remained silent and pale.
"Trip? Do you want us to call Dr. Phlox?"
More silence.
"Come on, you're a grown man, you spent four years living in San Francisco. It can't have been that disturbing."
Trip passed over the datapad. Travis and Malcolm leaned over it.
"Oooooh, this is her new one isn't it?"
"I think she's asked me to read out something like this before. Is it the same person that wrote 'Fiery and Forbidden'?"
"Yes, her. C'mon Trip, this is really new, they're not going to have this out in braille for ages. You'd make my grandma's day. She's a sucker for a southern accent."
Trip looked at the two of them. Two people who, up to about three minutes ago, he thought he knew. "What? This is normal to you?"
Travis and Malcolm looked at each other and shrugged. "Yeah, what does your grandma do for fun?"
"She knits! She watches soaps! She bakes! She does not read explicit gay porn! She especially does not expect her grandsons to read explicit gay porn to her!"
"Wow. You have a weird family."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I've got a transmission from Starfleet sir, secure channel."
"I'll take it in my ready room."
The captain sat down at his desk. Admiral Forrest appeared on the viewscreen, looking harassed. "Jon, you've been having a lot of transmissions from someone calling themselves 'Britney Postlethwaite'; the messages make little sense. We think they may be some kind of code. Jon, I have to tell you--we think you may have a security breach on board."
The captain looked stunned. "Are you accusing one of my crew?"
"Yes. You're not going to like this, Jon, but every one of those messages was addressed to Commander Tucker."
"Are you accusing Trip of being a spy?"
"We don't know that. I suggest that you conduct inquiries on board, but it seems the most likely explanation."
The connection was severed, and the captain sat back in his chair. Trip couldn't be a spy, could he? And why did the name Postlethwaite sound familiar? He reached over to the comm. "Malcolm? Could you come to my Ready Room?"
Malcolm came in. "Sir?"
"Malcolm, are you aware of any security breaches on board?"
"No, sir."
"You're sure of that, you're not just covering up for a friend, or avoiding telling me something I don't want to hear?"
Malcolm looked hurt. "No, sir, I like to think I take my job more seriously than that."
"Does the name 'Britney Postlethwaite' mean anything to you?"
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid it does."
"So you know what I'm talking about?"
"I think so, sir."
"Then why the hell didn't you tell me earlier? Spying is a serious offence!"
"Are you accusing my grandmother of spying, sir?"
The captain looked genuinely shocked. "Commander Tucker is your grandmother? We're deeper into this temporal cold war than I thought."
"What?"
"What?"
"I can assure you that I am not in any way related to the commander, sir, and in that case what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Britney Postlethwaite."
"Yes, Britney Postlethwaite, my grandmother. What does she have to do with spying?"
"She has been repeatedly contacting the ship in code."
"In code?"
"Look at this."
Malcolm looked at the PADD the captain handed him. "That's not code, that's just how she writes. She's, well, one sandwich short of a picnic. Or several sandwiches. Possibly an entire picnic basket."
"So why is she contacting Trip?"
"She overheard him when she rang me, and she wants him to read a bedtime story to her because she likes his reading voice."
"So the entirety of Starfleet's cryptography department is attempting to decipher your grandmother's requests for a senior Starfleet officer to read her a bedtime story?"
"In a nutshell, yes, sir."
"Why hasn't Trip just read it to her?"
"I think you'd best ask the commander about that one, sir."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why haven't you just read the bedtime story to her, Trip?"
"Bedtime story? Well, I guess that's one way of putting it, Cap'n."
"What do you mean?"
"It's kinda... explicit. And it's kinda two guys getting explicit."
"Malcolm's grandmother reads gay porn?"
"Nah, she gets other people to read gay porn to her."
"Oh. That's quite... unusual."
"Hey, it ain't, I've got Travis' grandma bugging me for a copy as well. And then I told my great-Aunt Louelle about it, and now she wants one as well. And she wants me to get her large print gay porn for Christmas."
"Oh."
The captain looked suspiciously like a man who's had his world view turned upside down. He stared out of the window. Maybe this would explain why great-aunt Anna had a section of her bookcase that he wasn't allowed to look at when he was a kid.
"Cap'n? You Ok?"
The captain came out of his reverie. "Oh, sorry. Trip, you've got to buckle down and read to her."
"Why?"
"Otherwise Admiral Forrest will be convinced that you're a spy, and you'll be dragged back to earth and court-martialled."
"Oh. Ok then."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trip looked at the story. Better get on and finish it then. He was half way through, which was making him fell somewhat better about it. He cleared his throat, "David kissed him passionately, revelling in the scrape of Stephen's handlebar moustache across his face. He drew back. 'Let's see you out of that uniform, flight lieutenant,' he whispered. 'Roger and out, sir?" he replied. 'Oh, I think so, lieutenant,' his pupils dilating...".
Trip stopped. There it was again. That noise, it sounded like... giggling? He stood up and strode to the door. When he opened it though, the corridor was empty. He shrugged. All this talk of spying must be making him paranoid.
Just round the corner and out of sight, Hoshi, Liz and Mary-Sue breathed a sigh of relief. That had been a little too close.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trip was collapsed in the captain's cabin, looking like he'd been stuck in a jeffries tube for three days.
"Just be glad it's all over, Trip."
"I'd be happier if it hadn't happened in the first place. Jeez, those books are long."
"Bourbon?"
"Sure we've got enough on board?"
The door pipped.
"Come in."
Hoshi stepped through the door, carrying a box of discs. "I've got the latest batch of subspace mail, sir, and there's a letter from Starfleet for Commander Tucker that he might want to read first." Hoshi was grinning widely.
"Subspace mail is confidential, ensign."
"Yes, sir, I signed the confidentiality contract. Is that all?"
The captain looked at her suspiciously. She grinned back, brightly.
"Yes, Hoshi."
She left, and Trip picked out his letter. He looked at the captain for permission, who nodded. He brought it up and started to read. And went very pale.
"Trip? What's wrong?"
"It's from Admiral Forrest."
"What now?"
"He says, he's glad all the misunderstanding about security has been cleared up, but could I send a disc of me reading 'The Sacred Band Do Thebes' for his mom." Trip looked at the captain a little desperately. "Have I become some kinda gay porn reading service? I didn't sign up to Starfleet for things like this!"
The captain was trying to suppress his laughter, "You mean going where no man has gone before?"
"Not funny."
"Look on the bright side, Trip. If any more people's relatives start asking, you can start charging them."