The BLTS Archive - When You Come Back to Me
by C.J.(mochachill2k2@hotmail.com)

---

Betas: Lizard and Ana P—I owe you big time! Also, thanks to my
'creative consultants' Susan217 and my hubby.

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount; no copyright infringement
is intended. Just borrowing them!

---
Prologue
---

"They'll be in firing range in five minutes."

"We have ten minutes until Enterprise intercepts! Can't you make this
bleeding thing go any faster?!"

"All due respect, Lieutenant, but I'm learning as I go. And I'm pretty
sure I'm getting top speed out of it."

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed chanced a look over at the man on his right.
Sweat glistened against the young man's dark skin; his lips were
pressed together in concentration. The prosthetics on his cheeks,
forehead, and chin, forming the same "skin bubbles" that Malcolm wore,
did nothing to hide the tension on Travis's face.

"I know, Travis," Malcolm said tightly. Ensign Mayweather didn't spare
him a glance and Reed turned back to the panel in front of him. He
blinked furiously and rubbed at his eyes. The damn contacts he was
wearing were designed to make his eyes as black as Travis's—and to
stay in place until Phlox himself took them out. They itched
furiously, even more than the new adhesive Phlox had developed to
ensure a punch in the face wouldn't dislodge the prosthetics.

"How are you coming with the weapons?" Travis asked him.

"I think I've got them online. . . we've got some decent firepower,
but it'll be hard to hold off very many until Enterprise arrives."

At that, white teeth flashed. "Well, we'll just have to make ourselves
a hard target. You do the shooting, sir, and I'll keep us out of their
way."

Despite the desperate situation, Malcolm almost laughed at Travis's
confidence. It hadn't been that long since he'd believed he was
invincible—the vanity of youth. Followed by a long period of a
willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. But of course,
there were higher stakes for him now. I want to make it, dammit.

As if reading his thoughts, Travis looked over at him fast. "Don't
worry, Malcolm. We'll get you back to Sabah so you can finish up that
honeymoon." The young man grinned at him again, this time
lasciviously. Malcolm chuckled out loud, grinning back.

The first shot hit their little stolen ship, shaking it, and the usual
sparks flew out around them, sprinkling their skin with tiny coals.
Their enemy had arrived. The humor of their situation disappeared, and
Malcolm focused his attention on returning fire.

"Four of them. Let me see what I can do about that," Malcolm muttered.
His gaze narrowed to the instruments in front of him—his vision
outside of their hull. "One moment. . . " He pushed a few buttons, and
one of the small craft following them exploded.

The vessel was so close that debris from the explosion rammed into
their own ship. The craft quaked; Malcolm's face slammed forward into
the weapons panel. His head buzzed and pain surged in his face.

"You ok?" Travis asked. His death grip on the helm control had
protected him from the impact.

Malcolm was already up again, trying to gain a weapons' lock on the
next ship. He ignored the blood running down his face from his nose
and didn't bother to answer.

"Four minutes until Enterprise reaches us," Travis informed him
unnecessarily. Knowing the numbers didn't make Malcolm's job any
easier, or slow his heart, which was slamming against his ribcage.

"Three more, Travis. We surprised the first one, but I can't take all
of the rest," he said. Another shot rattled the ship.

"Guess we'll just have to outrun them," Travis said, grinning again
now.

Malcolm was about to point out that their enemy's ships were identical
and would go just as fast, when Travis pulled hard to starboard.
Malcolm had to fight to maintain his seat and the ship shook
violently.

Looking at his sensors, Malcolm realized they were now directly behind
one of the enemy ships. He locked weapons and fired. The ship ahead of
them took a hit; the second shot he fired destroyed it.

Travis bellowed in triumph. He's enjoying this, Malcolm thought
irritably. He'd never seen the Ensign like this before.

The train of thought was lost when he looked again at the sensors.
"Travis. . . ," he started. He didn't get the chance to tell the
Ensign about the half-dozen other ships that had mysteriously appeared
on his sensors. As the console in front of him exploded, Malcolm saw
Travis's face, eyes wide, and knew the Ensign had seen for himself.

The explosion spread across the entire front of the little ship,
blowing Malcolm backwards. His face burned like fire and when he hit
the deck behind him, he had to beat at the flames that he felt on his
chest and in his hair. Even as he put them out, he looked frantically
at his comrade.

Travis lay next to him, eyes open. A piece of the helm was embedded in
the Ensign's chest, a red flood welling around it. It was already
spreading onto the floor of the little cabin.

"Travis?" Malcolm rasped. He rolled onto his side, closer to the
younger man, short of breath. Despite his own injuries, his mind was
clear. He knew they only had seconds left. Thinking, I'm sorry, Sabah,
he gripped Travis's lifeless hand.

---
Chapter 1
---

Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can
meet again. And meeting again, after a moment or lifetime, is certain
for those who are friends. Richard David Bach

There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That
will be the beginning Louis L'Amour

*Enerol (or Ene) is the Jafari word for mother. Divad (or Vad) is the
word for father.

---

"Nita! Nita, stop!"

Hoshi Sato shouted after her daughter. Nita looked back. Almond-shaped
dark eyes bristled with irritation over her Tucker-tilted nose. Her
cheeks were touched with pink by the cool air. "Enerol! I want to see
Vad!"*

"Your father will be back from the fields soon, so you can wait. And
help me." Normally, it was fine with Hoshi when Nita chose to follow
Trip. But today was special. The Batalban, the village's autumn
celebration, would begin shortly after the men returned from the
fields. Hoshi was still attempting to complete her part of the
preparations. A difficult task when combined with keeping a handle on
a restless child.

Nita trudged back to her mother's side. Hoshi looked at her. "Hand me
that bowl, Nita-chan?" The little girl grabbed the bowl, which
contained the main ingredient to her father's favorite food. A sugar
substitute, her mother called it, although Nita had never tasted
sugar.

As she handed it to her mother, she informed her, "I'm going with him
tomorrow."

Hoshi didn't look up while she stirred the pot over the fire. Nita
adored Trip; she preferred spending her time in the fields with
him—and she had inherited her mother's stubborn nature.

Like all children born in the village, Nita aged more quickly than the
adults—but very slowly by Earth standards. After all of the time Hoshi
and Trip had lived on Massum—decades—Nita was now approximately six
years old, physically. Hoshi had always thought Phlox would've had a
field day figuring that out.

Before Nita could continue to argue, Hoshi held up a hand. "Here he
comes."

Nita said something else, but Hoshi only listened with half an ear.
She was watching the man that approached her fire, walking against a
backdrop of colossal tree trunks and twirling gold leaves. He was
wearing a green overshirt and his usual brown pants. Dirt was caked
under his nails and smudged one cheek. Beautiful, she thought, not
even aware of the smile that brushed over her face.

Nita launched herself at him, shouting gleefully. Hoshi smiled again
and squelched the urge to roll her eyes. Nita's face was an
interesting combination of her parents' features. But her body, her
actions, even her usually genial personality were her father's. And
she had the man wrapped around her finger, no doubt about it.

"Hey, baby." Trip caught Nita easily, planting a big kiss on top of
her dark hair before he released her. But he kept walking until he
could put his hands on Hoshi.

"Batalban mukara," she told him in Jafari, after he'd kissed her with
warm lips. Our harvest gratitude. The Batalban was in honor of the
village men, who worked the fields and provided food for the villagers
to eat during the winter. In the spring, the men would return the
favor with the Eydnac, the women's festival.

He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it back from
her face. "Thanks. Best harvest ever this year."

He only grinned when Hoshi used her sleeve to wipe the dirt off of his
cheek.

"You say that every year," Nita informed him. She settled onto a tree
root bench.

"And I mean it every time," Trip said, dropping onto the branch beside
her. He nudged his daughter with his arm. Giggling, Nita stood up on
the bench, draping herself around his shoulders.

Hoshi reflected again on how very, very lucky she was. When they first
came to Massum, she had only been able to see what she was losing from
her old life. Until she realized that this place could be home, too,
as long as Trip was there.

Trip threw his head back and laughed at his daughter's chatter, one of
his large hands holding her tiny ones in place around his neck.
Watching them, Hoshi felt absolute happiness. She suddenly had an urge
to send her daughter on to the festival alone, so that she'd have time
to thank him properly for her extraordinary life.

He turned his eyes to her then. Her feelings were reflected in his
glance—but they had all been waiting for the festival for weeks.
Tonight, though, after Nita was asleep. . .

"So, where're my gifts?" he demanded. Each family prepared gifts for
their men who were old enough to work in the fields. Nita shoved a few
crudely wrapped packages into his hands and moved back to sit beside
him. Hoshi sat down across from them, waiting for Trip to open them.

"Nita wrapped them herself," she told him, with an emphasis that
betrayed her pride in her daughter.

Trip grinned and tore into the paper. He responded to each surprise
with his usual boisterous enthusiasm, which Nita echoed cheerfully.
Finally he opened the last gift. His eyes widened as he saw what it
was. "Hey, this is exactly. . . "

As he spoke, he looked up at his family, eyes revealing his pleasure.
His gaze moved past Hoshi. She saw the satisfaction drain, replaced by
confusion.

She knew. She didn't want to turn around, because it would mean facing
her past. Making decisions. "Trip?" she asked, her voice shrill. She
wanted him to greet his Jafari friend Tiron. To go back to his gift,
because the look on his face was her imagination.

But the confusion moved to joy instead, and he stood up, letting his
new shirts and tools drop. Now Nita's eyes were following his.

"Hoshi." The voice came from behind her. Even in that one word, she
could hear the clipped accent—the familiar tone. One that she could
never hear again, because the man who spoke her name that way was
dead.

Hoshi stood and turned. A group of people was standing there, most of
them dressed in Starfleet uniforms. But she only saw one, his eyes
locked on her.

"Hoshi," he said again, softly. The ghost of Malcolm Reed smiled at
her. Looking very solid and real.

---

Malcolm was amazed. Although Jon had described this place to him, he
simply hadn't done it justice. They emerged from the mountain where
the Sh'ron temple was housed and looked out over a very different
landscape. The city of Timral was gone; before them was only forest
and hills.

It was summer when Malcolm stepped into the Sh'ron, but here it was
autumn. Golden leaves were piled almost knee deep on the forest floor,
although a distinct path had been cleared from the temple to the
village. A village carved out of the enormous, still-living trees.

And nothing had prepared him for seeing Hoshi again. Nor Trip. And
certainly not the little girl, whom even he could see belonged to his
best friend and the woman he once loved.

Jon had led the way down the temple's stone steps and on to the
village, but when Malcolm spotted them, sitting around a fire and
talking, he quickly moved ahead of the rest.

Hoshi had her back to them, but Trip glanced up as they approached. He
looked stunned, but the surprise shifted fast to happiness. Beside
him, the little girl just looked curious.

Malcolm transferred his gaze to Hoshi's back, now stiff. "Hoshi," he
called quietly. She stood very slowly and turned to him. She looked
exactly as she had when he had last seen her. He recognized disbelief,
even fear, in her face. He said her name again, partially to soothe
her, and partially because it felt good to be able to put it to a
face, her face, again. "Hoshi."

"Oh. . . " Hoshi breathed. "Malcolm?" Her voice was questioning, like
she didn't really believe that he was there. And then she was across
the space between them, only stumbling once, and her arms wrapped
tight around his neck. No uncomfortable, distant moments for Hoshi, he
thought wryly. He had forgotten that about her. He closed his arms
around her, squeezing her against him.

Out loud, he laughed a little and said, "Same old Hoshi." She pulled
back enough that he could study her face. While she ran cool fingers
over his cheeks, his hair, he smiled and said, "Well, maybe not
totally."

She turned and followed his gaze to Nita. She smiled and stepped back,
but maintained a grip on his hand. She gestured for her daughter to
approach.

Trip had already greeted Jon with a bear hug. He snatched T'Pol into a
quick hug and only laughed at the look on her face. Coming to Malcolm,
he stuck out his hand. Malcolm shook it firmly.

"We thought you were dead. I've never been s' happy to be wrong," Trip
said, grinning. Before Malcolm could respond, Trip yanked him into an
embrace. The force pulled Hoshi, still gripping his other hand,
slightly off balance. She let go and turned to greet Jon and T'Pol.

"It's good to see you, Trip," Malcolm said. For no reason that he
could name, they both burst out laughing. They hugged again, and
Malcolm noticed another difference in his friend—the smell of earth
had replaced the familiar engineering scent that Trip had always
carried.

"Aherm." Malcolm heard his wife clear her throat, subtly reminding
him. Trip stepped back.

"Oh, of course. . . I'm sorry, darling. Trip, Hoshi. . . this is my
wife, Sabah."

The pretty, dark woman stepped forward, holding out her hand. "I'm
honored to meet you," she said, smiling brightly. Her husky voice
contained just a touch of the Middle East.

Malcolm unconsciously moved closer to her, grateful for her presence.
Seeing the two of them was. . . stranger than he had expected it to
be.

Trip and Hoshi exchanged quick looks before Hoshi took Sabah's hand.

"I think you have one more introduction left," Jon reminded them.

Trip grinned with immense pride. "Everybody, I'd like you to meet our
daughter, Nita." He touched the pretty, petite girl's head. "Nita,
this is Captain Archer, Subcommander T'Pol, Malcolm, and Sabah. You've
heard about most of them before."

"She understands English?" Jon asked.

"Yes, I understand," Nita said, smiling now. "Greetings!" Her initial
curiosity satisfied, the girl was practically wiggling with
excitement.

"She speaks English, Jafari, and Japanese, so far. No daughter of
Hoshi's is gonna get away with speakin' one measly language," Trip
said, rolling his eyes. Hoshi gave him a look and he smiled.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you," Jon said, addressing
Nita. He made a point of shaking her little hand. Nita looked
surprised, even confused by the gesture.

Trip chuckled. "We don't shake hands much around here," he told Jon.
"Mostly just hug." He grimaced to demonstrate his opinion of that
tradition.

"Well, in that case. . . " Jon picked up the tiny girl and hugged her.
Not one to be shy, Nita only giggled, settling easily into his arms.

Hoshi moved over to Trip and took his hand. Addressing the entire
group, she said, "I hope everyone is hungry. You came at the perfect
time—we were just about to have a party."

---
Chapter 2
---

Malcolm sat far from the group, partially concealed by his distance
from a blazing bonfire.

The party, set in an enormous clearing in the center of the village,
had been going on for hours. To kick things off, Hoshi and Trip had
participated in a ceremony that involved Hoshi ceremoniously washing
Trip's hands and face in water before spooning his favorite dish into
his mouth. The children and few adults without mates watched all of
the women do the same for their men.

Hoshi tried to take the whole thing very seriously, but as she was
feeding him, Trip leaned forward and whispered to her with a grin. Jon
and Malcolm hooted and catcalled along with the Jafari when Trip ended
up wearing more of his dessert than he got in his mouth. Trip laughed
and kissed Hoshi fast with his food-smeared mouth, so that she pulled
away with just as much food on her.

After all of the Jafari had performed the ceremony, several musicians
began a lilting song. To Malcolm's ear, that same song had continued
for the duration of the party, just changing in tone and speed
occasionally. The dancing started, couples and children all performing
complicated steps as they spun around the fire.

Malcolm sat it out with T'Pol while Trip taught Sabah the steps, and
Hoshi tried to lead Jon—with less success. Finally, Jon threw up his
hands in defeat and the two of them returned to their seats. Sabah had
nearly mastered the steps before she and Trip returned, both laughing
uproariously.

Malcolm was hoarse from shouting encouragement to his friends and
wife. He had eventually moved apart to where he could observe, a role
he was much more comfortable with.

Across the flames, Trip sprawled next to Jon now, laughing as Jon
answered question after question about the Enterprise, Trip's family,
and anything else that came to Trip's mind. The Commander looked
almost as he did three years ago, except he was deeply tanned and his
hair was longer and bleached blond by the sun. The cheerful nature and
laugh hadn't changed either, although decades of speaking Jafari had
softened his accent.

Jon just looked absolutely ecstatic to be with his friend again.
Occasionally, the Captain would throw a comment over his shoulder to
Hoshi, Sabah, and T'Pol.

Malcolm glanced out into the dancers. Nita twirled in a cluster of
children, straight brown hair flying around. She gave herself to the
dance with such abandon that Malcolm had to smile. There was so much
of Trip in her complete lack of self-consciousness—but still when
Malcolm watched her, he saw Hoshi in the graceful, precise movements.

His attention caught, he didn't notice Hoshi approaching until she was
standing in front of him, backlit by the enormous fire. Squinting to
see her shadowed features, he recognized her questioning glance. He
stretched his smile even farther in welcome. She sat beside him,
shoulder to shoulder, and leaned back against the tree where he
rested. She saw where his eyes were lingering.

"Nita Madeline Tucker," she said. "Nita for my grandmother and
Madeline for your sister—we wanted to honor you, after what you did
for us. . . and you told me once that you hate your name." Her face
was lit by the fire now; her dark eyes reflected the light—and pride
in her daughter.

He was pleased by her statement, but didn't know how to respond.
Instead he said, "I can't believe you're a mother."

Hoshi laughed. "Neither can I. Of Trip Tucker's child no less. Who'd
have thought?"

"Certainly not me," Malcolm chuckled ruefully.

Hoshi smiled at him. "Sabah is wonderful."

"Yes, she is." He grinned at the expression on her face. "Not who you
would have pictured me with?"

"Actually, she kind of reminds me of. . . "

"Don't say it," Malcolm groaned.

"Trip," she finished, laughing out loud.

Malcolm grimaced. "I suppose there are a few similarities—sense of
humor, tendency to talk. . . quite a bit at times. It's enough that
even the Captain commented once. Although he took it back when he saw
the look on my face."

Hoshi laughed again.

Malcolm glanced over at his wife. She was talking animatedly; Jon and
Trip were shaking with laughter at whatever she was saying. He said,
"She saved my life. I couldn't be without her now."

Hoshi was looking at Trip. Nita had just approached him and he wrapped
his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. Hoshi sighed happily.
"And I would be lost without Trip."

Once so in love with each other, the two of them sat and watched the
people they loved now. Malcolm shook his head, thinking what a surreal
experience the entire day had been, culminating in this moment. He
said, "So much has changed. All for the better, I know; I wouldn't go
back now. But. . . " He looked at her.

"But you can't help feeling a little sad at the same time?" Hoshi
finished for him. The wind lifted her hair off of her face, and for
the first time he saw a real change in her—the kind of wisdom that
comes from having lived much longer than the people around you.

She took his hand, and he put his other hand over hers. Far from the
fire, the air in the forest was quite cool, and her hand was cold
against his skin.

"Exactly." He sighed. Tilting his head back against the tree, he
watched the stars that were exposed by the opening in the trees. "We
had such grand plans, didn't we? Not just you and I, but the whole
group of us, headed out on our adventures. All of it gone the moment
you and Trip stepped into the Sh'ron." He paused. "Thought we'd have
more than four years, anyway."

"You and Trip and the others had grand plans," Hoshi replied, watching
his face. "I just wanted to learn a few new languages and go back to
teaching. Which I'm doing now, in a way." She paused. "I'm happy here,
Malcolm."

He took his gaze from the sky, settling it on her profile. "And now
we've come to take you away from all of it. What will you do?"

Hoshi was looking at Trip now. He and Jon had Nita pinned between
them, ruthlessly tickling while the girl begged for mercy.

"We'll go back." Her voice was matter-of-fact.

---
Chapter 3
---

Rain dripped off the hood of Trip's cloak, running into his eyes. Four
days had passed since Malcolm and the others arrived in the village.
They started their preparations the next morning, and now they were
making the final trek to the Sh'ron.

Four days was all it took to pack up and say goodbye to their friends,
their home, their lives. Well, three days, really. The day after the
festival, the rain came. They had gone about their preparations, and
spent the rest of the time with everyone crammed into the home-tree.
It was a spacious habitat, easily accommodating their family, but four
extra people pushed its limits. On the third day, they made the
decision to go on with their plans, regardless of the weather.

Trip woke before it was light on their last morning. He opened his
eyes and found Hoshi propped on one elbow watching him. Tears ran the
length of her lashes, dripping silently onto his face. Not speaking,
Trip slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth down to his.
They quietly made love for the last time in their home, while everyone
else slept.

Afterwards, they both lay awake, Hoshi in his arms, until the others
began to stir. With an odd mixture of regret and excitement in his
stomach, Trip slipped out of their bed and started their last day on
Massum.

Now, he was taking his daughter away from the only place she'd ever
known, taking her from near immortality and returning her to a usual
human lifespan. He knew from experience just how fast those years
would go.

The little group trudged through the rain, each carrying a load of the
family's possessions, Trip leading the way. Malcolm and Sabah had gone
ahead several hours before, to avoid any potential problems that might
be caused by the time discrepancy between this world and their
destination. T'Pol had suggested she and Jon do the same, but the
Captain was insistent that they stay with Trip and Hoshi as long as
possible.

Jon fell into step beside him now, muck squishing under his feet. "You
ok, Trip?"

Trip swiped at the rain catching in his hair and eyelashes. "Ya know,
I've lived here longer than I lived on the other side. Just kinda hard
to imagine what our lives'll be like."

His oldest friend looked at him seriously from under a Starfleet-issue
cap. "Whatever happens, none of you will ever be alone."

"I know." Trip smiled sadly. "Thanks."

They had said their goodbyes in the village, so there was no party of
Jafari to see them off this time. Just the humans, plus one Vulcan, to
climb the clammy stone steps of the temple. Once they reached the top
of the immense staircase, the rain didn't allow them time to turn and
linger over the landscape.

Inside, everyone threw back their hoods or pulled off wet hats. Hoshi
moved to stand beside Trip. She had lifted Nita into her arms once
they reached the top of the stairs. Now, Nita reached out her arms and
transferred herself from Hoshi's arms to Trip's. "You ok, sweet
cheeks?" Trip asked her. Against his neck, she nodded.

There was an awkward pause. Finally, Jon said, "Well, guess we might
as well get started. T'Pol?"

T'Pol opened a black case and extracted a hypospray. Without asking,
she moved through the group, injecting each of them. Nita made a face
at the shot, but didn't protest.

"Your daughter is small; the three of you should have no problem using
the Sh'ron together. You should wait one hour before following us,"
T'Pol said. They both nodded; she had told them all of that before.

Jon looked at Trip and Hoshi. "See you on the other side."

Trip grinned lopsidedly, nodding again. Jon and T'Pol disappeared into
the back rooms of the temple.

The family was left alone.

They settled in the doorway of the temple, resting on the floor and
looking out through the rain over the forest and hills. Hoshi curved
herself against Trip, and Nita quickly fell asleep across their laps.
Her parents whispered quietly to each other while they waited, careful
not to wake her.

When it was time, Trip stood, resting Nita against one shoulder, and
held out a hand to Hoshi. She accepted it, allowing him to help her to
her feet. Against him, Nita stirred. They walked through the first two
rooms, stopping before the Sh'ron.

He held Hoshi's tear-filled eyes with his own. She took a deep breath
that was meant to be calming. It sounded ragged.

"It'll be all right, Hoshi," he told her. He kissed her.

"I know," she said, trying to sound brave. It had been a long time
since he'd heard that tone in her voice, he realized regretfully.

"I love you," he said. He didn't have any other comfort to offer.

"I love you, too," she said, seriously.

"You ready for an adventure, kiddo?" he asked Nita, forcing
cheerfulness into his voice. She nodded, eyes enormous.

There was nothing else to say. Trip shifted Nita's weight to the side
so that they could all cram into the artifact together. With a last
look at the temple, at their home, Trip and Hoshi stepped into the
Sh'ron.

---
Chapter 4
---

Well, I see decon hasn't changed," Trip remarked. "Still borin'." He
was sitting against the wall, shifting uncomfortably in Starfleet
issue underwear. Their own clothes, along with all of their
belongings, needed to go through decontamination, so Phlox had
thoughtfully provided a change of clothes for everyone. Even Nita,
currently propped against her father's legs, was wearing an enormous
T-shirt as clothing.

From her place on the bench between T'Pol and Sabah, Hoshi said,
"Mmm." Eyes closed, she was obviously enjoying herself.

Next to Trip, Jon smiled. "Relax, Trip. You'll have a chance to see
your old haunts in a little while. But since we've got a while to go,
I did arrange a little surprise." As he talked, he stood up and walked
to the far corner, opening a panel. Inside was a communication screen.
Pushing the com on the wall, Jon said, "We're ready, Ensign."

Trip eyed him, then turned to Malcolm on his other side. The
Lieutenant just smiled and motioned for Trip to join Jon. Extracting
himself carefully from his daughter, Trip stood and walked over. Now
the entire room was watching them curiously.

The screen blipped on. Trip found himself looking back at his mother.

She screamed. Everyone jumped.

"Trip!" Tears rolled down the older woman's pretty face, her words
softened by her accent. "That officer said you were back, but. . . oh
baby, it's so good to see you."

Trip grinned, his own eyes feeling a little damp. He leaned into the
screen, lifting a hand to it as if he could touch her face. "Hi, Ma.
God, I missed you, too. How is everybody?"

"Oh, they're fine. The important thing is, how are you? Jon told me a
little about where you went; he said you were all right. But I didn't
really believe him until now."

"Yeah, I'm ok." Trip ran nervous fingers through his hair. "Listen,
there're some people I want to introduce you to. . . " He gestured
wildly to Hoshi and Nita. Jon stepped out of the way so that they
could all cram in, and Trip picked Nita up to put her at screen level.
"Ma, this is Nita . . . my daughter. Honey, this is your Gramma
Tucker."

His mother gaped at him before patting her blond hair frantically,
worried about her appearance for such an important moment. To Nita,
she cooed, "Oh, aren't you beautiful? You call me Nana."

Nita offered a hesitant smile.

Grinning proudly, Trip placed his free hand on the back of Hoshi's
neck, up under her hair. "An' this is Hoshi, her mother."

"Hello, Mrs. Tucker," Hoshi said with a smile. "I've been waiting to
meet you for a very long time."

"Hoshi? Oh yes, Jon told me about you, too. Aren't you lovely?" Mrs.
Tucker gushed, beaming at Hoshi. Looking back at Trip, she said, "I
think Nita looks just like me, don't you, Trip? I can't get over this.
. . you, a father and a husband."

Trip suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. To cover, he grinned
broadly. "Yeah, it's pretty great, huh?"

Mrs. Tucker narrowed her eyes. A realization was creeping into her
face. "When did the two of you marry?"

Trip turned red up to the roots of his hair. He was well aware of his
mother's feelings about marriage before children. "Well, we were in a
different culture. Ya see, the Jafari believe. . . "

"Charles Tucker the Third, I am not interested in the beliefs of a
bunch of Jawaris."

"Jafari, Ma."

He needn't have bothered. She continued as if he hadn't said a word.
"Are you telling me you have a half-grown DAUGHTER and you still
haven't married her mother?"

"Ma, she's hardly half-grown," Trip told her, dodging the larger
question.

Mrs. Tucker snorted, arms crossed over her chest in a gesture that
Trip knew well.

He looked around the room for help. Most of the adults were gathered
on the opposite side of the chamber. They had apparently found a
fascinating wall panel that required their full attention and an
in-depth discussion.

Nita, on the other hand, was watching her grandmother dress down her
father with total absorption. "What's married?" she asked.

Trip dropped her back onto her feet, out of sight of the screen, and
slapped a hand over her mouth. Mrs. Tucker was aghast.

Still at Trip's side, Hoshi spoke up. "Really, Mrs. Tucker, it's all
right. Trip and I are very happy. In fact, we've actually been
together longer than you and Mr. Tucker. We are completely committed,
in every way." She smiled soothingly.

The woman on the view screen snorted. "I'm sure you are. In every way
except the one that counts. Don't worry, honey, this is not how I
raised him and I'm going to take care of everythin'." She moved as if
trying to see around Trip and Hoshi. When she couldn't, she bellowed,
"JONATHON ARCHER!"

Trip released Nita and dragged both hands over his face in
frustration. Jon reluctantly stepped into her line of vision. "Yes,
Mrs. Tucker?"

"I want you to marry these two, right now!"

"Ma!" Trip said, exasperated. "This ain't the best time—we're all
standin' here in our underwear, for crying out loud."

"All the more reason—honestly, what kind of impression are you makin'
on my granddaughter? Well, Captain?"

"Mrs. Tucker, I think Trip is right." Something bumped against Trip's
legs. Glancing down, he saw Sabah scrunched below the view screen. She
was fiddling with the wires. Trip suddenly realized that he had always
loved Sabah. A lot.

Jon continued. "Maybe we should wait on this for a little while
longer. . . " The screen started to shimmer. ". . . And it looks like
we're losing you we'llhavetocallyouback." He finished fast, signaling
to Sabah. The screen went dead.

Trip stumbled backwards to the bench. He propped his elbows onto his
knees and dangled his head. Raising his face to look up at Hoshi, he
said, "What say we postpone the call to your parents, darlin'?"

---
Chapter 5
---

After the adults had donned fresh uniforms, they went straight from
decon to the Mess Hall. It was the middle of the night, Enterprise
time, so there were few people in the halls. Hoshi was relieved in
truth—she was tired and didn't feel up to dealing with wellwishers and
curious crew. They walked down the quiet corridors in a cluster, Jon
and T'Pol leading. Malcolm and Sabah had slipped off to the armory to
check on things, promising to join them later.

Nita held the Captain's hand, eyes huge as he pointed out different
items of interest. Hoshi glanced at Trip, walking beside her, and
chuckled out loud. His eyes were as big as Nita's. At the sound of her
laugh, he glanced at her. Catching her watching him, he grinned. "I
feel like I'm dreamin'," he whispered to her.

She grinned back, taking his hand. "I know what you mean," she said
softly. "I keep expecting to wake up back in our home-tree."

Trip's face changed, moving to concern. "You ok?"

She nodded slowly, looking around the corridor as they walked. "I'd
forgotten how much I missed this. . . the longer we're here, the
happier I am that we are."

Trip kissed her. "I'm glad to hear it, babe."

"Don't call me babe," she said absently, out of habit. She stopped,
pulling him up short. When he looked down at her curiously, she laid
one hand against his cheek and pulled him down for a real kiss,
breathing in the scent of him. His free arm closed around her waist,
moving her closer into him.

"Gack." Faces still close, they turned their heads to look at the
others. Their daughter was making horrible gagging sounds, noises that
she had been perfecting for years.

Jon had a grin on his face so large that it looked like it might
split. T'Pol stood close to him—and Hoshi noticed that Jon's hand was
resting on her upper arm, lightly, as if he had reached out to catch
her attention and forgotten it was there. T'Pol didn't seem to notice
either, until she followed Hoshi's gaze.

She stepped back from Jon, saying, "We have arrived, if you care to
eat."

"Well, lead on!" Trip said cheerfully. He smacked a kiss on the side
of Hoshi's face before announcing, "I'm starved and I have waited a
LONG time for this!" He charged ahead through the Mess Hall door.

Rolling her eyes, but smiling, Hoshi brought up the rear.

The first thing she saw when she entered the room (besides the back of
Trip racing to the food dispensary) was a handsome black man seated at
one of the tables, a forgotten cup in front of him.

"Hoshi!" Travis said, grinning widely. He stood up immediately.

Hoshi felt her daughter's little hands press tight around her thigh.
She swung her up onto her hip even as she smiled and hurried to
Travis. They met in a huge hug, smashing Nita between them. The girl
made a little mewing sound that caused Hoshi to laugh and lean back.
Trip called, "Hey, Travis!" around a mouthful of something.

"Hey, Trip!" Travis looked over at him. Trip just held up a finger and
turned back to filling his plate.

Laughing, Travis looked back at Hoshi and Nita. Hoshi quickly
introduced the two of them. If Travis was surprised, he didn't show
it. "Hello," he said, offering a handshake to the little girl.

Nita accepted it solemnly before grinning. "Ma, Captain Archer
promised to show me ice cream. Can I?"

Hoshi decided not to comment, yet, on the new use of 'Ma'. "Yes, you
may." Nita wiggled out of her arms and took off.

Travis slung an arm around Hoshi's shoulders. "It's good to see you
again, Hosh."

"You too. What are you doing here so late?"

Travis smiled at her broadly. "Waiting for you. A lot of the ship
doesn't know you're back yet, but I was on the bridge when the Captain
called in. I've been waiting here since my shift ended; I had a
feeling Trip's stomach would lead him here first."

Hoshi hugged him again, saying, "Let's sit down, so we can talk." She
started to walk, arm around him. She was surprised when Travis
stumbled.

He caught himself on a chair and stood up straight with some
difficulty. He tried to laugh it off, smothering the cough that
accompanied the laughter. He didn't manage to distract Hoshi.

"Travis? Are you all right?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm still moving a little slowly." She looked
concerned; he turned away. "I'll tell you all about it later." He
eased himself into the chair he was leaning on. "Right now, I want to
know about your life on Massum. What was it like?"

---

"You know, I haven't seen you eat like this since you were pregnant."

Trip paused, mouth full, and sent a meaningful glance down the table
at his daughter.

"Har har har," he muttered, glaring across at Jon and stuffing another
forkful of pie into his mouth.

Jon and the other adults, except for T'Pol, laughed. They had pulled
several small tables together and were gathered around their makeshift
banquet table, finishing up their meals and chatting.

Hoshi smiled as Malcolm, back from the armory, watched Nita from the
corner of his eye. The little girl had slipped from her chair and
sidled up to him, leaning against his side. "My father said you are a
very brave man," she said, clearly impressed by her namesake, so to
speak. The hero worship dawning in her eyes made him look at Hoshi
frantically.

"Down, tiger," Trip said, overhearing her. He reached around Sabah,
sitting between him and Malcolm, and caught the back of Nita's
T-shirt. With a tug, he had her over to him and seated on his lap.
Just for good measure, he leaned around Sabah again and narrowed his
eyes at Malcolm. At Malcolm's nervous expression, he grinned widely
and winked.

Beside Hoshi, Travis started to laugh out loud, but his breath caught
and he lapsed into a coughing fit. The violence of the attack caused
everyone at the table to pause.

As he caught his breath, Jon said, "Ok, Travis?" A smile played on his
lips, but his expression was concerned.

Travis nodded, waving them off with one hand while he used the other
to drink.

Jon immediately switched the subject. "Since Malcolm moved down the
hall to Sabah's quarters, we've been using his old cabin as guest
quarters. I was thinking the three of you could stay there. I'll have
your things brought down as soon as Phlox is done going over them."

"Fine," Trip said, watching Travis. "You sure you're all right,
Travis?"

The Ensign was catching his breath now. He had gently pushed aside
Hoshi's helping hands on his back. "I'm ok," he said with one more
cough. He took another deep breath, smiling cheerfully despite his
pallor. "It passes. And it gets better every day."

Trip looked at Hoshi, eyes curious. She shrugged a little with her
eyebrows. When it became clear no one was ready to speak up, Trip
demanded, "What's goin' on?"

Across from Hoshi, Malcolm's eyes were locked on the tabletop, his jaw
set. He'd been sitting with his arm thrown casually over the back of
Sabah's chair. Now his body was stiff; Sabah didn't speak, but ran her
fingers lightly over his chin, forcing him to turn and look at her.
The look that passed between them stirred Hoshi's curiosity even more.

She faced the head of the table again. Trip was watching Jon and T'Pol
impatiently.

T'Pol said, "Perhaps it would be best if this story waited for another
time. It would most likely be frightening for a child to hear."

Hoshi's eyes shifted automatically to her daughter, cradled in her
father's arms. As was typical for her, Nita had dropped to sleep
instantly the moment she settled down. Very little, short of trumpets,
would wake her before morning.

Trip grinned, giving Nita a little shake. The girl's head lolled
against his chest; she showed no signs of waking.

"She's out." He stood and pushed two chairs together, laying her
across the seats. "Nuthin' you can't say in front of her right now."

T'Pol turned to Hoshi for confirmation; Hoshi nodded.

"All right," Jon said. "Actually, I know the two of you will have to
make some decisions soon, and you do need to hear this first."

Trip settled back into his seat, eyeing Jon intently. The others at
the table were silent, allowing Jon to tell the story.

"Do you remember our first alien encounter out here—after the Klingons
and Suliban?"

Hoshi shuddered. An image of suspended bodies flickered in her mind,
stirring her old fear. She wrestled with it, won, and nodded at Jon.

In a wary voice, Trip said, "Yeah. . . "

Jon settled back in his chair. "A few months ago, we came across
another one of their ships. It was in the process of attacking another
vessel just like they did us. Naturally, we tried to stop them."

Hoshi glanced at T'Pol, curious about her reaction. As she expected,
there was none.

Jon continued, looking around the table, particularly at Trip. "As it
turns out, they were attacking a Jafari ship." He shifted. "I won't
bore you with the details. . . but with the help of a Vulcan ship that
was nearby, we managed to destroy the attacking ship and save the
Jafari."

"Which led to us reopening the human-Jafari negotiations that allowed
us to come for you," Malcolm commented.

"Right," Jon said, drawing their attention again. "But. . . "

"Ain't there always a 'but'?" Trip said.

Jon smiled, saying, "Unfortunately, this time the ship managed to send
out a distress call to their people before they were destroyed."

T'Pol interjected. "We have since learned that they are part of a
species called the K'Sarm. They usually operate in remote areas,
harvesting triglobulin and similar fluids from the races and ships
that have had the. . . misfortune. . . of encountering them. They had
elected to ignore our first confrontation. They considered the
destruction of a second ship an act of war. Since then, they have gone
out of their way to target small Vulcan and human vessels."

"Especially cargo vessels, which have fewer defenses," Travis said
darkly.

"It's a long story," Jon said, "but the gist of it is. . . an
opportunity to infiltrate their organization presented itself. Malcolm
and Travis volunteered to act as undercover operatives."

Hoshi looked at Malcolm and Travis; her pulse was starting to tick
against her temples. Neither of them would meet her eyes, pretending
to focus on Archer. Beside Malcolm, Sabah gave Hoshi a small smile and
looked away, settling even closer to Malcolm.

"Why you guys?" Trip asked them incredulously. "I thought the Vulcans
have people trained to do that sorta thing."

"The Vulcans have opted to take a more cautious approach to the
conflict," T'Pol said.

"Right, since it's mostly human ships that are attacked," Travis
interrupted angrily. When T'Pol merely looked at him blandly, he
clamped his mouth shut again.

Trip nodded. "Ohh. I see some things haven't changed since we've been
gone."

"Regardless," Jon said forcefully, "Starfleet felt a more direct
tactic was called for. Malcolm's training and Travis's piloting skills
made them good candidates to find positions on a K'Sarm ship,
disguised as members of their race. They were supposed to gather
information about the K'Sarm's technology and 'hunting' strategy—their
flight routes and so on."

"But we were only there a brief time when Travis was injured in a
minor accident," Malcolm said, ignoring Travis's grimace.
"Unfortunately, he was knocked unconscious and I wasn't able to stop
them from performing medical scans. They realized he was human."

"Time to go," Travis said sardonically.

"I grabbed what data I could and. . . we left," Malcolm said, leaving
out an immense amount of detail. He paused.

Sabah interjected softly. "They stole a shuttle and were headed for a
rendezvous with Enterprise when they were overtaken." Her voice got
hard as she finished the sentence, and Hoshi watched her, surprised by
how icy Sabah's face was now. For the first time, she saw evidence of
the security officer in Malcolm's wife. "They destroyed several of the
enemy, but there were too many. When we arrived at the rendezvous
point, they were under heavy attack. We transported them out at the
last second."

"But not before Travis was badly hurt," Malcolm finished flatly. Hoshi
knew that he blamed himself, as always. She almost said something to
comfort him—but that wasn't her job anymore. Sabah was already
whispering in his ear, even as Travis spoke up.

"We were both hurt. And I'm fine now, Malcolm."

"Yes, but it was a bit close, wasn't it? And I never should have
allowed you to accompany me."

"I made that decision, Lieutenant, not you," Jon interrupted. "And
he's all right—he just needs a little time to heal."

Malcolm didn't answer, choosing instead to seethe quietly.

Jon looked between Trip and Hoshi. "Their ship was destroyed, so we
only managed to recover whatever information they were carrying on
their persons. Still, we hope it'll be enough to figure out where
their base operation is, or an easy way to dismantle their shields.
The Vulcans agreed to take the data to Earth. Starfleet is working on
decoding it now. In the meantime, our little war is still on-going."

Trip whistled. "Wow. But why're you waitin' for Starfleet? Shouldn't
we. . . "

He stopped, letting the sentence dangle, when Hoshi stood abruptly.
Her heart was beating fast, and she walked around the table to Nita,
not able to relax until the warm little body was pressed against her
chest. "I think that might be enough talk for tonight. Let's just go
to bed, all right? We can finish this tomorrow."

Trip stared at her, and then nodded slowly. He stood up too, slipping
an arm around her shoulders. "If ya don't mind, Cap'n?"

Jon nodded and got to his feet; the rest of them followed suit.

"Of course," Jon said. "Breakfast tomorrow?" He watched Hoshi
carefully—she turned her face into Trip's shoulder to evade his gaze.

Hoshi felt Trip nod. Although she knew avoiding the topic was only a
temporary solution, she was still relieved when Jon said, "Ok. I'll
walk you to your quarters."

---
Chapter 6
---

Jon found Trip in Engineering—just as he expected. They had been back
four days, and if Trip wasn't in his quarters with his family, he was
always in Engineering, following Lieutenant Commander Hess around,
catching up on the upgrades that had taken place in his absence.
Neither he nor Hoshi had been reinstated to active duty, but they both
preferred to spend their time working, regardless.

Despite many conversations, Hoshi and Trip had yet to make a decision
on what they wanted to do. They no longer discussed it in Jon's
presence, but he knew what they each wanted. Trip wanted to stay on
Enterprise, in whatever capacity, while Hoshi thought Earth was a
better place to raise their daughter. Until they decided, Jon hadn't
pursued the issues of their posts with Starfleet. There wasn't much
point until they knew what they wanted. Not that it kept him from
privately making plans. . . and he was starting to think it was time
for them to make up their minds.

"Hey, Cap'n!" Trip called out to him, catching his attention. Trip
cheerfully descended the stairs from the upper level of Engineering to
meet him. "Whatcha need?"

While he talked he moved past Jon, headed for a console. Jon trailed
behind him. Just like old times.

"I was looking for you," Jon told him, grinning. Damn, it was good to
have his best friend back on board. "I've got the latest Stanford-UT
game on disc—thought you might want to join me tonight. Been a while
since you saw a water polo match."

Trip chuckled ruefully while he punched numbers into a keypad. "Yeah,
you could say that. I dunno if I even remember the rules."

"It'll come back to you. Does that mean you're up for it?"

Trip paused, looking thoughtful. "Well, I don't know what Hoshi's
plans are yet. . . and somebody's gotta stop by Sickbay an' take Nita
off Phlox's hands. . . "

"I'm one step ahead of you. Hoshi was on the bridge going over some
translations with T'Pol when I left. She said to tell you to have fun;
she'll take care of Nita."

Smiling, Trip tapped in a final calculation. He turned back to Jon.
"Looks like I'm all yours then."

"Great. Malcolm and Travis are going to meet us in my dining room.
We'll watch the game while we eat. You ready to go?"

Trip glanced around the room covertly. Leaning a little closer, he
said, "Not really. I can't get enough of this place right now. But I
think Hess is gonna pop if I don't get outta her territory soon."

He smiled while he said it, but Jon recognized the unspoken regret in
Trip's expression. They turned and made their way out of Engineering.
In the corridor, he looked at Trip seriously. "Are you and Hess having
a problem?"

Trip shrugged. "Not really. She's doin' her best to be welcoming. But
this has been her ship for a while now—havin' the former Chief
Engineer underfoot all the time can't be easy. Hell, she's handling it
a lot better than I would have."

They stepped onto the lift and Jon pressed the button for B deck.
While they rode, he looked at Trip thoughtfully. "You know, that
actually brings up something that I want to talk to you about."

Trip's glance said that he knew what Jon was going to say. Jon plunged
on anyway.

"Don't you think it's time you and Hoshi came to a decision about what
you're going to do?"

"Yes." Trip's answer was short. At Jon's look, he continued
reluctantly. "It's somethin' Hosh and I gotta work out, Jon. We don't
even know if we'd be able to stay—our posts have been filled. And we
gotta think about Nita—what kind of place is this for her? If
Starfleet would even let us keep her out here."

"Well, we won't know unless we ask." The lift stopped and they exited,
heading for the Mess Hall. "And I can't ask until you know what you
want."

"I know." Irritation was creeping into Trip's voice.

Jon felt a stab of annoyance. He paused and Trip swung around to face
him. "You say that, Trip, but it's been four days. It's time. Maybe
the three of us need to sit down and have another conversation about
this."

"The three of us?" Trip's chin was jutting out now, and his voice was
rising. "Look, Jon, things aren't the way they used to be. It's not a
decision for the three of 'us'." He pointed between Jon and himself.
"This is between me and Hoshi. And Nita. Our family. You just aren't a
part of the equation. Not yet."

Jon stared at him speechlessly. A niggling feeling of embarrassment
was starting in the back of his mind.

Trip sighed. The brief glimpse of his old temper subsided at the look
on Jon's face.

"This is a huge decision, and we gotta make it while we're dealin'
with a million other changes in our lives. Hell, do you have any idea
how unreal the last few days have been for us? We need time to think
about it and then decide, as a family, what's best for us. We'll have
made our decision by the end of the week. I promise. Now, c'mon. Ya
owe me dinner and sports." He nudged Jon with his elbow and walked
towards the Mess.

Jon stared after him, wondering when Trip became the 'wise big
brother' in this conversation.

Trip glanced over his shoulder and noticed his look. He grinned at
Jon. "Gotta learn to respect your elders, eh?"

Jon smiled, shaking his head. "Why do I have the feeling this won't be
the last time I hear that?"

As Jon caught up, Trip laughed and started to walk again, leading the
way into the Mess Hall. "You know, I'm startin' to understand why
T'Pol's always so damn smug. It's not easy being surrounded by a
buncha wet-behind-the-ears kids. Kind of a burden."

Jon rolled his eyes and chuckled. The door to the Captain's Mess slid
open. Travis and Malcolm, seated at the table, both looked up
expectantly. Trip's grin widened.

"Speaking of wet behind the ears. . . "

---
Chapter 7
---

"A toast."

Travis's announcement gave everyone at the table pause. They were in
the midst of a heated argument regarding whether or not a goalie had
committed a foul in the game they had watched earlier. Jon claimed he
didn't; Trip swore Jon and the ref were blind. Malcolm and Travis
didn't know anything about water polo, so they argued emphatically for
whichever side necessary to keep the quarrel going.

Travis's subject change brought them to a sudden, if begrudging, halt.
The others all looked at him, with his glass already in the air, and
raised their beers in kind.

"It wasn't a foul," Jon said out of the side of his mouth.

Trip's mouth dropped open in outrage, but when he swung back to Jon,
the Captain shushed him, nodding towards Travis.

Trip narrowed his eyes, but looked at Travis.

"To old friends," Travis said, chuckling.

"To some things never changing," Malcolm added wryly.

"Welcome back, Trip," Jon finished with a grin.

Trip grinned, tipping his glass towards them, and they all drained
their beers.

As soon as he had swallowed, Trip said, "Ya know, I don't remember all
that much about the game, but I know an illegal block when I see one."

"Oh, for God's sake," Malcolm muttered.

Jon slammed both hands down on the table. "Trip, old buddy, you
wouldn't know an ill. . . "

Travis placed his glass back on the table with a resounding thud.
"Gentlemen," he announced.

The other three men stopped arguing long enough to turn their
attention to him. He rewarded them with a resounding belch. They all
snickered like ten-year-old boys. Travis looked embarrassed.

"What I was going to say is I'm going to call it a night."

"What?!" Trip demanded. A look from Jon and Malcolm silenced him. He'd
almost forgotten that Travis was still recovering.

Travis grinned at him. "Sorry, Trip. I still get tired easily. But
give me a few weeks to get used to this thing and I'll be drinking you
under the table. Nobody can party like a boomer can party."

Trip tilted his head. "Used t' what thing?"

"Oh," Travis said. "Guess we never mentioned it. Back when Enterprise
beamed us off that K'Sarm ship, I was hurt pretty bad. Doc couldn't
save one of my lungs. So he replaced most of it with synthetic
material."

Trip whistled. "Damn."

Travis shrugged. "Ah, I'm pretty lucky, I guess. Doc says it'll work
better than the original, once I'm used to it."

He stood up carefully and walked to the door, the others calling their
goodnights. At the door, he paused and looked back.

"Welcome back, Commander."

Jon glanced at Trip quickly, trying to gauge his reaction to his old
title. Thus far, most of the crew had gone out of their way to avoid
mentioning rank to Trip or Hoshi.

Trip only smiled. Jon privately elected to take that as a good sign.
As the door closed on Travis, Jon grinned at his companions and
refilled their drinks from the pitcher of beer on the table. Setting
the pitcher back down, he looked up and was surprised to find Trip
watching him seriously.

As soon as their eyes met, Trip said, "You know, you never finished
that little tale you were spinnin' the other night."

"Meaning. . . ?"

"Meanin' I'd like to hear why Starfleet Command is working out a plan
to handle the K'Sarm, while we're out here on the front lines, sittin'
on our hands."

His use of "we" pleased Jon even more, but he smothered the reaction.
He and Malcolm exchanged a look before Malcolm said, "Well, we haven't
exactly been sitting on our hands. We. . . I did manage to make a copy
of the data before we supplied it to Starfleet."

Trip grinned at them both. "I knew it."

"I've only had a limited chance to go over it, what with our trip to
Massum. But we're working on it."

"Well, lemme take a look at it with ya. If we put our heads together.
. . "

The comm sounded, interrupting him.

"Bridge to Captain Archer."

Jon sighed heavily. "Hold that thought."

He walked over to the wall, pressing the comm button. "Go ahead."

"Sir, we're receiving a distress call. A ship calling for assistance."

Jon's muscles tightened as Malcolm sat up straighter. "The K'Sarm?"

"No, sir. Just a general distress call. They say they're having some
kind of mechanical malfunction."

The sudden tension in the room dissipated, and Jon's shoulders
relaxed.

"I'll be right there, Ensign."

He closed the com link and turned back to them, shrugging. "Looks like
we're going to have to cut this short. Sorry, duty calls."

Malcolm was already standing, and Trip joined him. "Still mechanics to
the stars," Trip commented.

Jon just smiled as they filed out into the Mess and towards the
corridor. At the door, he turned in the direction of the Bridge,
Malcolm on his heels. Noticing the Lieutenant, he paused.

"Malcolm, aren't you off duty?"

"Yes, sir, but. . . "

"I think we can handle a distress call without you. There's no telling
when we'll even reach this ship. Go home. Tuck in your wife."

Malcolm looked torn for just a moment, but he was won over when Tucker
added, "We've still got time for one more drink, Malcolm. Jon just
gave me a bottle of the good stuff as a welcome home present. Come on,
you don't know how long it's been since I had good bourbon."

Jon and Malcolm could both attest to that, having sampled some of
Trip's homemade Jafari brew.

"All right," Malcolm relented, with a small smile. "I suppose I've got
time for one more. . . "

Trip didn't even let him finish. He yanked on the Lieutenant's arm,
dragging him off in the opposite direction from the Captain, heading
for their quarters. "Great! Now listen, Malcolm, I need to ask you a
favor. . . "

As they walked away from Jon, Trip settled his hand on Malcolm's
shoulder, talking into his ear. They were at the far end of the
corridor when Malcolm's shout caused Jon to pause. "What?! Good God!
Tell me you're joking!"

Jon grinned and kept walking without looking back.

---
Chapter 8
---

"Are you all right?"

Hoshi dropped her hands from her aching back and smiled at T'Pol.
"Fine, thanks. Guess I need to get used to these chairs again."

T'Pol nodded and stood. "We have been working for many hours. Perhaps
we should resume our work tomorrow morning."

Hoshi stood as well, stretching expansively. "Mmm. . . that's better.
I really do need to pick up Nita. She'll be getting hungry and Phlox
doesn't want to deal with a cranky Tucker."

She turned toward the lift, but paused. Glancing back, she said,
"Would you like to join us for dinner, T'Pol? I know you usually eat
with the Captain, but he and the boys are going to be playing
tonight." She grinned.

T'Pol inclined her head. "Yes, thank you, Ensign. I would be pleased
to join you."

"Hoshi," Hoshi said, leading the way to the lift. "And I'm glad. Nita
will be thrilled. She adores you."

She would've sworn the Subcommander almost smiled. "I have had very
little contact with human children. I've found your daughter to be
quite intelligent, despite her tendency to imitate Commander Tucker's
emotional demonstrations. However, Vulcan children often struggle with
similar issues. She has much potential."

"Thank you," Hoshi said, smiling. They rode the lift in comfortable
silence, exiting onto E Deck.

Entering Sickbay, they found Nita sitting crosslegged on a biobed.
Phlox was leaning with his elbows propped on the end of the bed. The
two of them were thoroughly engrossed in the cards they held.

Neither of them acknowledged the newcomers.

"Do you have a six?" Phlox asked.

Nita shook her head solemnly. "No. Go fish."

Phlox looked up quickly. "What do you mean no? I know perfectly well
you have a six."

Nita's face was as innocent as a newborn. "No, I don't."

Hoshi rolled her eyes. Trip had taught Nita everything the girl knew
about cards, including the ethics of the game—and it showed.

"Nita," she said.

Nita and Phlox continued to stare each other down like opponents in a
death match.

"Nita!" Hoshi said loudly.

Phlox jumped; Nita's little head whipped around. "Yes, Ene?"

Hoshi suppressed a smile at Nita's expression. She had Trip's "who
me?" face down to perfection.

"I've told you about cheating before."

"I wasn't. . . "

"Nita."

"But I. . . "

"Nita." Hoshi gave the girl her most parental look.

Nita scrunched her nose up in frustration. "Yes, ma'am." She faced her
new friend. "I'm sorry, Dr. Phlox." Leaning close to him, she added,
"My father says it's not really cheating, it's just using all your
resources."

"I think perhaps you should take your mother's advice in this case,
young lady," Phlox said. He turned and faced Hoshi and T'Pol with a
smile. "Good evening."

Hoshi smiled at her old friend. "Good evening, Doctor. We've come to
take Nita for her dinner. Would you like to join us?"

Phlox smiled broadly. "I would be delighted."

Nita hopped off the bed and started across the Sickbay, heading for
the mess. It had only been a few days but she already knew her way
around the ship as well as any crewmember. Porthos, who was Nita's
frequent companion since they'd been introduced, stood up from the
corner where he'd been sleeping, stretched, and padded after her.

Hoshi and T'Pol turned to follow. "Hoshi," Phlox said, and she turned
back. "Could I have a moment first?"

She paused, momentarily caught by indecision. T'Pol solved the problem
by saying, "I will take Nita to the Mess Hall. You can join us when
you are finished."

Hoshi smiled at her gratefully, touched again by the Subcommander's
interest in Nita. T'Pol only nodded and followed Nita out, listening
patiently to the little girl's chatter.

"What is it, Doctor?" Hoshi asked curiously.

"As you know, I've been investigating the age discrepancy in the three
of you. I've studied the scans I took, as well as the information
you've given me. I, of course, have no explanation for the time
difference that you've experienced. But I have narrowed down the
possible reasons for your delayed aging."

"Really?" Hoshi said, intrigued.

"Yes," Phlox said, crossing the room to turn on a monitor. "However, I
still have a few questions." The screen shimmered and displayed a
human outline. The shifting colors meant nothing to Hoshi, although
the overall shape told her it was probably a scan of Trip.

"I took these scans of Trip this morning. I compared them to the data
I gathered from your first day back. You see here. . . " Phlox glanced
back and saw that Hoshi was watching him instead of the screen, a
doubtful look on her face. He relented, turning from the screen. "The
point is that your cells are still aging at a delayed rate. But faster
than they would have done on Massum. Which means that the cause is
lingering in your systems, but dissipating quickly."

Hoshi soaked this in. She asked the question that had bothered her
most. "What about Nita? Why has she aged faster than me or Trip?"

Phlox sighed. "That is the greatest mystery at this point. Even now,
she is aging more quickly than either of you." Catching Hoshi's
concerned look, he quickly assured her, "But I have every reason to
think that the process will even out once this undetermined element
has left your bodies."

"You said you have questions for me?"

"Yes. I need some information about your life on Massum. I want you to
think back to what things you and Trip might have experienced that
Nita did not. An area that she had restricted access to. . . or maybe
an item in your diet."

Hoshi leaned back on a counter, pursing her lips. Brows drawn
together, she shook her head slowly. "I can't think of anything. . .
Nita ate and did everything that we did."

"It would be something she partook of, but to a lesser degree than
either of you. From what you've told me, the aging difference was
common to all of the children in your village, so it would be
something that all of the children did or didn't experience."

"No. . . " Hoshi said slowly. She ran over things in her mind,
checking off items that didn't fit. She couldn't come up with any
activities that children were excluded from. . . and they ate all of
the same things. She tried to remember their usual dishes. Her own
favorite was a vegetable stew that reminded her of her grandmother's
oden recipe. Trip and Nita shared a sweet tooth. . .

Her eyes snapped back to Phlox. "Lirtca."

He tilted his head curiously.

"We, the adults, drank lirtca. It's a sweetened water. The children
don't drink it; we give. . . gave them mirl instead, a plant-based
juice with a greater vitamin concentration." She stopped, excitement
draining. "But no. Lirtca is made with the same thing that I used in
all of Nita's favorite desserts."

Phlox looked excited. "If you didn't eat those desserts often, it
could be the exact thing I'm looking for." He stood up straighter.
"I'm apologize, Hoshi, but I won't be able to join you for dinner. But
if you could stop by tomorrow morning when you drop off Nita. . . "

Hoshi felt a twinge of guilt. The doctor had been so kind to watch
Nita up until now, but it wasn't a permanent solution to childcare. "I
was thinking I had better keep Nita myself tomorrow, Doctor. I don't
want to impose on you any longer. . . "

"Nonsense," Phlox said briskly. "I've never had the opportunity to
spend time with a human child before. It has been most enlightening.
And I am eager to solve this mystery."

Hoshi hesitated. And sighed. "Thank you, Doctor. But I promise it
won't be for much longer."

"Excellent." Phlox was already across the room, calling up unknown
data on his monitor. "I will see you in the morning, Ensign."

Hoshi didn't bother correcting him, although the name felt strange.
"Good night," she said. He gave no indication of having heard her.

She smiled and left Sickbay in search of her daughter and T'Pol.

---
Chapter 9
---

Late that evening, Hoshi stood in the shower, letting the water run
over her. She'd missed this part of civilization—the ease of turning
on a faucet and standing under hot water for as long as she liked.
They'd had a shower back in the village—Trip had built one and
surprised her with it on her fiftieth birthday. Unfortunately, it
could only be used in the warm months, and only after one trekked down
to its riverside location, built a fire, and waited for the storage
tank to heat. After that, you had about fifteen minutes worth of hot
water before the whole process had to be started again. Of the
villagers, only she and Trip ever bothered to make the effort—and even
they only did it occasionally.

Her showers these days were lasting longer and longer. But Nita was
asleep and Trip was still out, so there was no reason to hurry. She
wasted another five minutes, washing her hair a second time, before
finally climbing out. Moving slowly, she went through her rituals. . .
rubbing lotions into her skin, brushing and drying her hair. Wrapping
her old robe around her, she switched off the light so that it
wouldn't disturb Nita, and walked out of the bathroom.

Her quarters weren't dark as she expected. Candlelight glowed on a
small table in the center of the room. The table was set elegantly. A
purplish liquid, obviously not of Earth origin, bubbled in two wine
glasses. The centerpiece of the table was a decadent, chocolaty
dessert.

"Whatta ya think?" a warm, rich voice asked from behind her.

Hoshi smiled but didn't turn.

"It's beautiful, Trip. But where's Nita?"

"I sent her off with Malcolm. She's stayin' with him and Sabah
tonight."

Hoshi glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes wide. "Really? How did
you manage that?"

He winked. "Charm, darlin'." At her laugh, he confessed. "Plus some
begging."

He stepped up and folded his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. "I
thought we could spend the rest of the night with just the two of us;
we've got a lot to talk about."

Hoshi smiled at the tickling sensation his breath and lips made
against her neck. "This is so bizarre—the two of us, on Enterprise."

"Yeah, but it feels right, too," Trip said gently.

Hoshi raised her head, catching his eye, and nodded. She allowed him
to lead her to the table.

"I sweet talked T'Pol outta a few of her candles."

She grinned, imagining that conversation. She surveyed the perfectly
set table. "It's beautiful. But I'm not really hungry."

Trip stopped in the middle of pulling out her chair, glancing at her
with startled eyes. "What? Hosh, I went to a lotta trouble to get this
whole thing put together; least ya could do is eat it. . . "

His voice trailed off as she circled his waist with her arm. Standing
on tiptoe, she traced the line of his jaw with her lips. "A night
alone. . . seems like a shame to waste it on food."

"Mmm." Trip's eyes closed involuntarily and he leaned down to give her
mouth access to his ear. His hands splayed across her back. "Ya know,"
he said, breath a little faster than before, "it wasn't easy talkin'
Malcolm inta takin' Nita. . . "

"But worth it?" Hoshi touched her tongue to that weak spot at the base
of his throat. His fingers tightened in the back of her robe. He
turned his face enough to catch her mouth with his. Liquid warmth
spread through her body, down to her fingertips and toes.

He caught her hips and lifted her off of her feet. Laughing into his
mouth, Hoshi wrapped her legs around his waist, twining her arms
around his neck. She could feel his smile against her lips as he
stumbled to the bed behind them. He dropped them onto it, rolling with
her so that she wound up on top of him. She didn't break contact with
him, nipping at his lower lip while his fingers found the tie on her
robe. Straddling him, mouth still against his, she lifted her body
just enough to allow them hasty access to remove their clothes.

He moaned a little when she settled around him, and the sound and
feeling of him had her nerves tingling. She bent down again and kissed
him, tasting the inside of his mouth—he twisted his fingers in her
hair, holding her in place while they moved.

He sighed, releasing her hair, shifting his hands to her hips,
guiding. She sat up. Her skin was slick with sweat; her fingers spread
in the familiar texture of his chest hair.

"Hoshi?"

"Wha..what?" Eyes closed, she tilted her face upwards, focusing on
sensation.

He pushed his hands up her back, pulling her down so that she was face
to face with him. She opened her eyes, looking down into his, sliding
her hands up above his head. His hands ran over her body, calluses
rough against her skin. Her hair brushed down her back, settling on
either side of their faces.

"I was. . . mmm." He caught his breath again, closed his eyes and
opened them again. "Love you."

She smiled slightly. "I love you, too."

"Marry me, darlin'."

Hoshi was having a hard time focusing on anything but the feeling of
skin on skin. Her eyes were closing again. At those words, they
flitted open.

In the candlelight, his eyes were dark, with a slightly unfocused
look. But when she looked at him, he smiled. He flipped her onto her
back and brought them back together, pinning her arms above her head
and locking her fingers with his.

"Ummm. . . " Hoshi gasped while he licked her neck lightly. "Ok."

---
Chapter 10
---

"I think they'll stay." Jon swung his chair around to face T'Pol. She
sat in a nearby chair, below the sketches of former Enterprises that
were displayed on the wall of his ready room.

She looked up from the data PADD in her lap. She did not seem
surprised by his sudden switch in topic. "Should I assume we are
finished with the crew roster?"

Jon ignored the statement. "Trip and Hoshi. What do you think?"

"I think they will inform you when they have made their decision. They
have many aspects to consider."

"You don't think they should stay," Jon realized. After all this time,
the woman could still frustrate him.

"A starship is hardly an appropriate place for a child. There is no
school. . . "

"Hoshi's always taken care of that." Jon stood up and went to the
window, turning back to face her. He rubbed his palm absently against
the leg of his uniform.

". . . there are no other children. Children require interaction with
their peers. And the crew of Enterprise is frequently in danger. A
child should not be exposed to such dangers."

"Children are exposed to danger every day on Earth, too." He knew this
was a pointless dispute, but he still hadn't managed to break his
inclination to argue with her. "In fact, lots of children are raised
in space now. Look at Travis. He turned out pretty well."

T'Pol raised a brow. "This discussion is meaningless. Commander Tucker
and Ensign Sato will make the decision."

Jon sighed. Walking back to his chair, he slumped in it dejectedly.

T'Pol's voice softened. "They are your friends. Until recently, they
were lost to us. It is natural for you to experience regret that they
cannot remain."

Jon caught the "us" and smiled. Leaning forward, he placed his hand
over hers. "You'd miss them too, huh?"

Malcolm's voice came over the comm, interrupting them. "Captain,
Subcommander. You're needed on the bridge."

They both recognized the urgency. Striding out, T'Pol close behind,
Jon entered the bridge, calling, "Report."

He came abreast of Malcolm's station. The Lieutenant turned to look at
him. "Sir. . . "

Jon's eyes were already on the K'Sarm vessel looming on the
viewscreen. He didn't have to glance around to sense the tension of
his crew. Facts and rumor about the K'Sarm had been twined together to
create a formidable enemy in their minds. They were frightened.

So was he. But more than anything, he was angry. Come, he thought.
This time we're ready for you.

However, the plan that he and his senior staff had carefully designed
was risky at best. So he went through the standard motions, even
though his instincts told him that it was useless. "Hail them."

"We've already tried. There was no response."

As he knew there wouldn't be. Jon's mind worked fast over their
options. He didn't waste time asking questions he knew the answer
to—they couldn't outrun them, they couldn't talk to them. . .

"Red alert."

Reed nodded and sirens began to sound throughout the ship.

Jon looked at the comm officer. "Have you sent out a distress
message?"

She nodded. "I can't be certain it got through, Captain."

"They're charging weapons!" Reed's shout cut the conversation short.

Enterprise shuddered under them.

"Return fire!" Jon shouted, regaining his balance. Malcolm's torpedoes
dissolved against the K'Sarm shields.

T'Pol called out damage reports from her station, but Jon didn't
bother trying to absorb the information. The ship rocked and he
grabbed at his chair for balance, flinching at the small explosions
going off around him.

"Again, Mr. Reed!"

Trip's agitated voice rang over the comm. "Cap'n, what the hell's
goin' on?"

"Hold on, Trip!" Jon glanced at Malcolm, shouting, "Fire!" Aware that
it wouldn't matter. The K'Sarm shields barely shimmered and the enemy
ship moved into position over Enterprise. Power flickered.

"Travis?"

"Helm is unresponsive, sir."

Jon turned to the room. Everyone watched him, waiting. "Get to your
stations," he said simply. "Everyone out." He waved Travis, the
communications officer, and several other crewmen onto the lift.
They're so young. What makes you think this brilliant plan is going to
work? Doubt whispered to him softly.

Because we're the good guys, he answered firmly. We're going to walk
away from this.

He believed it, too.

Behind him, he heard Malcolm give the command for the crew to take
their battle positions. Jon looked back at him. Meeting the Captain's
eyes, Malcolm leaned forward, speaking into the comm again. "You all
know what to do. Good luck."

The armory officer stood. Besides the two of them, only T'Pol
remained. As one, they all strode directly to the lift. Jon said a
quick prayer of thanks that it was still working.

On the lift, Malcolm flipped out his communicator and gave Trip
instructions to meet him in Sickbay. Jon caught his eye and nodded his
approval. He was not surprised when Malcolm didn't stop the lift on E
Deck, choosing instead to ride to F Deck with them.

The doors opened and Jon and T'Pol shot out.

Sabah ran towards them, tossing both of them a weapon. She kept moving
until she was at the lift, where Malcolm stood holding the door open.
She gave her husband a phase rifle and a quick, hard kiss. Neither
spoke, but when she stepped back, Malcolm caught her with a hand on
her neck and pulled her forward again. He rested his forehead against
hers and closed his eyes. Jon turned away from the looks on their
faces.

His eyes met T'Pol's silent watch. A second later, Sabah was at his
side, leading them both on to the Armory.

---

Hoshi strolled into Engineering, moving in front of the warp core
while doing a full 360 and scanning the area. She spotted them on the
upper walkway and sighed from relief and frustration.

"There you are!" she yelled up.

Trip spun around, a smiling Nita draped over him piggyback style. "Hey
you," he called down, smiling intimately.

Hoshi flushed and grinned, thinking of the night before. "I just got a
frantic call from Phlox. Apparently he lost our daughter." She gave
Nita a stern look. "I told him not to worry; I had an idea of where to
find her."

Trip rolled his eyes, smiling. "She showed up here about 15 minutes
ago. I was gonna run her back to Sickbay in a sec."

"Well, I'm here now. I can take her."

"I want to stay here," Nita said. She was clearly working up to one of
her best whines. Trip knelt down quickly, setting her on her feet.
Frowning, he said something to her quietly. Nita's face was mutinous,
but she didn't offer further argument.

A crewman approached Trip hesitantly. "Sir. . . "

Trip stood up, turning to the young man. "We'll be down in a second,"
he called to Hoshi. She nodded, smiling.

"Hoshi!" someone said, causing Hoshi to turn. Ensign O'Neill. Hoshi
often used to eat with her. . . a lifetime ago.

"Allison!" Hoshi said. She hugged the dark-haired woman happily. "How
are you?"

"Fine," Allison responded. "It's so good to see you! I knew you were
back, of course. . . I can't believe this is the first time I'm
running into you."

Hoshi smiled remorsefully. She'd been purposely ducking the crew for
the most part. . . refusing to let Travis throw them the party he
wanted to, eating their meals with the Captain or during off hours.
Using Nita as an excuse to avoid people. Something in her wouldn't let
her put down roots again, not yet.

Determined to do better, she launched herself into the conversation.
"I know, I'm sorry, Allison. I'm glad to see you. . . "

She asked carefully after Allison's family and her work. The longer
they chatted, the more relaxed Hoshi felt. Another small knot of worry
loosening in her mind. Finally, Allison excused herself to return to
her duties. Hoshi remembered Phlox was still waiting for word.

She turned back again, looking up to Trip and Nita. Trip was engrossed
in a conversation with the Ensign, their heads bent together over a
data PADD. Clearly bored, Nita had climbed up on the railing to watch
the flurry of activity under her. The sight of her leaning out over
the top rail made Hoshi's stomach twinge. It wasn't an enormous
height, but enough to do real damage to such a little person.

"Nita! Get down from there," she called up.

Nita was entranced by the face of the glowing warp core. She didn't
appear to notice her mother's voice. She's got her father's optional
obliviousness, Hoshi thought, noting with mild irritation that Trip
hadn't heard her either, nor had he noticed Nita's precarious perch.

The sudden, horrible wailing of Malcolm's sirens got Nita's attention.
Her frightened eyes swung down to her mother. No wonder she's afraid,
Hoshi thought. Malcolm had managed to find a better sound than his
original choice, but it was still terrible.

Eager to comfort, Hoshi took one step forward—and the floor moved with
a violent heave, an audible shudder crashing through the room. She
barely kept her balance, but she didn't take her eyes from Nita. She
watched helplessly, silently, as the tiny figure plunged headfirst off
the rail and towards the floor of Engineering

---
Chapter 11
---

Trip answered the young man's questions good-naturedly, privately torn
between exasperation and satisfaction. The burden of responsibility
for the staff was already slowly shifting from Hess to himself. It was
comforting to know that he had been missed by these people. It was
also frustrating to see that, although a brilliant engineer, Hess
still hadn't learned the people skills necessary to be a successful
commanding officer. She'd simply been thrust into it too soon, without
the experience she needed to adapt. His fault, for leaving.

Still, it irked him that his first baby, the NX-01, had been left in
the hands of somebody who wasn't ready to take care of her properly,
in the way that she deserved.

As that thought hit him, so did the sirens and then the first
shockwave. The Ensign's eyes met his, wide with surprise and fear, as
they both staggered. Trip didn't have time to return the look. He
heard nothing besides the crash of the ship and sirens, but instinct
had him turning and diving anyway. Even as his mind registered the
yellow blur of his daughter's dress, his hand was snatching and
closing on an ankle. His arm jerked with her full weight. She was limp
as a rag doll while he hauled her backwards and fell back against the
wall, his baby girl crushed to his chest.

"Nita! Nita, are you ok, baby?" His hands checked her all over,
looking for injury. His heart pounded—he barely noticed as the ship
lurched again, sparks and smoke flying. He grasped her face with one
hand and found her cheeks covered with tears.

She opened her eyes and wailed, "You hurt my leg!"

The accusation in her face made him laugh. He was already moving for
the stairs, his mind racing ahead to the next danger as he answered.
"I know, baby. I'm sorry."

Enterprise jolted again. He practically jumped from the top of the
stairs, rushing straight to Hoshi. She was crying, too, and she
grabbed Nita from him. Her eyes met Trip's—she was afraid.

So was he. An unfamiliar sensation. . . in the past, when his ship was
taking a beating, all he'd felt was anger. He shoved the fear forcibly
into the back of his mind. Hess wasn't in Engineering and he didn't
have time to wait for her to arrive.

"Marcusak, get that fire out! Jamison, how we doin'?" He left his
family to hurry up beside Jamison. She was hovering before the Warp
Core.

"Warp's offline, sir. We've got a hull breach on Deck F. . . a storage
bay," she added, and he breathed again. He held up one hand to halt
her voice and hit the comm.

"Cap'n, what the hell's goin' on?" he demanded. Déjà vu.

"Hold on, Trip." He heard Jon shout, "Fire!"

The chaos in Engineering raged around him, but it was a controlled
chaos. These people knew their jobs.

The ship jerked again. The power flickered. Jamison turned to him, her
face stretched with terror. Real terror. "Sir, we've lost control of
all systems. Including impulse."

Trip wasn't sure if he heard or imagined the sound of clamps locking
onto the hull and the drills that followed. But all motion in
Engineering stopped, so perhaps it wasn't in his head. He glanced at
Jamison; tears were rolling silently down her face as she worked,
uselessly, at trying to regain their systems.

He turned and faced his family. Hoshi was pressed into a wall, trying
to stay out of the way, watching him. She held Nita tight to her, one
hand buried in the little girl's hair.

Black eyes stood stark against her colorless skin. As Trip stared into
that face, his lifeline, Malcolm's voice came over the comm. "This is
Lieutenant Reed. Enterprise is being boarded by the K'Sarm. All hands
report to battlestations, defensive operation Theta A." He paused and
when he spoke again, his voice was warmer but no less determined. "You
all know what to do. Good luck."

The room sprang to life.

Hoshi didn't move. She watched Trip, waiting to take her cue from him.

God, he wished he knew what to do.

His personal communicator beeped. Trip pulled it from his pocket and
flipped it open. "Tucker," he shouted over the din. He took his gaze
from Hoshi long enough to see that someone had opened a weapons
locker, newly housed in Engineering, and was distributing phasers.

"Trip," Malcolm said. "Find Hoshi and Nita. Meet me in Sickbay."

"Understood," Trip answered, not bothering to explain that he was
looking at Hoshi and Nita. Having a goal lit a fire under him—he was
at Hoshi's side in half a second. "We have to get to Sickbay," he told
her. She nodded; she was calm again. Steering her with one hand, he
paused long enough to collect weapons for them both. Hoshi accepted
hers, balancing it with holding Nita.

Without hesitation he led them to an access tube that led directly to
the deck below them, Deck E, where Sickbay was located. Trip took Nita
from Hoshi and descended the ladder first. Hurry, hurry, hurry, was a
mantra in his mind.

He found the access door to E and twisted it open. Looking around
carefully, he eased himself out into the corridor, keeping Nita behind
the protection of the door until he was sure. No sign of intruders on
this deck yet. They'd be coming through A Deck first. He allowed
himself one flash of fear for the people on the bridge, and then
smothered it. Hoshi was climbing out behind him and they rushed the
few meters to Sickbay, hurtling through the doors.

Doctor Phlox was crouched calmly behind the relative safety of a
biobed, a phase pistol trained on them. Upon recognizing them, he
stood and lowered the weapon. None of them spoke.

Malcolm ran headlong into the room. He barely slowed as he plucked
Nita from the arms of a startled Trip and shoved her at Phlox.
"Doctor," he said, the single word an order.

Phlox turned and picked up a black packet from a counter. He silently
handed it to Malcolm, accepting the little girl in exchange.

Nita hadn't made a sound since her complaint about her leg, but now
she whimpered. Trip and Hoshi stepped towards her simultaneously. Trip
trusted these men, but this was his daughter. It seemed as if he and
Hoshi were the only ones that didn't know what was happening, and he
was ready to be in on the secret.

"Phlox will take her where she'll be safe," Malcolm stated. They
looked at him, waiting. "Several months ago, when the K'Sarm attacks
grew more frequent, I designed a chamber where our injured could be
hidden in case we were boarded. It is soundproof, and they'll be
virtually undetectable to scans."

Malcolm and Phlox walked towards the back area of the room, Trip and
Hoshi following. Trip hadn't been back there since he returned.
Glancing about, he realized the area had been reconfigured from its
original setup. "But. . . "

"I've altered the ship's blueprints in all of our records. They won't
be found," Malcolm said. "But only if they get in NOW."

He punched a code into what appeared to be a comm, and a small panel
slid open. A bark sounded from inside. "Since Nita had left Porthos in
my care, I took the liberty of placing him inside," Phlox said. "I
thought he might provide some comfort for her."

Hoshi nodded her approval, trying, and failing, to smile at him. Phlox
started to climb into the chamber, taking a crying Nita with him. She
held out a little hand. Phlox paused when Trip caught it.

"I love you, baby girl," Trip said. "You be brave. We'll be right back
for ya, ok?"

He turned to Hoshi. "You get in there, too."

She stepped purposely forward, taking Nita from Phlox. Trip's stomach
unwound slightly; he'd expected an argument.

She squeezed the little girl tightly. "Ar mushiki, Nita," she
whispered. We love you. And she handed the sobbing girl back to the
doctor. Turning back to Trip and Malcolm, she raised her phase pistol
and adjusted the setting to kill.

"Hoshi." Trip summoned anger, instead of fear. He couldn't face the
fear. "Get your ass in that room."

"No." She glanced over her shoulder at the doctor, who was now
completely inside. Phlox looked back at her.

"She will be taken care of, Hoshi." With those parting words, Phlox
pushed a button and sealed himself and Nita inside.

"You get in there, Hoshi." Trip was hoarse, shouting at her while the
fear tried to pound its way loose again. "Goddammit, do it right now."

Hoshi leaned forward, her face inches from his. The near-hysterics
he'd seen in her face in Engineering were gone. "I. WILL. NOT," she
hissed. "I will not sit in there, waiting for them to come for us. I
WILL NOT do nothing while I wait to find out that you're dead."

Frantic, Trip grabbed her arm and shoved her towards the room. She dug
in her heels and pushed back with all of her strength.

"We don't have time for this." Hands slammed into both of them,
forcing them apart. Malcolm was already walking past them as he said
tersely, "We need all of the hands we can get. If we don't stop them,
it won't matter how well I've hidden that room. Everyone on this ship
is going to die."

The last words were faint, as he was already out of sight. Hoshi
rushed past Trip before he could grab her again. He followed
immediately.

"Malcolm, where're you going?" he shouted after them.

Malcolm paused. "To the Mess. My team will be waiting for me, as per
their instructions. The two of you just became part of that team."

"WAIT." Trip had reached his limit. He was just mad now. "You stop for
one minute, Lieutenant, and tell us what's happening. WHAT is the
plan? Where's the Cap'n?"

"Walk and talk," Malcolm said, and led them into the corridor. "We've
had this contingency plan in place for nearly a year. We knew we
couldn't defeat them in a ship-to-ship battle, if it ever came down to
it. Not before we've deciphered their technology. Our only chance is
to take them out after they've boarded, after the ships are locked
together. We assigned everyone to teams, all with certain tasks.
Defensive teams to protect Engineering. And the armory."

"The bridge?" Hoshi asked breathlessly. They were all jogging.

"The bridge has been abandoned. The K'Sarm will come there first;
they're likely already there. As long as we maintain a team in
Engineering, it won't matter."

"What difference does that make as long as they control our systems
from their ship?" Trip demanded.

Malcolm tossed a look back at them. "The Captain is leading an
offensive team to eliminate the K'Sarm onboard. Along with T'Pol and
Sabah."

They reached the Mess Hall. Inside, approximately 10 people waited,
all with weapons drawn and pointed at the doors. Travis was at the
forefront; a wave from him had everyone lowering their weapons.

Malcolm nodded to him. "This group," he said to Trip and Hoshi, "will
make the difference. We're going to board the K'Sarm ship—and take
back Enterprise."

---
Chapter 12
---
Victory won't come to me unless I go to it. Marianne Moore
---
The race is not [always] to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.

Ecclesiastes 9:11
---

The entry point was ragged, a startling tear in the perfect hull of
Enterprise. But the access tube into the K'Sarm ship seemed solid,
locked into the Enterprise's skin with a finality that scared Hoshi as
she crawled through it. She was fourth in a line of twelve people.

Above her, Malcolm reached the hatch and paused, causing all of them
to stop. Trip, and then Travis, waited impatiently while Malcolm found
the controls and gingerly opened the door a fraction of an inch. Most
of them were wearing small bags strapped across their chests,
containing extra ammunition and other tools. Malcolm dug into his. He
carefully slid a minute tube through the opening and studied a small
screen in the palm of his hand. After a moment, during which Hoshi
held her breath, he said, "Clear" in a soft voice and shoved the hatch
open.

He and Trip were through it before she could blink, Travis moving fast
behind them. A dark hand reached down and hauled her upward as she
reached the top. Travis was showing little sign of injury today.

Trip didn't turn to look at her, but she knew him—he had confirmed her
safety from the corner of his eye even as he took in their
surroundings.

Hoshi did the same. She vaguely remembered the outside of a K'Sarm
ship—back then, she'd had a general impression of hard metal and sharp
edges. This room suited her memory, except that she'd expected it to
be dark, and it was so well lit that it hurt her eyes. It was
large—twice the length of Enterprise's Engineering room, but with low
ceilings. The walls were alive with light, blinking consoles and
screens identifying data that she couldn't imagine. Everything was
gray and sharp-looking. Looking across the immense room, she could see
many similar access hatches.

There was no sign of the K'Sarm.

"Where are they?" Trip whispered, reading her mind. His breath puffed
out in a white cloud. He stood and Hoshi noticed the ceiling was
barely a meter above his head.

"On board Enterprise. Or up there," Travis answered in a grim voice,
gesturing towards the ceiling. "They won't be expecting a
counterattack. It's never happened to them before."

As they spoke, the rest of their team, all security and engineering
personnel, joined them. Malcolm glanced around. "You've all been
briefed on the layout of the ship. Most of you," he conceded, glancing
at Trip and Hoshi. "Let's go."

Focus, Hoshi told herself. Focus. Don't think about Nita. Or about
Trip and everything you stand to loose. . . FOCUS.

Her skin was goosepimpling; the tip of her nose was icy. Still, she
imagined doing this in EV suits and could only be relieved that the
K'Sarm breathed an oxygen-based atmosphere.

She rose from a crouch and stood beside Travis. The effort surprised
her; she gasped a little. Travis looked at her. "The hypo should take
effect soon," he said.

Malcolm and Travis had explained the differences in the K'Sarm
environment—in addition to lower temperatures, gravity was a small
percentage heavier. While living among the alien race, Malcolm and
Travis had taken regular doses of a stimulant mixture designed by
Phlox.

The same mixture was in the packet Phlox had handed to Malcolm in
Sickbay—a dose for each member of the team. That, plus a heavier
concentration of oxygen in the air, would work to combat effects of
the gravity and temperature. To extend the time it would last, they
had waited to inject themselves until just before they climbed through
the ships.

Hoshi nodded at Travis. She was already feeling better—less aware of
the cold. Out of nervous habit, she checked her phaser again. The
weapon felt awkward in her hands still, but she was growing accustomed
to it. Remembering. Like riding a bike, she thought, smiling
ironically.

Travis noticed her expression and gave her a strange look. They began
to move through the room, walking in twos. Malcolm and Trip took the
lead.

"What exactly is the plan again?" she asked Travis.

They were approaching a ladder on the wall. Malcolm and Trip took up
positions on either side. Malcolm flipped out a scanner and studied it
carefully. He looked up at Trip and nodded. Trip scaled the ladder
quickly. Pushing a button, Trip opened another hatch, poked his head
out, and climbed up.

Malcolm repeated his actions. His hand appeared from above, gesturing
for the rest of the team to follow.

The corridor was wide enough to accommodate a crew thrice the size of
Enterprise's crew, but with the same low ceilings. Again, everything
was sharp angles and grayness and bright light.

Once they were moving again, Travis finally turned to her. "We plan to
avoid detection. Take control of the ship."

"Is that all?" Trip said. She hadn't realized he was listening to
them.

Hoshi watched Travis. Her stomach was twisted; it was a phenomenal act
of willpower that she hadn't vomited yet. Even in the chill air, sweat
stood out all over her body. But she kept her face still. "How do we
plan to do that?" she asked.

"We're going to take over Engineering and disable their systems. Get
in, get out, and get Enterprise out of here before they can recover.
By then, the Captain should have the K'Sarm onboard Enterprise wiped
out."

"Great," she muttered, and was rewarded with a Travis smile.

Ahead of them, Malcolm and Trip reached a turn in the corridor. It was
impossible to see what was ahead. Malcolm carefully leaned out to
look. His body relaxed and so did Hoshi's, even before he waved
everyone on. Trip stepped out to follow him.

Hoshi looked around at the glimmering walls. Electronic boards ran the
length of the corridor; apparently this entire ship was wired with an
elaborate computer system.

"Why haven't we been detected yet?" she murmured to Travis.

"Malcolm figured out how to block their internal sensors when we were
living onboard one of their ships," Travis said. "Unless they've
reconfigured their entire system, there'll be no way to detect us
until it's too late."

Sound awfully sure of yourself, Hoshi thought.

Which is why she wasn't completely surprised when the shots resonated
behind her.

---

At the sound of the first shot, Malcolm ducked into a crouch and
slammed against the wall, trying to be a hard target. The sharp,
ridged walls bit into his back, causing him to wince. He raised his
weapon at the same time, but there was no way for him to return fire
without hitting Enterprise crewmembers. Across from him, he saw Trip
leap forward to put himself between Hoshi and the firefight.

It was over in seconds—a volley of shots, flashing in the bright hall.
His people had killed the three K'Sarm that had stumbled upon them.
Malcolm quickly inspected the K'Sarm bodies, making certain they were
dead. He disliked looking at them; even after wearing the bubbles of
skin on his own face and hands, he found their appearance nauseating.
Perhaps it was just because he hated them so very, very much.

Reassured, he turned back to his own people. Two of his men had minor
wounds. And one of his people was dead. She lay in a face forward
slump against the wall, eyes open to stare up at them from an awkward
angle. Her dark hair was still neatly tucked into its braid. Ensign
Maria Ticarro.

And then there were eleven. The thought popped into his head before he
could squash it.

"We need to get moving double-time after that racket." He looked at
Travis, who tore his gaze from Ticarro's face. "And we'll have to get
rid of these." Malcolm indicated the four bodies. Travis flinched, but
nodded his agreement.

Malcolm turned around. Hoshi was staring blankly at the Ensign's body,
eyes filling with tears. Trip stepped up beside her and ran a light
hand over her hair, whispering softly in her ear. She turned her face
into his shoulder for only a millisecond. She raised her eyes to
Trip's, nodded quickly, and the two of them faced Malcolm.

He was already grabbing Ticarro's body under her shoulders. His
men—Hoshi was now the only female on their team—quickly picked up the
K'Sarm bodies. Most K'Sarm were about Malcolm's size—Travis had barely
fit in with his height—but their bulky, dark clothing and weaponry
made them heavy.

Trip caught Ticarro's feet. Travis stepped into the lead. "This way."
He went a few meters and opened a door. "This should be a cargo bay. .
. "

He was right, as Malcolm knew he would be. They entered carefully and
deposited the bodies just inside the door, hidden behind a few storage
containers. Malcolm confiscated one of their rifles, attaching his own
phase pistol to his belt. He handed another one to Trip.

He didn't permit himself or anyone else to mourn Ticarro. That would
come later. "Come on, then."

He led the group back into the corridor. There was no sign that they'd
been detected, but he still felt completely exposed as they hurried
around the next two bends in the corridor.

He found what he sought—a wide door, formidably secured. The others
waited impatiently while he removed a tiny electronic device from his
pocket and hooked it into the access panel. He toyed, frustration
building, for almost two precious minutes. Time was slipping away from
him, faster than he'd expected.

"Malcolm. . . " Trip said.

"Just a few more seconds," he muttered, as much to himself as Trip. He
heard Trip exhale in frustration, but just then the device beeped and
the doors slid open. While he extracted the device, Trip led the team
inside.

Sliding the miniscule device—his own design—into his pocket, Malcolm
moved up with the rest. They had stopped dead. He actually smiled with
dark humor when Trip breathed, "Holy. . . "

---
Chapter 13
---

Trip gawked around him, open-mouthed, while his eyes slowly adjusted
to the change in lighting. His engineer's instincts told him they were
standing in the core of the ship. Although the dimness made it hard to
be certain, he suspected the ceiling of this room reached the top deck
of this ship—which had to be nearly twenty decks high. The entire room
hummed and above him stretched an elaborate network of catwalks,
beginning with a ramp just a few meters ahead of him and extending as
far upward as he could see.

But the most interesting part, to his mind, was the appearance of the
walls. They resembled a high-tech honeycomb, metal crisscrossing over
a translucent material. The little amount of light in the chamber was
emitted from the walls in a purplish glow.

Again, there were no K'Sarm in sight.

Malcolm appeared on his left; Hoshi was already standing on his right.
"This is where they store it," Malcolm said. "The triglobulin. Along
with a few other valuable fluids."

"Oh my God," Hoshi said. "There's so much. . . "

"Yes, they harvest without pause," Malcolm said flatly. He looked at
Trip. "It's a bit of a hike, and there's little cover if we are
discovered. But the K'Sarm rarely need to come into this chamber. . .
unless they're storing triglobulin."

Trip thought of where they were planning to find their next load.
"Guess the Cap'n'll have something to say about that, huh?"

No one answered.

Trip swallowed, and forced his mind back to their task. "Which way?"

Malcolm pointed up. "That way."

He started walking towards the first ramp, and Trip followed, flanked
by the rest of the team. They started to climb. He tried to breathe
through his mouth; despite the cold, this room was rank with an
unidentifiable smell.

An image of Nita, huddled and crying in Phlox's arms, danced into his
mind. For comfort, he looked over his shoulder at Hoshi. She was
eyeing the walls with distrust, as if they were to blame for this
situation. The purple glow in the room gave her an odd look, foreign
to him. His chest constricted.

She turned back, caught him looking, and gave him a tiny smile. She
was his Hoshi again. Trip smiled back and faced forward.

They were moving fast, and had gotten close to halfway up. Trip had
never particularly feared heights, but he made a point not to glance
over the sides. There were slim rails about waist high along the sides
of the walkways. They didn't make for much of a barrier between them
and the growing space down to the floor. He wondered how Jon was
doing. Concentrate, he told himself. The hypo should have long since
taken affect, but he still felt as if his feet were dragging while
they climbed. A pale fog of breath followed them all, a tacit reminder
of their exertion.

Suddenly impatient to end this, Trip caught up with Malcolm. They came
to the crest of a ramp. Like the others, there was a small landing
before a set of doors and then the walk jutted back in the other
direction. They'd passed a half-dozen or so landings. Only this time,
as they reached the top, the door slid open. Standing on the other
side were several very surprised K'Sarm.

The two groups froze for maybe a second. The K'Sarm went for their
weapons—the Enterprise crew was already holding theirs.

Trip aimed for the face of one of them and fired. At the same time, he
stepped backwards, trying to shield Hoshi with his body. As he
expected, she moved away from him, firing her own weapon.

The first row of K'Sarm, three of them, went down, felled by Trip and
Malcolm's shots. Maybe four more returned fire, and the Enterprise
crew dived for cover. There wasn't any, so they had to be content with
hunching down and trying to make themselves as small as possible. Trip
heard one of the Enterprise crewmen cry out, but he didn't turn. He
could barely see with the flashes of phaser fire. The K'Sarm that they
didn't hit lunged behind the doorway, popping out to shoot at them.

One of them, skin gleaming, leaned out, drew aim on Malcolm and fired.
The Lieutenant saw his intent half a second before and jumped out of
the way. He hit the ground on the opposite side of the walk. And
rolled right over the edge.

"Malcolm!" Trip yelled. He shot the K'Sarm responsible and advanced,
Travis and the other crewmen behind him. Hitting the doorway at a dead
run, Trip leaped through with Travis at his side. Trip's left shoulder
burned like fire as one of the shots glanced off of him, but he had
momentum on his side. Covered by their crewmen, he and Travis hit the
opposite wall of the corridor, and turned, shooting wildly.

In seconds, the few remaining K'Sarm, pinned in the crossfire, were
dead.

Trip didn't stop for a body count. He scrambled to his feet and dashed
back through the door. In the dim purple light, he saw Hoshi's body
sprawled a few meters away.

---

Shots whistling around her, Hoshi watched Malcolm disappear over
the side, slipping through the railings. She heard Trip shout his
name, and felt the others rush past her.

Her eyes were on the empty spot where Malcolm had been a split-second
before. Dodging a few random shots, she ran over and looked over the
side, disbelieving.

Her gaze locked with startled blue eyes. Malcolm was clinging by one
hand to the railing, stubbornly holding onto his phaser with the
other. His feet dangled out over empty violet air.

"Malcolm!" Hoshi dropped onto her stomach and held out her hand. "Take
my hand."

"Can't."

"For the love of. . . give me the weapon then," Hoshi barked. She
grasped his wrist where he was holding onto the railing.

Malcolm twisted, throwing up his arm enough for her to catch the
phaser. She tossed it over her shoulder without a second glance and
held out her hand. He swung his hand up and caught her arm. Hoshi
pulled, Malcolm assisting her with his own grip on the rail.

Nothing happened. Malcolm's weight, increased by the gravity, was too
much for her. Despite having her shoulder braced against a post of the
rail, she felt her body slip. Every muscle in her upper body was taut;
each one protested individually. The floor of the walkway was grooved
to provide traction; it hurt her flesh as she rubbed across it. She
cried out, a deep, guttural grunt. Malcolm's hand released hers. . .
only her grip was keeping them locked.

"Let go, Hoshi. I'm going to pull you over," Malcolm ordered.

Hoshi whimpered.

"Nice try, Malcolm," said a warm voice near her ear. An arm shot past
her, grabbing Malcolm's wrist and hauling him upward. She huffed with
relief, doing her part to help take Malcolm's weight.

Together, she and Trip pulled Malcolm up and over the rail. The three
of them collapsed in a heap.

"If ya think I'm lettin' you die now and dump this whole plan on me,
you got another thing comin'," Trip gasped at Malcolm, and in that
second Hoshi loved him more than she ever had.

Trip stood, pulling her with him, and then reached down to give
Malcolm a helping hand. "C'mon. Let's get this over with."

---
Chapter 14
---

"We cannot let them reach Engineering!"

Jon chanced a glance at the woman running beside him. "I know, T'Pol!"
His voice was laced with frustration—mostly at their slow progress.
But also at the knowledge that she was holding back to stay with
him—without him slowing her down, she could easily have outpaced the
K'Sarm that were hot on their heels.

He looked up ahead and saw their destination— a 'T' in the corridor.
Finally. The two of them skidded full throttle to the right and landed
in a heap behind the security team that was lying in wait for the
K'Sarm. Fortunately, the K'Sarm were both greedy and arrogant. Two
teams so far had fallen victim to this tactic, unable to resist
chasing two seemingly unarmed people.

On cue, the K'Sarm group whipped around the corner. The team leader
was greeted by Sabah's phase rifle, and the rest of her people
dispensed with the remaining K'Sarm quickly.

Jon sat up, disentangling himself from T'Pol. "That leaves three
teams, plus the four K'Sarm on the bridge." He grinned at T'Pol. He
was acutely uncomfortable with this 'kill or be killed' method but had
decided to bury the feelings until later. Better guilt later than
indecision now. "Ready to go again?"

"Captain, I must again protest you using yourself as bait. It is
simply too dangerous a risk for Enterprise's Captain."

"Your protest is noted," Jon said. He touched her shoulder lightly. He
knew her argument was valid, but he knew her well enough to realize
that it was also based on her personal feelings. "It's worked out so
far, right?" He turned to Sabah. "Where do we go next? Or are they
already on their way here?"

She was frowning down at an instrument in her hand, seemingly unaware
of the dead K'Sarm piled at her feet. "Sir. . . they seem to have
abandoned the idea of pursuing us. All three teams appear to be moving
down to Deck D."

Engineering. As fast as the thought could register, Jon's comm came
alive. "Hess to Captain Archer!"

"Go ahead."

"Sir, we're under attack. We've sealed the doors, but they're cutting
through. If they get in, I'm not sure how long we'll last." Her voice
was edged with panic.

"Stay calm, Lieutenant. Follow the defense plan we outlined. . . we'll
be there as soon as possible."

"Sir, I. . . "

"We're coming, Hess," Jon said. "We're only one deck up from you."
Aware that the rest of her team was probably listening, he added, "I
have total confidence in your ability to last until we get there,
Lieutenant. That's why you're in charge."

Actually, she was in charge because Jon and Malcolm had assumed that
the K'Sarm wouldn't get as far as D Deck, and therefore had assigned
the best fighters to the Captain's team. . . but that wasn't exactly
what she needed to hear.

In a low, firm voice, she said, "Yes, sir."

Jon cut the transmission and looked at Sabah and T'Pol. "Let's go."

---
Chapter 15
---

"This is the deck where their Engineering room is located," Malcolm
said quietly.

They had quickly climbed two more stories, and were standing outside
another door. Hoshi looked around at the group of them. All of the men
looked edgy and tense, faces glowing purple. After pulling Malcolm up,
they'd discovered that they had lost another crewman. He lay on his
back in the center of the walk, a plasma burn across his chest.
"Ensign Sauer," Malcolm had answered tightly when she'd asked. "Jim."

With no other options, they had just left his body there on the
catwalks. Hoping to conceal there presence a little while longer, they
had paused long enough to drag the dead K'Sarm inside the chamber as
well.

Hoshi banished Jim's image from her mind, replacing it with thoughts
of her daughter. For Nita, she would ignore the losses and think of
what could still be saved.

Her muscles were rigid with exertion and stress. As they stood still
and tried to gather themselves for the next attack, her hands and feet
were gradually growing numb.

"How far?" Trip said. "An' how many of 'em?" His sleeve was torn and
stained dark, but he had refused to let her examine the wound.

"Just a few meters," Travis said. "Usually about twenty K'Sarm on
duty."

"Guards?" asked one of the crewmen, a young man with dark hair and
light skin. Hoshi wished that she knew him better; it was odd that
they might die together, and she couldn't remember his name.

Malcolm shook his head. "No." He looked around at them. "I'm hoping we
still have the element of surprise. . . although we've had a few too
many run-ins to be sure of that. We're going to have to rush them.
Travis and I will take the lead, as we're the most familiar with the
layout. We'll open the door and throw in a stun grenade. Anyone left
standing after that, shoot to kill."

Without hesitation, the team moved into position. Malcolm and Travis
went through first, Hoshi and Trip second, with the others following.

Hoshi blinked against the blaring light, but kept going, focusing on
Travis's back. The second the door snicked shut behind the last
crewman, a group of K'Sarm stepped out before them. Hoshi heard a
sound behind her, and glanced around to find a second group standing
close behind them. They were outnumbered almost two to one.

She knew she was probably the only one who understood one of them when
he said, arrogantly, "Drop your weapons, and you will be spared."

As she didn't believe him for a moment, she didn't bother translating
for everyone else. Besides, before the K'Sarm had finished his
sentence, Malcolm's shot hit him full in the chest, and the Lieutenant
was ramming himself into the next one.

The other crewman followed suit, shooting into the crowd of K'Sarm and
lunging forward too fast for the enemy to get many shots off. Still,
the crewman who had asked about guards dropped silently to his knees
and fell face down.

Hoshi barely noticed him as a K'Sarm loomed before her, inches from
her face. Startled, she instinctively slammed her phaser across his
face. He staggered back and she shot him, point blank range. The sound
and scent of burning flesh sickened her, but she held her hand steady
as she twisted, watching for attack.

This team had been well trained in hand to hand combat—around her, the
battle raged, but the K'Sarm were being overtaken, despite their
advantages. Hoshi raised her phaser, intent on shooting a K'Sarm who
was wrestling with Travis, when a hand wrapped around her wrist in an
excruciating grip. As thick nails cut through her sleeve and into her
skin, the phaser fell out of her hand. She kicked out, uselessly, as
the K'Sarm pulled her against him, face to face, crushing her ribcage
with his arms. His breath was foul against her face. She screamed
once, but it died with her breath. Her heart throbbed and the intense
light dimmed.

Instantly, she was free. She fell hard against the ground, sucking in
air even as she rolled to look back at her attacker. Trip was
delivering forceful blows to the K'Sarm's face and body. The alien
caught Trip around the throat and lifted him off of his feet, bashing
him into the wall. Trip's face turned a mottled red as he tried to
break free.

A sleek K'Sarm rifle lay on the floor nearby. Hoshi crawled to it,
reaching out her hand. Pain and shock burst in her head, and she fell
back. She clung to consciousness, trying to focus.

As the light came back to her, she squinted up, the side of her head
burning. From a distance, she saw Travis come to Trip's aid, slamming
into the back of the K'Sarm. They all went down in a tangle. Another
K'Sarm dove into their midst. He and Trip came up fighting.

Fuzzily, she looked around. A hot ache, mixed with anger, pounded the
side of her head. The rifle had been kicked far down the hall. . .
probably by the same foot that had connected with her ear. She lurched
to her feet, fixed on retrieving it.

The fighting was still going on around her, a roaring clamor that
hardly distracted her. Hoshi ducked through the bedlam, trying to keep
an eye on Trip's confrontation.

Trip hit the alien again. Years of farming had left him strong; the
K'Sarm went down. Trip turned towards her, checking as always. His
face was harsh, red and streaked with sweat. Between them, the other
combatants danced. He moved in her direction, and fell flat on his
face when the K'Sarm caught his ankle and yanked.

Hoshi squeezed past the fighting until she reached the rifle. As she
leaned over to snatch it, an odd sound caught her attention. Turning
her head, she saw an open area that could only be Engineering. K'Sarm
were swarming all over it, shouting to each other. She looked quickly
for the source of the sound.

Two enormous bay doors were slowly closing off the entrance.

"They're locking us out!" Hoshi shouted. Instinctively, she launched
herself toward the doors. She made it two steps inside, the doors
moving behind her, and froze. Some twenty K'Sarm looked back at
her—and went for their weapons.

A jarring force hit Hoshi, knocking her sideways. She landed in a
tangle of limbs with another body. Trip. He had knocked her behind the
relative safety of a wall of computer terminals. He didn't stop to
check her, just fumbled at his waist. Hoshi heard the doors lock
together as Trip produced a small object, leaned out, and threw it. He
dove back on top of her, holding their heads down. There was a flash
and a snapping sound, followed by a number of thuds.

Hoshi raised her head and met Trip's eyes. "Stun grenade," he said
softly. "Hold on."

He leaned out carefully. Apparently, he found the room was clear,
because he turned back to her and demanded, "What the hell were you
doin', jumpin' in here by yourself?"

Hoshi stared back at him in startled silence. Once she'd processed the
sudden change in subject, she narrowed her eyes and snapped, "I
couldn't let them lock us out."

"Yeah, havin' a dead Hoshi on this side would've been a big help."

Before she could retort, he stood up and walked towards the doors. "We
gotta hurry up—I'm not real sure how long those stun grenades last on
a K'Sarm."

Hoshi followed him irritably. While he set to work trying to open the
doors, she took in their surroundings. Except for one tall, glowing
chamber, the room was about the height of the corridors, and maybe
half the length of Enterprise's engineering room. Same color scheme.
It was also littered with unconscious K'Sarm.

She started to move among them.

"What're you doin'?" Trip asked.

"Picking up their weapons. If they wake up, I'd rather it not be with
one of these beside them." She continued filling her arms. When she
was finished, she took the whole pile and dumped them behind the
computer terminals. Except for the two she kept for herself and Trip.
She opened one of his pockets and hooked a pistol on his hip. He
barely acknowledged it. While he worked, she went back to watching the
K'Sarm.

Trip's communicator beeped. He took it out of his pocket and silently
handed it to her before returning to his work.

"Sato."

"Hoshi—are you both all right?" Malcolm's voice was laced with
concern.

"We're fine."

His tone became efficient. "Good. Can Trip open the doors?"

At which point, Trip swore and punched the wall three times.

"I. . . don't think so."

Trip held his hand out for the communicator, indicating that he would
tell Hoshi and Malcolm at once. Accepting it, he met her eyes and said
acerbically, "Sure, I can. Shouldn't take more'n an hour."

Malcolm said, "We don't have an hour, Commander."

"Yeah, Malcolm, I know." Trip sighed in frustration. "Hoshi and I'll
just have to do this ourselves. We'll find another way out."

The nausea threatened Hoshi's composure again—she choked it back.

"Trip, we had planned for an escape from inside that room," Malcolm
replied quickly. "After you've released Enterprise, you'll need to
find an access tube. . . it should be in the back of the room. . .
there'll be a small door marked in red. It leads down to the garbage
incinerator on the bottom deck. Exit on the second lowest deck and
we'll meet you there."

The comm broke off with a crackle. Outside, Hoshi heard phaser fire.
Before they could react Malcolm's voice was back, shouting now. "We've
got company! We'll try to hold them off for as long as possible. . . "
It went dead.

Hoshi looked at Trip. She winced as she noticed the bruises that were
forming on his face, but knew he wouldn't welcome any sympathy. He was
already scanning the room. The noise outside was faint, but constant.
They would worry when it stopped. "C'mon, babe. Let's get this over
with. You translate, I'll do the rest."

"Don't call me 'babe'," Hoshi said automatically.

They both smiled faintly as they set to work.

---
Chapter 16
---

The air smelled of electricity and scorched flesh—a result of their
ongoing battle. Malcolm and his remaining six people found refuge in
the deeply recessed alcove in front of the Engineering room. It seemed
like most of the ship's crew was descending upon them. Fortunately the
K'Sarm had little cover if they tried to approach. But as protected as
the Enterprise crew was, Malcolm knew it was only a matter of time
before they were overcome by sheer numbers. Already, most of them were
wounded in varying degrees of severity. His shoulder, wrenched by his
near fall, ached brutally.

He glanced at Travis. They were all soaked with sweat, but the
Ensign's uniform clung to him. He was wheezing. He was likely running
on adrenaline only at this point.

Malcolm wasn't sure if he himself was doing much better.

"We can't keep this up!" he shouted.

Travis dropped back long enough to reload his phaser. "What do you
suggest?!"

As the Ensign stepped back into position, Malcolm slid behind him.
Facing the door, he raised the K'Sarm rifle he was using and fired.
Aiming carefully, he sealed the immense door shut. For good measure,
he also blew out the keypad beside it.

"I suggest we get out of here," he yelled. "We'll have to go the way
we came."

"We can't go out there!" one of the other men returned. "It's suicide.
We won't get five meters."

"It's only fifteen to the access doors. If you can get inside, I doubt
anyone is guarding the chamber—they'll concentrate their people on
regaining Engineering and attacking Enterprise. Two of us will stay
behind to provide cover fire for the others. Once you're inside, head
straight for the access tunnel and get back to the ship."

He looked among them. Most still had their attention on the enemy.
"I'm staying. But I can't cover both sides myself. . . "

"I'm staying," Travis said.

Malcolm shook his head. "No, Ensign. You're exhausted."

"All the more reason," Travis rasped. "Oded and Mike are going to need
help. With two mostly healthy guys on either side, they should have no
problem." Malcolm hesitated. "They'll have a better chance without me,
Malcolm."

He wanted to say no, but he had to be realistic. With a nod, Malcolm
moved to one side of the doorway—the one closest to the chamber
entrance. He was still the best shot. Noting that Travis was in place,
he said, "Once you're inside, seal the door."

"No argument," he snapped at their reluctant expressions. "Ready?"

The men picked up the two injured. With their arms wrapped around
their shoulders, the healthy crewmen nodded.

Malcolm leaned out and drew a bead on the first K'Sarm he saw. He
could hear Travis doing the same. Firing a number of succinct shots,
he took out a row of their enemy. The K'Sarm scrambled for cover.

"Go!"

The men ran, the injured crewmen providing as much help as they could.
They closed five meters.

Malcolm fired around them. The K'Sarm squeezed off a few shots, but
under Malcolm's barrage they mostly remained ducked down.

Ten meters. The K'Sarm were getting braver. One shot grazed the hip of
a crewman. He cried out, but kept moving. God, Malcolm thought, why
are they going so damn slowly?

Twelve meters. MOVE YOUR BLEEDING...

They were there. The first man hit the door and it shot open. They
hurtled through, out of Malcolm's sight. Despite his cover fire, a few
K'Sarm pursued them. Apparently the crewmen had followed his orders;
the K'Sarm were unable to open the door. Of course, they didn't try
very hard, Malcolm noted. Recovering Engineering was apparently a
greater priority. No doubt they assumed the rest would be easily
caught once that was accomplished.

"They made it!" Malcolm shouted to Travis. The Ensign, tucked behind
cover of the wall temporarily, grinned faintly.

"How do you think Trip and Hoshi are doing?" Travis asked. He fired a
few more rounds to keep the K'Sarm at bay.

"Better than us, I wager," Malcolm said.

Travis's grin widened. "I don't know, Lieutenant. We're doing all
right."

He lowered his weapon and blasted into the ground between them. The
entry-way where they were taking refuge was marked with narrow,
slitted vents in the floor. Looking down, Malcolm saw that Travis had
opened a vent. It appeared to be wide enough to accommodate them. The
armory officer glanced back at Travis.

"Trust me," Travis said. He hopped down into the opening until he was
standing inside, waist-deep. He gestured for Malcolm to follow and
disappeared. After spinning around and firing a few warning shots,
Malcolm climbed nimbly into the opening. With some difficulty, he
managed to wiggle around enough get his entire body inside. Travis
crouched nearby on his hands and knees.

"Go," Malcolm said, pointing in a direction. Travis started to crawl.
Digging into his bag, Malcolm produced several charges. They wouldn't
hold the K'Sarm forever, but the first that tried to follow would have
a nasty surprise. Malcolm set them quickly and went after Travis.

---

"Are you sure?"

Hoshi looked at Trip steadily. "I'm sure."

Trip punched a few buttons and the glowing chamber behind them stopped
glowing, its hum silenced. "That's their warp drive then." He looked
at Hoshi. "Only one thing left to do."

"Detach the clamps and access tubes," she said. She knew the realities
of the situation as well as he did—they would need to find another way
back.

"Where?" Trip asked simply.

Hoshi pointed to the correct screen. Translating quickly, she told him
what he needed to know.

Trip's hands sped through the entries. He hesitated over the last
button, watching her face. She was putting up a brave front, but he
could see what this final separation from Enterprise was going to do
to her. "Malcolm won't let us down, Hoshi. If he says he knows a way
out, he does."

"Assuming he gets there," Hoshi said quietly, almost to herself. The
shooting outside had stopped several minutes before. There was no way
to know if Malcolm had escaped.

"If he doesn't, we'll find our own way," Trip said. He was mildly
pleased by how confident he sounded. He meant it, too. He wasn't going
to let his family down.

Hoshi didn't answer, just looked back at him—a lifetime of emotions
playing across her face.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I. . . " A strange expression blinked across her face, and she
dropped at his feet.

Dumbfounded, Trip looked down. He found a K'Sarm, only partially
awake, sprawled beside Hoshi. The alien's hand was still wrapped
around the tool he had shoved sideways through the fleshy part of
Hoshi's calf.

"Son of a. . . " Trip's foot connected with the K'Sarm's face, causing
the alien to roll several feet away.

At the same time, he took in the rest of the room with his peripheral
vision. The K'Sarm were beginning to stir. In one movement, Trip
pushed the release button and dropped down beside Hoshi.

She was already pushing herself up. Tears ran down her face, and her
breath escaped in little sobs. "I'm ok," she insisted when her eyes
met his. Trip's gaze went to her leg. The tool, resembling a
screwdriver with a serrated blade, was still wedged solidly through
her calf, visible on either side. He was amazed at her clarity, given
the pain she must be in.

He also knew he couldn't remove the tool here—the blood loss once it
came out would increase greatly. She needed to be sitting in Sickbay
when that happened.

The ship vibrated as the mechanical processes for extracting the
access tubes from Enterprise kicked in.

"Time to go, darlin'," Trip said, and Hoshi nodded. He lifted her and
wrapped an arm around her waist as she put her weight onto her healthy
left leg. With her arm around his shoulders, he half led, half carried
her to the back of the room.

While he was disabling the K'Sarm systems, he had identified the red
door Malcolm described. It was a narrow, scarlet square at waist
height. Trip used one hand to open it, conscious of Hoshi's breathy
gasps. The door swung back. Trip peered into the dark opening. Beyond
a small ledge an angled shaft was barely visible. The angle was just
shy of straight down. "This is a garbage chute," Trip realized aloud.

"That's what Malcolm said," Hoshi said through clenched teeth.

"Well, yeah, but I thought there'd be a ladder. . . " Trip trailed
off, noticing the sweat standing against Hoshi's pale skin. He didn't
have time to talk about it.

"C'mon. Let's get you in first." He picked her up and inserted her
feet first, careful not to disturb the tool. "Ya gotta hold on for a
minute and I'll get in ahead of you. Hopefully I can catch us both
once we're on the right level."

He had no idea how he was going to know that, but Hoshi was already
inside. He would figure it out when the time came. Using her good leg
and Trip's arm for support, she floundered momentarily in the slippery
tube, then found purchase enough to scooch up to make room for him to
sit in front of her.

Trip extracted another stun grenade from his pouch, as well as a
flashlight. He handed the light to Hoshi. Carefully, he climbed
inside. It was even nastier smelling than the rest of the ship, but
the metal it was made of was a little warmer. His feet slipped against
the slick surface. The shaft was so wide he could only just touch the
opposite side with his fingertips. No support there.

Holding onto the ledge, he rested his butt in something wet. "Great,"
he muttered. He made a deliberate decision to not think about what it
might be. Hoshi relaxed her weight against him.

"Hold on just another sec," he warned, and she took the weight back
off of him soundlessly.

With one hand still supporting them, Trip used the other to set and
toss the grenade back into the room, and slam the little door. He
heard it go off, hopefully buying them some time.

He reached beside him and tucked Hoshi's injured leg into his lap. He
might be able to provide some protection with his body. "Ready?"

For an answer, she settled back against him, locking her arms around
his chest. Soaked with sweat from earlier exertions, Trip had been
freezing almost since they'd entered Engineering—her warmth was a
comfort.

Taking a deep breath, Trip let go.

---
Chapter 17
---

Jon's body impacted the deck hard, air leaving his lungs as pain
bloomed through his back. He rolled to his side, pulling himself
partway up. He tried to take a deep breath and replace the oxygen he'd
lost, but his lungs refused to respond. He opened his eyes and saw the
boots of his K'Sarm opponent hit the floor as the alien jumped
Engineering's steps—the same steps that he'd just knocked Jon down.

Still grabbing unsuccessfully for air, Jon looked up, meeting the
K'Sarm's black eyes. The K'Sarm snarled something as he aimed his
weapon at the Captain; it was impossible to hear over the ruckus
around them.

A small boot, planted in the K'Sarm's chest, dissauded the alien from
his course of action. The K'Sarm fell back, and Jon's
defender—Sabah—followed the blow with a blast from her phaser.

Satisfied, she fell to one knee, shouting, "Captain! Are you hurt?"

With a gasp, the breath came back to Jon, his lungs grudgingly
filling. He nodded his head, coughing and drawing deeply of the smoke
filled air.

At the same time, he and Sabah became aware of a change in the
atmosphere. They both turned their heads to look the room over.

The battle that had been raging since Jon and his team arrived in
Engineering was over. The only K'Sarm in sight were dead or dying.
Most of the Enterprise crew that were still standing looked at each
other in confusion, clearly disoriented by the abrupt quiet.

"Captain?" T'Pol appeared at Sabah's side.

Jon decided to allow himself one moment of rest. He let his body fall
back against the deck and grinned at them. "Saving my ass is becoming
a habit for you, Lieutenant," he said to Sabah.

She smiled, clearly relieved at his response. "You keep me well
provided with the chance to feed my habit, sir," she replied dryly,
and moved off. Laughing, he turned his head, watching her check on the
wounded. He sighed. He needed to get up and take the next step. . .
whatever that was.

His back hurt. A lot.

A hand settling on his chest brought his attention back to T'Pol. His
smiled softened at the concern in her eyes. "I'm fine, T'Pol. But
where did the K'Sarm go?"

He managed to only wince slightly as she hauled him to his feet.

"I do not know," she said. "We had not defeated them. . . they simply
retreated."

Her unease was contagious, spreading quickly to and through Jon. He
yanked out his communicator. "Archer to Hudson."

"Hudson here." The young man's voice sounded concerned but relatively
calm. "How are things in the Armory, Lieutenant?"

"We were under heavy attack until a few minutes ago, sir. The K'Sarm
were on the verge of breaking through when they just. . . stopped."

Jon glanced at T'Pol. Only a slight tension in her shoulders betrayed
her growing concern. "Understood, Hudson. Hold your position for now;
I'll get back to you."

Ending the transmission, Jon turned back to T'Pol. "What do you. . . "

She held up a hand, cutting him off. She cocked her head, listening.

"What?"

"Do you not hear that?"

He started to answer 'no', when an odd sound caught his attention. He
strained to hear it over the din of the Engineering crew, who had
sprung into action after a few quick orders from Sabah. "Everybody
quiet!" he shouted.

Even as he said it, the ship shook slightly. The immediate silence
that fell in the room made it possible to hear mechanical systems
clanking above their heads.

Jon looked at T'Pol. "Is that. . . ?"

"Systems are coming back online, sir!" Hess's shout cut him off. She
was standing before a console, a thin line of blood trickling from a
cut above her eye. She swiped at it impatiently, wiping her hand on
her uniform before calling up more information. She glanced at him
with a small, relieved smile on her face. "The clamps are releasing,
Captain."

Despite the pain it caused him, Jon huffed out a laugh. "And they say
good guys always finish last."

T'Pol just gave him a perplexed look before she began dispensing
orders to the grinning crew.

---

"I don't suppose you have a plan, Ensign?"

"Find a way out," was the raspy answer.

Crawling along behind him, Malcolm frowned at Travis's feet. "Do you
have any idea where you're going?"

Only a moment before they had heard Malcolm's charges go off in the
distance. The K'Sarm would be coming soon, and Malcolm wanted to be
out of this shaft before that happened.

The top of his head banged abruptly into the Ensign's backside as
Travis stopped dead. In the near dark, Travis's grin flashed back at
him. "Nice. . . to know you care. . . but not the time."

Malcolm was grateful it was too dark to see his flush. Before he could
come up with a suitably scalding comment, Travis was opening another
vent cover. "Over the galley. Nobody here. . . now. Access to garbage
shaft."

Travis was hardly able to speak now, and Malcolm's concern grew. If
Travis passed out, he doubted he'd be able to carry him.

"Good thinking, Ensign. I'll go first and confirm we are alone."

Travis moved ahead to give Malcolm access to the opening. Using his
surveillance equipment, Malcolm scanned the room. No sign of K'Sarm,
so he dropped out of the ceiling, landing heavily on his feet, weapon
drawn. The galley consisted of multiple long dining tables, with
cooling and replication units along the walls. The light was intense,
but it made it easy to see that the room was indeed empty.

"Clear," he said.

He stepped out of the way and Travis came down beside him. Malcolm
reached out to steady the Ensign's fall and found himself catching the
young man's full weight instead. He lowered them both to the floor.
Travis appeared to be unconscious.

Malcolm left him on the floor and headed for the cooling unit. Inside
he found a pitcher of icy liquid, which he poured directly on Travis's
face. Travis opened his eyes, chest heaving.

"Get up, Ensign," Malcolm said flatly. Travis did not need sympathy;
he needed to put one foot in front of the other. Until he could do it
himself, Malcolm would provide the motivation.

Travis made a half hearted attempt, and fell back onto the floor.
"Can't. Go." He shoved weakly at Malcolm's shoulder. "You once walked
through a revolution to find me. You saved my life. I won't leave you
now. Up."

Travis looked at him sadly, resignedly. "Can't."

Malcolm slapped him. Looking into Travis's wide eyes, he ground out,
"GET. UP."

For a half a second, Travis was still. Then, aided by Malcolm yanking
on his collar, he grabbed a table leg and drug himself upward. He
waited, almost lying on the table, while Malcolm located and opened
the waste disposal. His breath sounded terribly shallow to Malcolm as
the Lieutenant helped him over and inside. Malcolm handed him a
flashlight.

"Remember, you have to catch yourself on the second level, otherwise
you'll fall into the incinerator. Can you do that?"

Travis nodded.

"Then go," Malcolm instructed. A soft whoosh and Travis was gone.
Without hesitation, Malcolm followed him. He used his boots to slow
himself as he descended swiftly. Ahead of him he could see the steady
light of Travis's flashlight, moving quickly. They had to go eleven
levels and Malcolm counted as he saw Travis's light bounce against
each entrance door. Three. . . four. . . five. In seconds, he saw
Travis pass the tenth level. "Next one!" he shouted, his voice
echoing. "Catch it!"

There was a peculiar impact sound, a shout, and Travis's light blinked
out. Malcolm didn't have time to react at all before he slammed into a
knot of bodies.

---
Chapter 18
---

Engineering was on deck 14. They needed deck 2. Logic dictated that he
only needed to count twelve doors and they would be on deck 2. Easier
said than done, Trip realized as they hurtled down the smelly shaft.
Slowing their descent was nearly impossible, what with Hoshi's dead
weight against him. Whenever he moved his right leg to catch them, she
would cry out, overwhelmed by the pressure on her bad leg. Each time
wrenched his heart, and he nearly screamed with frustration the last
time. She also couldn't seem to hold the light steady; it churned
wildly around them.

Trip was only 90 percent certain they had the right deck when he
finally stuck out his right leg and abruptly stopped their descent. He
flailed his hands crazily, catching the lip of the ledge.

Their bodies twisted, the impact jolted his leg, and Hoshi slipped
under him. She dropped the flashlight. Somehow she maintained her
death grip around his waist and didn't fall any farther. There was a
sound, Trip felt intense heat directly below them and the light
disappeared, presumably into the incinerator. He had guessed right.
Which also meant that falling at this point was not an option.

"Hoshi," he said, "you're gonna have to crawl up me. I can't lift us
both at once."

"I don't think I can," she said in a small voice. The pain in her tone
seemed amplified by the echo in the tube.

"Yes, you can," Trip said earnestly. "You just gotta get far enough to
hold on to the ledge for a minute an' I'll do the rest."

The ridged ledge bit into his fingers. "Hurry, darlin'."

Hoshi put a hand on his shoulder and pulled. Using her good leg to
push against the slick tube, she raised herself up and came face to
face with him. She settled the other hand onto the ledge. Her weight
shifted off of his body a bit—it was impossible for it to be entirely
since she was basically laying on him.

"Good," Trip said. He turned his body, trying to slide up and out from
under her, all without bumping her right leg. His right thigh, where
her calf had rested, was soaked, and he knew it was with her blood.
The knocks on the way down had torn the wound even more. "Just. . . "

Her body tensed against his. "Hold on," she yelled into his ear.

He looked up and saw a light rushing down. He heard an unintelligible
shout just before a heavy force slammed into them. He yelped but
maintained his hold on the ledge. Hoshi slipped back down, clinging to
his waist, one of her hands locked in the front of his uniform. The
light kept going past them. He heard a sound, felt the heat, and the
light was gone.

A rush of air was the only warning before the second impact hit them.
Someone's foot ground onto his hand as the person caught themselves by
wedging their body sideways across the shaft. His smashed fingers tore
against the ledge and one hand slipped off.

"Chok!" he shouted, swearing in Jafari. The weight on him had
increased drastically—whoever had hit them first was wrapped around
him and Hoshi. And the guy was heavy.

"Trip?" said a clipped voice above him.

So the guy standing on his hand had been Malcolm. Figured. Trip could
only grunt in response.

"He can't hold us both for long," Hoshi panted, referring to herself
and the other person Trip was supporting.

"I can't move," Malcolm said.

Someone clinging to Trip started to climb up him. Ragged breathing,
and faint, familiar cologne identified the person as Travis. He had
wedged his long legs between the sides of the shaft for leverage,
completing the climb with little hops until his chest was against
Trip's face.

"Squathin' m'," Trip muttered.

Travis punched the door open, letting in weak light, and hauled
himself through. Trip breathed again, his load lessened. Travis leaned
back in enough to grasp Trip's wrist.

"Hoshi," Trip said. Her face was pressed into his side. She lifted her
head and pulled herself up him. As soon as she was in reach, Travis
let go of Trip and yanked her upward.

"Careful," Trip warned sharply. He heard her sob and knew it came too
late. But she was through and he had only to pull himself up. But
first. . .

"Malcolm, you go. That way I can catch you if ya start t' fall."

"You first," Malcolm grunted.

"Go, Malcolm." And hurry up, dammit, he added privately. The cuts in
his fingers were nearly to the bone now. . . he couldn't hold on
forever.

He heard Malcolm shift and looked up to see him scramble through with
Travis's assistance. Almost immediately, the Lieutenant turned back
and grabbed Trip's wrist, hauling him upward. Having his hand pried
off the ledge almost hurt more than holding on, but Trip didn't have a
chance to protest before he was lying in the floor next to them all.

They were in a small alcove, decorated in typical gray. Apparently the
place was icy, sharp and butt-ugly all over—no wonder its crew was
always so pissed off. That thought was processed in the back of his
mind as he checked out his companions. Malcolm was leaning around the
corner of the alcove—Trip couldn't see much beyond him. Travis knelt
on Trip's left, gasping shallowly. He looked awful.

Trip looked to Hoshi on his right. She sat back against the wall below
the trash chute. Her eyes were screwed shut, teeth digging into her
lip. The leg was bleeding; the now loose tool wobbled sickly with her
slightest movement. The sight was nauseating, and Trip had to calm his
face before he spoke quietly.

"Hoshi."

Her eyes opened to slits. He couldn't let her focus on the pain.
"Don't close your eyes—look at me. We're almost out of here now, back
to Nita."

Recognition, determination replaced some of the cloud in her eyes. He
continued, "I bet she's driving the doc crazy by now—he's prob'ly
dyin' for us to get back."

Despite his unfortunate choice of words, her eyes smiled a little.
"She is her father's daughter."

Trip touched her face with his good hand. "I love you. Think about
that and Nita, 'k?"

She nodded and he left her side.

"How we doin', Travis?" Trip asked quietly as he crept towards
Malcolm.

"Fine," Travis panted. Trip stifled the doubtful look that threatened
to cross his face. "I want you to find somethin' and bind Hoshi's
leg," he whispered. "I'm afraid t' take that thing out, but it can't
keep flappin' around like that."

Travis glanced at Hoshi, nodded, and crawled in her direction.

Up beside Malcolm, Trip peered out into a wide, low hanger. It was
stocked with a number of small ships, all of them sleek and shaped
like arrow heads. A few K'Sarm guards scurried about. Internal sensors
were presumably still down, given the small amount of personnel in
this sector of the ship, but they were on the alert.

"What's the plan?" he whispered.

Malcolm glanced at him. "Take one of these back to Enterprise. By now,
the Captain should have control of the ship again, and once we're on
board, we'll go to warp. But first, I have to get to that computer
terminal." He pointed to the opposite side of the hanger and Trip
gaped at him.

Malcolm continued, "While the first wave of K'Sarm hunts and kills
their victims, another group enters the bridge and downloads the
ship's computer databases. It would be disastrous to let them keep
that information."

Trip looked back at Hoshi and Travis. His instinct was to pack them on
the first shuttle and get the hell out, but he knew Malcolm was right.
"How long you need?"

"Five, ten minutes? I'm not sure."

Trip ducked his head in frustration. "Fine," he sighed. "But how're
you gonna get over there?"

Malcolm shook his head dismissively, annoying Trip. "Give me ten
minutes, then get them onboard the closest ship. If I don't meet you
there, leave without me."

Trip's temper sparked. He caught Malcolm's arm. Malcolm swung confused
eyes back to him. "I'll give you five, Lieutenant. And if you aren't
there once I have them onboard, I'm coming after you."

To his surprise, Malcolm grinned a little. "Spoken like a Starfleet
officer," he murmured.

Trip waited a beat, then grinned back. "I mean it, Malcolm."

Malcolm raised his hand in a mock salute. "Aye, sir." He darted across
to the first shuttle, undetected. Trip took out his phaser. Holding it
in his torn right hand hurt like a son of a bitch, but he was a lousy
shot with his left hand. He settled down to watch and wait.

---

Through heavily lidded eyes, Hoshi watched Trip's back. She didn't
know where Malcolm had gone, but she did know that Trip didn't like
it.

Her leg was agony. When Travis used strips of his torn off sleeve to
reinforce the wound, she'd had to bite down on her own wrist to keep
from screaming. She barely felt the bite, but she tasted copper.
Thankfully, the white hot pain had faded to a more tolerable scarlet
after he had finished. "I want to get out of here." The sound of her
own voice startled her; she hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Trip glanced back at her, but hadn't heard what she'd said. Travis
answered her. "Me. . . too. Soon."

Another few minutes stretched before Trip grunted in disgust. He
crawled back to them. "We can't wait any longer. Travis, can you walk?
I gotta help Hosh."

Travis nodded slowly. "Give me. . . the phaser."

Trip glanced at him. Apparently Travis looked confident, because he
handed the phaser over. Kneeling before Hoshi, he turned his back to
her. "Climb on, Hoshi. I think we can go faster if I just carry you."

Feeling a little embarrassed, Hoshi wrapped her arms around his neck.
He stood, catching her thighs and lifting her. With one last heave, he
got her in place. Her throbbing leg stuck out ahead of them. She
pressed her face against his warm neck. The well-known smell of his
sweaty hair and skin was reassuring.

"Head for the nearest shuttle," he told Travis, the reverberations of
his deep voice thrumming against her chest and face. She kept her face
down, even once he started a jarring run.

He'd only taken a few steps when he halted and slouched. Hoshi raised
her head—they were huddled against a shuttle while Travis got the door
open. It slid back with a hiss only she could hear. Travis entered
first, then turned back to help Trip get in with Hoshi. Between them,
they eased her onto the floor of the little vessel. Despite their best
efforts, she was hard pressed not to scream at them for the pain they
caused her. Her resolve held, though—at the moment, her pain wasn't
especially important.

"I'll be right back," Trip said to Travis. "You be ready to take off."

Knowing he was going after Malcolm, Hoshi didn't say a word. Trip
disappeared out the door and Travis moved to the helm. Hoshi lay on
her back and took in her surroundings. The narrow ship looked much
like the large K'Sarm ship, although it was currently dark inside.
There were two seats at the helm. The rest of the shuttle was empty,
without even seats. Maybe they used it to haul cargo, she mused.

She was working very hard at not thinking about what Trip was doing or
the piece of metal stuck through her calf. She was afraid to speak to
Travis for fear of K'Sarm being close by. She could hear him working
at the controls. The only other sound inside was his breathing.

A small explosion rang out in the hanger. Seconds later, Hoshi heard
pounding feet approaching. She sat up. "Start it, Travis."

"How. . . "

"Do it."

He complied, the engine coming to life with a whine. Lights came on
through the little craft. She reached out awkwardly and opened the
door. Immediately, they both heard shouting, shots, and running. Trip
and then Malcolm hurtled through the door, Trip shouting, "GO!" Hoshi
barely managed to pull herself out of the way and shut the door.

Malcolm struggled to his feet and got into the chair beside Travis.
Phaser fire thudded uselessly against the hull. As the Ensign lifted
the craft and brought it around, Malcolm engaged the weapons. He
blasted a hole through the bay doors just before Travis shot them
through and out into open space. "Take us back in close to them,"
Malcolm shouted.

The K'Sarm ship loomed. Travis came in at a sharp angle, running them
along the hull. In the back, Trip and Hoshi slid around helplessly.
Trip managed to pull her to him and tuck her into his body.

"Where the hell is Enterprise?" Trip shouted.

"She's not on the sensors," Malcolm answered.

Hoshi gasped. They hadn't waited for them?

In an instant, her fears were allayed. As Travis brought them down the
side of the ship, they came out underneath it and saw Enterprise.
Still beneath the K'Sarm ship, she had been undetectable to their
sensors.

"Look at that," Travis said.

At the same time, Malcolm snapped, "I thought you released the
clamps."

"I did," Trip said, letting go of Hoshi to move up between their
seats. Hoshi sat up enough to see what they were looking at.

Enterprise was still underneath the K'Sarm ship because it was locked
there, one of the clamps set firmly in her hull. Enterprise was
rocking back and forth in an attempt to break free, but it was doing
more damage to her than the clamp.

"Son of a. . . it must've malfunctioned. Shit! I should've checked to
make sure," Trip said. They whizzed between the two ships, coming
close enough to the clamp for Hoshi to see the rivets in its joints.

"Bring us back around, Travis," Malcolm said. The Ensign was already
in the process. At the far end of the K'Sarm ship, they circled and
faced the underbelly again. Malcolm's hands moved over the console and
the shuttle's weapons discharged. They hit the clamp full on, doing
visible damage but not destroying it.

They rushed past and came around again. Malcolm fired the weapons.
This time, they demolished the clamp entirely—just as Enterprise
lurched in an attempt to break free.

The momentum of breaking free just as the clamp disintegrated drove
Enterprise upward. The shuttle was caught between the two ships,
forced up into the hull of the K'Sarm ship. Seeing the impact just
before it happened, Hoshi screamed.

Metal crunched with a spine stiffening screech.

---
Chapter 19
---

"Get us free, Lieutenant!"

"Sir, I'm trying. The clamp is too strong; it's ripping out our hull,"
Hess answered. Jon stood beside her, holding on as the ship jerked.
They had quickly discovered that one of the clamps had not detached.

"Full throttle," he said, unnecessarily. She was doing everything she
could. He turned to T'Pol.

"Any sign of them?"

She raised her eyes from her readings, met his gaze, and shook her
head.

Jon took a deep breath. The priority was to get this ship, containing
most of his crew, free. He glanced at Hess. "What if you. . . ?"

His statement was cut off by an outside explosion. The ship lurched,
tossing most of them to the floor. "Report! Jon shouted, clambering to
his feet and assisting T'Pol to do the same.

Hands on her station, Hess had kept her feet. She shrugged slightly,
attention focused on thrusting the ship back and forth again. T'Pol
answered instead. "It is a small K'Sarm vessel. They fired on and
damaged the clamp." She paused. "They're coming about again."

Jon whipped around. "Hess! Wait!"

Again, his voice was drowned out. As they heard and felt weapons fire
hit above them, Hess threw Enterprise forward. The ship pitched,
tossing them down again. There was a hideous, screeching grind of
metal, so sharp pitched that T'Pol grimaced and covered her sensitive
ears. From his position on his hands and knees, Jon yelled, "What the
hell was that?"

T'Pol stood shakily on the still shuddering floor and checked her
screen. "We have collided with the K'Sarm ship." The screech of metal
finally died, and she lowered her voice. "But we are free."

"What about the shuttle?"

"I believe they were caught between the two ships. I do not see them
on our sensors." Facing Jon's shocked eyes, she added, "However, our
ship has suffered heavy damage—the sensors are only operating at 38
percent efficiency."

That was probably supposed to make him feel better.

---

Trip didn't have time to reach for Hoshi when he heard her scream. The
two larger ships came together like a mouth slamming shut, the bit of
space between them disappearing. He braced himself for the impact even
as he saw, suddenly, that they were going to make it. Travis turned
the ship slightly and space loomed before them.

Trip took in a breath to crow in triumph. . . and had it knocked from
him as something caught the shuttle with a terrible crunch. His body
shot forward, falling against Travis and Malcolm. Slowed but not
halted, the shuttle went into a tailspin.

Disoriented by the sound and force of the spin, Trip tried to hold
himself with moderate success. "Travis!" he shouted and reached for
the controls. Catching hold of them was almost impossible with the
movement of the ship and Travis's body in the way, but he managed to
force his hand between the Ensign's chest and the console.

By some miracle, Trip straightened their roll out. He breathed again
as he was able to find a better position and yank an unconscious
Travis out of the way. "Hoshi?" he shouted.

She didn't answer. Trip chanced a look over his shoulder. He could see
her still feet. Beside him, Malcolm stirred. Reed fell back, hand to
his face.

"Y' ok, Malcolm?" Trip asked. He was in an awkward position, reaching
around Travis to steer.

"Yes." The blood pouring from his face belied the word, but Trip
ignored it.

"Good. Cause I need you to get back there and check on Hoshi."

He wasn't sure that Malcolm was coherent enough to understand, but the
Lieutenant struggled out of his seat and squeezed past Trip. While
Trip brought them around, headed for Enterprise, Malcolm called out,
"She's unconscious, but she's breathing."

The bind around Trip's chest loosened a bit. He didn't reply; instead
he dug for his communicator.

"Tucker to Enterprise." He could see the ship above them, still tucked
in the relative safety of the K'Sarm ship's underbelly.

After a brief pause, Jon's relieved voice came back. "Good to hear
your voice, Trip. You guys ready to come home?"

"Just need you to open up a door for me."

"Shuttlebay Two. We'll be waiting."

"Understood." Trip ended the communication. To Malcolm, he remarked,
"Been a while since I did this."

Malcolm didn't answer.

Ahead, the shuttlebay doors opened. Trip guided them inside, landing
roughly. Even as the doors closed behind them, he heard Enterprise's
warp engine come to life.

He looked back. Malcolm was sitting in the floor of the ship, Hoshi's
head in his lap. Her eyes were slitted open, but they weren't focused.
Trip looked at Malcolm. "You take care of Travis?"

Malcolm nodded woozily.

Trip was at Hoshi's side instantly. He shoved the door open and lifted
her in his arms, half draped over his shoulder. She grasped him
weakly.

The first thing he saw when he stepped outside was Jon and Sabah,
running towards them.

Trip didn't pause. "Where's Phlox?"

"Sickbay," Jon said.

Trip nodded. "Malcolm and Travis are inside." Sabah ran on to the
shuttle. "They're gonna need some help." With that, he rushed past his
Captain, almost running to Sickbay.

---

In moments, he was coming through Sickbay's door. He stopped short at
the sight of the trashed room. There was no sign of the doctor.

He settled Hoshi on a biobed and went to the back of the room.
Quickly, he entered the code that he'd seen Malcolm put in hours
before. The door slid open.

Trip found himself facing the wrong end of a phase pistol. "Whoa!" He
threw up his hands, jumping backwards. "It's me, Doc!"

"Commander Tucker." Sounding relieved, Phlox lowered the weapon.

Trip didn't have time to answer before a tiny force clambered over the
doctor and hit Trip in the chest. He closed his arms around his
daughter, saying, "Hoshi needs you, doc."

He stepped out of Phlox's way, and the doctor climbed out clumsily.

Trip's instinct was to follow, but he knew Hoshi was in good hands. He
had another responsibility first. He waited until he heard Phlox draw
a curtain around Hoshi's bed. With some difficulty, Trip loosened
Nita's vise-like grip from his waist and lifted her in his arms.

Her face was tear-streaked and frightened. Trip tenderly touched her
hair and face, relishing the heavy feel of her warm little body in his
arms. She met his gaze solemnly.

Trip kissed her cheeks, squeezing her against him. "It's ok now, baby
girl. Everything's fine now. We're safe."

He heard Sickbay doors swished open—crewmen entered, some injured,
some helping the injured. Malcolm and Sabah came in, awkwardly
assisting Travis. Liz Cutler appeared from nowhere and took the Ensign
from them, taking Travis's weight on her own shoulders.

Face buried against his neck, Nita said, "I want Ene."

"Ene doesn't feel good, baby. Doctor Phlox is gonna make her feel
better. . . an' then you can see her."

Nita snuffled. She was too exhausted to offer any argument. Thank God,
Trip thought. He was suddenly having a hard time finding the energy to
stand, let alone argue. He leaned weakly against a counter, watching
the activity in the next room. Or more accurately, looking through the
activity to watch the curtain concealing Hoshi.

Trip thought tiredly of everything that needed to be done. There would
be hull breaches all over A Deck, Engineering was already a wreck last
time he'd seen it, someone needed to check sensors and make sure they
weren't being followed. . .

He wasn't going anywhere just yet. With Nita curled against him, Trip
waited.

Finally, Phlox popped out from behind the curtain. His eyes met
Trip's—and he smiled one of his giant grins. "She is asking for you
both. . . and I don't believe she is in the mood to be kept waiting."

---
Epilogue
---
In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities. -Janos Arany
---

It was well after midnight when he came 'home' to their quarters. Nita
had long since fallen asleep, curled up on the little couch that
served as her bed. Hoshi sat on the bunk she and Trip shared, trying
to read while she waited. But her mind was mostly on her family. She
was amazed at her daughter's resilience; four days after the battle,
Nita showed no signs of stress. She was back to her usual antics,
alternating between cajoling Hoshi to play games with her and
demanding to visit Trip in Engineering.

And Trip was just. . . Trip. His easy smile was back in place, despite
the toll of the battle and making repairs to Enterprise. Once, she'd
caught him watching her and Nita at dinner, an odd look on his face.
But it had passed as soon as she made eye contact, and Hoshi was
confident that her husband-to-be (given their history, there was a
certain irony to that term that always made her smile) was working
through things on his own.

At the sound of the door, Hoshi looked up, her smile widening. Trip
had been working round the clock on the repairs to Enterprise. He
looked awful as he drug himself over to a chair and dropped down.

Hoshi grimaced in sympathy. Despite the doctor's orders, she hated
spending her days in bed while the rest of the crew worked
nonstop—most of them resembling the living dead as they worked through
their exhaustion. The nasty metaphor brought to mind the losses of
recent days and she forced her mind back to the present.

"Tired?" she asked softly.

"Oh yeah." Rubbing at his neck, Trip glanced at her. He pitched his
voice low, although they both knew it would take a lot more than a
conversation to wake Nita. He smiled. "Hey, you remember that death
repair station?"

"The one that tried to keep Travis?"

"Yeah, I know. . . bad news. But what I wouldn't give for some of that
technology right now."

She grinned and gestured to her leg, propped out in front of her. "I
know what you mean."

Immediately, Trip frowned. "Does it still hurt much?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "It will heal. How are the repairs
going?" A question about Engineering was always the quickest way to
distract him. He launched into a lengthy description of the bridge
refurbishing. The K'Sarm had done significant damage before they left,
although Trip's team already had it habitable.

Hoshi rested her head back on the pillow, lulled by the tones of his
voice. She felt a little guilty for employing the method so often, but
she was tired of discussing her leg. Besides, talking about his tools
and ship made him so happy. Happier than she'd heard him in many, many
years. . . happier than farming had ever made him.

Trip suddenly sat down on the bed. "Are you even listenin' to me?"

She smiled at him again as he absently trailed a hand up and down her
arm. Since the K'Sarm attack, neither of them could get enough of
touching the other or Nita, constantly seeking reassurance that they'd
all made it through.

"Sorry. I was thinking," she said.

"About?"

She caught his hand in midstroke, holding it in her own. "Jon came to
see me today. He tried to be subtle. . . " they both smiled at that
idea, "but he's still waiting for us to make a decision."

"He shouldn't be botherin' you right now. I told him. . . "

Hoshi interrupted him, mid-rant. "He's right. We have to give him our
answer. It's time, Trip."

She held his gaze with her own. For a moment, he looked back at her.
Then he turned his head towards Nita, deftly avoiding her eyes while
he answered.

"I think the choice is pretty obvious."

"So do I," Hoshi said.

She added, "We have to stay on Enterprise," at the same time that Trip
said, "We've gotta go home to Earth."

He turned back to her sharply. "What'd you say?"

In response to his near shout, Hoshi sat up. She enunciated each word
carefully, pointedly lowering her voice. "We belong on Enterprise."

Trip was looking at her like she'd grown an extra head. He lowered his
voice to a hiss. "We just saw first hand how dangerous it is out here.
What about Nita? What kinda parents would we be if we don't think of
her safety first?" "What kind of parents would we be if we taught her
to run when things get scary?" A part of Hoshi couldn't believe she
was saying this. But she and Trip were nose to nose now, and deep in
the back of his eyes, she could see hope moving. She pressed on. "I
know how much this ship means to you. You belong on Enterprise, Trip.
I belong on Enterprise. And that means Nita does, too. She loves it
here. She deserves parents who are happy. . . neither of us would be
happy back on Earth. Not as happy as we could be here."

A muscle twitched in Trip's jaw as he considered what she was saying.

She said, "Travis grew up in space. He loved it."

"Enterprise isn't exactly the same thing as a cargo ship that sticks
to one run and barely makes warp." His considering tone contradicted
the negative statement.

"No. It isn't." Hoshi waited, watching his face.

He looked at her carefully. "Are you sure, Hoshi?"

When she said "Yes", his face broke out in an enormous grin. "Then I'm
with you, darlin'."

He raised a hand to her face, drawing her forward so that he could
kiss her softly. Hoshi held him there, deepening the kiss. The
conversation quickly slipped their minds. She drew him back down onto
the bunk with her. He stretched out, careful of her leg. After a
moment, he raised his head and sighed. "First thing I'm gonna do is
get the Cap'n's permission to link our room to that empty cabin next
door. Give Nita her own room."

Hoshi snickered. "We got along all right in the home-tree."

"Still. . . " Trip lowered his mouth back to hers.

---
Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have
to...with the same weapons which today arm you against the present.

-Marcus Aurelius
---

Jon strode into the armory. Despite the late hour, he was still
dressed in his uniform. He was also covered in grease and totally
fatigued, having spent the last sixteen hours helping out with
repairs, doing any work that Trip assigned him. They'd lost nine
crewmembers in the battle with the K'Sarm, plenty more were injured,
and every hand was needed to get Enterprise back on her feet. The
entire crew was on a six hours off, twelve hours on schedule. Most of
them were working far beyond that. Until their new crewmembers
arrived, via Vulcan ship, there was no one to relieve them. But they
were making progress. Jon almost smiled as he thought about it. The
crisis was past.

The armory crew was as filthy as he was. Jon made a point of smiling
at a few of them as he made his way to the other side of the room.

"Malcolm? You wanted to see me?"

Malcolm turned at his voice. Jon's armory officer looked terrible—his
uniform disheveled, hair standing on end. Dark circles stood out
around his eyes.

"Lieutenant, when was the last time you slept?"

Malcolm shrugged noncommittally.

"I've ordered him straight to bed after this meeting, Captain."

Jon hadn't even noticed Phlox standing to the side. God, I really am
tired.

As if reading his mind, Phlox frowned. "I'll have to ask you to do the
same, Captain. You humans are remarkably resilient, but you do have
your limits. In fact, I saw Commander Tucker a few moments ago, and he
was practically asleep on his feet. I sent him straight. . . "

"The two of you needed something?" Jon interrupted rudely. He wasn't
the most patient person under the best circumstances, and these
definitely weren't the best circumstances.

"Yes, sir," Malcolm said. "I'm sorry to call you so late, but I felt
you needed to know immediately." He glanced at Phlox, who nodded. The
doctor's cheerful smile was gone now.

Malcolm continued, "I'll get straight to the point, sir. As you know,
when we were on the K'Sarm ship, one of my missions was to retrieve or
destroy any part of Enterprise's database that the K'Sarm might have
downloaded." Jon nodded. As soon as Enterprise was clear of the K'Sarm
ship, Jon had contacted Starfleet Command to let them know what had
transpired. A Vulcan ship had been dispatched almost immediately, but
when they reached the coordinates where the K'Sarm ship should have
been, the K'Sarm were gone. It was a great relief to know that they
had not escaped with vital information on Starfleet weapons or other
information.

Malcolm blanched. "While I was in the process of erasing the
information, I was discovered by the K'Sarm. If it hadn't been for
Commander Tucker, I would most likely have been killed. As it was, I
was forced to make a choice. . . I was out of time. I elected to leave
part of our medical database." At Jon's expression, he rushed to
explain. "It was that or our weapons information, sir, and I reasoned
that the K'Sarm had already scanned us—they were already familiar with
our physiology."

"That makes sense, Malcolm. So what's the problem?"

"Well, sir, it still bothered me, leaving them with anything. I
finally decided to discuss it with Phlox, to confirm that nothing of
value was left behind."

Jon turned to Phlox. "Doctor?"

"Lieutenant Reed was correct in assuming that the K'Sarm would have
little to learn about human physiology, Captain. However. . . there
were other items in my records. Including my research and findings
regarding Commander Tucker, Hoshi, and Nita after their return from
Massum."

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm pretty tired; I'm afraid you're going to have
to spell it out for me. What does that mean?" Jon looked at them
expectantly.

Malcolm said, "It means that if the K'Sarm go through those
records—and I've no doubt that they will sooner or later—they will
know everything about the Jafari village, and their ability to slow
aging. A commodity like that would be priceless to anyone. . .but
especially the K'Sarm."

Jon gaped at him.

Obviously exhausted, Malcolm blinked back angry tears as he met his
Captain's eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I was careless. Anything that happens
to those people will be entirely my fault."

It took a moment for the wheels to turn in Jon's head. Finally, he put
a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "Malcolm, you did everything you
could—and you made the only possible decision."

He turned and moved towards the corridor, Malcolm and Phlox falling
into step beside him.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Jon continued. "Because nothing is going
to happen to those people. We aren't going to let it." He gave the men
a small smile. "We're the good guys, remember? We're going to stop
them."

He believed it, too. Looking over at his companions—at Reed's
shoulders squaring and at Phlox's answering smile—he saw that, this
time, he wasn't the only one.

---

The End