Empress Sato Cordially Invites You … To a Raging Kegger

Genre: Humor/Farce/MU/AU
Rating: R (language, drugs and alcohol)

Summary: Ok, so it’s the MU Enterprise crew, but they’re teenagers. Where did this come from? Remember it’s MU, so Vulcans won’t exactly abstain from everything.

General Descriptions of Teenage MU Crewmen:

Trip – Ladies’ man, football star, Jason Stackhouse

Sato – Super popular, major psycho bitch, stuck up, rich parents (wants Trip pretty much just because T’Pol does)

Phlox – nerdy, MacGuyver-type pothead though, gets Sato all kinds of drugs to get in her circle

Archer – football jock/screw-up boyfriend of Sato, tenuous friendship with Trip

Malcolm – dangerous kid that Sato wants in her corner … has connections.

Travis – Sato’s lackey, also plays football, officially dating MacKenzie

T’Pol – smart girl, sort of a foreign exchange student from a looked-down-upon country (like Japan right after WW2?)

“No shoes on the carpet,” Hoshi repeated with an irritable sigh, rolling her eyes as she held the front door open for the first group of guests at her party. More guests continued to file in, rendering the proper greeting of the evening to their ruthless sovereign.

“Good evening, Empress.”

“Good evening, Empress.”

“Good evening, Empress,” Malcolm nodded, meeting the steely glare of his queen and employer. She needed handlers – enforcers, who knew how to ensure the appropriate level of respect and homage from her subjects. Hoshi smiled broadly at her able, eager guard dog Malcolm and inclined her head to indicate he take up position near the kitchen. All would render her respect.

Someone snuck under her piercing glare, sneakers still on his feet. Her head snapped to the right, leveling her eyes on him. “What did I just say?” she barked. “My parents will shit if there is one spot on this carpet when they get home!” Mikey Rostov stopped in his tracks, turned and grimaced at her.

“Don’t worry about it. My shoes aren’t dirty!” he shook his head, ignoring her and walking on into the back of the house to find the keg.

Hoshi’s lips set sternly as she turned and looked at Travis, who rigidly stood his post near the door. Her most trusted enforcer. Though Malcolm was far more skilled in the application of pain to retrieve information, Travis was better when it was ‘just because’. A curl rode her lip, though her eyes became as dark and sharp as cut volcanic obsidian. A single, slender, silk-clad arm of the young Empress shot horizontally from her side and pointed at Rostov like iron sights fixing on a fleeing enemy. Rostov sauntered through the kitchen and cracked the door of the fridge.

Travis nodded at the Empress’s request, stopping his feet together smartly as he did so. He then sent a silent command to his subordinate, Malcolm, to assume his post. Reed nodded, making his way towards the Empress. As he neared her, he tried avoiding her gaze, but her eyes stuck to him. She was yet unsure whether she truly held his allegiance or not, but perhaps tonight she would find out.

“Let’s go,” the stolid voice of Travis Mayweather could be heard saying, followed by a raucous clang of the refrigerator door shut and the shatter of a beer bottle against the kitchen floor. Mayweather had Rostov in a hold, with one arm around his neck and the other pushing him out the back door.

“Dammit, Travis!” Hoshi snapped, frowning after him. Her Man stopped at the back door and looked back at his Empress. “When you’re done, clean that shit up! And hurry up, I don’t want glass all over the floor!”

Travis frowned with a deep sigh. He was hoping to be able to take his time on this cretin, but he nodded at his Lady’s command.

Hoshi sighed, growing tired of holding the door. Just then, her mark for the night walked through. She threw on a wide grin and sprang forward to embrace him.

“Trip! I’m so glad you made it,” she beamed, her hands very consciously holding him by the sides as she pulled back to look on him. The silk of her dress threw up only the most permeable of barriers between them as she clutched him tightly to her. He smiled a little uneasily. “Thanks, this is sure one hellofa’ place,” he said, looking around at her parents’ expansive mansion. Though it grated on her sophistication as the throwback remnant of a dead, uncultured, uncivilized people, his accent was incredibly sexy.

“Please vacate the doorway.” T’Pol stood on the threshold, her handbag at her side as she looked on icily at Trip in the clutches of the Empress. Sato’s smile immediately evaporated as she turned a positively vapid glare on the Vulcan.

“Why is she with you?” Hoshi demanded of Trip, turning an icy glare on him. Before Trip could answer, Hoshi preempted him and turned on T’Pol, holding Trip even tighter. “I didn’t think you were allowed to come out at night,” Hoshi said smirking. T’Pol’s brow angled rightly as she frowned, her eyes narrowing.

“I am. In fact, Trip tells me that you are the one that must be cautious for fear of instantaneous transmutation into a hematophagic desmodus rotundus after nightfall.”

Both Trip and the Empress squinted in confusion. “What?” Hoshi snapped back.

“A blood-sucking vampire bat,” T’Pol clarified. Hoshi’s eyes widened with rage as she turned on Trip, whose jaw was permanently on the floor, staring at T’Pol in disbelief. Hoshi pulled herself from Trip’s grasp. “WHAT?!” she demanded.

“Wh-wha-T’Pol, what the hell are you talkin’ about?!” Trip demanded. “I didn’t! Hoshi, I would never s—” Hoshi shoved him away and slapped him on the cheek with a swift crack before turning and storming away from the door. Trip groaned and cradled his stinging jaw as Malcolm came up beside him, leaning into his ear.

“Better be careful. She had an Andorian buried in several small boxes for less,” Malcolm said, smirking as he patted his friend on the shoulder before taking position on the door. Trip stepped aside to allow T’Pol to step inside, prompting Malcolm to shut the door and take up his position.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you,” Trip asked T’Pol with a half-groan, as he held his cheek. T’Pol looked up at him with a typically expressionless mien, through which Trip detected a hint of satisfaction. “Ahhh, uh huh,” he nodded, glaring at her. “You wanted her off’a me,” Trip grinned proudly.

“Why would I care?” T’Pol asked emptily. “I wonder if Jonathan is here,” she said aside as she stepped past Tucker. T’Pol turned back in time to see Trip rolling his eyes.

“I know what you’re doin’,” Trip insisted of her attempt to make him jealous. She raised an innocent brow.

“I am going to get a beer,” she said plainly. “That is all.”

To be continued in Chapter 2 . . .