Star Trek
Enterprise
"Dog Days"

NOTE: For comparison with my other two Star Trek fanfics, this was written when I was 20.

Something inhuman was loose aboard the Enterprise.

Warily, it crept through the corridors of the ship, occasionally dodging the boots of distracted crewmen. To them, the beast was all but invisible, but that would change if it lingered. Luckily, it wouldn't have to be in the open for much longer. Its target – the sickbay door – was in sight.

A crewman was just emerging, and the creature took its chance to slip inside unnoticed. The doctor's back was turned; he seemed unaware of the intrusion. Then, his head rose, as if he could sense that he was being watched. Slowly, he turned, and – staring the beast in the eyes – he spoke.

"… You want cheese, don't you?"

Porthos wagged his tail.

"Well, you can't have any!" Phlox said, laying down his handheld scanner. "Now how did you get in here? I'm taking you back to the captain's quarters right away."

Given hope by the attention (and oblivious to the sentiment), Porthos performed a small leap and barked.

Phlox sighed and turned back to his work.

"All right," he said. "You can stay until I finish cataloguing this flora." Then he glanced back at Porthos and pointed a finger. "But no cheese!"

"I just can't help wondering if I'll ever see her again, Trip," Archer said, his thoughts drifting to the slave girl he had rescued – the one who had called herself Rajiin.

"Well, she was a Xindi spy, cap'n. Can't say I'd be heartbroken if we didn't."

Archer leaned back, sighing. "I don't know. There was just… something about her."

Trip bit his lip and suppressed a smile. "There was somethin' about her all right." Then his tone hardened. "You're not still under her, you know—" he gestured "—spell, are you?"

"No," Archer said quickly, "don't be ridiculous."

With a hint of exasperation, Trip laid down his fork. "Then what's got you bothered?"

"Well, maybe I'm getting sentimental about youthful romance." He exhaled thoughtfully. "I don't have feelings for her, I promise, but she reminded me of feelings I haven't thought about in a while. Old summer flings in San Francisco. Summer's ending back home, Trip – the dog days. I just can't help wondering if…"

Trip nodded and chewed his lip. "… If you won't get another chance to see it."

Archer lifted another forkful into his mouth and didn't reply. They both fell silent, listening to the indistinct chatter of the mess hall, until the silence was broken by the intercom.

"Phlox to Archer."

Archer went to the wall comm. "This is Archer."

"Captain," Phlox said, sounding uncomfortable, "please come to sickbay immediately."

"Is something wrong?"

"It's… about Porthos."

Archer exhaled sharply. "I don't know how he keeps getting out!" he exclaimed, betraying more than slight exasperation. A few heads in the mess hall turned in the captain's direction and he lowered his voice. "I'm on my way."

Phlox was a picture of contriteness.

"I sincerely apologize, captain. Porthos found his way here and I saw no harm in allowing him to stay. If I had known there was any chance of this happening, I never would have—"

"Phlox," Archer interrupted, holding his hands up. "You still haven't told me what happened." He gestured at the specimen cage that was serving as a dog pen. "Porthos seems fine."

Inside the enclosure, Porthos wagged his tail.

"Good boy," Archer added.

Phlox took a breath and straightened his back. "Porthos was bitten, captain," he said, "by an insect that was hiding amongst the flora I acquired on the Xanthan homeworld."

"An insect? How did it get past your scans?"

"It is no ordinary insect," Phlox replied, reaching for the curtain that was drawn around his containment chamber. "See for yourself."

As the curtain was pulled back, Archer and Trip stared dumbly. Knowing that one of them was called upon to state the obvious, Trip turned to the doctor.

"… It's a puppy," he said.

"Correct," Phlox returned. "As far as I can tell, it is a completely healthy, purebred… beagle."

Archer turned and spoke slowly. "Phlox…" he said, "my dog already has a lizard's pituitary gland." He took a deep breath. "If you're about to tell me that he has just had a puppy, I don't want to hear it."

Phlox chuckled. "No worries, captain. I've examined Porthos, and – as far as I can tell – he is fine."

"Then what's got you so worried?" Trip interjected.

"I am worried, Commander Tucker, because I have never encountered a creature quite like this before. An hour ago, it was the size of a common Earth housefly and possessed a crystalline molecular structure. Now, it's almost completely mammalian. It's been rebuilding itself in Porthos' image."

"A clone?"

"No, that's the truly astonishing thing! Its emerging genetic code is similar to Porthos', but it's been… 'tweaked,' if you will. Captain, she's as genetically different from Porthos as you are from Crewman Cutler." Phlox wiggled his finger in front of the containment chamber and the newborn 'puppy' wobbled towards it, tail wagging.

With a sigh, Archer scratched at the back of his neck thoughtfully. "You called it a 'she'?"

"Ah, yes… It's easy to forget what she was just an hour ago." Phlox smiled and made a noise akin to a chuckle. "I've been thinking of calling her 'Duchess.' Alexander Dumas' Porthos married a duchess, I believe."

Although distracted, Archer was paying sufficient attention to show a hint of surprise. "That's right," he replied.

"Bridge to Archer," T'Pol said over the intercom.

"Go ahead," Archer replied.

"We're being hailed by a V'radian ship, captain. They claim we're trespassing."

Archer sighed and bowed his head thoughtfully.

"Convey our sincere apologies to the V'radians," he said finally, "and invite them onboard to discuss how we might make it up to them."

"Shall I instruct Ensign Sato to rendezvous with you at the airlock?"

Archer shook his head. "No, she's off-duty. Let her rest. The universal translator should have gotten everything it needed from B'Rat." He turned to Trip. "Do you still have that list of trading inventory you compiled at the Xanthan homeworld?"

Trip nodded.

Archer glanced at Phlox. "This will have to wait, doctor," he said, and then turned his attention to Porthos. The beagle was nuzzling the side of his enclosure like a teenager trying to catch a girl's eye across a lunchroom. "And don't get any ideas, Porthos," he admonished. "She's too young for you."

A dull thud notified Lt. Reed that the V'radian ship had docked. He was accompanied in the corridor by Major Hayes and Corporal McKenzie of the MACOs… as well as a hand scanner that was programmed to search their incoming guests for weapons. Two years prior, neither the MACOs nor the security scan would have been protocol, but Reed's short time in the Expanse had taught him two things: The first was that trust should be earned. The second was that intercourse is ill-advised when the laws of physics – specifically gravity – won't behave.

He winced and rubbed a bruise on his stomach. The second lesson was rather recent.

"Feeling all right, Lieutenant?" Archer asked, briskly walking down the corridor from Malcolm's right.

"Fine, sir," Malcolm said, standing straighter. "Our guests have just docked."

On cue, the airlock door slid open and the first V'radian entered. His body language suggested arrogance and an attitude of overall superiority, but he was physically unimposing – shorter than Reed and falling somewhere in that gray area between "bulky" and "fat." Although his high, thick eyebrow ridges and coarse, gray skin were trademarks of his species (and unattractive by human standards), this V'radian somehow inspired Reed to wonder if he was homely by his own people's standards as well.

"Welcome to the Enterprise," Archer said in a rehearsed tone. "I'm Captain Jonathan Archer."

"I am a praetor of the V'radian Triumvirate," the newcomer said. "You may call me B'Boj. And this—" he gestured to the lanky V'radian who was just emerging from the airlock behind him "—is my second, I'Jit."

"We're pleased to have you aboard," Archer said, wondering how to cut straight to business.

B'Boj continued speaking. As he spoke, he lifted a truly gruesome artifact – a contorted and disgusting shrunken head – from his belt and held it between Archer and himself. "Greetings from the 47th V'radian Triumvirate," he said. "In the name of the Great Unifier, with his flesh as our witness, I bless these negotiations with swiftness and clear vision." As Archer fought the urge to vomit, B'Boj returned the shrunken head to his belt with unmistakable reverence.

"Well, then," Archer said, clapping his hands together, "we've prepared a list of items we'd be willing to trade, and my chief engineer should arrive with it shortly. In the meanwhile, would you care to follow me to the mess hall for some refreshment?"

"We would be honored," Praetor B'Boj replied eagerly. "Lead the way, captain."

It was at that moment that a beagle rounded the corner.

Obviously enjoying itself, the canine was running at breakneck speed, and – being a canine – it was attracted to the most disgusting thing that it could smell: the Great Unifier's shrunken head. As B'Boj and I'Jit screamed incoherently, it leapt into the air, grabbed the head with its teeth, ripped it from B'Boj's belt, and ran. Gasping, B'Boj lunged after it, but the V'radian was no match for a beagle. As his quarry danced through his legs, his clumsy lunges missed again and again. His companion, I'Jit, merely stood in place and panicked, gesturing incoherently and watching B'Boj in nervous fascination.

"Porthos! Heel!" Archer yelled, knowing that it probably wouldn't do any good and wishing desperately that he had taken the time to properly train the dog. Meanwhile, Major Hayes was following the spectacle with the barrel of his plasma rifle, responding to the MACO training that told him to point a gun at any and all surprises.

"Stand down, Major!" Reed commanded in an exasperated tone. "You can't very well shoot the captain's dog."

Archer, ironically, might have disagreed. At that very moment, he was speculating about the possible effects of a phase pistol stun on a 25lb beagle. His speculations were rendered irrelevant when Porthos unexpectedly stopped, sending B'Boj sailing gracelessly into a prostrate position on the floor. Archer felt a swell of satisfaction that his misbehaving pet had obeyed him, but he quickly realized that his pride was misplaced; Porthos was staring not at him but at the V'radian who now occupied the airlock.

"Trut…" said B'Boj, staggering to his feet, "I told you to stay on the ship."

I'Jit's eyes shifted nervously from Trut to B'Boj.

"You sounded distressed," Trut replied evenly. "I worried that you might need my help." The hint of a smile was dragging at the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the situation, but he was doing his best to suppress it. "What have we here?" he asked, studying the dog thoughtfully. As though hypnotized, Porthos stared directly back into the eyes of this strangely genteel intruder.

"That animalB'Boj roared, pointing, "has profaned the Great Unifier!"

Porthos cocked his head.

"I'm very sorry," Archer said, raising his hands. "It's just a pet. He didn't mean any harm." Then, sighing, he added, "Porthos belongs to me. I accept responsibility for his actions."

"I'm sorry, I can't allow that, captain," B'Boj said coolly as he dusted himself off. "He's destroyed a sacred artifact, and his life is thereby forfeit."

Archer set his jaw. No one was "forfeiting" his dog.

"I'm sure we can find a way to make this right," he said. "If you'll allow me to…"

B'Boj's anger flared back to life. "The animal will die in front of me or your ship and crew will pay its debt!"

At the declaration of this ultimatum, I'Jit paled and tried to whisper something into B'Boj's ear, but B'Boj slapped him away. Then they both turned at the sound of something much larger than a beagle rounding the corner. Its gait was tired and uneven and its breaths were sharp and ragged.

It was Phlox.

"I'm sorry, captain," he gasped. "I don't know how she opened the containment chamber. She was gone before I realized."

Archer blinked and turned to the dog in surprise. She? This wasn't Porthos at all. It was the duplicate!

"Duchess!" Phlox yelled. "Come back here this instant!"

Duchess took one look at him and broke into a run; seconds later, she had disappeared around the corner… along with the Great Unifier's unfortunate shrunken head.

Phlox staggered to a halt and stared after her.

"Beagles," he muttered distastefully.

Then, by sheer force of will, he persuaded his wobbling legs to carry him after her. Taking great, huffing breaths, he too rounded the next corner and vanished from sight.

B'Boj, having borne witness to this spectacle, was livid. He fixed Archer with a burning gaze and made his final demand. "Find that animal," he snarled, "and summon me to see it killed." Then he whirled and walked briskly away, adding, "Don't keep me waiting long, captain!"

Trut and I'Jit faded into the airlock after him.

A moment of silence passed among those who remained. Finally, Malcolm broke the silence with a wry observation. "Well, sir…" he commented, "I'd say that went well." Then a perplexed frown crossed his face. "Do you mind telling me when we got a new ship's dog?"

Major Hayes glanced at him, judged the question irrelevant, and then turned to the captain with his own. "What are you going to do, sir?"

Archer held his fist to his chin and sighed thoughtfully. "We can't take this ship into battle over an alien fruit fly, no matter how remarkable it is," he answered. "Phlox will hate to waste such a fascinating animal, but I don't see a choice." A hollow look crossed his face and his voice went slightly ragged. "We're not on a mission of exploration anymore. Earth is counting on us."

Hayes nodded wordlessly and Reed averted his eyes, thinking back to far more optimistic days.

Archer, on the verge of giving the most ridiculous-sounding order of his career, savored a long, deep breath.

"Major…" he said slowly, "find that dog."

The moment the airlock closed, I'Jit started panicking… as usual.

"What were you thinking, B'Boj?" he demanded. "We had the perfect opportunity, and you ruined it!"

"What were you thinking?" B'Boj shot back. "When will you learn to follow my lead?"

I'Jit drew himself up to take advantage of his greater height. "When your lead starts turning a profit!" he retorted. "I didn't sign on for this job to con some no-name captain out of his prize pet!"

Trut watched them argue with his customary attitude of serene bemusement. Personally, he didn't care whether his two hapless employers were successful as con men or not; he was here for the experience. Granted, his part in it was repetitive and boring (it was a simple con after all), but the unique response of each ship and captain never failed to fascinate him. How would the crew react when told that they were unwitting trespassers in V'radian territory? Would they gladly relinquish a reasonable portion of their cargo in exchange for safe passage… or would they call B'Boj's bluff? (The tricky ones were those sufficiently familiar with the region to know that B'Boj's "47th V'radian Triumvirate" didn't actually exist.)

"And how," I'Jit was demanding, his voice cracking with nervous tension, "are we supposed to profit by forcing Archer to kill that little creature?"

"I don't want to kill it," B'Boj said, laughing. "For the love of 'the Great Unifier'" – he guffawed at his own wit, idly tossing one of his many "sacred" shrunken heads into the air – "we should be thanking it. Why go to the trouble of inventing some grave insult to our culture when we only have to wait for their witless beast to eat our sacred relic?"

I'Jit was silent, sighing deeply.

"I give in," he said finally, deflating in the wake of his panic. "What's your plan? Why didn't you just demand some repayment for the insult and leave with a profit?"

"Because, my dear and foolish friend," B'Boj said gleefully, "Archer will never agree to my first demand. Didn't you hear his crewman? That animal is the captain's pet. He'll try to haggle with us to save its life, and he'll doubtlessly offer – of his own free will – more than we could ever have demanded at the start of this encounter." B'Boj fell into his chair with unmistakable self-satisfaction. "Really, what have I always told you?"

I'Jit rattled off the maxim automatically. "If you want your parents to buy you a hovercar, start out by asking for a starship."

B'Boj, still grinning broadly, nodded. "Now you're catching on."

Off to the side, Trut chuckled inwardly. This was about to get very interesting. It might even be the end of his time in B'Boj's company, because – if B'Boj was wrong and Archer agreed to kill the animal – Trut would have no choice but to intervene. After all, he knew what that little creature really was… whether the human captain did or not.

When he staggered into sickbay, Phlox felt like a young father run ragged by his first newborn. Worse still, he didn't have three wives this time to ease the burden. He would have given anything, at that moment, to see one of them walk through the door with Duchess in hand.

In the end, he had to settle for Major Hayes.

"I found something you lost," the major said by way of greeting. He held Duchess at arm's length, facing away from him, and Phlox guessed that he wasn't a fan of dogs. Presented to the doctor like a troublesome child, Duchess pointed her nose at the floor and rolled her eyes up towards Phlox, wagging her tail sheepishly all the while.

"Thank you, Major," Phlox said, relieving him of the beagle and lowering her into a specimen cage. After nodding curtly in reply, Hayes turned on his heel and left without a word. Once he was gone, Phlox quickly forgot about him; he was curious to see how Porthos and his new companion would behave in each other's presence. Putting them in the same cage was still too risky, but adjacent cages would still allow them to see, hear, and smell. "Now then," he muttered to the beagles, "let's see what you have to say to each other."

His observations of canine behavior proved less fascinating than he had hoped. By the time Ensign Sato arrived fifteen minutes later, the incessant barking had him – for the first time – questioning his decision to accompany Enterprise to the Expanse.

"My apologies, Ensign Sato," he said as he ran the scanner across her forehead. "I generally aim to make sickbay a more… restful environment."

"It's all right," she said, patiently but wearily. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just can't shake these headaches." The comment was punctuated by a burst of particularly noisy barking and Hoshi let her head droop with a sigh.

"Hush!" Phlox admonished. The two paused for a moment, but they were back at it in a heartbeat. "They're incorrigible," he said irritably. "I think she's a bad influence." He turned and spoke to Duchess. "And I'm certainly not still planning to keep you!"

"Aww," Hoshi managed. "You wanted a dog?"

Phlox chuckled. "Well, I… admit I've grown rather fond of Porthos. But he is the captain's dog. I try to respect the bond between man and beast."

Hoshi tilted her head and fixed him with an amused stare. "You're polygamous."

Phlox shrugged equivocally, still smiling. "A man's wife is one thing, ensign. His dog is another."

Hoshi raised her eyebrows, then laughed. Unfortunately, the laughter sent a wave of nausea radiating from her head and she winced miserably. To make matters worse, the dogs' barking was reaching a fever pitch. Unable to take it anymore, she slammed her hand down on the bed and yelled something at them.

Phlox stepped back in surprise. "What was that?" he asked.

"Antican vernacular," Hoshi answered, sighing. "My parents bought me a Vulcan vid on them when I was little and I learned some of their language from watching it so much."

"Mmm," Phlox responded, turning off his handheld scanner. "I must say, it sounds vaguely canine."

Hoshi gave him a weary smile. "That was the idea."

Phlox smiled affirmingly and turned away to prepare a treatment for her headache. Meanwhile, the canine cacophony continued unabated. Although she knew it wouldn't help, Hoshi was too tired and frustrated to hold back another outburst of Antican. This time, however, she managed to quiet both dogs for one precious (if brief) moment. Staring back at Hoshi, Duchess cocked her head as if in thought… and then replied with a new barrage of noise.

Hoshi blinked uncertainly and frowned at the dog. I didn't just hear that, did I? she thought. Feeling silly, she howled another phrase in Antican and waited for a response... and, to her immense surprise, there was one. This "dog" wasn't just mimicking the sounds she made; it was trying to puzzle them out! She would have recognized that exploratory wordplay anywhere; it was the same game she played every time she encountered a new culture. Theoretically, then, this was nothing new, but… from a beagle?

Phlox returned to her side, medicine in hand, and was surprised to find her staring at the dogs in complete and utter fascination. He followed her line of sight but couldn't guess what had captured her interest.

"Ensign?" he asked curiously.

She didn't answer.

"Time to find out if your hunch was right," I'Jit said. "Archer is hailing us."

"Excellent!" B'Boj exclaimed, sitting up in his chair. "Turn on the holo-emitters."

Trut nodded and punched a few commands into his console. A moment later, their aging ship's power cells hummed and the gloomy environment they had been sitting in vanished… and was replaced by the bridge of a well-lit, well-kept, and well-manned battleship. The holo-emitters on their bridge demanded huge amounts of power, but they were worth it. To Archer – or anyone else who hailed them – the illusion would reinforce their claims of military superiority. (As another one of B'Boj's maxims went, It is far better to be weak and thought powerful than to be powerful and thought weak.)

Archer's face appeared on the viewscreen. "Praetor B'Boj," he greeted.

"Captain Archer," B'Boj returned formally, resisting the urge to grimace and sniff the air. Something was burning, but with the holo-emitters turned on, he couldn't tell what. Was the makeshift holo-bridge straining the antiquated components of his ship? He had to end this conversation quickly.

"I've had time to consider your request," Archer began coolly.

"And?" B'Boj blurted (perhaps a bit too eagerly). Luckily, Archer didn't seem to have noticed anything out of place.

"I feel that you deserve repayment for the insult against your people," Archer said, speaking quickly to remove the distasteful words from his mouth as quickly as possible. "I've just received word that the animal has been recaptured, and I've decided to accede to your demand. Please return to the airlock at your leisure." Archer nodded curtly to someone off-screen and the connection was severed.

As soon as Archer's face vanished, B'Boj started flailing his arms at Trut. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" he yelled.

Trut, acutely aware of the burning smell himself, deactivated the holo-bridge immediately. When the illusion faded, it confirmed their suspicions: There was a raging fire in one of the power couplings. B'Boj and I'Jit scrambled to extinguish it, filling the air with a disgusting fire suppressant, and then sank into their respective chairs with sharp sighs.

"All right, B'Boj…" I'Jit said finally. "He did agree to kill it. Now what?"

B'Boj only glared at him.

Trut, meanwhile, had his thoughts focused elsewhere. Archer was planning to sacrifice the creature after all, and Trut couldn't allow that. The time for his betrayal of B'Boj had come.

"What do you mean by 'problematic,' Phlox?" Archer demanded. "I just promised Praetor B'Boj that we would destroy this thing. He's on his way."

"'This thing'?" Phlox cocked his head indignantly. "Frankly, captain, I'm disappointed in you. Even if Ensign Sato hadn't made this discovery, you would still be agreeing to the cold-blooded murder of a defenseless animal. As it is, you've sentenced a sentient creature to death!"

T'Pol, cool-headed as ever, interjected. "'Sentient,' doctor?"

Phlox deflated slightly and Hoshi cut in. "That's what we're trying to explain, captain."

Nodding, Phlox put a scan of Duchess on the medical viewer. "Look here," he said. "Earlier today, she was a perfectly normal Earth canine. Now look." The medical viewer zoomed in on her brain. "Unbelievable growth," he said, pointing. "Her brain is every bit as sophisticated as yours, captain."

To punctuate this claim, Duchess started barking excitedly. All five humanoids turned to look.

"So… let me get this straight…" Trip said, pointing his finger at her. "She's actually sayin' somethin' to us right now?"

"I know it's hard to believe, commander," Hoshi replied, "but I'm absolutely certain that she is."

Archer remained skeptical. "And what might that be?" he asked.

Hoshi looked uncomfortable. "I'm… not exactly sure," she admitted.

Archer exchanged a glance with T'Pol. "Hoshi—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Captain, I know this sounds crazy, but I'm absolutely certain." She glanced at Duchess. "Watch this."

The others moved back slightly, forming a semicircle around Hoshi and the specimen cage.

"Duchess?" Hoshi asked.

The dog barked once in reply, but Archer wasn't impressed yet. "Dogs learn to answer to their names," he said. "Right, Porthos?"

This time, Porthos barked.

Hoshi turned to look at Archer critically. "Can Porthos do this?" she asked. Then, turning back to the dogs, she said, "Duchess, bark twice, turn in a circle three times, bark once, jump, lift your front paw, and howl."

As Duchess performed each of these actions in turn, without hesitation or mistakes, Archer's hands fell from their crossed position to his sides.

Hoshi turned and stood with her hands behind her back, flashing a self-satisfied smile.

"Wait," Trip said, raising his hand. "She can understand us?" Then he redirected the question to Duchess. "You can understand us?"

Duchess barked.

Kneeling next to the cage, Hoshi explained. "Understanding us isn't the problem," she said, scratching Duchess behind the ears. "She's a furry, little universal translator. I'm almost jealous."

T'Pol took a step forward. She'd been lingering in the background because of the smell. "But you can't understand her?"

Hoshi shook her head. "About fifteen minutes ago, I started experimenting with bits of Antican that I learned from a Vulcan vid as a child. The Anticans are very dog-like, so Duchess can actually form their language. The problem is, we don't have any library records on Antican, and I only know bits and pieces." Hoshi stood and sighed. "She's trying to learn a language from me that I barely know myself."

Archer, who had been lost in thought, finally asked the overarching question. "So what is she, doctor?"

Phlox pursed his lips uncomfortably. "Like Ensign Sato, I have to admit… I don't know." Seeing Archer's less-than-thrilled reaction, he added, "But I do have a theory."

Hoshi looked up in surprise. This was news to her as well.

"I believe," Phlox continued, "that Duchess is a probe." When met only with thoughtful frowns, he explained. "Consider what we know: When she came aboard, she was the size of a fly… and, I might add, invisible to bio-scanners. That allowed her to make contact with Porthos, sample his DNA, and rebuild herself in his image. And now, thanks to Ensign Sato, we know that she can learn alien languages in minutes."

T'Pol turned her head to the side thoughtfully. She knew what Phlox was getting at. "I believe the doctor is correct," she said. "The ability to effortlessly infiltrate, mimic, and communicate with a new species would make her the ideal tool for first contact."

Phlox interlocked his hands at his waist and leaned back with a proud smile. "Precisely," he said. "Unfortunately for Duchess, she chose to make first contact not with the intrepid crew of this vessel…"

"… but with Porthos," T'Pol finished.

Duchess barked excitedly and Hoshi knelt again. "Oh, you must have been so frustrated," she said, petting her. "That's why you were making such a racket. You were trying to talk to Porthos." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "I know how you feel. Sometimes there's just no making sense of them."

Something in her tone told Archer, Trip, and Phlox that the statement was directed at human males as well as canines.

"It sounds… logical," Archer said, glancing at T'Pol, "but Porthos is male. Why would the probe use his genetic material to produce a female?"

"In my estimation," Phlox replied, "that is another testament to her designers' foresight." He chuckled. "You do have to admit, captain, that your first contacts with attractive alien females are slightly more… enthusiastic."

Trip looked downward and coughed, concealing laughter.

Predictably, Archer decided to change the subject. "As fascinating as this is," he said, "it leaves us with a problem. There's no way I can hand her over to B'Boj now."

After a pause, T'Pol cautiously ventured a suggestion. "It is unlikely that they would be able to tell the dogs apart," she began. "We could… give them Porthos."

Archer whirled. "Absolutely not!"

T'Pol's eyes widened slightly and she retreated, fixing her gaze on Trip. She clearly wanted him to interject.

"I could get out the cargo manifest and try to make it up to them in trade," Trip said cautiously, "but cap'n… there's not a whole lot we can spare."

As T'Pol had predicted, Trip's indirect implication was more successful than her direct approach. She knew that, in spite of his volatile human emotions, the captain would never place his dog's life above the success of their mission.

"They don't teach this one in command school," Archer said, sighing. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

To everyone's surprise, it was Duchess who replied. Hoshi frowned intently, trying to make sense of it, but this was straining her impressive linguistic skills to the extreme. In the end, it took a several more minutes of howling and barking – from both of them – to reach an understanding.

"She says you do have a choice," Hoshi concluded finally. "She understands that they want her dead and she wants us—" Hoshi paused to make sure she had understood and then began anew. "She wants us to vent her into space, captain."

Archer couldn't believe what he was hearing. "She wants to sacrifice herself for him?"

"No, captain. She's not volunteering for a suicide mission," Hoshi explained. "She says she'll survive."

"How?" asked T'Pol.

Hoshi shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. She doesn't have the vocabulary to explain why or how, but she's very insistent about this: If we vent her into space, she won't be killed."

The intercom interrupted them. "Reed to Archer."

"Go ahead," Archer snapped.

"Captain, Praetor B'Boj has been waiting at the airlock for several minutes." Reed paused, searching for a diplomatic way to elaborate. "He's becoming… agitated, sir."

"Understood. Archer out."

There was silence in sickbay as the officers awaited Archer's decision.

"You're sure, Hoshi?" he asked finally. "She says she'll survive?"

Hoshi glanced down at Duchess and then nodded. "I'm sure, captain."

Archer massaged his chin thoughtfully. "Then I'm going to take her at her word," he concluded, turning to leave sickbay. "Put her in the port-side airlock. I'm going to go meet our guests."

In the doorway, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. He wanted to say something else, but his human inhibitions wouldn't allow him to say it to the alien probe directly. To him, she was still too much like a dog.

"Hoshi…" he finally added, "tell her I said, 'Thank you.'"

Duchess barked and Hoshi smiled.

"I think she heard you, sir."

The V'radians were milling restlessly in the hallway outside the airlock and, as before, Reed and two MACOs were accompanying them. A quick scan of their faces made it clear that none present were happy with the arrangement. As Archer rounded the corner, Reed was assuring B'Boj – in a tone that suggested patience stretched to its limits – that the captain was certainly on his way.

"And where is he now, lieutenant?" B'Boj demanded.

Archer came to a stop and cleared his throat in response, prompting all to turn in his direction.

"Praetor B'Boj," he said, "let's cut straight to business. Follow me." He turned on his heel, not giving B'Boj any time for saber rattling. Sputtering minor and indistinct protest, B'Boj fell in behind him, followed by I'Jit. Heaving a deep sigh, Reed and the two MACOs also began to follow, but Archer dismissed them.

"You stay behind to guard the airlock," he commanded. "Corporal McKenzie, you're with me."

"Sir—" Reed protested, feeling that the captain should be better-protected, but Archer cut him off.

"Did you scan our visitors for weapons?" he asked.

Reed looked insulted. "Of course, sir."

Archer's jaw was set. "Then I'll be fine." With that, he turned and continued walking away, leaving Lieutenant Reed and Major Hayes standing dumbly at the airlock.

As she vanished around the corner, McKenzie glanced back and caught the Major's eye, but he only shrugged. The captain seems to be in quite a mood, she thought. This should be interesting. She could only wonder why he'd chosen her.

The truth of the matter was that Archer planned to do something that – to Reed and Hayes, who knew nothing of the situation – would seem bizarre and cruel. He had chosen the lowest-ranking MACO available because he trusted her ingrained respect for authority to keep her from interfering in a very tricky situation.

"Where are we going, captain?" B'Boj demanded.

"To the port-side airlock," Archer replied without slowing or turning his head. Then, realizing that "Why?" would be the next question, he decided to elaborate. "It's a custom among my people," he explained, making things up as he went along. "When a crewmember has to be executed, we vent that crewmember into space." At that point, he did finally stop and turn, forcing B'Boj to stop short. "I trust there's no problem?" Archer asked rhetorically. "It's not a painless death, I assure you."

B'Boj looked rattled. "Whatever you think is best," he stammered. Then, composing himself and sobering slightly, he added, "As long as… the gods are appeased."

"I'm sure they will be," Archer responded dryly.

When they reached the port-side airlock, Phlox and Hoshi were waiting for them, both fidgeting awkwardly.

Duchess was already inside.

Approaching the small airlock window, Archer used a hand gesture to invite them both to peer through. In the end, however, only I'Jit ventured near the window. (B'Boj had bureaucratically decided to delegate the task on account of his sadly insufficient height.) When both were satisfied, B'Boj crossed his arms and spoke.

"Very well," he said. "Depressurize the airlock." Then, trying to buy time, he added, "But do it slowly… so that I can see the creature die."

Archer barely hid his distaste as he turned and entered the depressurization command.

For a moment, there was little sign of any change inside the airlock. Duchess, however, was clearly aware of the escaping atmosphere. Archer watched soberly as she turned, sniffed curiously, and then curled into a ball in the center of the airlock floor. She was so much like Porthos that it was hard for him to remember what she really was.

Until a crystalline spine shot out of her back.

They all jumped when it happened; the motion was so sudden and unexpected that it caught them quite off guard.

"What's it doing?" B'Boj demanded.

Archer looked to Phlox for an explanation, but the doctor's expression made it clear that he was as surprised by this development as everyone else. Meanwhile, a full-length mane of prismatic crystals had emerged from Duchess' back and was slowly growing larger and more complex.

"It's suffering, isn't it, captain?" B'Boj asked softly, driving false sympathy into his voice. He was about to have a "miraculous" change of heart… exactly according to plan.

Archer wasn't sure how to respond to the question. Luckily, it had been rhetorical.

"Seal the airlock," B'Boj commanded suddenly, turning to Archer. "I can't do this, captain. Surely the gods would not demand the sacrifice of such an innocent, ignorant animal." Archer turned and eyed him suspiciously, but he forced himself not to shrink away from that intense gaze. (Privately, however, he was extremely anxious; if Archer went through with this act, he would consider his debt repaid in full. They'd get nothing.) "There must be… some other way you can appease the gods," he ventured, testing the waters. "You wouldn't happen to have that cargo manifest on hand, would you?"

Archer's eyes narrowed. Outside the Expanse, he would have traded prodigious amounts of equipment and raw materials for the chance to hold onto a creature as unique as Duchess. But, as he had reminded Malcolm, they weren't on a mission of exploration anymore. Right now, he knew that the ship's stores were more valuable than making first contact with a new species.

"That's… very generous of you," Archer said carefully, "but I see it as a matter of personal honor. If this is the only way to make it up to you fully, so be it."

B'Boj fell silent and he concentrated furiously on thinking of a way out of this mess. He could feel I'Jit's eyes digging into him, cursing him for trying to use the animal as a bargaining chip. Anger began to rise inside him. This was a good plan; it should have worked! No matter what, he would not leave empty-handed. He absolutely would not.

But was his last-ditch fallback plan worth the risk? He could still walk away from this mess without a fight.

Then he began to think about I'Jit's inevitable and ceaseless criticisms, the money it would take to repair the power conduits back on their ship, and the fact that they hadn't made a significant profit on a job in months. No… he didn't have a choice.

"Now!" he yelled to I'Jit, reaching into his cloak for the weapon that was concealed there. In a surprisingly smooth motion, the two V'radians spun around, grabbing Hoshi and McKenzie, and backed away to a safe distance. Each attacker had a phase weapon pressed into the shoulder of his captive. Even the highly-trained McKenzie stood, helpless, in I'Jit's control; the humans had been so raptly fascinated by Duchess' transformation that they had made easy prey.

"What the hell are you doing?" Archer demanded, taking a step toward B'Boj. "How did you get those weapons past our scans?" He restrained himself and stepped back when B'Boj dug the barrel of his weapon into Hoshi's shoulder. The realization was just sinking in: This had become a hostage situation.

"That's better," B'Boj said coldly. "Here's what you're going to do next: You're going to – very calmly – order your crew to load the items on that cargo manifest into our ship."

Archer's face reddened in anger; he didn't appreciate being tricked or lied to. Worse, he was still deciding how to handle the situation. A moment later, however, that decision became irrelevant. Striding briskly, with calm and self-assurance, Trut appeared in the corridor, escorted by Major Hayes.

When Hayes saw McKenzie being held hostage, he immediately trained his weapon on Trut, who raised his hands agreeably. Archer and Phlox whirled; they now stood between Trut and the other two V'radians.

"Trut!" B'Boj bellowed, "why aren't you back on the ship?"

Trut ignored him and addressed Archer. "Don't pay any attention to his threats, captain. The guns they're holding aren't real; that's how they escaped your scans." Then he turned to B'Boj. "I'd suggest giving up, old friend," he said matter-of-factly. "I've contacted the V'radian authorities and they're on their way to pick you up."

B'Boj's eyes snapped wide open in some combination of anger and panic. "You scum!" he snarled. "You had no home, no money, and no idea how to survive. We took you in, and this is how you reward us?"

"It's nothing personal," Trut said, reaching for the airlock controls and reversing the depressurization. "I just couldn't let you bring about this little creature's death."

"This… thing?" B'Boj replied incredulously, turning to look at Duchess as the airlock door slid open. Then he turned back to Trut. "What possible value could it have?"

But Trut wasn't looking at him; he was looking at Duchess. And, if Archer wasn't mistaken… he winked.

With an exuberant howl, Duchess tore out of the airlock and slammed into B'Boj's leg – mouth open, teeth bared. B'Boj screamed in pain, but the attack caused all of his muscles to tighten, including his trigger finger. He squeezed the weapon Trut had called a fake and light flared from it; Hoshi gasped and a burning smell oozed from her shoulder. She fell to her knees.

Seeing that B'Boj was under attack, I'Jit trained his own weapon on Duchess and fired. As the blast sizzled home on Duchess' flank, she released her grip on B'Boj, and he kicked her viciously. She slid several feet into the bulkhead and stopped moving.

B'Boj didn't have time to savor the victory. An instant later, Archer shot him in the face.

As his comrade went down, I'Jit realized that it was over. He released McKenzie and raised his hands, backing away. "I give up," he said anxiously. "I give up!"

Hayes hit him over the head with his phase rifle just to make sure.

With the crisis ended, Archer rushed to Hoshi, all the while wishing he had shot B'Boj on more than "stun."

"Don't worry, captain," Trut said. "She's fine."

When Phlox inspected the wound, he saw that Trut was right.

"It's called a flesh gun," Trut explained. "It shoots a matter beam that, when it hits a target, deposits a quantity of burned flesh to simulate a wound." He laughed. "It's a child's toy, captain."

"Some toy!" growled Hoshi.

"I admit that it stings at close range," he added.

Archer stood. "Why did you help us?"

"Honestly, captain," Trut replied, "I didn't. I helped her." He indicated Duchess with a nod of his head.

"Why?"

Trut smiled and pulled up his sleeve. All along the length of his arm, prismatic crystals were growing out of his flesh.

"You're a probe," Phlox blurted.

"That would be one name for me, yes," Trut admitted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there isn't much time." He picked up Duchess and walked into the airlock. "I need you to vent us both into space, captain."

"Why?" Archer demanded. "What the hell are you?"

"The probe that you call Duchess has told me what you theorized about her, and you're more or less correct. There's nothing you need to know from me."

Hoshi noticed that the crystals growing out of Trut's arm were beginning to link and merge with those growing out of Duchess. "What's happening to you?" she asked.

Trut exhaled impatiently. "At the end of our time studying a new race, we transform back into our true crystalline forms and return through space to relay what we've learned to our makers. Because of B'Boj, this little one began her transformation early. She won't make it unless I fuse with her."

"And who sent you?"

Trut smiled. "I'm not supposed to tell you that. In fact, you're not even supposed to know what I am. Now, I don't mean to rush you, but you'll probably want us out of your airlock relatively soon. This transformation is about to become… explosive."

That was impetus enough for Archer to close the airlock door, but he still wasn't ready to let this scientific opportunity pass him by. "You can't reverse the transformation?" he asked through the window. "I hate to let you go. We may never encounter a being like you again."

Trut continued to smile that captivating smile. "Don't be so sure," he said. "Would you have known what I was if I hadn't revealed myself to you? My kind is far more common than you realize." He sobered and looked down at Duchess, who was almost completely crystalline by now. "I'm afraid I must insist this time, captain. It's time for us to go."

Archer nodded resignedly. "See you around the universe," he said.

Trut smiled. And then, in a whoosh of atmosphere, he was gone.