Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, Enterprise, its characters, or settings. These things are the property of Paramount, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

April 2155

Hoshi stifled a yawn and blinked several times. Each blink was gritty and uncomfortable, ever so slightly regretted. The Jupiter station work crew had deployed several light columns around the bridge. They were blue-white and utterly overwhelming. Worse still were the multiple diagnostic tools, each of which was emitting a unique and exquisitely irritating hum. Between the cacophony, and the too-many cups of coffee at breakfast, Hoshi felt the beginning of a spectacular headache brewing behind her reddening eyes. She glanced from Commander T'Pol to Captain Archer, and back. She would have to alert at least one of them before ducking down to sickbay for a painkiller and she was already dreading the needle-like pain that each exchanged word would produce.

Neither of the two looked happy. A transmission from Starfleet command had put Archer in a mood, one which had only worsened in the hour since, on his slightly too noisy, slightly overbright, bridge. He was twitching in his chair, clearly struggling to focus on whatever he was reading. He would undoubtedly be pacing again shortly. T'Pol, on the other hand, was sitting distractingly still. She was arched over the science station with none of her usual elegance. She seemed somehow spiky, too angular, her face strangely drawn and distorted by uncharacteristic tension in her forehead. T'Pol's nostrils twitched slightly and, a second later, Hoshi was also aware of a weird tinny smell emanating from a machine being deployed near the helm. Its operator showed no sign of concern, however, and so Hoshi resumed pondering whether Archer or T'Pol would excuse her to sickbay with the least conversation.

She had just decided on Archer, when a flicker in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Supressing a sigh, she directed the incoming signal to her earpiece, flinching as static and a scrambled, frantically spoken, message poured into her brain.

...request assistance...adrift... heavy damage...

"Sir? We are picking up a distress signal. It sounds Kreetassan".

Archer spun around to face her. "Kreetassan?"

He sounded startled and a little grim. He did not do well with Kreetassans.

T'Pol reviewed her console. "Long range sensors detect a Kreetassan cruiser approximately 1.1 light years away."

"I thought long-range sensors were still off line," Archer replied, crossing his arms across his chest and thrusting his chin out slightly.

Hoshi thought she saw T'Pol's eyebrow twitch in annoyance, but her response was smooth.

"I am referring, Captain, to the sensors of the Neptunian array..." She paused, tilting her head, before adding, "...I will be bringing our own sensors on line once the maintenance team completes their final tests." T'Pol raised a questioning eyebrow in the direction of the crew chief, an ebullient woman who was currently fussing with the tactical station. Her ever-present smile melted slightly under the Vulcan's questioning glare.

"Err... nearly done. Ten minutes."

Archer waved carelessly in response and returned his attention to T'Pol. "What are the Kreetassans doing around here?"

"There is an IME conference in Kuala Lumpur at the end of the month. I suspect they may be delegates."

Hoshi's own console drew her attention. Her stomach dropped. "Sir? Command has tasked us with responding.

Archer wheeled towards her, eyes widening. "Us? But…" He swung his arms vaguely indicating the maintenance crew and the state of the bridge generally before continuing. "Surely someone else is closer?"

He did not do well with Kreetassans.

"Ten minutes. We'll be right out of your hair," the maintenance chief piped in a helpful tone.

Archer ignored her.

Hoshi's head began to throb. "There a few civilian vessels that are closer, but they are limited to warp 2. We could get there faster."

"Columbia is...?"

"... Still orbiting Vulcan, sir."

Archer grimaced, rubbed the back of his head and nodded resignedly. "Yeah, okay. Is everyone back on board?"

"Almost... Travis is bringing the new people over now. They should be docking shortly."

Archer grimaced again and Hoshi knew what this one meant as well.

New people

The throbbing was growing worse, so Hoshi cleared her throat. "Sir...? I have a headache and I was wondering if...?"

"Sure, Hoshi. Let Travis know we'll be rushing off, then go to sickbay." Archer turned away from her and opened a channel to Engineering.

"Yeah, okay Hoshi. We'll be docking soon."

Travis was not at all displeased that departure had been moved up. Shore leave was fine, but that had ended weeks ago, and working in space dock was a drudge. Neither shaving off the last few days of tedium, nor the turmoil of an expedited departure schedule, bothered him in the least.

He considered taking the helm of the transport back but quickly decided against it. Fabrecia Boschmann's beautiful brown eyes had lit up so delightfully when he had told her she'd be piloting the 'pod to Enterprise. Instead, he settled into the chair next to her.

"Did you hear that, Ensign Boschmann?" Travis asked. "Gamma shift tomorrow, you'll be piloting the flagship on a rescue mission."

She smiled at him and it was glorious. "How fast do you think we'll be going by then?" she asked, excitement pulling up her shoulders.

Travis considered it, ball-parking a few equations and scenarios, than answered in a deliberately offhand tone, "About 4.4-4.5?"

Fabrecia's eyes widened in delight. "No way! I've never even travelled that fast before!"

Her admission caused a murmuring of concern from many of the other occupants of the shuttle who embarking on their first interstellar assignment. Their dismayed reaction in turn caused an amused snort from Travis…

Newbies!

… but a look of crestfallen doubt from Fabrecia.

Travis attempted to summon some reassuring words but before he had, a friendly voice with a mild Scottish accent rose from the back of the shuttle.

"You'll be grand, Bree! Can't be harder than formation flying in your little Swallowtail, and you know you were the best one up there. Warp 4.5, though? What a thing!"

Fabrecia relaxed at once, nodding agreement.

Travis turned to see who at spoken. The new doctor, he thought, before correcting himself. Second doctor.

The senior staff had all been surprised when Dr Phlox had requested an intern, and then surprised again when he didn't actually hire an intern, but rather a senior fellow suggested by his friend Dr Lucas.

"She'll be useful right away. She has quite solid experience in trauma medicine and critical care, especially compared to an intern," Phlox had over-explained to a slightly perplexed Archer. "She has an interest in acute neurological trauma so she's been working with the Vulcan neurologists in San Francisco. They speak quite highly of her."

"A brain surgeon who gets on well with Vulcans? She does sound pleasant," Malcolm Reed had observed wryly, earning a chuckle from the Captain, Hoshi, and indeed, from Travis himself. Still, Archer had seemed pleased Phlox was finally allowing himself more help and had urged Phlox to hire whomever he liked.

Having met the new doctor, Travis thought she probably was pleasant enough. She moved to sit behind Fabrecia, and the three of them amiably discussed the miraculous Warp 5 engine, as the 'pod made its final approach towards Enterprise's launch bay.

"New people!"

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed punctuated his exclamation by shaking of his head. "New people, Wendall. They are always a bloody nightmare."

"Yes, sir," Wendall agreed fervently, while rearranging his grip on several PADDs he was carrying.

"They get lost, they don't know where anything is, they don't know who anyone is. They complain about the food, they lock themselves out of their quarters, they wander into restricted areas, they've never read the handbooks properly…"

"Yes, sir."

Malcolm could tell that Wendall was only half listening to him, but did not mind. He had no particular need to be heard, it was the talking itself that he found therapeutic. He briefly considered taking advantage of Wendall's inattention by adding some preposterous examples to his rant but ultimately decided against it. There were, after all, plenty of real examples to call upon. The previous intake had been unusually large and the division between the 'old' crew and the 'new' crew was still palpable. And now, there were even newer new-people coming.

"At least there are only six this time."

"Yes, sir."

"I do wish we could stop haemorrhaging experienced staff. First Columbia, now Resolute..."

"Yes, sir."

"The vultures could pick over someone else, for a change. This supposed to be the flagship, not a bloody crèche..."

"Yes, sir."

"And we have a rescue mission, right off the bat! At least it's only the Kreetassans. They're harmless enough…"

"Yes sir."

"...assuming, of course no betentacled stow-aways this time..."

"Yes sir."

A PADD was slipping from Wendall's left hand and as he turned his attention to it, another two slipped from his right.

Malcolm stooped to catch them, taking his attention off where he was walking. "New people... can't stand them. Bloody nightmare…" he intoned loudly, ploughing straight into the little knot of people clustered in the corridor outside the launch bay.

Fabrecia's docking procedure had been nearly textbook. Travis delighted in both telling her so and in basking in the beautiful smile that had resulted. He continued to admire her as she collected her baggage and chatted to the other new arrivals. She had a certain bounding energy to her step and an endearing coltishness which contrasted with her elegant features. A guy could get quite smitten, Travis thought to himself.

"She's from Suriname, has three miniature pinschers, triathlete, enjoys canasta," came a whisper from beside him.

The accent was unmistakable, but when Travis turned to look at her, the new doctor showed no indication of having spoken. She was looking around the launch bay thoughtfully, bags already collected. Travis was surprised to note a guitar strung over her shoulder and, for some reason, a clear plastic bag stuffed with squirming invertebrates in her hand.

Travis silently resolved to learn something about canasta (like what the hell it was, for example...) and then shepherded the small group out into the hallway to await representatives of their respective departments. Showing Fabrecia herself around would be his responsibility and the prospect grew more delightful by the moment.

Jenkins, from Engineering, was already waiting. Travis was in the process of introducing the three new Engineering crew to him when brisk English tones heralded the imminent arrival of Malcolm Reed. Travis could hear he was in high dudgeon and had just enough time to register the topic of the latest rant, "New people... can't stand them. Bloody nightmare.." before Malcolm barrelled straight into Dr Harper. Instinctively, Travis reached to steady her, relieved when she managed to keep a hold on her mysterious bag of worms.

Recovering her balance, she shifted said worms to her left hand and held her right out to Reed, who was staring at her, blinking. "Hello! I'm Dr Alice Harper," she said friendlily and then, with a small quirk of one corner of her mouth she added "... new person."

Malcolm's answering scowl caused Travis to emit a small snort of amusement, earning him a similar look. Jenkins, Fabrecia, and the others were all staring at Malcolm, awaiting his impending reaction. Jenkins was even cringing slightly.

Eventually, Reed managed, "You're the new doctor?"

Harper nodded, seemingly bemused.

"Why are you holding a bag of worms?"

"For the bat!" she replied in a bright tone at odds with her still quizzical expression.

"What?"

"Dr Lucas has a Pyrithian bat, Hecate, and she really likes these. They're quite healthy for her too. They're full of an amino acid, which is quite rare in her usual diet, and gives her coat a beautiful glossy shine. Quite high in zinc, as well. So I thought I might bring some along for Dr Phlox's bat in case she likes them as much as Hecate. Do you happen to know her name? The bat's name...?"

Harper trailed off as Reed's face morphed into an intense, unreadable expression. Silence drew out again and Travis seriously considered fabricating a name for Phlox's bat just to fill it. Eventually, Jenkins called for his three charges to follow him, in a slightly too high voice, and lead them off, slightly too quickly. Wendall, who Travis had not even noticed until then, efficiently collected the new security crewman, handing him half of the PADDs he was carrying. They hurried off together.

Abruptly, Reed spoke again. "I don't think the bat has a name. I'll show you where Sickbay is. Apparently, Phlox has forgotten you." He immediately turned and started walking quickly back the way he had come. Harper looked slightly alarmed as she collected herself, nodded and smiled to Travis and Fabrecia, and followed Reed away down the hall.

Now they had been left alone, Fabrecia caught Travis's attention. "So who are we going to rescue, again? Kreetassans?"

Travis smiled. He quite liked the Kretassans. Smoothly scooping up one of Fabrecia's bags, he related, while walking, the story of the Kretassan first contact, finding himself slightly playing up his own modest, but crucial, role. Fabrecia was enjoying the story, clearly hanging on his words, and he was enjoying her enjoying it. Travis had just reached the part about Hoshi when, unprompted, Gannet's face popped into his head. He frowned slightly as tried to shake away the thought.

Perhaps misinterpreting his frown, Fabrecia reached for a new subject, asking "What exactly is a Pyrithian bat?"

Hoshi sighed in relief as Phlox finally stopped fussing and administered an analgesic hypospray. It blew away her headache almost instantly, like a cool breeze flowing through her head. Hoshi allowed herself to enjoy the sensation, and tuned out from Phlox's continuing lecture about her sleep and caffeine habits. She let her eyes drift over sickbay. The normally tidy area was filled with clutter, and Phlox himself was uncharacteristically flustered, as he tried to ready his department for Enterprise's early departure. Various animals were chattering in a strident, unsettled manner. A nearby cage had been topped by a box of pharmaceuticals and a stack of PADDs. Whatever creature was inside the cage battered at these, furiously, from underneath.

"Feeling better, Ensign?"

Hoshi nodded absently in reply.

Phlox followed her gaze. "Ah yes. Rather more conventional medications than I am used to. I am not quite sure where I will put them all yet. I ordered them for Doctor Harper..." His voice trailed off for a moment, brow creasing, before continuing. "Oh dear, I believe I have forgotten to collect her."

Phlox made to move toward the comm panel when, as if summoned, a glowering Malcolm Reed stormed through the door. He was followed by a tall, rather disconcerted-looking, woman carrying two luggage cases, a guitar, and a bag of something slimy.

"Sickbay," Malcolm announced, studiously avoiding looking at either Phlox or Hoshi.

Hoshi screwed up her nose slightly and found herself capriciously trying harder to catch his eye.

"Thank you...?"

Even distracted by Malcolm, Hoshi clearly caught both the Highland accent and the nervous, rising intonation of the new arrival.

"Doctor Harper! I'm so sorry I neglected to meet your shuttle! I'm so glad you are here," Phlox said, bustled towards her in a friendly manner.

The woman, apparently Dr Harper, turned towards Phlox, mumbled a near inaudible hello, and held out the bag of worms to him in a slightly frantic fashion. Not your typical brain surgeon, Hoshi thought with a guilty smirk.

If Phlox was nonplussed, he didn't show it. "Treshu worms! What a delightful gift! My bat will be so pleased."

He smiled a large, quintessentially Denobulan, smile. The smile Harper returned with was uneasy and quite a bit smaller. At Phlox's indication, she placed her luggage in a rare clear area.

Without another word, Malcolm marched back out through the sickbay door. Phlox and Harper looked after him with similar expressions, blinking.

Hoshi decided to follow him. "I'm going to go too. Nice to meet you," she said, smiling vaguely at Harper as she hurried past her.

"Malcolm, wait up," she called to his rapidly receding figure. He slowed his pace, but neither stopped nor turned to face her. She fell into step next to him. He wasn't looking at her, but he would have to in a moment when they reached the turbolift, if he was going to turn to let her step in ahead of him. Which he definitely would.

Hoshi smiled wryly. Malcolm had expounded to her once, on the strategic value he had found in ignoring the 'awkward' in awkward silences, and she felt a small guilty pleasure in trying to turn the technique against him. Unfortunately, he was better at it. She felt a creeping disquiet in her chest in the few remaining moments before reaching the turbolifts and when she did eventually catch his eye, the cold, vaguely hurt look she found there made her even more uncomfortable. They rode toward the bridge in silence, the short trip stretching out almost interminably. In the last few seconds she felt a sudden flash of anger and only with effort did she suppress the urge to shout at him.

When the doors opened to the bridge, to Hoshi's surprise, he exited first.

Archer turned as Reed and Sato arrived on the bridge and studied their faces.

Nope, he thought grimly. Still not talking. He tracked Reed to tactical station and heard him suck in air through his teeth at whatever minor change the maintenance crew had made to the displays. Archer fought his urge to roll his eyes. He knew Reed would notice if he did. Instead, he flicked his attention to Sato. "Feeling better, Hoshi?"

"Much, sir. Thank you," she replied grouchily, flicking though the material which had accumulated at communications in her absence.

"Either of you happen to see Travis?" Archer asked.

Hoshi shook her head as Reed answered. "He's settling the new pilot in."

"Ahh, Ensign Boschmann. What's she like, Malcolm?" he asked. Archer remembered from her profile that Fabrecia Boschmann was rather pretty and he hoped this fact might have improved Reed's mood.

No such luck though. Reed merely muttered that Archer had best ask Travis, and then returned to tsking at his console.

Archer tried again. "New Security guy okay?"

Reed thought for a moment. "He seemed alright. Wendall's supervising him."

"Someone make it down to meet the Engineering crew?"

Archer asked. Moving up departure and thrown Engineering into a low grade panic and he hoped they had not been forgotten.

"Yes, sir. Jenkins."

Reed didn't even bother to look up that time. Archer sighed. He couldn't bring himself to ask Reed about the new Doctor.

"Sensors back on line, Captain," T'Pol announced in a dull voice. Archer looked over and nodded thanks. She barely returned the gesture. She looked terrible. Wain, and slightly green.

Archer rubbed his forehead, still fuming about the communication from earlier. How can they give Resolute to that asshole? Who the hell thought that was a good idea? He sure didn't, and he knew Erika wouldn't either. Good thing space is big.

He decided to put it out of his mind. The atmosphere on the bridge was getting oppressive. Perhaps, if he could summon a good mood, it would be contagious. Leadership!, he thought grimly. "Think the Kreetassans will be pleased to see Porthos again?" he joked to the room in general.

Disappointingly, Sato and Reed didn't as much as look up. T'Pol inclined her head slightly and pronounced that it was unlikely that any of the medical delegates would be among those who had seen Porthos previously.

"They've probably heard of him, though." Reed's mutter was barely audible.

Still, it was something. Archer made a brief ship-wide announcement that they would be departing in an hour at 1300 (although by now this would not be news to anybody), and then flopped down in his chair, hoping Travis, and his incessant cheer, would arrive soon.

"Engineering to bridge!"

It was a flustered-sounding Lieutenant Hess explaining that there was a problem with the impulse engine's primary drive coil and that she needed three hours to fix it. With a sigh, Archer negotiated her down to an hour and a half, testily reminding her they were on a rescue mission, causing Hess to re-join that while she was aware of that she remained subject to the laws of physics. It was not clear from her communications if Commander Tucker was even present in Engineering.

Archer didn't ask.

The pulse of Enterprise's warp engines reverberated through the decks, taking on a particular echoic timbre in the service tube. Enterprise hadn't left space dock until 1530 the previous day, but she was now racing at Warp 4.3 toward the distressed Kreetassan transport. They were still slightly more than four days away.

...adrift...heavy damage...

the static clouded, garbled message had apparently said. That suggested engineering problems. Trip, currently alone in a service tube, absently refitting an EPS relay, was trying to summon some enthusiasm about fixing them. He had managed to fob off departure, and even the unexpected impulse engine failure, onto Lt. Hess, but repairing the Kreetassan systems would be another matter. Patching together damaged alien systems was supposed to be one of Trip's passions and, if he tried to get out of it, then one of his friends, Jon, Malcolm, or god-forbid Hoshi, would hunt him down and try ineptly to manipulate him into not only doing it, but enjoying it.

"Well, it will be pretty great to get a look at their Warp Engines," he said to the service tube, in a mostly unsuccessful bid to convince himself.

It was late. Trip, despite his abandonment of Engineering itself to Hess, had been working solidly since before the distress call, snatching sleep in four hour blocks only here and there. Beta shift would be ending soon and Trip decided to beat most of them to the mess in order to get the best of whatever food remained. Despite the general unpopularity of gamma shift, it was beta shift that Trip hated most. It had the worst food and bad hours, working though alpha's evening, and without the peaceful near solitude of gamma.

It was mostly gamma shift workers 'breakfasting' in the mess hall when Trip arrived. He quickly scooped up the second last plate of lasagne from alpha shift's evening meal and turned to select a table. It was then that he spotted Malcolm, who was seated alone in a corner, studying a PADD while mechanically eating breakfast cereal. Trip did some quick mental calculus. If he sat down at an empty table, Malcolm would probably decide to just leave him alone. On the other hand, this action would probably lead to somebody worriedly checking up on him, at some later time. However, given the events of the last two days, Malcolm was likely to be utterly incensed about something or other. If so, all Trip would have to do is nod along as Malcolm expounded upon whatever was bugging him and that would surely count as bona fide social interaction, and get them all off his case for a while.

Nodding along felt achievable right now, so Trip walked over and sat down, not bothering to announce his advent. Malcolm looked up at him with a small start, brow creasing. Trip was fairly certain that his friend was running through his mental list of 'conversation topics to be avoided with Trip'. Trip believed the list currently included T'Pol, Vulcans generally, the planet Vulcan, the Xindi, Florida, Mars, Terra Prime and anyone named Elizabeth. Usually, the existence of the list made Trip feel infuriated. Right now, though, he just felt profoundly tired.

"Good day?"

"Terrible. You?"

"Busy".

Malcolm looked a little perplexed by this answer, but didn't comment.

Trip started on his lasagne which was just slightly too cool to be really pleasant. "Why are you eating breakfast cereal?"

"I'm covering the bridge for gamma shift," Malcolm answered, as if this was sufficient explanation.

"Why are you covering it?"

"New pilot."

Trip wasn't sure why Malcolm had lowered his voice to answer until he indicated a young woman, presumably the same one he had been tasked with babysitting through her first bridge shift, eating a sandwich a few tables away.

"Oh right. Ensign... Boschmann, or something, isn't it? She's kinda pretty..." Trip surprised himself with the boredom in his voice.

"Yeah, I think Travis might be in love," Malcolm replied, sounding equally bored.

"New people, right?" Trip tried. This should have been enough to set Malcolm off for a while, but, to Trip's mild astonishment, his friend just grunted and looked slightly chagrined. Trip made a mental note to ask Travis if he knew what that was about later. It could make for another relatively uncomplicated conversation, further forestalling unwanted inquiries into Trip's well-being.

"Think you'll get to see the Kreetassan warp drive?" Malcolm asked, abruptly.

Trip shovelled some more lasagne while summoning the will to fake enthusiasm. "Hope so. Should be real interesting..." His tone was well off what it should have been and Malcolm looked at him sceptically. Trip decided to just blow past it. "We're still about four days out. Think they'll be okay 'til we get there?"

Malcolm thought for a moment, twitching his spoon absently. "Hard to say when we don't know what's wrong. Ensign Sato didn't get anything else out of the distress signal. It's still being transmitted, but it's damn odd that they never acknowledged our response."

The 'Ensign Sato' caused Trip to inwardly cringe. This, again? Still? Dammit Malcolm, get over it already! Outwardly, he just chewed the lasagne, which had lost the little warmth it had previously and collapsed into a cheesy sludge.

Trip threw down his fork in distaste. "Beta shift needs better food. Maybe I'll get the Captain to have a word with chef about it. It's getting out of hand."

Malcolm nodded along. He did relatively regular beta shifts on the bridge and he had made similar comments to Trip in the past.

"You'd be better off with the cereal."

"Cereal is for breakfast." Trip began to calculate how long it would be before he could politely leave. He needed the sleep.

Jonathan Archer began the next day determined to maintain good temper, even if only by force of will. He smiled broadly at his officers as he strode onto the bridge, clutching a still-hot cup of coffee. It was right on the hour and the gamma shift bridge officers were handing over their stations to their replacements. Archer quickly ascertained from Sato and her predecessor that there had still been no additional contact from the Kreetassans overnight. Next he checked with a bleary-eyed Reed that there had been nothing else overnight he needed to know about. Reed shook his head, suppressing a small yawn. Archer suspected he had not slept between working alpha and gamma shifts yesterday and had therefore been awake for at least 24 hours. Sipping his coffee, Archer hoped Reed would get some sleep before working on anything explosive. He considered jokingly ordering him to bed, but, in Reed's typical mood of late, such a joke would be just as likely to propel him, bloody-mindedly, down to the Armory to recalibrate something-or-other instead.

Archer turned his attention to Travis Mayweather, who was amiably chatting to Fabrecia Boschmann about her first shift at the helm. The latter was enthusiastically expounding upon how intuitive she found the helm controls and Travis was nodding and smiling, apparently besotted. I suppose he's not technically her direct supervisor, thought Archer, resignedly. Archer actually had planned to put through a promotion for Travis as soon as he got through similar paperwork for Hoshi. He wondered if it might be better to hold off a few weeks. A pre-existing relationship started when Boschmann and Mayweather were both Ensigns would be easier to defensibly 'ignore' later on. Boschmann, showing no sign that she wanted to leave soon, stood looking over Travis's shoulder. Any handover of truly pertinent information had been long completed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw T'Pol slip into the science station and transfer the sensor display back from communications where it had been overnight. She was quite obviously late and Archer resisted the urge to glance in her direction so as not to draw attention to it.

He gave her a few minutes and then turned to speak to her as if she had been there all along. "Any change on long range sensors?" Archer thought that T'Pol's colour was a little better today, and she appeared better rested, although she was still painfully thin to his eyes.

"No change is apparent on standard scans, Captain. I would like to try a more detailed scan, however. The Kreetassans have not responded to our transmissions. Their situation may be deteriorating."

"Go ahead."

The lack of response from the Kreetassans was starting to concern Archer as well. It somehow made the repeating, garbled distress call seem more... sinister. His thoughts kept returning it. He realised he was reading the same paragraphs of the latest manifest over and over and put it down, resting the PADD on his now empty coffee mug and picking up some Kreetassan cultural information instead. He glanced over at Hoshi Sato. She was staring at one of her screens, her lips silently forming words. Archer suspected she was spending the time reviewing the Kreetassan language and tinkering with the UT matrix. Archer wondered idly if the Kreetassans would be so easily offended this time, when they were the ones needing help.

"Captain!"

T'Pol's sharp tone immediately caught his attention. He turned to her, questioningly.

"Preliminary scan results suggest there has been weapons-fire in the vicinity of the Kreetassan vessel."

There was a murmur of consternation across the bridge. Weapons fire on a putative ally barely more than a light year from Earth seemed unthinkable.

Archer battled his own sense of shock. "But... there are no other vessels in the area. Sensors would have detected them. Our sensors, the sensors on Neptune...!"

He looked questioningly at T'Pol who nodded in apparent agreement.

"I agree Captain. There is no evidence that there were ever any hostile vessels, or indeed any vessels in the vicinity of the Kreetassan transport, even prior to the distress signal."

"So they fired their own weapons? At… at nothing?"

T'Pol shrugged one shoulder slightly. "Unknown, Captain."

Archer strode over toward Hoshi, who was listening to the looping distress call, yet again, through her earpiece. He supposed it was to see if she could pick any reference to weapon fire or enemy ships from the static. He then glanced over to Wendall at Tactical. "Can you determine a likely weapon signature?"

It was too much to ask, really, on preliminary results on a scan at this distance, but Wendall looked like he hoped the floor would swallow him as he shook his head.

T'Pol rescued him. "Such an analysis would be far more likely to succeed on completed scans, Captain. We will have the results in two hours."

Wendall shot her a nakedly grateful look before lowering his eyes to his console, colour burning in his cheeks.

"They might have fired weapons to get our attention," suggested Mayweather, from the helm. Archer glanced over at him, noting with surprise to that Boschmann was still on the bridge, standing against a wall, eyes widened with alarm at the conversation. Archer gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and half nodded, half shrugged at Travis.

"Their distress signal is still being transmitted. Modulating its frequency would be a more typical way of attracting our attention," Hoshi said then, echoing Archer's own thoughts.

"Could be that they can't?" suggested Travis, at which Hoshi merely shrugged.

Archer's sense of foreboding had heightened enough that he hailed Engineering. Expecting Hess, he was pleased to instead hear Trip's voice answer. He succinctly explained the circumstances before asking if they could reach the Kreetassans more quickly.

There was a longer than usual pause before a reply. "Um sure... Warp 4.8 should be sustainable over this distance?"

Archer shot a glance at Mayweather, who murmured that this would save them about 20 hours. He couldn't help but note, with amusement, how impressed Boschmann was at Mayweather's top-of-his-head warp calculations. It would be second nature to her, as well, in a year.

"Take us up to Warp 4.8, Travis…" commanded Archer. Then, thinking with some apprehension about Trip's over-long pause added "...nice and easy."