Title: A Question Of Time

Author: kalita

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Archer/Reed

Archive: Entslash. Kalita's fanfic Others by permission

Rating: R

A Question Of Time
by kalita

I can't find any reason for this," Trip said, glancing over his shoulder at Malcolm. "To all appearances, the shuttle's in perfect condition, I don't know why it's just settin' out here in space."

"No signs that the weapons have been discharged," Malcolm added, intent on his console. "From the outward appearance, the craft has not been involved in any kind of fire exchange." He frowned, moving to another console on the small bridge, "everything appears, as you say, to be in perfect order."

"Then why..." Trip trailed off, moving through a hatch into another part of the small craft.

Enterprise had discovered the derelict craft adrift in space almost two hours ago. She was definitely a shuttlepod, too small to be used for any kind of long-range exploration. Her lines were crisp and clean, beautifully aerodynamic to Trip's appreciative eyes.

She bore few markings by which to identify her; no name blazoned on her bow. A chevron, with a red blaze down the port and starboard sides, two warp nacelles tucked neatly under her hull, and the registration code 1701D stamped at her stern.

After conducting some scans of the vessel, Captain Archer had decided to send Malcolm and Trip to make a more thorough investigation.

Malcolm glanced towards the hatch that Trip had ducked through, but remained where he was. "You probably shouldn't stray too far," he said quietly. "We don't know yet, exactly what we may be up against."

"Relax, Lieutenant," Trip's voice came back to him. "I'm not gonna get in any trouble."

Malcolm sighed and turned his attention back to the console he was working on. "I'm going to try and find some sensor logs; they may shed a little light on things."

"You go on and do that, Lieutenant," Trip called back. "I'm just gonna have a poke around back here and take a look-see at the engines."

Malcolm nodded although Trip couldn't see him, and concentrated on his work. The console was functional, but it took him several minutes to determine exactly how to start a download of the logs contained in the ship's memory banks.

He tapped a couple of controls and gave a grunt of satisfaction as a blinking light signalled that the download process had begun. "I'm almost done here," he called to Trip. "What's your status?"

"I'm...ahhh shit!" There was a hiss of escaping gas from the back of the craft, followed by the sound of Trip choking and retching, some frantic footfalls, followed by a heavy thud, and then silence.

"Commander!" Malcolm left his work and bolted for the hatch, rushing through it to find himself in a room filled with some kind of greenish vapour that burned it's way into his lungs causing a choking fit and searing pain. He closed his eyes, which also burned from contact with the vapour and got down on all fours. "Trip!" he called between fits of coughing. "Where the hell are you?"

There was no response and with his eyes streaming, Malcolm was practically blinded. He reached for his communicator, flipping the cover. "Reed to Enterprise." He choked, the searing pain in his lungs worsening as he felt a wave of dizziness assail him. "We're in trouble here. Gas...I...I can't find Commander Tucker."

(2)

Trip opened his eyes to find himself staring up into the kindly face of Doctor Phlox. He frowned, trying to remember how he got here. "Doc?"

"Ah, Commander Tucker, I see you've decided to stay with us a while longer." The doctor beamed and patted Trip on the shoulder. "You gave us some anxious moments."

"What happened?" Trip asked, shaking his head slightly. "I don't remember anything; I was on the shuttle one minute and now here?"

"Apparently, you unlatched a canister of some kind of tetra chloride gas." Phlox told him. "You caught a good blast of it, right in your face. It's highly toxic, you know. You're a very lucky man."

Trip looked around frantically. "Lieutenant Reed?"

"He's fine," Phlox said cheerily, "still sleeping it off as it happens, but he will recover; he was exposed to a less concentrated dose."

"That's a relief," Trip murmured. "So how long am I gonna be in here?" His glance took in the sickbay.

"Oh, just a few hours to be on the safe side," Phlox said. "I'm sure you won 't lack for company," he added. "The captain seems anxious to speak with you."

Trip closed his eyes for a moment. Oh great, he thought, time to get my ass whooped. I know just what he's gonna say.

Doctor Phlox was about to move away, but he paused, looking down at Trip for a moment with a puzzled expression. "You know, usually when I tell a patient that a friend wishes to visit - the reaction is more enthusiastic."

"Yeah," Trip muttered, "under any other circumstances, I would be." He sighed. "Well, you'd better show him in, Doc."

Phlox nodded and moved towards the doors, and Trip rolled his head to the side, looking for Malcolm.

Reed lay on the bed next to Trip's, his eyes closed, dark lashes brushing against his cheeks. His breathing was soft and even, and in repose his face seemed younger and more vulnerable than it did when he was awake. I'm a damn fool, Trip thought. I almost got you killed, with my stupidity. He sighed, looking away. I owe you one, Malcolm, and I always settle my accounts.

"You damned fool!" Jon's voice cut across his thoughts, and Trip turned to look into the flashing eyes of his captain and friend.

"Cap'n," he said softly, doing his best to look like he was at attention even if he was lying down.

"Don't you Cap'n me." Jon practically collapsed into a chair beside the bed. "What the hell stupidity took over you out there that you took off your EV helmet?"

"The air was breathable, Sir." Trip found himself suddenly feeling like a raw cadet the anger in Jon's eyes was genuine this was no friendly chat. Jon was about to whoop the hide off of him, and Trip knew it was no less than he deserved. Noting the look in Jon's eyes, he became defensive. "Well, it was when we first got there. If it hadn't been for me and my damn curiosity about that cylinder..."

"If you'd had your helmet on, your curiosity wouldn't have nearly got my two best officers killed!" Jon voice rose to a pitch that Trip had never heard before.

On the other bed, Malcolm stirred, moaning softly and both men glanced at him before Jon turned back to Trip, lowering his voice.

"You know I expect you to set an example for the lower ranked officers," he said more quietly.

"I know it." Trip let his breath out on a sigh, "and I deserve all the ass kickin' you wanna give me." He paused a beat. "I'm sorry."

"Dammit, Trip..." Jon's shoulders slumped and he leaned forward on the chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. "You nearly scared me to death."

"Scared you?" Trip managed a small chuckle. "I think for the first time in my life, I managed to scare the hell outta myself." He met the Captain's eyes. "I'll be more careful in future. I promise."

Jon nodded and shifted the subject onto other things. "The logs Malcolm managed to retrieve are interesting. From what we've translated, it looks like the shuttle was on a fairly routine flight. The pilot doesn't log any problems - everything is normal, and then, it just...stops."

Trip frowned. "It's the weirdest thing." He said, "I don't get why a ship in that condition is just dumped. And where's the pilot now?"

"Those are all questions we need to answer," Jon replied, but the important thing now is for you and Malcolm to get back on your feet." He smiled slightly and stood up. "Doctor Phlox told me I shouldn't tire you too much, so I'll let you get some rest." He reached out and patted Trip's shoulder, before moving over to Malcolm's bed for a moment.

The lieutenant still slept deeply, his cheeks slightly pallid from the effects of the gas, but his breathing was strong and regular. Jon laid a hand on his arm for a moment before he turned and left the sickbay.

Trip watched the captain as he left the room and then turned on his side, staring at the sleeping man on the other bed. He could only think that he was glad they had both come through the ordeal alive.

I don't know what I would have done if he'd been badly hurt, or worse, Trip drew a deep sigh, biting at his lower lip for a moment as that thought was allowed to sink into his consciousness. I was an idiot to take off my helmet. I shoulda known better. He remembered back to the moment he had made that decision.

"I can't see to work with this damn helmet on," Trip said impatiently. "Besides, it's too damn hot."

"You should keep it on, Commander," Malcolm's voice was cool, reasoned, and he glanced at Trip. "Even if the air here seems breathable there could be..."

"Yeah, there could be." Trip cut in, "but there probably isn't. He reached for the latch and released the pressurised environment from the suit, lifting the helmet off and ruffling a hand through his sweat dampened hair. "Those things make me feel claustrophobic," he muttered.

Malcolm didn't say anything, but his expression behind the mask of his helmet spoke volumes. He continued to study the console he stood behind, his dark brows knit together in a disapproving frown.

"You got somethin' to say, Lieutenant?" Trip asked quietly.

"No, sir." Malcolm replied. He kept working, eyes down, and his expression still sour.

"Sure looks like it to me." Trip turned away and began to try and activate another console in the small cabin.

"Alright, since you insist," Malcolm said softly. "I find your attitude somewhat cavalier."

"How would that be, Lieutenant?" Trip turned to face the armoury officer.

"Oh it's nothing unusual, and you're not the only one who does it," Malcolm replied. "I should think I would be used to it by now." He looked up from the console. "I do my best to ensure the safety of this crew. It's my job description after all, but if you insist in flying in the face of danger, well...far be it from me to prevent you." As he spoke, Malcolm depressurised his own suit and took off his helmet. "I may just as bloody well join you, since I look like an idiot fully suited when my superior is not!"

Trip sighed. "And then you got led right into the shit by a damned fool engineer who shoulda known better."

"Indeed."

Trip started in surprise as his eyes flew to Malcolm Reed's face. He wondered how long the lieutenant had been awake and watching him with those sleepy grey eyes. How is it that I've never noticed before just how beautiful his eyes are?

Trip started again; the thought taking him so much by surprise that he flipped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in confusion. What the hell? Where did that come from? He swallowed hard, his mind working rapidly. "Uh, I didn't know you were awake." He said lamely.

"Do you make a habit of talking to yourself?" Malcolm regarded him steadily, and Trip couldn't tell if the man was teasing or serious.

"Only when I am sure to be caught," he tried a smile and was relieved when it was answered by a small grin in response.

"It's one of the first signs of insanity, they say," Malcolm's voice held a definite edge of irony this time.

"Naw, that's not a symptom of madness," Trip replied. "It's when you start having arguments with yourself...and losing."

"And...do you do that often, Commander?"

"All the time!" Trip grinned, letting his eyes flicker to Malcolm's face and away again.

"Well, that explains everything." Malcolm murmured.

Trip allowed a snort of laughter and shot Malcolm another glance. My god, is he *flirtin'* with me? He found himself blushing at the thought, and another, more disconcerting reaction took place lower down. With a heavy gulp, Trip closed his eyes and turned his mind to the ship's engines, anything but what was happening in the sickbay.

He almost groaned with relief when Phlox came into the room, making some remark to Malcolm about coming back to the land of the living. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the other two men, and closed his eyes. Get a grip Charles Tucker, he told himself. Your brain's been addled by that gas is all.

(3)

Malcolm Reed paced to and fro in his quarters grumbling quietly as he fought to come to terms with the events of the mission to the abandoned shuttle. He sighed with annoyance and frowned as he turned to look out of the porthole. He couldn't believe that Trip had gotten them into such danger.

In the sickbay he'd quietly shrugged it off. That was hardly the place to create a fuss after all, but now, released from the doctor's care and in the privacy of his own territory, the lieutenant fumed.

"It's not as though he even cares about what happened. He thinks he can apologize and brush it off and it's all forgotten. Easy for him; all he ever deals with are engines, things! He doesn't have the weight of the entire crew on his shoulders." Malcolm moved away from the porthole, resuming the restless pacing that demonstrated his agitation more than anything else could have.

"I suppose I could lodge a formal complaint against him," he mused, "He did put my life directly in danger. The captain would have to listen, he would have to take action, and yet, I don't think Captain Archer would make much of it. He and Trip have been friends for years. They are, as my father would say, tarred with the same brush."

There was another reason that Malcolm hesitated in approaching the captain about Trip though; something he allowed his mind to dwell on only briefly, in moments when the thoughts came unbidden to the surface, refusing to be denied. He was attracted to Charles Tucker III.

Malcolm closed his eyes and pushed a hand through his dark hair. "How can I be attracted to someone who annoys the hell out of me?" He sank down on a chair, letting his breath out with an exasperated sigh. "I mean, the man can't even say my name without turning it into a question. 'Lootenant Reed?' As if...as if he is not even sure that is my name! Or if it's not that, it's 'Malcolm?' God damn it, that drives me nuts."

And yet, there was no denying it, Malcolm was helplessly caught in some kind of spell that Trip had woven over him. Whenever the commander was around, Malcolm was highly aware of his presence. His voice, those hands, and -Malcolm felt himself blush at this - that perfectly rounded behind that seemed to fill out Trip's uniform in the most ostentatious way imaginable.

"There ought to be some kind of rule against that." Malcolm frowned, shaking his head. "I'll admit these uniforms reveal more than they cover in many ways, but I am sure Charles orders his half a size too small!"

"And where's the use in pining over him anyway? He's never given the slightest indication that he is even interested in males. He's the all American, red blooded hero type. Not at all like ... like me. That's the problem; really, Trip and I are like polar opposites. It could never work out between us."

"So, here I am. No better off now than I was ten minutes ago. I can't go to the Captain, because I doubt it would result in anything more severe than a slapped wrist for Charles. I can't even trust myself to talk to Trip about my concerns. We'd either wind up fighting, or I'd do something stupid, like letting on that I am attracted to him."

~~*~~

In another part of the ship, Charles Tucker, Chief Engineer of the NX01 Enterprise, tossed fitfully in his sleep. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and he moaned something unintelligible, flipping to his belly, the rumpled sheet entangling his legs. "Oh...yeah," he whispered, squirming as a warm, wet tongue made a trail along his spine. "I like when you do that."

"I know you do," a silken voice replied, "you like when I kiss my way down your back...you always have. Now can I get back to my work, Commander, or do you have some other reason to distract me from this delicate manoeuvre?"

"Uh-uh. I'm not gonna say another word, Lieutenant...by all means carry on." Trip, lost in the throes of a sensual dream, moaned softly as the tongue of his partner returned to the ministrations on his spine.

"And they say we English are prudish when it comes to sex." Malcolm murmured between licking and kissing his way along the Commander's spine. "At least we know when it is appropriate to speak."

Trip smiled, keeping a tight reign on his tongue. If he wants me to shut up, I'm shutting, he thought, and then groaned as Malcolm shifted position, effectively trapping Trip's legs with his weight.

"Now, where was I?" Malcolm's voice purred, "Ah yes, right about the seventh vertebra down I think." His tongue returned to Trip's skin, causing the commander to shiver with anticipation.

He can even make a mundane word like vertebra sound erotic. He groaned, his hips moving involuntarily under the sensations of tingling pleasure that ran through him.

"You like that, don't you, Trip?" Malcolm chuckled, running his tongue across the base of Trip's spine as one hand slid gently between his thighs, stroking him.

"Oh, sweet mother of..." Trip gulped, "Malcolm!"

"Shhhh, it's about time you let me explore a little more than usual."

Muttering in his sleep, Trip ground his hips against the bed, his breath growing harsh as he sought more pressure from that teasing hand.

"You're all right with this? Are you sure?" Malcolm's voice was teasing, light and breathy as his fingers sought out Trip's balls, rolling them gently.

"Uhm," Charles growled. "I'm all right if you quit teasing me and get on with it." He sighed, feeling Malcolm's weight shift as the lieutenant reached for something at the side of the bed.

"Patience is a virtue ... you being a Starfleet commander should appreciate that."

"You know that ain't one of my strong points, Loo-ten-ant." Trip deliberately drew out the word, smiling as Malcolm growled at him.

"Hm, I'm not at all sure if you have any strong points, with the exception of being drop dead gorgeous."

"Well, thank you, I think," Trip laughed and then bucked with a sharp cry as he felt Malcolm's slick, gelled fingers slip between his buttocks, his lips were captured in a hard, demanding kiss, and he groaned, his breath rasping in the back of his throat as he felt a finger slip through the tight ring of muscle, probing him.

Malcolm tore his lips away, his breath brushing gently against Trip's cheek as he whispered. "Relax, you're making this harder on yourself." As he spoke he pushed his finger deeper into the commander's body, seeking and finding that sensitive gland inside and deliberately grazing his finger across it.

With a cry Trip woke, feeling his seed spurt onto the sheets that were a tangled mess under him. He groaned and sat up, running a shaking hand through his blond hair. "Damn!"

He trembled with reaction to the dream, blinking slowly and looking around his darkened quarters. He half expected to see the Armoury Officer here in the room with him. That had to have been the most intense and realistic dream he'd experienced in a long time. "What's the matter with me?" He asked the empty room. "What's happening to me? I haven't had feelings like this since Academy...since I was a kid."

With a grunt he pushed the soiled sheets aside and got off the bed heading into the bathroom where he turned on the shower. He closed his eyes as he stepped under the streaming hot water, confusion enveloping him like a cloud. "It's not that I am bothered about having feelings for a man," he muttered, "but why now, why him?" Trip shuddered as remnants of the dream flashed back to his mind. He groaned. "And how the hell am I supposed to face him at work now?"

(4)

The scanner beeped and chirped away happily, adding a subtle counterpoint to Charles Tucker's concentration as he worked on the component he had taken from the alien shuttle. Frowning, he probed with a laser tool, attempting to trip the switch that he knew would unlock the codes he was trying to recover.

After a moment, he set the part and the tool down on the worktable, stretched his aching muscles and rubbed his eyes. He'd been trying to get this thing to operate without success for hours.

Breathing a sigh, he took up the laser probe and the component and started again. After a few minutes there was a beep of response and the component hummed against his fingers as the switch flicked closed. With a shout of triumph Trip coupled the part to a relay on his computer console and turned his eyes to the screen, awaiting the readouts.

Several pages of text scrolled across the screen, and Trip rolled it back to the beginning, noting that the information was in the same language that all records they had retrieved were recorded in. He tapped a button to apply Hoshi's translation protocols and sat back, blinking in amazement at what he read.

"What the..." Trip double-checked and then stood up and moved to the com panel, tapping the call button. "Tucker to Captain Archer."

"Archer, Go ahead."

"Cap'n do you have a moment? I think you should take a look at something down here."

"On my way."

Jonathan Archer arrived in Engineering a few minutes later, and Trip led him to the console he was working at. "I finally unlocked that ID sequence," he said as they moved across the room.

"Glad to hear it; what has she got to say?"

"Well, I don't think you're gonna believe what she has to say - I'm not sure I even believe it myself, but here." Trip waved the captain towards the screen. Take a look and make up your own mind." He eased himself into his chair, waiting as the Captain leaned over the desk to look at the screen before he began to read aloud what the ID codes said.

"Federation Shuttlecraft. Constructed Mars Shipyards - I'm figuring that numerical string is a date - Registered Shuttlepod complement, Federation Starship, 1701D USS...Enterprise."

Jon blinked several times, and re-read the screen for himself before he spoke, "Federation? USS? I've never heard either term before," he mused. "And you and I both know that isn't one of our pods. What do you make of it?"

"I don't know what to make of it, Cap'n," Trip stared into the screen for a few moments, as though the answers he sought might magically appear there. "But with everything that has happened lately, Daniels, Silik, I'm starting to think anything is possible."

"Are you saying this shuttlepod is from the future?"

"All I'm sayin' is, anything is possible." Trip said quietly. "Now maybe we have another Daniels on our hands, and maybe we don't, but I don't know how else to explain this."

Jon nodded, conceding the point, "but if this is an Earth ship, why didn't we understand any of the language?" Jon looked from Trip back to the computer screen.

Trip shrugged, allowing his mind to go back to his brief conversation with Daniels.

"It's nice to know Earth will still be around 900 years from now." Trip said.

"Well, that depends how you define Earth." Daniels replied.

"We don't know what Earth is like in the future, Cap'n. Maybe they speak a different language where this ship is from."

Jon breathed out a sigh and nodded his head. "Well, hopefully we can find out more about this pod. I've got Hoshi looking for anything that might tell us more about it, or its pilot. We need to find out what happened to him, and more to the point, where he is now."

The captain straightened up and nodded to Trip. "Good work."

Trip nodded, his attention returning to the computer screen, eyes focussed on the name USS Enterprise. He sighed, wondering what the ship was like, who her crew were, what was her purpose? Questions he knew may never be answered.

After a moment, he reached out and cleared the text from the screen, shutting down the relay and rising to his feet. His stomach growled, reminding him he had missed yet another mealtime and he turned away from the worktable, heading towards the mess hall.

(5)

Ensign Sato bent over the console, her expression one of deep concentration as she worked on the information that Malcolm had downloaded from the alien shuttlepod. She was hoping that something interesting would turn up from a linguistic perspective. The sensor logs had been encrypted, and recorded in a language that, whilst unfamiliar, had not been difficult to decipher. She pursed her lips, reading quickly as the screen scrolled line after line of information.

Suddenly the scrolling paused and the computer chirped as something in the logs triggered one of her search criteria. She smiled, tapping a control to isolate the section. 'Personal Logs' flashed on the screen and Hoshi almost cried out with delight.

She turned to the captain. "Sir, I have found personal logs. The pilot must have recorded them on his flight. She looked at the console and entered a command sequence, her smile broadening as she looked at her Commanding Officer. "The logs are in Klingon, sir! It won't take me a moment to translate them."

Bending over her task again, the Ensign began to rapidly scan the screen. "I think I can get these to come over audio," she commented.

"If you can, that would be good," the captain replied. It would be interesting to hear what the voice of this person sounded like, though Jonathan Archer had to admit, he was puzzled as to why logs on a Starfleet vessel were recorded in Klingon.

~~*~~

Malcolm Reed sighed softly as he tried another sequence on the console in front of him. He shook his head, his expression darkening as once again he was met with a brick wall. "Damn!" The lieutenant, was tempted to pound the console in frustration, but restrained the urge. He didn't need Commander Tucker in here lecturing him about the dangers of damaging sensitive equipment.

For once, his attention was not consumed with the teething problems of his own weapons systems, but with trying to analyse those of the 1701D, as the crew commonly knew it.

"How's it going?" The quiet enquiry nearly caused Malcolm to drop the padd he held. He turned quickly to find himself face to face with Commander Charles Tucker.

"Oh, uh..." Malcolm turned back to the console. "Bloody slowly, I'm afraid. I can't get this thing to decode, no matter what sequence I use." He studied the screen, using it as an excuse to keep his eyes averted from the commander's face. "I'm sure I will unlock it eventually, it's just a matter of..." he typed in several more sequences. "Finding the right combination."

"Yeah, it can be a little tricky. I ended up by pulling the ID sequencer apart and using a laser probe to decode it manually."

"Good idea," Malcolm let out a sigh, "but I don't want to try that in this instance, at least, not yet." He cast Trip a quick glance. "I'd prefer to leave the weapons intact for the time being."

Trip nodded, and ran his eyes over the console, allowing them to travel from the screen to Malcolm's waist, and then on up the lieutenant's body to his face. His gaze lingered there a moment, before he felt a blush begin and quickly turned his attention to something else. "So I was wonderin'..." he began, but his words were cut off as the com panel next to Malcolm's station beeped.

"Bridge to Lieutenant Reed."

"Reed here," Malcolm said.

"Captain Archer would like you to come to the bridge," Hoshi said, and then, her voice edged with excitement, she continued. "We've translated some personal logs from the 1701D."

"I'm on my way," Malcolm pressed the button to shut off the panel and looked at Trip. "If you'll excuse me, sir?"

"Actually I think I might tag along; they're probably callin' me anyhow." Trip replied and fell in alongside Malcolm as they walked from the armoury.

"You had a question, Commander?" Malcolm asked as they walked.

"Huh?" Trip was startled out of his own thoughts by the question.

"In the armoury, you were about to ask me a question?"

"Oh!" Trip smiled and shook his head. "It wasn't important." He looked away, biting his lip. He had been about to ask Malcolm if he would like to join him that day for lunch, but now it didn't seem like such a good idea.

The armoury officer just seemed too distant. Unreachable somehow. Besides, a sudden thought occurred to him; his invitation might be taken the wrong way. He didn't need the lieutenant complaining to the captain about any form of harassment.

Ensign Sato waited at her station on the bridge, looking extremely pleased with herself. As Malcolm and Trip entered, she smiled broadly at them, before glancing to the captain.

Captain Archer smiled slightly and nodded. "Go ahead, Ensign."

Malcolm glanced around, noting that all of the bridge officers were present, including T'Pol. He returned his attention to Hoshi, who was busily tapping controls. After a moment, a voice began to speak over the audio system.

* Jlchegh ejDo Enterprise...* Hoshi blushed and cast the captain an apologetic glance.

"Sorry," she tapped another control. There was a pause in the audio and then, the same voice began to speak in English.

*Personal log, stardate 47391.2. I am returning to Enterprise after a three day Bat'leth tournament, on Forcas Three.

It was a great occasion; many warriors were maimed. I was triumphant!*

Malcolm smirked slightly and murmured, "Sounds like my kind of game."

Trip cast him a quick glance, but didn't speak, interested in hearing more of the log.

*I was awarded champion standing.

I am looking forward to returning to my duties, however, I anticipate a troubling situation.*

There was a pause.

*Tomorrow is the day of my birth. I have reason to suspect that my crewmates have arranged one of their intolerable parties.*

"Well now, ain't he the lively soul?" Trip remarked and was hushed by the others.

*I have no doubt that there will be cake...and gifts...and singing...*

The voice took on such a note of distaste as these things were listed, that several chuckles were heard around the bridge.

*Of course, I shall endeavour to bear it with honour...but a part of me still hopes that Commander Riker and the others have...forgotten.*

Smiling, Hoshi shut off the recording. "That's it," she said. "Isn't it exciting? It's so interesting to think of a Klingon aboard a Starfleet vessel!"

"This transcript does not reveal anything of importance," T'Pol said. "It has little value."

"On the contrary," Captain Archer spoke, "It reveals to us that at least this Klingon is an accepted member of a star fleet crew; one that obviously regards him highly. I find that interesting even if you don't." He glanced at Sato. "Thank you, Hoshi."

"Sir." The ensign acknowledged, her expression smoothing into a faint semblance of her former enthusiasm.

"What d'ya suppose a ba...battle..." Trip stumbled over the pronunciation of the alien word.

"BetleH," Hoshi said.

"Yeah, whaddya suppose that is?"

"Some type of weapon, I would expect," Malcolm said, "Judging by the way he spoke of it."

Hoshi was busy at her console, scanning library files. "It's a sword, Lieutenant," she said to Malcolm. "Mostly ceremonial, but also used in hand to hand combat."

Malcolm smiled slightly. "I knew it sounded like my kind of game."

Archer nodded, and turned to Sato. "Keep a copy of the log on file, Ensign. I'll send it in with my next report to Command.

"Yes, sir." Hoshi moved her hands across her console and the captain turned to the other officers on the bridge. "Well, I'm sure you've all got other things to be doing; I just thought you might find the log interesting." He looked to his Chief Engineer, "Commander, I'd like you to work with Lieutenant Reed on the shuttle. I want to gather as much information on her as we can before I submit my report."

"Aye, Cap'n." Trip turned to Malcolm. "Maybe I can give you a hand with that decoder sequence?"

"I'd appreciate it," Malcolm replied as they made their way off the bridge.

In the lift, Malcolm stood to attention, hands behind his back eyes straight ahead, and Trip took the opportunity to study the man's face in profile. No doubt about it, his feelings for Malcolm were still there bubbling just under the surface.

Trip was at a loss to understand why, all of a sudden, he'd discovered that the lieutenant was so damned attractive. It was a question he pondered over almost non-stop in his off duty hours, and one he spent considerable time deflecting when he was on duty.

Suddenly, Malcolm turned to look at him. "Is there something the matter, Commander?"

Trip gulped. "Uh, no." He turned his eyes to the lift door, wishing it would hurry up and get to the armoury. He felt uncomfortable heat begin somewhere around his collar bone and knew that before too long, that same heat was going to make itself visibly evident in his face.

"Are you sure?"

"You're alright with this? Are you sure?"

Trip nearly closed his eyes; nearly allowed a groan to escape him, his whole body seeming to tingle as that smooth, accented voice caressed him. He raised his chin, stiffened his spine. Drew a deep breath.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant." He blinked, slowly, once, twice, forced his mind to focus. "Exactly what is giving you a problem with that decoder?"

To his relief, the lieutenant let it drop. "I don't quite know," he replied. "I must have tried at least one hundred different sequences, but none of them is working. I have to say I admire whoever designed the security lockouts on these systems. I've never encountered anything so challenging."

Trip felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. "Well, we'll take another shot at it. Maybe together we can get through that lockout. I agree though, they are sure well designed."

The lift door slid open as he spoke and the two men made their way into the armoury. Trip drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He was determined to get through this without letting on that the lieutenant had such an alarming effect on him. He forced his mind to focus on the task in hand to the exclusion of anything else. He would be fine, he told himself. It was just a matter of discipline.

(6)

Trip's fingers worked quickly over the computer touch pad, his movements sure and deft. Malcolm watched him, his dark eyes following every movement the engineer made. Unconsciously, he passed his tongue over his lower lip, imagining those same fingers tracing over his skin.

He swallowed hard; the tension he'd felt in the lift on the way to the armoury still present. He raised his eyes from Trip's hands to his face, watching the intense concentration mirrored there.

He couldn't honestly say that Trip Tucker was a handsome man, his features were just slightly too irregular for that, but there were moments, such as now, when the man's face took on an intensity that Malcolm found extremely attractive.

"There..." Trip glanced up at Malcolm "Try that."

Moving to the console, Malcolm read over what Trip had done, and then tapped a command to test the sequence. There was a slight pause; a soft whirr of components, before the computer made an affirmative chirp and the screen began to fill with readouts.

"Ha!" Malcolm looked up and met the engineer's blue eyes. "It worked! How did you do that?"

A shrug. "Lucky guess?"

Malcolm shook his head, returning his attention to the readouts. He ran a finger down the list of specifications. "This little lady packs quite a punch," he murmured. "The weapons she carries are almost on a par with our own. Somewhat excessive for a shuttlepod."

Trip shifted position, moving closer to Malcolm so he could read the screen, and he let out a low whistle. "Yeah, but maybe the conditions they face where she is from are different." As he leaned forward, Trip inadvertently brushed against Malcolm's arm. The contact was electric and he froze, swallowing hard.

Slowly, Trip raised his eyes from the console and met Malcolm's gaze. He knew he should break the contact, but there was no way he could make his body obey that thought. He stared into the dark eyes of the Armoury Officer. Sleepy, hooded eyes that met and locked with his.

The engineer was not sure if he stepped back, or if Malcolm pushed him. He was aware of the movement only dimly. He moved back a pace, and another, and kept moving until he felt the bulkhead firmly behind him.

Their lips collided. He couldn't possibly think of it in any other terms. There was none of the gentle hesitation that happened when a woman kissed him. It was almost an assault, firm, confident. This was no chaste, gentle kiss. It seared him with the passion it contained. Trip groaned; closed his eyes.

Malcolm's fingertips grazed his jaw, touching, possessing, ran downwards, over his throat; igniting plasma fires all through him. A tongue flickered against his lips and with a soft moan of desire Trip parted them.

The air was filled with their harsh breathing, the moist sound of mouths hot against each other, tongues entwining, breath mingled. Trip wanted to touch Malcolm in response, but his limbs seemed to have turned to water. He couldn 't move if his life depended on it.

Malcolm growled in the back of his throat, pressing his body against Trip's, pushing the other man harder against the unyielding bulkhead. His hand moved across Trip's chest, exploring him through the material of his coveralls, trailing across the other man's belly and lower, to land on the growing hardness that his fingers encountered. He slipped his hand between them, and pressed his hips forward, spurred on by the small, gruff sound of pleasure his actions elicited. He pulled back a little, gently nibbling at the engineer's lower lip.

Trip whimpered. Squirming against the pressure of that hand, and the hard lean body pressed to his. His mind reeled from the combination of pleasure at that contact, and the new sensation of teeth gently pinching his lip. He whispered Malcolm's name; the word swallowed as the other man silenced him with his lips and tongue.

"Gentlemen, I don't think this is the time or the place, do you?"

Malcolm released Trip as though he had been burned. He stepped back smartly and came to attention.

Trip was slower to react, his mind numbed by the heady sensations that had ceased so abruptly. "Jesus, Cap'n!" The engineer groaned, pushing himself away from the bulkhead with an effort.

"Captain, I..." Malcolm began, but Jon held up a hand to stop him.

Trip looked at the lieutenant, taking in the deeply flushed cheeks and his ragged breathing. He stepped forward. "I'm responsible for this, Cap'n," he said softly. He shot Reed a warning glance and then let out a ragged breath.

Jonathan Archer looked from one officer to the other, noting their ruffled appearance, the heavy breathing, and other signs of their recent arousal. He cleared his throat and met Trip's eyes. "My quarters, five minutes. Both of you."

Malcolm Reed looked at Trip as the captain turned to leave the room. "You didn't have to do that," he said softly. "It's not as though you coerced me." His eyes still smouldered with remnants of passion and Trip smiled.

"No, I didn't, but I didn't exactly discourage you either."

"Not exactly, no." Malcolm nodded and then moved towards the door. "Well, time to face the music I suppose."

Trip followed Malcolm into the hallway, his mind still awhirl with what had taken place. It was what he had dreamed of, and yet it was more than that; reality was different and in some way far better than the dream that had plagued him every night since they had been gassed aboard the 1701D. Trip sighed. He needed to talk with Malcolm about all this. He needed to know what it meant.

As he walked, he licked his bottom lip, imagining he could still feel Malcolm's teeth pressing gently into the tender flesh. He sighed, pushing the thoughts out of his mind as they boarded the lift.

A few minutes later, the two of them entered the captain's quarters, standing to attention next to his small desk.

Jonathan Archer turned to look at them both. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you, your behaviour down there was completely out of place," he said softly. "That sort of thing is not what I expect from members of my bridge crew."

"No, sir."

"Sorry, Cap'n."

Jon sighed. "I'm not going to record any misdemeanours, but I am giving you fair warning that this is not to happen again, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain." Malcolm nodded.

"Aye, sir."

"Alright. Malcolm, you can go." Jon nodded to the lieutenant, who made a half salute and quickly left the room.

As Reed left, Jonathan turned to Trip and waved him to a seat. "I can't lie to you, Trip," he said. "I won't say I'm not happy for you. Malcolm is a fine man, and a good officer. It's high time you moved on. After Natalie, I thought that you'd sworn off romance for good...but..."

"Whoa, hold on there just a minute." Trip held up a hand. "Romance?" He laughed softly. "I don't know about that."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "Well that was something more than friendly conversation down there."

"I won't deny it," Trip replied, "but right now, I don't know exactly what it was or what it meant." He studied the floor for a moment. "I don't know what I'm feelin'."

"Want to talk about it?" Jon leaned forward, looking his friend in the eyes. "You know I am always here for you, Trip.

"I know, but I think the person I need to talk with is Malcolm."

Jon nodded. "Just be careful, Trip. Getting involved with a subordinate is never easy; there can be a lot of pitfalls..." He smiled at the engineer, "and, try to keep it behind closed doors, will ya? I don't need the rest of the crew thinking it's OK to follow your example."

"I'll keep it on the level, Cap'n." Trip stood up. "Thanks." He moved towards the door.

"Trip," Jon added as an afterthought. "I make it a point not to pry into the personal lives of my crew. As long as this relationship doesn't interfere with your duty, I'll keep my nose out of it."

Trip nodded, not missing the note of warning in his friend's voice, and stepped out of the room, the door sliding closed behind him.

(7)

It was late; most of the alpha and beta shifts were asleep by this time, but Trip Tucker couldn't sleep. He walked the hallways, deep in thought about the events that had taken place the day before in the armoury.

He hadn't had any opportunity to speak with Malcolm since before they went to the captain's quarters. Things had gotten a little hot during an encounter with an alien race, and both the Chief Engineer and the Armoury Officer had by necessity turned their thoughts to other things.

Now, all was normal again, the ship at status green, the crew taking a well earned rest. Trip sighed. Rest was something that was denied him right now. He'd gone down to engineering and surprised his staff. The shift leader obviously caught on the hop by his sudden visit. After assuring the woman he was not there on a tour of inspection, he had taken a look at the warp core, and then left.

Trip thrust his hands into his pockets as he rounded a corner, hunching his shoulders and letting his head droop. He didn't see the person he collided with until too late.

"Doc!" he said, looking up quickly. "I didn't see you there."

"Good evening, Commander Tucker," The doctor smiled at him, and Trip found himself wondering if Phlox was ever angry or had an off day.

He nodded. "I was just takin' a walk. Couldn't sleep." He glanced along the hallway, which was empty at this time of night. "You're up late," he added, turning his attention back to the doctor.

"No, not really." Phlox turned and began walking with him. "I had a few experiments I needed to keep an eye on. If you can't sleep, I can give you something to help you relax?"

"Nah, thanks all the same, but I will be on shift in a few hours anyhow." Trip smiled briefly and resumed his earlier restless pace.

"Is there something on your mind that you'd like to talk about?"

Trip shook his head no, and then promptly changed his mind. "Actually, yeah, there is," he said. "I've got this problem..."

Over the next few minutes, Trip explained the events of the few days since he and Malcolm had visited 1701D.

The doctor listened, mostly in silence, but put in a comment here and there. When Trip was finished he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is nothing unusual to the majority of races I have encountered," he said in a thoughtful tone. "It is only your species that seems to consider same sex attraction an aberration."

"No, no, that's not it," Trip put in quickly. "I'm not bothered by havin' these feelin's." He paused. "It's not the first time, but..." with a sigh he went on. "Up 'til three days ago, I didn't feel this way, and if I'm honest, I would never have imagined feelin' this way for...for Malcolm."

"I see," Phlox considered for a moment. "Well, from what I know of humans, your species can be..." Phlox looked thoughtful, searching for words. "Unpredictable," he said finally. "Just because you never thought that Lieutenant Reed was attractive before, doesn't mean it can never happen."

Trip nodded, letting his breath out slowly. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said.

"Human sexuality is a fascinating subject of study," Phlox murmured, "Of all the species I have had the opportunity to observe, humans fascinate me most." He stopped and turned to face Trip. "I would suggest that you find time to speak with Lieutenant Reed as soon as may be. Perhaps he is feeling just as confused as you are at the moment, and if he is not, then, perhaps he can help you to understand what is happening?"

Trip smiled at the doctor and slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, I think I need to do that," he said. "Thanks, Doc." He gave a small nod of acknowledgement and turned back the way they had come, leaving the doctor to stare after him until he rounded a bend in the corridor.

~~*~~

Malcolm Reed turned onto his back, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. The disorientation of interrupted sleep made his head swim. He yawned and sat up, running a hand through his dark hair, before he stumbled out of bed and reached for a shirt. "This had better be good," he muttered, as he struggled into the garment, his feet stumbling towards the com panel. Thumbing the button, he mumbled: "Who's there?"

*Malcolm? It's Trip...I...I'm sorry to wake you. Can we ... talk?*

The lieutenant sighed softly; he'd been half expecting this, but not at 0200 hours. He screwed his eyes shut and opened them again, noting that the blurriness was, if anything, worse. However, he knew he was not going to get away with putting this off. If he knew anything about Charles Tucker, it was that the man was like Porthos with cheese when he got it into his head to do something. He sighed again and pressed the door control. "Come in." He turned towards the bathroom. "I'll be back in a moment."

Stepping into the room, Trip glanced around. Reed's quarters were neat; not a single item out of place. Padds were stacked neatly on the small desk-cum-dining table, lined up perfectly one on top of the other, not even a corner allowed to lie out of alignment with the one under it. On a sideboard, a small kettle, a teapot, and several mugs waited to be put to use. All of the mugs were set upside down on the countertop with the handles facing to the right.

There was a small, two-seater sofa along one wall, the other end of the room taken up with Malcolm's bed, which looked slept in.

Trip eased his frame down on the sofa, his eyes falling on a picture on the wall. A young Malcolm flanked on either side by a middle-aged woman and an austere looking man dressed in a Royal Navy uniform.

"My parents," Malcolm said as he returned to the room, his hair damp and obviously just combed. Trip could see the fresh marks in the crisp waves where the teeth of the comb had smoothed it.

"Cup of tea?" The Brit moved to the counter and busied himself with the kettle and mugs.

"Coffee if you have it," Trip replied. He leaned forward on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "Better make it straight black, and strong," he said.

After a few moments, the lieutenant handed Trip a steaming mug and moved to sit at the table. He sipped his tea, then set the mug down. "I take it you' re here about what happened yesterday," he stated, no hint of hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.

"Yeah." Trip took a quick swallow of the scalding liquid, struggling to maintain eye contact with the other man. "I think we need to talk about it."

"I agree." Malcolm leaned forward. "Look, if you're here to tell me it was all a mistake and it will never happen again, that's fine. I realize we have a professional relationship to maintain, and this could become rather...awkward."

"Yes, I...That's... No! I mean, I..." A sigh and another sip of hot coffee, "I don't know, Malcolm. I'm confused about all of this."

"Have you ever done anything like that before?" Malcolm picked up his mug, sipping from it slowly, watching Trip over the rim.

"Yeah, a long time ago." Trip thought back to that brief encounter in academy. His name was Andre. An upper class man as it happened, older and more confident than the young Charles Tucker had been. It was a sweet seduction; all the more heady for its unfamiliarity, but it was over before the end of his second year. "It was a pretty common thing back then, easier than getting tangled up with a girl, you know?"

At least, that was what Andre said. "Everyone does this, no strings, no ties. Not like you'd have with a girl. No one gets hurt, we all know the score."

'No,' Trip thought, 'No one gets hurt...at least, no one lets on that it hurts.'

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Malcolm's grey eyes had never left his face, and Trip had the uncomfortable feeling that the lieutenant had read his mind.

"No," he answered wretchedly. "No."

"Good." Malcolm set his mug down, and looked Trip in the eyes, "Because I won't use anyone that way, and I wouldn't permit anyone to do that to me either."

Trip nodded and set his empty mug on the floor. Somehow it felt to him as though the walls between himself and the Englishman had sprung up again. He stood. "Look, I should get going," he said softly. "I...have to be at work in a couple of hours and I've hardly slept all night."

"Stay here." The voice was soft, but the tone was almost commanding.

Trip turned to look at the other man and narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Stay," Malcolm insisted. "Don't run away from your feelings, Charles."

Trip drew in a breath. Something inside of him shivered. The way Malcolm said his name, 'Charles.' Hardly anyone called him Charles. He looked towards the door; shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He bit his lower lip and then turned to look at Malcolm. "Alright."

Malcolm Reed got to his feet and moved to the other man, taking hold of his shoulders. "Nothing has to happen that you don't want," he said softly. "Just don't run from this before you've even given it a chance."

The engineer drew a deep breath and let it go lightly, suddenly feeling at ease with Malcolm once more. He allowed his shoulders to relax, the tension draining away under those gentle hands. "God I am so tired." He said quietly.

"Get into bed." Malcolm told him. He smiled as Trip hesitated. "To sleep, Commander. You look like death warmed over."

~~*~~

"These are the sensor logs that I downloaded from the 1701D." Malcolm said, activating a console screen. "I thought if we both worked on them together, we may be able to determine exactly what became of her pilot."

"Alright, let's take a look," Trip stepped closer, standing alongside the lieutenant as he watched the text scrolling across the screen. Their bodies touched briefly, but whilst he was aware of it, there was not the electric magnetism he'd felt the day before. The attraction was still there, but it had cooled a little, Trip couldn't help but think how one night could make such a difference.

Just a few brief hours, really. He'd fallen asleep in Malcolm's quarters; in Malcolm's arms in fact, surrounded by a sense of warmth and wellbeing he'd not felt in a long time. The lieutenant had slipped into the bed with him and pulled him close, his fingers gently stroking through Trip's short-cropped hair, but he had made no moves towards anything more intimate.

Two hours sleep might not seem like much, Trip thought, but they had been two of the most refreshing hours of sleep he'd had in days.

He watched the computer screen as the sensor logs continued to scroll. "I don't think we're gonna get much out of this," Trip said. "It's just a log of a routine flight as near as I can tell." He shook his head, "this is not going to get us anywhere."

Malcolm sighed. "I've run this log ten times if I've run it once," he said softly. "I feel certain that there must be something here. A pilot doesn't just vanish!"

"Well, not in the normal scheme of things," Trip said, "But this shuttlepod isn't normal, not by a long way." He frowned, "Run it again."

Malcolm glanced sharply at the engineer. "Did you see something?"

"I'm not sure, run it to time index 2301 Alpha, and then slow it down..."

Malcolm tapped in the commands and watched as Trip's face took on the intent glow it had assumed the previous day as he worked on the decoder sequence, but as the time index he'd asked for passed, the engineer shook his head and sighed.

"It's nothing..." he said, disappointment evident in his tone.

"Are you sure?"

Trip glanced up sharply, 'I wish he wouldn't say that...'

Malcolm reversed the log to the same index and slowed it even further, bending over as he stared at the console. "Wait...what's this?" Indicating a point in the log, he backed it up again, and looked at Trip. "Sensor glitch?"

Trip raised an eyebrow. "What the hell?" He bent closer to the screen, "I'm counting six bio-signs here..." He looked up. "You?"

Malcolm nodded and smiled. "I thought it was something amiss with my eyes," he said softly, "What do you think of that?"

Trip scanned the readout, "I think I'm either goin' nuts, or this shuttle is somethin' out of a bad science fiction movie." He looked into the armoury officer's eyes. "These six biosigns all belong to the same person." Trip's accent broadened, a sure sign that he was agitated or excited. "And lookit this, they all just vanished all of a sudden. The shuttle's left adrift, and I dunno...some kind of safety sub routines kicked in. Her engines shut down...and here she is."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Malcolm commented dryly. "I think perhaps it is time we informed the captain of our findings."

(8)

"It's an interesting discovery," Jonathan Archer remarked as he cut into the beautifully grilled steak on his plate. He put the morsel into his mouth and chewed briefly. "I'd like to get as much information on it as possible. Some of the technology you've shown us already is way beyond our current capabilities...the advances we could make ..." He shook his head and cut another bite of the steak

"The weapons systems alone, are more advanced than anything I have seen, even in prototype," Malcolm said. He lifted a forkful of vegetables to his mouth. "With your permission, I'd like to dismantle the phasers on the shuttlepod tomorrow; there may be something I can apply to our weapons now."

"Granted," Jonathan turned to Trip. "What about on the engineering side of things? Anything you're excited about?"

"Too many things to list, Cap'n. She has shields for one thing that are more advanced than our hull plating, and I want to take a closer look at that transporter system..." He lifted a glass of wine off the table and sipped appreciatively. "This little lady is a gift, and one we can't afford to let slip through our fingers."

"I agree." Jon set his plate aside and nodded to the steward, indicating that he was done with it. "I think we should bring the pod into the launch bay, it will be easier to work on it from there, and I can keep a closer eye on the proceedings." As he spoke, he winked at Trip who grinned sheepishly and finished his wine. "Now, Cap'n you know I gave you my word on that - but I think it'd be a good idea to bring her aboard as well. It's just easier having staff and equipment on hand."

Malcolm Reed smiled slightly, watching the exchange between Trip and the captain. He picked up the napkin from his lap and lightly wiped his lips before folding the cloth and laying it on top of his plate. "If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to be excused. I think an early night is in order."

"Go ahead, Malcolm," the captain replied. He looked at Trip. "An early night is probably a good idea for all of us; tomorrow could turn out to be a long day."

Trip nodded and got to his feet, moving towards the door with Malcolm. As they walked along the hallway, Trip cast Malcolm a swift glance. "Well, that was easy."

"The captain is a man of great restraint," Malcolm replied as they made their way towards the end of the corridor.

"Oh? How's that?"

"You could tell all through dinner he had questions to ask, didn't you see the way he looked at you? Like a big brother wanting to protect his sibling from the school bully."

"Well, Jon and I, we go back a long way." Trip smiled. "I guess he got used to lookin' out for me."

"Would you care for a night cap?"

The question was softly spoken, Malcolm flicking a quick glance at Trip then looking away again. The engineer slowed his pace a little, thinking it over. He was still unsure of his footing with this quiet, reserved man. He drew in his breath, knowing the implications that were contained in the invitation and he frowned slightly. After a moment, he nodded.

"I guess I could handle that."

Malcolm paused as they reached the door of his cabin, keying in an access code, "Take a seat," he said as he walked into the room. He began to search through his locker. "I have an excellent brandy here somewhere."

"Tenebian?" Trip moved to the little sofa and eased his frame onto it.

"No. It's French actually. I cannot abide alien copies; they just don't seem to capture the same warmth - Ah, here it is." He pointed to a cabinet as he produced the bottle. "There should be some glasses in there - on the right."

Trip opened the cabinet and found two glasses, "Well, French brandy is just as good." He smiled as he held out the glasses to be filled.

"I hope you know I don't often have people here for a night cap and never to drink my precious French brandy," Malcolm said as he turned to pour a little of the golden liquid into each glass.

"Well, I feel privileged, Lieutenant," Trip drawled, as he handed one of the glasses to Malcolm.

Reed regarded him for a moment, and then raised one eyebrow. "We leave the ranks at the door, old boy," he said.

"Old? I'm barely past thirty!"

"Yes, well, like I said - how's the brandy anyway?"

Trip sipped the liquid and nodded slowly. "That's a damn fine drink. I can see why you'd wanna keep it to yourself. Now why don't you set yourself down, make yourself comfortable?"

Moving to the table, Malcolm pulled out a chair and sat facing Trip. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Taken by surprise, Trip raised the glass to his lips once more, taking another fortifying sip of brandy before he answered. "Uh, yeah, I slept well," he said, feeling suddenly warm under the lieutenant's steady gaze. He leaned back a little and unfastened the zipper of his coveralls a few centimetres. "This sure does have some warmth," he said, raising the glass.

"I keep my quarters a little above the normal ship's temperature. England is not renowned for its warmth so I tend to feel the cold," Malcolm replied.

"Yeah, it's warm in Florida. I liked it there - I can't say I've ever been to England." Trip winced. 'Oh you're just doin' fine here, Tucker,' he thought; 'Can't you think of something intelligent to say?'

"Adjust your clothing if it is too warm. I promise I don't bite," Malcolm murmured.

Trip cleared his throat and set the glass aside, pulling the zipper down to the waist and slipping the top half of his coverall off, knotting the sleeves loosely at his waist; a habit he had learned when things got heated up in engineering.

"There I'm sure that must feel much more comfortable." Malcolm said softly.

Trip glanced at the younger man for a moment trying to fathom the look that Malcolm gave him. He felt that same, tremulous sensation he had experienced the previous night when Malcolm called him Charles; it was unsettling and exciting at once, and Trip found himself at a loss for how to respond. Picking up his drink, he gnawed at his lower lip for a moment. "You know, I..." he frowned, searching for a way to put his feelings into words. "I..."

"So where do you think this shuttle came from?"

Trip pounced on the change of subject eagerly. "I don't really know. I have some theories..."

The lieutenant lifted the bottle and refilled both their glasses, "Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean anything is possible, especially since that whole thing with the Suliban - time travel, whatever else... maybe she's from another time. It'd explain a lot.

"And you really think that is possible?"

Trip smiled. "You're the second person to ask me that. I'm not saying it is or it isn't but I think anything can happen. I'm an engineer; I've heard all the arguments for and against time travel. Personally, I like to think maybe sometimes things can happen outside of the laws we put so much stock in."

"I see," Malcolm said noncommittally, and Trip had the unaccountable feeling that he needed to defend his viewpoint.

"I don't know how else to explain it. She's a Starfleet vessel; but no ship I've ever seen - even on the drawing boards is like her."

This is true." The armoury officer got to his feet and began to slip out of his coveralls. "I must check that regulator. It's stifling in here."

The engineer watched Malcolm for a moment, wondering if he was being dismissed. He frowned and quickly finished the last of his drink. Darned if I can figure you one bit, Malcolm, he thought as he stood and set the empty glass on the sideboard. "I guess I should mosey along," he said softly, trying to ignore the sense of disappointment he felt. "We've got an early start in the morning."

"Tucker!"

There it was again, that unmistakable note of command. Trip tensed slightly and looked at Malcolm.

"There's no need to leave so soon," Malcolm said quietly.

Trip sighed and shook his head realizing he had read the man completely wrong. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to stay," he explained, and then gave an impish grin. "My momma told me it's polite to wait for an invite, ya know?"

Moving to stand in front of Trip, Malcolm set his glass down and lifted a hand to gently trace the side of the commander's face. "Would you like another drink...tea perhaps?"

"No," Trip said with a small shake of his head. "You want me to stay?"

"I would like that very much."

Trip almost timidly reached up to touch Malcolm's cheek. "So would I."

With a growl, Malcolm caught Trip's hand in his own and pushed the blond man against the bulkhead, capturing Trip's mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.

With a moan, Trip gave himself up to the mouth that crushed his own, parting his lips for Malcolm's questing tongue. He slipped his arms around the lieutenant's shoulders as Malcolm's tongue plundered his mouth, and he felt his knees beginning to buckle under the onslaught of passion that engulfed him.

Malcolm broke the kiss, and Trip looked into grey eyes that smouldered with passion He groaned as Reed slipped his hand between them.

"Stay tonight...it doesn't have to go any further than this unless you want it to." Malcolm gripped Tucker's testicles lightly in his hand.

"I want to stay," Trip replied, his voice a fevered whisper as he ground his hips against the younger man's hand.

"Then we would be more comfortable in my bed."

"Yeah, I think that'd be a good ideah." Trip's accent broadened with his excitement. "If ahc'n walk that far." He laughed softly.

"If you have difficulties, I can call the doctor." Reed moved towards the bed as he spoke, casting Trip an amused glance.

Trip answered with a laugh, "That won't be necessary." He began to strip out of his uniform.

"Be sure you hang that up; we won't have time in the morning to visit your quarters."

"Yes, sir," Trip said with an impish grin. Removing the coverall he hung it over the back of a chair.

"I sleep on the right," Malcolm said, patting the bed next to him as he lay down.

"You're quite the dominant when you're off duty, aren't you?" Trip couldn't suppress a grin at the commanding manner of the younger man. He moved to the bed, stripping off his undershirt and letting it fall to the floor as he feasted his eyes on the lithe young body stretched out on the bed.

Reed raised an eyebrow. "If you mean I know what I want, then I suppose you could be correct."

Trip stood at the foot of the bed, deciding to leave his underpants on for the moment, "Don't get me wrong, I like a man who knows what he wants - it cuts out a helluva lot of bullshit."

"Then turn the light out and get into bed...we have an early duty shift in the morning."

Trip laughed as reached for the lighting control. "Aye, Cap'n." He dimmed the lights to a soft glow and then climbed into bed, still laughing. Trip moved closer to Malcolm, reaching out and letting his fingers encounter warm, smooth skin, exploring Malcolm's belly.

"Tucker," Malcolm murmured, "Just exactly what are you doing?"

"Reconnaissance, sir."

Trip gasped as his fingers were caught firmly in Malcolm's hand and the younger man's lips closed around them, sending a bolt of pleasure from his hand, straight to his groin. He groaned, feeling his already achingly hard cock grow harder still.

"Move in here closer to me," Malcolm whispered before his tongue returned to lick at Trip's fingers.

Trip shuffled closer, pressing his body along the length of Malcolm's lean frame.

"That's better don't you think...now where was I?" Malcolm's voice was a silken purr. "Round about here somewhere I think," He slipped his hand between Tuckers thighs and began to gently stroke him, in the same movement, he threw a leg over Tucker's thighs, pinning him so he could hardly move. "For the first time, what do you say I just milk this straining organ here so that you can get a good night's sleep?"

Trip let out a shuddering groan, "that sounds like a plan to me," he whispered, trying without much success to thrust against the hand that stroked him maddeningly through the fabric of his underwear.

Reed slipped his hand into Tucker's shorts and wrapped his slim fingers 'round the straining cock; then, covering Tucker's mouth with his own he began the steady stroking that would bring his partner to orgasm.

Tucker closed his eyes with a groan, letting his tongue meet and spar with Malcolm's, his breathing growing harsh with the pleasure he felt.

"Don't hold back..." Malcolm whispered close against Trip's mouth. "Come for me hard, and show me you really want to be here."

Trip growled in the back of his throat, trying to thrust into Malcolm's hand, feeling the tight coil of pleasure in his belly winding tighter by the minute. "I want...to be here...oh god...god...faster!"

As he quickened his pace, Malcolm bit down on Tucker's bottom lip.

Trip bucked with a cry of mingled pain and pleasure, his climax hit hard, sucking all breath from his lungs, and he sobbed, thrusting against the hand that continued to pump his organ as he released.

"You will sleep better now," Malcolm said quietly, licking across Trip's now swollen lip. He kissed the older man on the forehead and slipped out of the bed, heading into the bathroom to wash his hands.

Trip rolled onto his back, and took hold of a corner of the sheet, cleaning himself off as best he could. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, feeling the swelling. 'He bit me? He lifted a hand to examine the place with his fingers. 'He bit me!' a frown touched his features for a moment as he looked towards the bathroom door.

"You're still awake," Malcolm said with a smile as he returned to the bed a moment later.

Trip nodded. "Yeah, I was lonely. He snuggled into Malcolm and nuzzled his lips across the silken skin. "You know you gave me a fat lip?"

Reed answered with a soft snort of laughter. "Haven't you ever heard that pain and pleasure together heightens the senses?"

"Yeah, I've heard it, but to my memory, that's the first time anyone ever tested the theory on me." Trip sighed. "I guess it was just...surprising."

The amused grin faded from Malcolm's lips, his eyes darkening as he gently traced a finger across the slight swelling. "It suits you," he breathed.

Trip looked into grey eyes darkened with passion and nipped at Malcolm's finger. "What about you?"

"Tomorrow perhaps, if we have time...now we sleep."

"OK." Trip disguised a yawn as a deep sigh. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. The captain will not be pleased if we arrive late for our shifts, we have to show a good example to the other officers. Now sleep." He pulled Trip into his arms, "and by the way, in England we call that 'fat lip' a love bite." He kissed Trip gently, "good night."

Trip pulled the coverlet over them both, and snuggled close against Malcolm's chest. "Yes, sir." He smiled sleepily, burying his face against Reed's skin, which was scented very lightly with a spicy fragrance. Within moments, he drifted into a contented sleep.

(9)

Captain Jonathan Archer yawned and stretched as he sat up on the side of his bed. The alarm had woken him early as requested, and he was expecting his breakfast to be served any minute.

Getting to his feet he crossed the room to his communications centre, activating it to see if there were any messages from home or from Starfleet Command. He reached down and stroked Porthos's ears as the beagle came to nuzzle at his hand. "Good morning," he said absently, staring at the computer screen.

There were three messages waiting, one from Admiral Forest, and two others from friends at headquarters. He selected the one from the Admiral first, waiting while it loaded.

"John, I have to say your most recent report is very interesting. This shuttlepod sounds like a rare find." The Admiral's face was alive with interest as he spoke on the video link.

"I'm authorizing you to take whatever action you think is best with this, but of course, we'd like to be kept up to date with any pertinent information you gather. I think we at Command can trust you and your people to handle this the right way. Anything you decide pertaining to Enterprise, is your call. He leaned back and smiled. "Have fun!"

The less formal ending was spoken with a wink as the Admiral signed off, and Jonathan smiled. He'd had a feeling Forest would back him to the hilt with the shuttlepod. Trip and Malcolm would be pleased to hear they had the official go ahead.

The captain was about to open the next message when his door chimes sounded. "Come in," he called. Anticipating that it was a steward with breakfast. He didn't look up as the door opened, focusing on the next message.

Opting to read this message in text, the captain was aware of movement in the room as someone entered and set a platter on his table. He read the first paragraph of the message and then turned to the steward.

"You can just leave it..." He trailed off, staring in disbelief at the man who stood next to the table. He drew in a breath and blinked several times. His eyes had to be acting up or something.

"You're not seeing things, sir." The young man took a step towards him but halted when Jonathan held up a hand and scrambled to his feet.

"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?" Jonathan demanded. "If this is some kind of sick game I..."

"It's no game, Captain. It's me, Crewman Daniels."

"It can't be, you're..."

"Dead?" Daniels smiled and gave a slight shake of his head. "It might have seemed that way, Captain, but I wasn't killed that day." He paused a moment. "Frankly, I can't die in this time...I don't exist here, but that's not why I am here. I have something very important to tell you."

Captain Archer drew a deep breath as he sank back down on the chair and reached for Porthos.

"I don't have much time," Daniels said softly. "You've discovered a Federation Shuttle adrift in this sector. It's an anomaly, Captain, and as such it cannot be permitted to remain."

"Anomaly?" Some part of Jon's mind was aware he was parroting, but at the same time, he was unable to make himself appear more coherent. He stared at Daniels, still trying to make his mind accept that he was talking to a living, breathing man, and not a ghost. "I don't understand...What is the 'Federation?'"

Daniels took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The Federation is a shortened name for The United Federation Of Planets, sir. In a few centuries, due to your exploration, and that of other men many planets will come together to form it. It is a means of cooperation. Planets within the Federation receive assistance, and protection when it is needed. It's not important for you to worry about that now...

The shuttle you refer to as the 1701D is from the 24th century, sir. It is out of its own time; it is an interruption to the time line." He sighed. "You have to destroy it, and any records you have of it."

"What?" Jon got to his feet. "That's insane! What is it with you anyway? Anytime I have spoken with you about whatever the hell it is you do, it seems to me you're asking me to go counter to my instincts. Don't you realize what this shuttle and her technology means to us? We could shave years off our current plans for expanding the Space Exploration Program..."

"The captain of the ship that shuttle belongs to went to great lengths to ensure it would not disrupt the time line, Captain!" Daniels closed the distance between them. "He endeavoured to leave history untainted by an accident that could impact on generations of his people." The younger man stared into Jon's eyes. "You've got a choice to make, Captain Archer. That man's very existence...the existence of his crew and possibly thousands of other people is resting on your shoulders right now."

"I don't think I want to hear anymore of your fancy stories." Jon held up a hand as the Daniels opened his mouth to speak. "Last time you came here, you showed me your 'Temporal Observatory' I was impressed at the time. I had never seen anything like it. In the end though, it amounted to so many pretty pictures. We couldn't make the device work; we couldn't replicate your hi-tech magic show. Why should I believe that what you're telling me is any more than some intricate fabrication?"

Daniels drew a deep breath. "Alright, you have a point." He took a half step back. "I can understand that you may want more solid proof to back up what I am saying. What if I told you I can take you to the very point in history that all this began...What if I offered to let you meet with the captain of Enterprise 1701D?"

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "I would want to bring a member of my crew along - to observe. After all, I am going to have to explain all this to them afterwards. I..."

The younger man shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain, I can't do that. I can transport you and myself, but to transport any more than that would take more time to achieve than we can afford."

The captain conceded with a small nod. "When can we go?"

"Now."

~~*~~

Trip woke slowly, stirring lightly inside the warm cocoon of blankets. He sighed, blinking his eyes open and stretching luxuriously.

"Good morning," the voice was soft, the pitch familiar and warm. A hand stroked along his side. Trip smiled and rolled over, turning to face Malcolm Reed.

"Hi," he said.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to surface. The alarm sounded two minutes ago." Reed claimed the older man's lips in a gentle kiss, exploring him slowly.

Trip sucked on Malcolm's tongue, eliciting a growl of pleasure from him before Malcolm gently pulled away.

"Shower," he said firmly, "and then breakfast if we're sharp about it. We've got a busy day ahead."

"You, my friend, are boring!" Trip said. He rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his hands through his short blond hair.

"You didn't seem to think so last night," Malcolm quipped as he too sat up and then got to his feet, stretching, with his arms raised above his head, arching his back as he revelled in the pull of muscles.

"Damn but you make a pretty sight," Trip commented from the other side of the room, prompting a snort of laughter before Malcolm headed for the bathroom.

"You can make the tea," the lieutenant called over his shoulder as he turned on the shower. "I won't be long."

"Turn out the light, take a shower, make the tea. Man I feel so ... domesticated," Trip grumbled as he set two mugs on the counter and set the small kettle to boil.

Rummaging in a cabinet he located the tea and a small jar of instant coffee and set about preparing hot drinks for them both. He whistled quietly to himself as he worked, feeling unaccountably cheerful.

As he stirred sugar into his coffee, Trip glanced over his shoulder. "Tea's on!"

He picked up the steaming mug of coffee and moved to the table, sipping the hot, strong liquid and closing his eyes in appreciation. "That's not bad, for instant." He said to Malcolm as the younger man emerged from the bathroom, his hips swathed in a dark blue towel.

"Well, I'm glad it meets your approval." Malcolm took a quick sip of tea, but didn't sit down; he paced about the cabin fetching clean underwear and socks and proceeded to dress. "You can borrow socks and underwear," he said softly. "I think we're about the same size."

"Thanks," Trip took the hint and left his coffee on the table, heading into the bathroom.

The engineer showered quickly, rubbing soap lather through his hair and whistling the same snatch of tune.

Malcolm was fully dressed and waiting for him when Trip walked out of the bathroom, he looked a little antsy.

"Do you need to make that infernal noise? If you do, do you think you could do it in tune?"

Trip picked up the clean underwear and socks that Malcolm had laid out for him, and began to dress. "What?" he looked puzzled for a moment, "oh you mean the whistlin'?" he chuckled. "I always whistle when I just got my rocks off." His words were accompanied by a wink at the lieutenant.

"Rocks off-" Malcolm coughed. "Indeed." The lieutenant finished his tea and set the empty mug on the table. "Will you please hurry up? We have a lot to do, and I doubt that the captain will tolerate tardiness."

"Fine..." Trip muttered. "You don't hafta remind me again that we have work to do." He continued to dress as he spoke "You know what? Why don't you just go on without me...I wouldn't wanna make you late, Lieutenant."

"I won't be late if you just move a little faster...and, Commander, both socks don't go on the same foot." Malcolm shook his head, biting at his lower lip to suppress a snicker.

"I suppose you think that's funny." Trip reached for his boots, muttering under his breath.

"You really are the spoiled southern brat, aren't you?"

"Do you always wake up this cheerful? Look! If you're feelin' a little blue around your balls, you can't blame anyone but yourself." The commander zipped his coveralls. "I did offer to take care of that for you." Trip was really beginning to get annoyed. He looked up and met the grey eyes of the armoury officer, scowling at the mildly amused glint he saw in them.

"And you will, when I say so and not before!" Malcolm paused, running an appraising eye over Tucker. "There's a shaver in the bathroom cabinet. Use it."

The note of command returned to Malcolm's voice and Trip suddenly found that he resented it. He narrowed his eyes. "I think I prefer to use my own shaver," he replied as he moved to the door. "I'll see you in the launch bay, Lieutenant."

"You look much sexier clean shaven." Malcolm began to clear away their mugs.

Trip paused and looked over his shoulder at Reed, opening his mouth to speak, but gathering the unmistakable impression that he'd been dismissed when Malcolm continued to tidy up, not looking at him. With a slight shake of his head, Trip hit the control to open the door and stepped out into the hallway. What the hell am I gettin' myself into here? He asked himself as he made his way towards his own quarters.

(10)

Malcolm Reed watched from under hooded eyelids as the chief engineer stepped out into the corridor. He didn't look up or speak, as the older man seemedto struggle for a moment, pausing in the doorway. He kept his eyes lowered, pointedly fixed on the task of clearing away the mugs from their hasty morning drinks.

He waited until the door closed behind Trip before he allowed himself a smile.

He could imagine that Trip was feeling conflicted by the exchange. The commander was used to having things go his way. His easy charm and friendly manner were usually enough to disarm most people.

After rinsing the mugs Malcolm wiped them dry with a cloth and set them back in their customary place on the counter. He emptied the remaining water from the kettle and refilled it. He liked to have fresh water for his tea.

He wiped the counter with the same cloth and tossed it into a laundry hamper before he moved out of his quarters and made his way to the lift at the end of the hall.

There was no time to stop for breakfast. Malcolm frowned. Having Trip present with him at night was certainly pleasant, but if it were to become a regular habit, Malcolm realised, he was going to have to set the alarm at least a half hour earlier. He allowed his lips to curve slightly, 'either that or teach Trip the true meaning of the term 'hurry up,' he thought. 'Which in itself could be a very stimulating exercise.'

The lift doors slid open, and as he walked into the launch bay, Malcolm nodded to Captain Archer who was already waiting for them. "Good morning, Captain," he said as he moved to a workstation and began to prep a shuttlepod for launch.

With his usual single mindedness, Malcolm turned his thoughts from Charles Tucker to work with almost no effort. His hands worked the controls skilfully. "We should be ready for launch in three minutes, sir."

"There won't be a launch, Malcolm." The captain's voice was level. Almost, Malcolm thought, too level.

"Sir?" Reed looked at the captain for the first time. There was something about him, something subtle, a slight pallor, and a difference in demeanour somehow.

Archer turned to meet Malcolm's eyes. "There's been a change of plans," he murmured. "As soon as Trip gets here I'll explain."

"Explain what?" Trip entered the launch bay at that moment. "What's happening?" "Trip." Archer waved the engineer into the room. "I've had some...news this morning. It changes things." He moved towards where Malcolm stood.

"Alright, so what's the news?" Trip looked at Malcolm who shrugged lightly.

"It's about the 1701D." Jon seemed to fumble a moment; his brows drew together in a frown. "I don't quite know how to say this..." He sighed.

"Well, just come on out and say it, Cap'n. What about the shuttlepod?"

"We have to destroy it, Trip."

"What?"

"Sir?"

Both officers stared at their captain in disbelief.

"Why? By who's order? I don't understand," Trip glanced towards Malcolm again as he spoke. "Everythin' was fine last night; why the sudden change?"

"By my order." Archer rubbed his face with one hand. "You're going to have to trust me on this. I wouldn't ask this of either of you if it weren't important."

"But, destroy the shuttlepod, sir?" Malcolm shook his head slightly. "I don't understand why you think that is necessary. There is so much we can learn from it. So much technology, I..."

"That's why we need to destroy it." Jon faced them both. "I had a visit this morning, from Daniels. He..."

"Cap'n are you sure you're feelin' alright?" Trip moved forward, meeting the captain's eyes. "You and I both know that Daniels is dead. Silik killed him, remember?"

"He's not dead. He came to my quarters this morning, he told me things..."

"I saw him die, Cap'n. I was there." Trip moved to put a hand on Jon's arm. "I think maybe you should see Doctor Phlox..." He smiled. "I'll go with you, huh?"

"No, Trip. Listen to me!" Jon shrugged the engineer's hand off. "I know you think I've lost my mind; I don't blame you, but...I've got proof." As he spoke, the captain produced a small device from his pocket and held it up. "Please, just hear me out, Trip...Malcolm." He looked from one to the other as he waited for their response.

Trip glanced over his shoulder at Malcolm, who nodded slightly. "Alright, we'll look at your proof, Cap'n."

Jonathan nodded and set the device down on a console. He pressed a button to activate it and took a step back as a holographic image appeared above the console.

"Daniels took me on a ... journey, to the 24th century," He said. "We met with the captain of Enterprise.

Trip stared in amazement as an image of a Starship in miniature appeared, hovering in mid air above the station. He took a few steps and tentatively raised a hand, touching the hull of the ship, his eyes wide.

The ship was sleek and trim. Her hull painted a gleaming, pristine white, every line and plane of her designed for speed and efficiency. The name Enterprise NCC 1701D was blazoned proudly on the saucer section. The engineer shook his head slightly and let out a low whistle. "That's some ship."

"You should see the inside." Jon smiled at the engineer, and then returned his eyes to the holograph.

The scene changed, and the three men watched as Jonathan Archer appeared, flanked on either side by Daniels, and an older, distinguished looking man wearing an unfamiliar red and black uniform.

"That's Captain Picard," Jon said. "He commands that ship you just saw, and the shuttlepod Gallileo - the one we call 1701D, belongs to his ship's complement."

"Captain Picard recorded a message, after he and I talked, that he wanted me to play to you." Jon stepped forward and pressed a button on the device and the screen flickered for a moment before a life sized image of Picard appeared standing just in front of the console where the holographic device rested.

"Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed," The image said. "I am Captain Jean Luc Picard, of the Federation Starship Enterprise." He paused, his brown eyes warming for a moment as he nodded. "It is an honour to speak to you."

Trip glanced at Malcolm, who was staring with rapt attention at the holographic image, his grey eyes intense and his lips slightly parted; the lieutenant was riveted to every word the man spoke.

"I know that much of what you are seeing and hearing may seem incomprehensible to you. I realize that our request of you to destroy the Gallileo cannot be an easy one for you to hear." Picard smiled. "I have an engineer aboard my ship who would no doubt strongly relate to your feelings; a man who shares your fascination for new advances in technology. Trust me when I say that we would not ask this of you if there were any other way.

Trip sighed and swallowed heavily. Somehow what this Captain Picard said held too much of a ring of veracity. On the one hand, Trip's speculations about the possibility of time travel were being proven true before his eyes, and on the other, his dreams of getting a jump on technology were dissolving. He looked at Jonathan and then returned his gaze to Captain Picard's face.

"The preservation of time - is an important matter.' Picard took a few steps forward, and Trip had to restrain the urge to back away, the image seemed to take on a weird sense of vitality as the captain continued to speak.

"It is no secret in our time that there are those who would seek to corrupt and change history with little or no regard to the impact their actions would have upon countless peoples and races. We in the Federation and in other organizations are at pains to see that does not happen. So, we must ask that you destroy Gallileo, that you erase the records of your research, and that you never mention her again - to anyone."

"God..." Malcolm gasped, lowering his eyes to his console.

Trip heard the strangled sound and took a half step towards the lieutenant. He gulped, emotions warring within him as he met the armoury officer's eyes and nodded his understanding.

"Turn it off..." Malcolm looked at the captain. "Please, sir."

Trip nodded, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "We've seen enough, Cap'n." He took another step towards Malcolm, aware of protocol, but needing to be closer to the younger man. The raw emotion in the armoury officer's face caused an answering sense of desolation in Trip. He sighed with relief when the image of Picard flickered and vanished.

Jonathan Archer sighed. He could see the effect Picard's words had on the two young men. He picked up the device and slipped it back into his pocket. Bowing his head for a moment he pondered the best course of action to take.

He looked across at Malcolm who stood at the station he'd taken when he entered the launch bay. The lieutenant was pale, his eyes averted, refusing to meet the captain's gaze. He leaned heavily on the workstation, his hands balled into fists.

Archer drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll be in my quarters," he said and slowly left the launch bay, leaving his engineer and armoury officer to talk it out between them.

"Are you okay?" Trip moved to Malcolm's side, gently touching the younger man on the shoulder.

Malcolm shook his head. "I just..." He drew a long shuddering breath, and then pounded the console in front of him in frustration. "Dammit, why?" Malcolm looked up, meeting Trip's gaze. "Why?"

"I dunno." Trip's tone was flat. "But I know that it must be important. How do we know what might happen if we didn't go along with this. You've heard what the Cap'n said about this temporal cold war and whatever else. I guess we just can't afford to do anything here and now that is gonna affect how things go in the future." He sighed. "I won't pretend this makes any more sense to me than it does to you, Malcolm. Thing is, if the Cap'n says destroy it, then we hafta destroy it. His word's law here."

"Do you really think it would make that much difference if we made a few upgrades?" Malcolm shook his head and pushed away from the console. "I don't!"

"Well, I guess that'd depend on the upgrades," Trip replied. "Would you even be thinkin' about 'em if we hadn't found that shuttlepod?"

Malcolm went very still, his expression thoughtful as he considered Trip's words. After a moment he shook his head. "I suppose not."

Trip sighed, "Look, Malcolm, I don't like this idea any better than you do. But if this is what the Cap'n says we hafta do, then I'm willing to trust his word. You saw that recording he showed us. I think it's real. I think we have a duty to do as Captain Picard says."

Malcolm drew a deep breath, and slightly shook his head pressing the fingers of one hand to his temple. "Yes, of course," he said softly, seeming to rein himself in once more. "I'll...go and make the preparations." Without a backward glance, the lieutenant left the launch bay.

(11)

It seemed to Trip as he walked along the hallway that night after shift that the entire ship was brooding. The corridors seemed deserted, and those crewmembers that were moving about were subdued and pensive. Even his mood was quieter than usual.

He made his way to the mess hall more out of habit than any real desire for food or company.

Pausing in the doorway he looked around. One or two tables were occupied with enlisted or junior officers; all of them quiet and edgy looking. No one talked much. Trip supposed it was because the one topic they all wanted to discuss was off limits. Under Captain's orders, no one was to discuss the events surrounding the shuttlepod 1701D.

Trip's eyes picked out the solitary figure at a corner table. Malcolm sat with his back to the room, head down, and Trip was unable to tell if the lieutenant was eating, or reading. He took a few steps forward acknowledging greetings from one or two engineering staff as he made his way to where Reed sat.

"Malcolm?" Trip stopped by Reed's table. He watched the younger man who was dispiritedly pushing some food around on a plate in front of him. "Malcolm!" Trip spoke a little louder when there was no response.

"What?" Malcolm's head snapped up, and he blinked a few times, coming back from his thoughts. "Oh." He looked away. "Hello, Commander."

"Ya mind if I join ya, or is this a private funeral?"

"Hm?" Malcolm was obviously distracted. "Oh...of course." He waved Trip to a seat. "I'm afraid I'm not much company at the moment."

"Well, you're not alone on that point." Trip moved to the chair opposite Malcolm and sat down. "Rough day, huh."

"I've had better." Malcolm poked at a piece of broccoli with his fork pushing it into a mound of mashed potato.

Trip nodded. "Can I get you a cup of tea or...somethin'?"

"That would be nice."

"Alright, I could use a coffee myself..." Trip started to get up, and then thought better of it. "On second thoughts what would you say to comin' back to my place for that cup of tea?"

Malcolm met his eyes for the first time. "I'd say yes."

"Good. Let's go then," Trip stood up and started to walk towards the doors.

Neither man spoke much on the way to Trip's quarters; each was occupied with his own thoughts.

The Gallileo had proved surprisingly easy to destroy, with her shields down, she was a sitting target in space, and it was no competition.

When Archer gave the order to fire, a strange spell had fallen over the bridge. Each person watched in silence as the bright bolts of plasma issued from the phase cannons.

No one spoke or moved as the energy beams hit, and the small vessel began to break apart under the assault. Malcolm kept his eyes glued to his workstation, his hands moving through the sequence of firing the weapons as though on autopilot. He gave a long burst of phase energy, followed by a single torpedo for good measure, and the small vessel erupted into a bloom of fire and debris.

The silence continued for several moments after the explosion. The fireball shimmered, faded and slowly dissipated and still no one spoke.

It was Malcolm who broke the spell, reporting flatly, "Target destroyed, sir."

Jonathan seemed to shake himself slightly before he glanced at the armoury officer. "Good work, Malcolm." He turned and moved to his chair, and the rest of the bridge seemed to come to life with that movement.

"There is nothing in the debris field large enough to be salvaged." T'Pol reported.

Archer nodded and looked at Travis Mayweather. "Resume our previous course, Ensign."

"Aye, sir." Travis busied himself with the navigation controls.

When Malcolm left the bridge a short time later, no one commented or attempted to stop him.

"Si'down," Trip said to Malcolm as they walked into his cabin. "I didn't order a sofa," he explained. "Didn't figure on doin' much entertainin'." He smiled at the younger man briefly. "There's the chairs there," he waved towards the table, "or the bed. Take your pick."

"Here is fine." Malcolm sank down on a chair, staring at his folded hands on the tabletop.

Trip glanced at him as he set a small kettle to boil water for their drinks. "You wanna talk, Malcolm?"

"What's the point; there's really not much to say, is there? Besides - we're under orders not to discuss it." Trip frowned, busying himself for a moment with making coffee for himself and a mug of tea for the lieutenant. He sighed as he carried the mugs to the table, and set one in front of Malcolm. "Drink it," he said softly, "you look like hell and if I know anythin' about you, you haven't had any food or drink in hours." He shook his head, as Malcolm appeared about to protest. "This is my turf, Malcolm, and I'll call the shots."

"Yes, sir." Malcolm picked up the mug and took a sip of the hot liquid, closing his eyes as he swallowed it.

Trip shook his head as he sat opposite the armoury officer. "Okay, just cut the crap. In here it's Trip. No sir, no Commander...like you said in your cabin. We leave the ranks at the door." He sipped his coffee. "And I say we talk about whatever is on your mind, Malcolm."

"No one gives a damn about what happened out there today, do they? I was there on the bridge. They all went on as if nothing had happened - the greatest opportunity this crew has come across yet was destroyed in front of their eyes and...it meant nothing!"

"Is that what you think?" Trip was incredulous. "You really think no one cares?" The commander shook his head. "What's wrong with you, are you blind?"

"Perhaps I am." Malcolm pushed his mug aside and looked into Trip's eyes. "Perhaps I don't see things the same way you do. Perhaps this is a bad idea after all!" He got to his feet. "I think I need to sleep."

"Sit yur ass back in that chair, Malcolm!" Trip got up as well, moving around the table to stand in front of the younger man. "Don't force me to make that an order."

Malcolm looked into the eyes of the older man and took a deep breath. He studied Trip's face for a moment in silence then raised an eyebrow. "You said there were no ranks in private areas. You really should make up your mind, Commander."

Trip drew in his breath, fighting down the angry retort that rose to his lips. Malcolm was right; he was pulling rank when he had just told the lieutenant that ranks didn't apply in private. He sighed and took a half step back. "Alright, I'm sorry for trying to pull rank on you," he said. "I don't want you to leave, Malcolm."

"Then ask me to stay."

"Stay here with me, Malcolm. Please?"

The younger man sighed and nodded, suddenly looking very tired. "It's been a long day," he said, and rubbed a hand across his face.

"Here, sit down and finish your tea." Trip guided Malcolm back to his chair. As the younger man sat down, Trip studied his face. Malcolm still looked as though he may bolt at any moment. It was plain to Trip that the man was not comfortable with the prospect of talking things out. He sighed, deciding to give the lieutenant some think space. "I'm gonna grab a shower, and when I come back, we can talk. Okay?"

"Yes, alright." Malcolm picked up the mug once more, taking a sip of the now lukewarm beverage.

Trip straightened up and moved towards the bathroom. If he's still here when I get back, that is.

Stripping out of his uniform, Trip turned on the shower, waiting for the water to run as hot as he could stand it before he stepped in and ducked his head under the water stream. He sighed with pleasure as the heated water ran down over his back, tracing its path across weary muscles.

Closing his eyes he lost himself in the pleasurable sensation of water drumming across his shoulders, easing the day's tension and stress away with every passing minute.

He started slightly when the shower door opened and Malcolm stepped into the cubicle with him. Opening his eyes, he turned and took the armoury officer into his arms, holding the smaller man close as the water and steam swirled around them.

"Hi," he said softly, letting his hands run up and down Malcolm's back.

"I got lonely," Malcolm said, "besides, your quarters are too cold."

"I'll adjust the thermostat when we get out." Trip said nuzzling against Malcolm's chin feeling the fine growth of stubble rasp against his skin.

"I already did that; I hope you don't mind." Malcolm stepped closer, pressing his body against Trip's.

"Why would I mind?" Trip ran his hands along Malcolm's spine, tracing the lines of muscle and sinew.

"Oh, something about this being your turf?" Malcolm whispered in reply; his lips mere inches from Trip's

"I'm willing to let it pass - just this once." Trip closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against the yielded lips of the other man.

~~FINIS~~