Point Of Concentration, I.E. Singularity
('I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a hand-saw . . .' Hamlet, Act two, Scene two.)
That morning Malcolm Reed, lieutenant and in charge of the Armory aboard the Enterprise and head of Security, officially 'awoke' after an unrestful night trying to sleep. While 'unintended wakefulness' i.e. not sleeping, was not that unusual, the reason was; it could be guaranteed on occasion that the man would 'fret' about seemly unimportant topics (a habit it would take years to rid himself of), but this past night – well, Malcolm worried about something that was done . . .
Done, because the previous day – as was part of his function aboard the ship – the lieutenant had sent sub-Commander T'Pol, a packet containing a proposal regarding enhanced security protocols for the Enterprise, which suggested various upgrades to allow more efficient and quicker response to threats endangering both the crew and vessel. A proposal that he had written (he hoped) in the best manner possible, utilizing not only his security training, but also the rhetorical skills gleaned from his university courses taken previous to entering Starfleet Academy.
(Whist many would deem a liberal arts degree of little use to armory or security personnel, Malcolm knew, would the need arise, that he was the best, and the highest ranking officer aboard the Enterprise to discuss 'human culture' to any alien contact. He shuddered at the thought of Commander Tucker explaining Frankenstein's monster and body parts . . . that could set back peaceful discourse for a very long time and possibly lead to conflict. Ghoulish humans using body parts didn't exactly engender trust. Ugh.)
Normally, once something was 'done, and gone', Reed was able to ignore what he had worked on until the need arose to address 'whatever'. Not this time. Although he had spent some time crafting his suggestions, with an eye to appealing to Captain Archer's sensibilities – Malcolm was feeling unease that perhaps the captain might think his ideas excessive and not worthwhile. It seemed to him that non-security personnel just didn't understand how critical the safety and security of the crew was, not to mention how monumentally expensive this (so far) 'one-off' ship of Starfleet's must be.
('Results must justify expenditure,' was his father, Stuart Reed's mantra – if not said directly to young Malcolm – then exhibited by actions and deeds. Contemplative thought, the currency of the lieutenant's mind, held little value to the elder Reed. As a result neither Reed ever understood each other. And the adult Malcolm Reed always felt the necessity of proving his worth.)
It was this thought that began the night of unrest for the lieutenant and by the time he normally would be up and reviewing his plans for the Armory for the shift, he was still unsettled, and not terribly awake. The next few days would give him the opportunity to run tests on some of the weapon simulations in the Armory, and perhaps conduct some training. Apparently, Astrophysics had discovered a trinary star system containing a black hole, and the Enterprise had been tasked to investigate the unusual configuration. This would be a good opportunity to focus his attention on Armory matters.
(Although as a member of Starfleet, Malcolm had taken the obligatory courses in Astronomy, his interest was not focused in that discipline. Rather, any regard for 'the stars in their heavens' was from his love of classical literature, and the training he got from his father in ship navigation. He never claimed to be 'all things to all people', unlike some people.)
Reed left his quarters and headed for the Mess Hall to hopefully 'jump start' his day with some strong coffee. He immediately headed for the drinks dispenser and requested a double shot of espresso, then opened the cabinet that held the selections for the breakfast shift. Malcolm perked up when he saw a plate labeled 'Reed' – it was so kind of the chef to cater to his favorites, including black pudding – a type of blood pudding favored for a good English breakfast. It was surely a favorable sign for the day; the Brit wanted to thank the Chef directly but he didn't seem to be available.
Malcolm spotted Commander Tucker sitting at a table in the Mess – which was unusual given that the chief engineer most often sat with the captain for breakfast and other meals in the private dining area, a small room where Archer ate meals with the most senior officers – the other being sub-Commander T'Pol. He decided to 'invite himself' to sit with the man, as a gesture of friendship. It was second nature for him to consider such matters, and particularly this morning when everything felt tentative at best . . .
Gliding up stealthily, he hoped to surprise his friend as Trip sat occupied, clearly engrossed with reading something on a PADD. Didn't even disrupt/faze the commander in the least, Reed noted with a combination of irritation and a bit of humor. "Good morning, commander," he said with what he hoped was a confident voice. "Unusual to see you sitting out here in the 'common area'. Hope you noticed we don't bite." This comment delivered in a sarcastic tone of voice, only received a bland, "Morning, Malcolm," in response.
Malcolm sat for a minute studying Trip as he rudely stared at some information displayed on the PADD screen laid out in front of the engineer. ('Well,' thought Reed,' I was raised better to at least be courteous!') The Brit had good eyesight and was able to see that the object that the chief engineer was occupied with seemed to be what looked like – a chair – specifically the command position on the Bridge.
"Have we decided to do some 'scut work'? One would think that there is something more important to occupy the chief engineer's time, sir." The last was spoken with an ill-concealed sneer. That did get Trip Tucker's attention, "I'm working on a project for the capt'n, Malcolm." Reed ingested/inhaled his black pudding then stood up abruptly, "Fine – I have some actual work to do!" And he left the Mess Hall, making a concerted effort to calm down. Tucker barely noticed he was gone.
By the time he had gotten to the Armory, Malcolm regained control. Here was his area – his 'kingdom'. Entered and was gratified to see how focused everyone was at their tasks. He really did have the finest staff in all of Starfleet – even better he wagered than those poor sods in the Royal Navy stuck in their ocean . . .
(Now it might be noted that the people under Malcolm's command – were just a little too focused this day – not to mention that 'all the Armory staff, including the night shift who should have been in bed' had decided to stay into the day shift to make sure that the armaments and the Armory in general were in 'tip-top' shape. This included making sure that everything was perfectly aligned, dusted, and polished. Gleaming phase rifles and pistols. Vacuuming possible dust motes, particles from the torpedo tubes. Testing and retesting components on manual and automatic modes.)
Malcolm was in the process of speaking with one of his staff who was running a simulation of previous encounter with a hostile species – speaking about 'Target Discriminators', when Captain Jonathan Archer walked through the door. Since the senior officer rarely entered the Armory, this was unexpected and just a little perturbing . . . even though he had asked the captain about the tactical alert procedure.
He greeted the captain with what he hoped was appropriate decorum – "I would have come to you, sir". Archer replied, taking in how task-oriented the armory crew seemed to be. Malcolm started discussing the various situations that the Enterprise had encountered and why the new protocol would be an advantage. Archer wanted to let the lieutenant know that he had read the man's security protocol proposal and had found some good ideas worthy of discussion. This comment pleased Malcolm no end, and he was only a little dismayed when the American (with 'everyone is possibly a friend' attitude) made the statement that the emergency state of readiness part of his proposal was not to be called 'Battle Stations'.
A good leader knows when his troops should get sustenance and Lieutenant Reed was no exception – he began to send rotations of his armory/security personnel off for meals in shifts to the Mess Hall; Soon they returned reporting that Chef was ill, but that Ensign Hoshi Sato was making some kind of Japanese meal that was very good.
The armory staff was pretty much done polishing and had begun to access the various parts of the weapons arrays in order to check for needed maintenance, whilst the security officers had been diligently working on the small arms. Soon they would be tasked to go to the critical areas of the ship to report on security preparedness. Too bad the admirals and top brass of Starfleet were so far away because he would show them what true efficiency was . . . but no matter – as soon as everyone else had gotten 'refreshed', Malcolm decided to go to the Mess Hall again. (By this time he was quite hungry, literally only having a bit of black pudding for his first meal of the day.)
(Since his breakfast had gotten truncated, Malcolm had all the intentions of having a good portion of 'Hoshi's meal', having rarely the opportunity to eat true Asian food. (As good as Chef was, his main expertise was in Western-style dishes except for some pseudo-Chinese dishes of dubious authenticity.) Malcolm's parents had moved to Malaysia on a semi-permanent basis when he started secondary school – boarding at the Academy – a preparatory favored by Royal Naval candidates (though their emphasis had switched to more the sons of 'captains of industry and government'. Even a traditional institution could see the change in society, though not Stuart Reed . . .) )
As Malcolm entered the Mess Hall he was struck by the number of people seemingly enjoying Ensign Sato's meal; he opened up the cabinet and picked up one of the already prepared dishes and headed for an open seat at a table. He spotted the chief engineer sitting by himself, engrossed in working on a PADD; as he himself had brought a PADD to work on containing his security proposal, Malcolm thought that the two of them would not mind sharing a table. When Trip got involved in an engineering problem, he could be guaranteed to not be a too bothersome 'luncheon companion'. The security chief placed his dishes on the table, next to his PADD. Then he took a taste of the meal, it looked to be oden – a type of Japanese 'hot pot' – which varied according to the taste of the cook.
' A hard-boiled egg lay in the bowl, reminding him – his mum had only a couple ways of making eggs and hard-boiled eggs was one of them – her scotch eggs were always dry . . .' Malcolm took a sip of the broth, seasoned with ingredients and his taste buds did not encourage him to quickly eat the spicy dish. (In all fairness, Reed had been a bit 'under the weather' with his lack of sleep and a persistent headache, and had a breakfast that was both strong tasting and salty . . . what he really needed was a bland meal – but he was focused on his work and didn't notice much.)
It became quickly apparent that Trip was still working on the entirely frivolous 'captain's chair' – 'What was the man thinking, that the Captain would be needing a place to sit 'sipping a beverage' whilst an emergency was occurring, endangering the safety of the ship!' Malcolm was usually circumspect in his regard for the importance of his duty on the Enterprise; someone had to be entirely non-intelligent not to understand that defensive (and offensive) capabilities were vital to the survival of the crew, the ship, the mission – and indeed even that of Earth. Normally he would observe proper decorum and not complain to senior officers, even if they were 'friends'.
(In this Malcolm Reed was much like his father – like any other responsible armory officer in any other armed forces – or any other protective person with 'charges' to keep mind of . . . safety was paramount, perhaps aggressively implemented with good intention. Who could find fault with that! For Malcolm this 'mission' was soul-affirming, the rationale for life itself.)
As the armory officer expressed his disregard for this blatant frivolity, "It's a chair!" Commander Tucker came back, stating, "It's the captain's chair!" and made the snarky comment that the tactical alert that Malcolm was working on was a 'Reed alert'. This caused the Englishman to pause in his thoughts for just a bit – 'Reed alert' – he considered the idea for the barest moment, dismissing the notion, but it lay dormant, engendering some further, to be ideas . . .
As he worked on the PADD, he noticed Ensign Sato asking how Trip and he liked the meal. Apparently the commander had had a hearty appetite and had eaten a quantity of her dish. On the other hand, it was obvious that he had not eaten much, Hoshi stated as such and was asking if he wanted a fresh portion, since his had 'gone cold'. Rather bluntly, Malcolm expressed the opinion that the oden was 'a bit salty'. (Normally, the tactical expert would have said that the meal was 'fine' and most likely would have eaten at least some of the dish, as he wouldn't have wanted to offend Hoshi, especially as she was a subordinate.) When she said that 'it tasted fine', Reed was put in the position of having to admit that it was probably his fault . . . He didn't think about this this 'faux pas' for very long as his attention was again drawn to the tactical alert procedure, and he (and Commander Tucker) left the Mess Hall heading in different directions.
Reed headed back to the Armory; some of his Armory staff had been in discussion with the Engineering Department and had retrieved additional equipment to check the specifications of the torpedo tube assemblies. This occupied the Armory Chief's mind for some time, but then his attention was drawn back to the practicalities of making sure that the security of the ship both internal and external was up to the challenges inherent in space travel. The sheer vastness of the universe was daunting.
(Humans had only been 'exposed' to a few of the beings and planets of the Alpha quadrant. Sometimes Malcolm Reed felt like the most insignificant being – the very idea that a biological organism such as himself deigned to venture out into the coldness of space . . . yet, at the same time he was filled with pride – was he not like the explorers of old – in the tradition of Cook who was mostly contemporaneous with Nelson. That they had both come to 'unfortunate ends' – well accidents happen because one does not prepare properly . . . and this particular day, he felt just a bit like he could do anything and Malcolm felt he had to 'save' the Enterprise, and the crew aboard her. To paraphrase a book from over a hundred years previously that told of the early years of space flight – Reed felt like he had 'The Right Stuff', and he would ensure safety whether anyone else paid attention or not . . .)
It was with this attitude in mind, and remembering the lessons hard won in past engagements both in space and on earth, Malcolm considered that some hostile group could take control of the ship for their own purposes, and cause horrific damage. It was paramount in his mind, heart and soul that humans would not be the instruments of destruction under the control of some alien power. As a lieutenant, Malcolm didn't have the authority to order the engine room to go into 'lock down mode'; but just maybe if he presented the idea as a work in progress, he could engage the help of Commander Tucker.
'He must surely done with that idiotic 'chair project'', thought Malcolm as he strode through the corridors to the Engine room. Reed had spotted several of the ship's engineers apparently working on the Enterprise's 'tween spaces', entering through hatches located at critical junctions. This was worrisome – anyone could gain access . . . something to consider . . .
Reed entered the engineering compartment in a determined mood – there were things to be done . . . (he always felt better with goals in mind.) Spotting Trip by 'the lift', which he always thought was a bit of a 'horrid design' Malcolm attempted to give the man a copy of his improved security protocols. And he ventured that in the event of an emergency a shutdown procedure should be in place for the EPS grid. (Reed was prepared to expand on the notion once the commander acknowledged his idea.)
Commander Tucker, though, was totally ignoring the British officer; he missed the motion of Reed reaching for the com system button. He seemed to be still involved in his 'pet project' of improving Captain Archer's chair. (In the back of his mind, Malcolm wondered if Trip was trying to 'kiss up' to his fellow American for some reason.) The lieutenant had 'pre-loaded' a selection of alert tones for his commanding officers to consider as part of his security upgrades. He reached for the appropriate buttons and was 'rewarded' with a loud alert tone in the Engineering compartment; the sound in such a small area was deafening . . .
(At this point it might be worthwhile noting that Malcolm considered 'his fellow countrymen' (himself included) as experts in the field of 'alert tones'. These sounds, designed to 'grab one's attention' had been propagated for civil defense use as well as militarily by the British during the world wars. Malcolm had used the attention-getting alert tones that were familiar to the mostly American crew from popular films. That one of them was a direct import from 'submarine-naval adventures' was of course, a co-incidence . . . Reed's great-uncle not withstanding . . .)
Tucker had other ideas – and not only did he refuse to help Reed in his important task of insuring the safety of the ship, but he called the alert tones selected, 'sounding like 'a bag full o' cats'' and demanded that Malcolm 'have one of his boys (as if they were children) return a borrowed micrometer.' This total disregard for any kind of discipline infuriated the security chief beyond all reason, and he felt like he wanted to strangle a certain Southern American engineer. It was only with great difficulty did he get his anger under control, and entering the Armory he was not terribly displeased to find it mostly deserted – most of the armory and security staff having dispersed themselves throughout the vessel either working on systems outside the armory or else guarding (self-initiated) important areas in the ship.
It was at this point that an important addition to his security protocol occurred to Lieutenant Reed – as a result of seeing how easy it was for entry to vital ship's systems and critical areas – and as a general uneasiness toward possible intruders who had in the past 'pretended' to be human – he decided to issue security codes to all officers and enlisted personnel allowed to access restricted areas. Malcolm sent the individual codes to the computer work stations of those involved as the security at those stations was of a higher level than in their quarters. He then worked on implementing a drill that would provide both needed practice, and would show 'the powers that be' that security was of utmost importance in safe-guarding this most precious of symbols testifying to Earth's presence in the universe.
Several hours past and Malcolm Reed was engrossed in preparing for the pending drill. His mood had darkened considerably as he considered the security concerns inherent in his position; his former superior Harris might have had a point in his disdain for the niceties of civil discourse and constitutional regards. Perhaps he could bring to bear some of the concerns of Section 31 to the less observant admirals of Starfleet – after all he had experience in the lax security as evidenced in many alien cultures.
This introspection was interrupted by the entry of someone – sub-Commander T'Pol by sound – entering the Armory. The Brit asked for her security code and was dismayed when she told him that she had been working in her quarters, thus not having seen his missive that was sent to her science station. (What I have to put up with!) She then asked if he had observed odd behavior on the part of Commander Tucker . . . (Am I his mother?) It was when the Vulcan inquired about his side arm, that Malcolm finally became 'interested' in her speech. (He barely remembered grabbing said sidearm, and had instituted an order for 'his staff' to carry them whilst 'on duty'.)
Passionately he spoke of securing the vital areas of the Enterprise – with so much 'vigor' that he totally missed T'Pol's surprise (if one could say that of a Vulcan) – and dismay regarding his behavior. (As one of the most professional crew aboard the Enterprise, this atypical behavior from Malcolm Reed was most distressing.) He barely noticed her leaving the area, and he continued to prepare for his drill.
Even more time passed – Reed entered the bridge and found it unacceptably lacking in crew . . . a couple of crew were flitting around – but none of the senior staff – by God, this drill was definitely needed and necessary! Reed entered the proper codes to begin the drill. Part of the response was for the responding crew to input a code when they arrived at their emergency stations so as to ascertain the time. This would prove the worth of such a procedure and Malcolm had no doubt that improvement was to be had.
Captain Archer was too permissive a commander and discipline was needed to give a sense of purpose to their mission. As the officer in charge of security, Reed knew that he was just the person to implement any needed changes - he thought of the other senior officers as being compromised in various ways. Sub-Commander T'Pol was 'too alien' and Commander Tucker – 'How did he ever become an officer!' This drill would prove the ship's command compromised and his worth to the command back at Starfleet Headquarters. Perhaps he would be given leave to 'whip this crew into proper shape' as befitted the premier vessel of Starfleet. As the time since the alert sound proceeded, Reed became more and more convinced that it was needed.
Archer burst onto the Bridge and demanded to know what was going on, and Reed informed him that he was conducting a drill, which caused the captain to protest that he didn't know about the drill. (Reed had found the slowness of the response to be totally unacceptable – much as the lack of staff on the Bridge itself – unprofessional in the extreme!) He made the comment (surely it was obvious!) that it wouldn't be much of a drill if everyone knew about it!
What Archer's response to this 'reasonable observation' would not be known as the irresponsible engineer Tucker burst onto the Bridge from the lift. He totally ignored Malcolm's notation of his late arrival, and distracted the captain with his inane discussion of that 'Captain's Chair'. Reed objected to this insanity . . . (He must think me a fool!) And a physical altercation erupted – Tucker pushed Reed up against the bulkhead.
In retrospect it was a 'good thing' that Archer pulled the chief engineer off – Malcolm Reed was losing his temper – not in his usual, controlled manner, but rather in an odd, furious, maddened way . . . it took all of his remaining memory (though not any respect) to remember that Archer was his superior officer . . . and that only after Archer himself slammed him against the bulkhead too . . . Malcolm sneered at Tucker; things would not end here!
Leaving everyone on the Bridge, Malcolm exited by way of the 'tween-space' hatch . . . it was imperative that he get to the armory . . . who knew what any of these bloody bastards were going to do, maybe even take over the ship and use the weapons in his armory! (It was there that Reed 'passed-out' as did most of the crew on the ship, occupied in their various tasks . . .)
OOOOO
The moment of awakening for Malcolm was not good – his mind 'un-fogged' – and he lay for just a moment, flat on his back, piecing together disturbing memories; despite stiffness in his muscles, he raced for the small loo in the armory and got sick. The responsibility of being the officer in charge of the Armory and Security for the Enterprise – he had abrogated that solemn and severe duty in the most vile way possible.
For the nonce, he was still an officer aboard the Enterprise, though any moment Archer would surely call him to the Ready Room, and cashier his sorry arse. (There were 'secret stories' – barely mentioned in his family – of ancestors who committed offenses against 'king and country'. In Malcolm's mind this was far worse – these were his shipmates, and he had done things to imperil their safety. And he had attacked Trip, who might have been a bit of a doofus, focused as he was on that silly 'captain's chair', but his strange behavior was nothing compared to control of the ship's weapons. Losing his commission was the least that he deserved.)
But first however, he tracked down all his staff – the security and armory staff – their well-being was paramount – many of them contacted the armory, assuming correctly that this would be the place where their 'insane' superior would be located. (He spent some time reassuring his 'wayward flock' that they were not at fault for their obsessions – indeed most were trying to make the ship as secure as possible, not ignoble in the least. He had been apparently the only crew member to have attacked anyone – and it had to have been Trip . . . his best friend aboard the Enterprise. Shameful.)
Next he removed the modifications to the ship's defensive systems that 'Mad Malcolm' had added – easy enough as the ship was currently 'dead in the water' – not moving, but he kept an alert eye for any incoming craft or threats all the same. (The thought kept running though his head – my father will say 'that even in such miserable excuse for a service as Starfleet', I am a failure.' Reed felt that anything said would be justified.)
Reed was standing at the main view screen in the Armory trying to detangle the hair-trigger he had put on the phaser assembly, when he heard a familiar voice call out, "Mal, I just thought I'd come by to apologize . . . of all the things that I got involved in . . . the captain's chair . . . that was just plain stupid." Trip was standing awkwardly, obviously expecting some unhappy retort from the Englishman. "Trip, what you were doing was mostly harmless, what I was doing was dangerous . . .", Malcolm sighed. Anything else they might have said was halted by a request from the captain for Lieutenant Reed to come to the Ready Room. "Oh, God. Time to face the music . . ." muttered Malcolm, with a distressed look at Trip. He walked out of the Armory with the attitude of a man going to his doom. Trip frowned for a moment then, with a kernel of an idea followed out the hatch. 'Maybe he could help . . .'
Malcolm made sure he was presentable as he entered the small room where he was sure that his career in Starfleet would end. He'd faced rejection before – most often not of his own doing – but whether it was justified or not, there was something to be said for facing the worst with a sense of honor (and humility). The captain was not obviously 'in official form', and only mentioned casually the modifications to the defensive systems.
Reed responded that he had 'removed' the changes, and was frankly surprised when Archer told him that it was his modifications that 'saved the ship', and that he wanted most of them to be brought 'on line'. Except for the notification sound – and Malcolm had to agree, the alarm he had chosen was 'a bit much . . .' The two officers walked back out to the main Bridge area to discover Commander Tucker had replaced the original command chair – i.e. 'the Captain's Chair'.
Archer expressed surprise – the seat which Trip Tucker had sworn was 'ancient in design and function' was back in its 'pride of place'. Malcolm Reed sat at the tactical station wondering what the commander 'had up his sleeve' – would he say that he had done nothing when Archer had directly asked him to fix the problem of the man sliding out of the seat and it being uncomfortable?
Instead, Trip insisted that Archer sit in the chair, and when the captain did so, Archer expressed surprise. 'What did you do? – It feels better', was the response. Trip explained that he had lowered the thing by just a bit – and clearly both men were on good terms once again. (Malcolm let a warm expression bloom on his face – kindness was infectious apparently, but he could see that both were pushing things just a little too much.)
As Trip entered the lift he gave a 'thumbs up' – an expression used only in the context of the negation of 'thumbs down' – and never by any Roman. But these Americans didn't know that, and Malcolm Reed wasn't going to tell them . . . The captain immediately jumped out of the chair when the lift doors closed and headed over to talk to T'Pol at the Science Station . . . And things were back to normal once again.
OOOOO
A.N. I will be going 'off line' for a few days – as such I apologize for slow response to any reviews. My ISP has decided to go 'out of business' and I have to find a new one . . . idiotic!