Abner Michaels sat in the science lab with his feet up on a table. He frowned at the clean, quiet environment, dissatisfied that there was no one to pester. Abner lived to annoy others. It made him feel powerful and amused him greatly. He could use a little amusement to distract him from his most recent disappointment. Initially, he had expected to serve as the chief science officer on Deep Space Thirteen. But no, at the last minute some higher-up had decided to put some Vulcan woman in charge. Abner's face twitched involuntarily as he thought of it. He, Abner Michaels, the most brilliant scientist of the day, deserved a command position! Damnit!

He noticed a batch of culture samples across the room. Grinning, he went over and rearranged them, lining them up in one long row instead of three short columns. It was an experiment of T'Laren's and he couldn't wait to see the look on her face when-

DAMN! Vulcan's faces never changed! Oh, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair! Still, it would likely bother her even if she never showed it. Snickering to himself, Abner wandered into the agricultural lab and found that little Oriental ensign hard at work. He couldn't stand the ensign! Always so meticulous and punctual - making the other officers look bad if they were so much as a minute late. He strolled into the room, amazed at the ensign's incredible lack of height.

"Hey, how short are you?" he stood close enough that he towered over the ensign.

Unimpressed, the young botanist looked up, and up. Abner was probably the tallest person on the station. "Lieutenant Michaels," he acknowledged simply.

"I asked you a question, ensign."

"Ensign Sazuki," Hiakowa introduced, though he knew that Abner knew his name.

"Come on shorty, what are you... five foot?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether I'm wearing my shoes or not."

"Huh," Michaels gave a snort of half-hearted laughter, "tell you what. I'm gonna give you a nickname. Which do you like better - Shorty or Munchkin?" When the ensign didn't answer, he said, "WEEEEELL?"

"Sorry," Hiakowa answered drily, "I was trying to figure out if those are your shoes or Bajoran paddle boats," he knew Abner was sensitive about his big feet.

The lieutenant glowered at him, stooping over slightly to give him a menacing look, "What was that?"

"Let's make a bargain," Hiakowa had found out through department rumor what Michaels nickname was, and pulled it out now as a trump card. "You don't call me Shorty, and I won't call you Bigfoot. Agreed?"

Abner took hold of the front of Hiakowa's shirt, "You rotten little half-pint, I - aaauuuugggghhhh - OOOOF!"

Hiakowa, without even thinking, had taken hold of Abner's arm and thrown him. To the ensign's credit, he was mindful of the hard floor and threw the lieutenant so he would land on his back and not his head.

"A problem, gentlemen?" T'Laren studied them from the doorway, one eyebrow arched in Vulcan disapproval.

Limbs flailing like a windmill, Abner gasped, "He attacked me!"

"Liar," Hiakowa stood ready, expecting Michaels to try something else.

"Excuse me," another female voice came from behind T'Laren, "is there something wrong?"

It was security chief Clair Hull.

* * * * * Abner and Hiakowa glared at each other in total silence. Five minutes had passed and T'Laren and Hull were still talking in the main science office. The men waited, miserably aware that they would likely have to report to Commander Giovanni for reprimand. Suddenly, the doors parted and Hull walked out, "Ensign Sazuki, if you would accompany me?"

Hiakowa followed her out of the lab, noticing Abner's satisfied expression. But the lieutenant's vindictive joy was short-lived.

"Mister Michaels?" T'Laren's voice came from her office, "May I have word with you?"

Hiakowa suppressed a small grin as he stepped into the corridor. His humor vanished as he walked beside Clair.

"Lt. Hull?" he knew better than to speak without being spoken to, but attempted it anyway, "I want to apologize for-"

She held up hand to silence him, "Forget it, ensign. I'm sure Abner only got half of what he deserved back there."

He stared at her in surprise, "You mean-"

"Not that that excuses you," she tried to look stern, gesturing for him to follow her into the security office, "sit down."

He sat.

"Fighting is not at all acceptable between officers, even if you have good reason for it."

"I know," he admitted, ashamed of his actions, "it won't happen again."

She nodded, "I don't suppose this should go on anyone's record..."

He looked up hopefully.

"But I do have a favor to ask of you."

"This sounds like blackmail," he protested, "have you been talking to the athletic director?"

"I have," she smiled wickedly, her blue eyes twinkling, "he said you refused to help with the fencing tournament."

"I refused very politely," he challenged. "I DID agree to teach two judo classes."

"Of course," she nodded, "but given the incident in the lab, I recommend you put in more volunteer time at the rec center... to work out your aggressions."

"I'm not aggressive!"

"I don't think the Commander would agree with you on that."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to help Anders Tudor with the upcoming tournament-"

"But I don't know anything about fencing!"

"He'll tell you all you need to know," Clair assured him, "besides, he desperately needs some help with this. Two of his scheduled judges can't come."

"If I refuse, will you go to the Commander?"

"I hardly expect I'll have to. Abner Michaels will go crying to her within the hour. But I will act as your advocate."

"Only if I agree to your terms," he stated darkly.

"Is it a deal then?"

Hiakowa sighed, "I suppose it is."

Lieutenant Hull regarded the ensign a moment longer, "You miss Lyndon?"

Sazuki glanced up, his dark eyes thoughtful, "You knew he was my friend?"

She laughed, "I watched the two of you throwing the hell out of each other at the combat arts festival last month..." she paused, "He was a good officer, I hated to see him reassigned."

They sat in somber silence for a moment, and Hiakowa asked, "Is there any way that you can request him back?"

"I sent in a protest when I first heard, and a request last week," she shook her head glumly, "I'm only a lieutenant... I don't have enough pull to make any difference. I even asked Giovanni to put in a word for us... and she did."

"No luck?"

"None." The security chief didn't have any solace to offer the ensign, and so stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away.