Author's notes: So I've been busy with other projects lately and haven't written much for here. I started this in between some of my writing for VS6.
The transporter readings kept fluctuating. No matter how Malcolm tried to refine the signal, it wouldn't fully lock on to the test object. He was glad he was alone in the transporter alcove. It wouldn't do to have any of the crew see how frustrated this was making him. He was about ready to kick the console. It wouldn't help the transporter, but it would make him feel better.
"I'm going to adjust the shield harmonics again," he said loudly enough for the open comm channel to pick up.
"Yeah, something's not working right," came Trip's reply over the comm. "Every time the beam density changes, the power consumption jumps like crazy."
Malcolm allowed himself a half smile as he shut down the transporter. "Are you sure it's not something on your end?"
"Oh, for pity sake, Malcolm!" Trip said. "It was your idea to try putting an EM barrier field with a transporter beam and see what you'd get. All I'm doing is making sure you got the power to do it. I'm sure once you get the fine-tuning taken care of, it'll work just fine."
Malcolm raised an eyebrow as he manipulated some of the controls. It was nice to know the chief engineer thought his idea would work. A force field around a transporter signal would -- theoretically -- insure that matter in the stream wouldn't dissipate if it encountered an unexpected obstruction. Even better, nothing else could break into the stream and disrupt its integrity. At the moment, they were testing the concept on empty cargo containers which they'd transported out into space. If it worked, Malcolm could envision his refinement to the system being a boon to transporting people on a daily basis. The crew had gotten to the point where they used the transporter to send and retrieve people as well as things without too much worry, but there were still risks involved, and it wasn't a common practice, even on Enterprise.
"All right," he said, entering one last command, "I'm ready to try it again." He keyed in the sequence to start the process. He watched in satisfaction as the readings held steady and the indicator lit that meant the beam had locked on to the object to be brought on board. This time it might just work.
A sudden spike in the energy flow coincided with an exclamation over the open comm link. "Something's wrong!" Trip said. "It's drawing more power than it should!"
Malcolm's gaze darted across the indicators. Everything seemed to be fine except the mass of the object in transit. They'd used an empty cargo container about the size of a suitcase, but the reading was showing something bigger.
"I think we picked up something along with our target," Malcolm said, shifting his gaze to the platform where the first outline of the object was beginning to form.
"What?" asked Trip. "There shouldn't have been any debris floating around out there. We made sure the area was clear."
Malcolm, watching the platform as the sparkling effect of the transporter beam solidified, didn't respond. He could detect the shape of the cargo container, but there was something else there, too. If he didn't know better, he'd swear they'd just transported a person on board. But that couldn't be. No one could survive in the vacuum of space without proper gear.
His jaw dropped as, contrary to what he knew was impossible, a person took form on the platform. It was a man dressed in some sort of camoflauge clothing and holding a rifle. Malcolm was leaning toward the comm, intent on calling for security backup, when the transport process finished and he got a good look at the man's face. He froze in disbelief.
The man on the platform aimed the rifle at him and fired.
Major Malcolm Reed lowered his rifle. Bloody hell! What had gotten bulloxed up this time? This place didn't look like the ISS Enterprise transporter room. He never had trusted that sorry excuse of an engineer, no matter what Archer thought of him, and look what Tucker had done now.
Stepping down from the platform, he wondered if this was another of the captain's tests. He wouldn't put it past the man. Always pushing the crew, seeing who could handle the pressure and who would break. He would have thought that by now Archer would know he wasn't the breaking type. There's was nothing to do but go along with this stupid little charade and show his captain he could take it.
It was a nice touch to have the transporter operator look like him, he had to admit. He'd almost hesitated as he'd marveled at the resemblance. He didn't bother to go over to where the doppleganger had fallen after being shot and turn him on his back to look at his face. That would only eat up precious seconds he could use to prepare for whatever was coming next. The captain's tests rarely included only one challenge.
Holding the rifle in a ready position, he glanced around the area. He noted differences, including the fact that he'd never seen a uniform like the one the transporter operator was wearing. The color scheme in the room was slightly lighter. And the area wasn't secure -- the door had been removed and some sort of archway had been installed. He could see right out into the corridor.
Of course, they wouldn't have been able to make too many changes in the two hours he'd been on the planet, but it was enough to tell him that, indeed, this was a test. There was too great a chance that if he wasn't aware it was a test of his abilities and not a real threat, he might go so far as to permanently take down anyone pitted against him -- including the captain. The thought brought a smirk to his face. Wouldn't it serve the sadistic bastard right if one of his little tests backfired on him?
He checked the transporter controls. If the information on the main panel's screen was correct, he appeared to be where he was supposed to be. He shook his head. It was a little much to expect they'd actually set up an entire new location for an exercise like this. More likely it was a redressing of the existing transporter room.
His head jerked toward the comm panel as a familiar yet despised voice called his name.
"Malcolm? What's goin' on in there? Malcolm, you okay?"
That was just too much. Archer must have put that arrogant bastard up to acting like he was actually concerned about his welfare. As he lifted the rifle, Reed smirked again. He'd much rather be doing this to Tucker in person, but he'd take what satisfaction he could get.
His finger squeezed the trigger, sending a lance of energy into the comm panel. He was admiring the sparks and crackles of his handiwork when he was struck squarely in the back by another lance of phased energy.
Captain Jonathan Archer was standing between the ends of two biobeds. He'd look at the unconscious occupant in the bed to his right, then shift his gaze to the one on the left. Invariably, after a few moments, his focus would go back to the first bed. How long he would have stood there doing that if Doctor Phlox hadn't said something, he didn't know.
"Uncanny how much they resemble each other," Phlox remarked.
"I can't tell any difference, other than..." Jon's voice trailed off as he gestured toward the man's head.
"Ah, yes," Phlox said. "Well, in addition to the different hair style, he also has a small scar above his lip on the left side. Lieutenant Reed doesn't."
As Phlox puttered around checking his patients' vital signs, Jon resumed his inspection of their unexpected visitor. He was wearing some sort of military uniform similar to what the MACOs wore. What wasn't camoflauge was dark-colored, with plenty of loops on the belt for weapons and tools. In addition to some insignia, the significance of which Jon didn't understand, there was a stenciled name on one shoulder. Right name, wrong rank, and definitely the wrong service branch, he mused.
Until the man who looked like Malcolm Reed woke up, they wouldn't get any answers. As far as Jon was concerned, their unexpected visitor was an intruder and would be treated as such. He'd instructed Phlox to utilize the biobed's restraints. It was a wise precaution considering security had taken a small arsenal of weapons off the man after stunning him in the transporter alcove.
The occupant of the second bed stirred. "Sir?"
Jon took a step closer to his groggy tactical officer and put a reassuring smile on his face. "Malcolm," he said. "What did you do to the transporter?"
"Sir?"
Jon took in Malcolm's confused expression and dropped his attempt at humor. "Never mind," he said. "What happened?"
"I could have sworn--" Malcolm's voice broke off as, glancing around sickbay, his gaze found the man on the other biobed. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the bed so tightly that his knuckles went white. Jon put out a hand to steady him.
Malcolm drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. His gaze on the other man, he said, "The transporter did pull him in. I thought I'd imagined it. How is that possible?"
"Trip and T'Pol are going over the transporter logs and other data," Jon told him. "Maybe they'll find something."
Malcolm shook his head, and Jon realized Malcolm was having trouble taking his eyes off his likeness. "I don't know what happened, sir. All I do know is that he" -- Malcolm nodded toward the other man -- "wasn't in the target area when the transporter locked on to the cargo container. It wasn't until Trip reported a jump in power consumption that additional mass registered in the stream."
"I'll pass that information along to Trip and T'Pol," Jon said.
At last tearing his gaze away to look at Jon, Malcolm said, "I should be helping them." He made to slip off the bed, but was stopped by Phlox, who had been prepared for this contingency.
"No, you don't, Lieutenant," the doctor ordered as he bustled up and forced Malcolm to remain on the bed. "You've been stunned by a phase rifle and I need to make sure there are no residual effects before you can leave sickbay.
"But--"
"Besides, I need you here as a baseline to run comparisons with him," Phlox insisted with a wave of his hand in the direction of the other biobed.
Malcolm frowned, not understanding what Phlox was getting at. "He's just surgically altered to look like me, isn't he? I mean, it's got to be some kind of sabotage attempt."
Jon arched an eyebrow at Malcolm's comment. The thought that the look-alike was here to cause trouble had crossed his mind. He was only surprised it had taken Malcolm more than a minute after regaining consciousness to voice that suspicion.
"I don't know about that, Lieutenant," Phlox said, moving over to the still unconscious man and preparing to draw a blood sample, "but initial tests I ran indicate that, except for a few exterior -- one might say cosmetic -- differences, you and this man are the same person."