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Chapter 2. Archer

He waited till the room was empty but for the two of them.

Malcolm couldn't be said to be sitting straighter in his chair, since he'd been sitting bolt upright in it since the start of the briefing. Archer noted, however, that his hands, which had been lightly clasped on the table in front of him, were now out of view. By the angle of his arms they were now resting on his thighs, as close as he could get to sitting to attention.

Uncomfortable with such a display of extreme formality that seemed somehow – whether deliberately or not – to constitute a barrier, the captain stood up and moved to the window. The lieutenant did not turn with him, but waited silently.

"Malcolm, I don't have to tell you how important this mission is. To Starfleet, perhaps to Earth itself. But I don't like having to ask you to do this."

"You're asking me to do my job, sir." How inexpressive Reed could sound when he chose. There were no clues as to what he actually felt.

"I'm not sure something like this comes within the usual remit."

"With respect, sir, I don't see how it could do anything else. If war does break out, Enterprise will be in the front line. If I can do anything to strengthen our position, that comes under the heading of ensuring the safety of the ship and her crew. And that – first and foremost – is my job." The years of training had imposed on the lieutenant a discipline that could sometimes seem almost Vulcan in its inflexibility, but a hint of passion showed under the words now. "If I'm willing to take the risk – and I am willing, more than willing – then there's nobody better qualified than me to cope in that situation." After a tiny pause, he turned in the chair and met his captain's eyes squarely. "But this isn't about my willingness, or my qualifications. Is it, sir?"

Archer exhaled silently. "Not entirely. No."

"I did what I had to then. I promised you it was over. Don't you accept my word?"

"I accepted your word when you signed on under my command. I accepted you as one of my officers, answerable to me. Only to me." There was still more resentment there than he'd realized, and almost against his will it spilled over. "But when push came to shove, you didn't trust me. You followed someone else's orders. Then you looked me straight in the eye and lied about it."

"You think I'd do something like that again? Ever?"

As his lieutenant came to his feet Archer glimpsed what looked like genuine anguish and anger in the grey eyes. In any other member of his crew, that expression would have been enough to fill him with remorse for his suspicions. In this man, however, there were too many shadows, too many unanswered questions, too many years that couldn't be accounted for.

"The honest truth? I don't know." He spoke flatly. There. It was out in the open, where it could be dealt with. If that was possible.

Reed stopped, one hand resting on the back of his chair. He'd gone rather white, but there was no real surprise in his gaze. "So you're sending me because you have no choice."

"Yes," said the captain, making no effort to soften the truth. He thought about adding 'I'm sorry,' but the statement would have been meaningless and, worse, insulting.

The lieutenant blinked slowly, once. He didn't move in any other physical way, but his thoughts had plainly turned inwards. After a moment he asked, "Is this a final verdict, sir?"

"I don't know," Archer repeated, a little wearily. "I guess it depends."

"'Once a traitor, always a traitor,' eh, sir?" The depth of bitterness surprised him. "It's really not that simple, you know."

"It is from where I'm sitting."

"Perhaps I've sat in different chairs." A lot less comfortable ones, his tone suggested. "For what it's worth, sir, I've always tried to be loyal. Whether you believe it or not, that's my nature. When the Klingons took Phlox, there was – a conflict. I didn't deal with it well; I regret what I did, but at the time it seemed the best thing to do. Harris promised me that what he asked me to do would save thousands of lives, as well as Phlox's, and ultimately benefit Starfleet. He doesn't know you like I do, sir; he doesn't trust anybody. I tried to persuade him to let me tell you, but he wouldn't. And – I was a Section 31 operative before I joined the Enterprise. I owed loyalty there too, however much I wished things otherwise."

"More than you owed to me."

"Not more, sir. Just – older." The eyes were now filled with a pain that was perilously convincing. "I owed him. He could have blocked my application to join this ship, but he let me go. And I was – useful to him."

The captain's growing, treacherous sense of empathy died abruptly at that admission. You still could be, and I'd never know it.

His feelings must have shown on his face. Reed's expression closed over. "I shouldn't have told you that, should I?"

"It didn't help any."

"I did what had to be done. I was good at my job. I didn't have to like it, and there were times when I bloody well didn't." The low English voice was suddenly raw with feeling that didn't show in his face. "But I trusted him that it was necessary, whether I liked it or not. And this job you want – no, need me to do now, is just the same. I'll get it done. And afterwards I'll resign. I trust you won't put any obstacles in my way."

There was a little silence. Perhaps both of them were aghast at where the conversation had taken them without warning.

"We're on the brink of a war, Lieutenant. I don't think it would be appropriate for us to disturb the command structure right now."

Reed nodded. "Understood, Captain. And thank you for making your position clear." He pulled himself stiffly upright. "Permission to return to the bridge."

Archer returned the nod. "Granted."

He watched his tactical officer turn away and walk out of the observation lounge. It didn't escape his notice that Reed's hand fumbled for an instant on the door control, as though he couldn't see the buttons very well.

But that could have just been all part of the act.

Section 31's act.

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