Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Enterprise, plus all places and characters contained therein. The phrase "A Master Word" is borrowed from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books".

Chapter Two – Searching

Captain Archer spent much of the journey to Miphon in long discussions with his senior staff over the deuterium stores. How much they needed, storage facilities, what they could offer in trade, what price was reasonable… the talks went on and on, and by the time each day was done, Archer just wanted to forget about deuterium and everything associated with it. It was for this reason, as well as to give him some time to investigate 'Curion', that Archer allowed Trip and his boundless enthusiasm, along with Lieutenant Reed – the ultimate voice of caution and reason – to go down to Miphon's capital to obtain a shipment of the damn deuterium.

Three days hunting for something – anything – on the term 'Curion' brought Archer nothing but a headache and a stiff neck. With no luck on his own account, the Captain was forced to give up and let his remaining alpha staff in on his mystery. It had been a long three days, searching various sections of Enterprise's database in vain. Thinking he'd call in to Sickbay and get a mild analgesic for his throbbing head, the Captain left his Ready Room and strolled onto the Bridge.

"T'Pol?" The Vulcan looked up from her scans of the planet's surface. Irritation settled on her face at the interruption, but no sooner had the expression surfaced than it was gone. Momentarily, Archer marvelled at how attuned he was to her now, how he had spotted that instantaneous frown. A year ago he would have missed it completely.

"Captain." She prompted him after a moment.

"Ever heard the word 'Curion' before?" She seemed to think carefully, then replied to the negative. Archer looked over to his Communications Officer. "What about you, Hoshi?"

"I don't think so." She answered clearly, piqued both by the word and this new mystery.

"Search the lingual database, would you? T'Pol, could you search the star charts? And Travis, the engineering database. Vulcan and Starfleet."

"Something up sir?" Travis asked. The Captain frowned in his direction, but Travis knew his Captain well enough by now to know that the scowl was at whatever mystery Archer was trying to solve, not at Mayweather himself.

"Perhaps." Archer answered, adding an honest shrug. "Until I find out what Curion is, I won't know."

Rubbing his neck, still sore from leaning over his computer terminal for hours on end, Jon made his way to Sickbay for that much-needed painkiller. And maybe he could pick the Denobulan Doctor Phlox's brain while he was there too.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Trip grinned laconically as they entered the bar. Despite the ropey lighting and dank conditions of the hovel they were entering, if they had to wait around for their contact - who hadn't even given them a name - then this was the place to do it. He hadn't been in a bar in for months, and intended to enjoy himself. This one was thumping with life and music, there had to be nearly a hundred aliens in this one tiny room. But one look at his companion and Trip knew that having a good time while they were here was not going to be easy. At his side, Malcolm was frowning deeply, clearly on edge as he gazed round the musty room.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" The Englishman asked almost tentatively. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

"Look Malcolm," Trip answered slowly, as if talking to a less than intelligent cadet, "the guy told us to meet him here, an' meet him here we will."

"But he didn't even tell us his name!"

"It's a small planet!" Trip protested stoutly. "He prob'ly thought we already knew his name. It's no big deal."

"Hmmm." Reed uttered doubtfully. He had a funny feeling about that guy, and about this bar too. It felt like someone was watching him, but as he scanned the room quickly, nothing leapt out at him as dangerous. "And how many humans do you see on this planet?"

Trip raised his eyebrows at the Lieutenant and shrugged. He wasn't prepared to give up this chance to relax. True, it did strike him as a little odd, but his precious ship needed deuterium, and deuterium his was going to get. He ordered a couple of house drinks from a stumpy barman who looked vaguely human if you ignored the delicate layer of fur that covered the skin, before leaning against the bar and sighing. He trusted his own instincts, but then, he trusted Malcolm's too. And right now, the two were at odds.

Malcolm accepted his drink, sniffed it cautiously. It didn't smell of alcohol, but then, there was no knowing what the alcohol smelt like on this planet, or even if alcohol existed here… No, that was too much to think about right now. He sipped it carefully, not sure whether the stuff was going to be poisonous. It tasted strongly of blackcurrant, tangy but naturally sweet. Reed cocked his head slightly to Trip as a sign that the liquid was not unpleasant. But Malcolm could not relax, still plagued by the feeling that someone was watching him…

"Stop it, Mal." Trip ordered quietly. "Yer makin' me nervous."

"I can't help it." The Englishman protested, not looking at Trip. He took no pleasure in spoiling Trip's fun, but Malcolm was the type to always be on duty. He was the tactical officer after all, and the Engineer's safety was his responsibility.

"There ain't always gonna be some alien demon jumping out to kill us ya know." Tucker was saying when Malcolm tuned back in to his companion.

"I know that." Reed snapped, then sighed. "But sometimes there's suspicious characters about. Take the hooded character behind me for example." He had spotted the person on his last sweep of the bar.

"Hooded…" Trip allowed his eyes to drift up and over Malcolm's shoulder, stretching lazily for show. Malcolm was right, the person the Tactical Officer had referred to was stood leaning against one of the bar's grimy walls. The cloak he wore had a large hood that cast a vast shadow over the face, and was swathed about his body to hide any form of identifying features. The mud-coloured material ran right to the floor, distorting the character's height and making him look much more than his five feet ten tall. It could have been a member of Enterprise's crew under that thing and Trip would never have known, but even through the shadow, Tucker was aware of a pair of eyes boring into his.

Malcolm clunked his glass down onto the bar. Trip started, as if he'd been in some sort of daze, before taking a gulp of his own drink. "Now that you mention it, some of these characters do look kinda seedy." Trip shook his head before downing the rest of his drink. Malcolm quickly finished his too, using the action to take another covert visual sweep of the bar.

"More drinks?" An Andorian barman sidled up to them. Both humans nodded their assent, Trip using currency they'd picked up at the start of their mission to pay for them. As they sipped at the beverages, the two men chatted easily with the Andorian, levering him round to the regulars at the bar. Before ten minutes was up, they knew the genetic, health and criminal history behind a full half-dozen aliens in the bar.

"What about him?" Reed questioned the barman softly.

"Who?"

"Little brown riding hood over there." Trip prodded. "See much of him?"

"He's been around for a few weeks. Never speaks, just points out his drink and pays in currency. He's not your deuterium dealer, if that's want you want to know." The barman's antennae twitched confidently, as if he was pleased that he knew their business.

"No?" Trip accepted the information swiftly. It was a small city, in which news was always bound to travel fast, and two humans requesting deuterium were bound to stand out.

"No." The barman confirmed, moving to serve another customer. "Old Nota's another regular, and he's been in when that guy's in too."

The two humans waited for two and a half hours before 'Old Nota' finally turned up. The grey skinned alien, once he'd been plied with a few sly drinks, agreed to supply them with a thousand litres of deuterium for a quantity of medical and engineering supplies. Nota promised to deliver the deuterium to Enterprise the following morning before picking up his payment. It was all too easy.

"A job well done, I think." Trip raised his glass in self-toast, having just watched Nota stagger from the bar. Sat back in his chair, Trip allowed himself a moment of pure luxury. Malcolm raised his glass too.

"Not bad." He agreed half-heartedly. Upright and still alert, Malcolm wasn't prepared to give himself a break. Something still wasn't right. Reed noticed Trip frowning at him, and the Lieutenant shrugged when his Tucker asked him if he was still spooked. Looking round the room, both humans noted that their hooded figure had vanished. Trip prompted Malcolm again, obviously expecting an answer. "I'm fine. I suppose we should get back to Enterprise."

"Yer probably right." Trip agreed grudgingly.

He pushed his own drink aside. This one was too sour for his taste anyway. The two men glanced furtively around the bar again, but it had quietened down now. The barkeeper hailed them with a hand, silently asking if they wanted more drinks, and Reed shook his head, standing. He turned towards the exit – only to find his path blocked by the hooded figure they thought had left. He looked down on Reed, face still masked in shadow.

"Leaving so soon Malcolm?"