The words made no sense to Malcolm. Hoshi dead? And by his hands? Impossible.

His mouth opened and closed several times before he was able to speak. "Sir," Malcolm said hoarsely. "That's impossible. What happened on that," he waved at the screen where he had watched the replay of the incident, "could not have happened. I would never, never have done that to Hoshi or any woman."

Trip snorted loudly and walked over to lean against a wall. He folded his arms across his chest and glared murderously at Malcolm.

Archer's voice was mild, but Malcolm could hear the underlying anger in it. "Lieutenant Reed, we have the tape-"

"I don't care what the hell you have!" Malcolm shouted. He winced as his throat protested the action and his head began to pound with even greater force. It hurt so much that his breathing became labored as he waited for the pain to subside. When he spoke again, his voice was more moderated. "Sir, tape can be forged, doctored. I didn't attempt to force Hoshi into a sexual encounter with me and I definitely did not let her fall and strike her head."

"You had blood on your hands-," Archer began.

"Maybe I found her? Was that it?" Malcolm's mind began to work again, a plausible scenario formulating. "You found me with blood on my hands. If I found her, I would have naturally examined the wound. Then-, then whoever did it must have doctored a tape. It was no secret we taped our training sessions." Malcolm looked hopefully at the Captain.

"Malcolm," Archer's patience was beginning to leave him and his voice took on a harsher tone. "Just stop it. I didn't say we found you with blood on your hands standing over Hoshi. Someone saw you leaving the armory and went in immediately after you had left and found Hoshi. You were discovered two hours later, drunk, sitting in one of the shuttle-"

"Probably trying to make a run for it like a coward," Trip interjected angrily.

"pods with blood on your hands," Archer continued. He threw a warning glance at Trip.

"The witness, how can you believe the witness?" Malcolm cried out desperately. "Maybe the witness is guilty and is trying to frame me."

"The witness," Archer's crisp voice intoned. "Is Subcommander T'Pol."

Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned his head against the bars of his cell. T'Pol. If there was one person on this ship who possibly could not be lying, it would be her. The throbbing in his head became more acute and he found it increasingly difficult to concentrate, but Malcolm still refused to believe he could be guilty of this crime, despite his lack of memory.

"No, no, no," he chanted softly. He opened his eyes and looked at the Captain. The good-humor and compassion that was always on Jonathan Archer's face were gone. All Malcolm saw was anger and loathing. Everyone knew that Hoshi and the Captain had some type of relationship that went deeper and was more involved than any he had with the crew save for Trip. How deep of a relationship was a subject of much speculation, but whether they were lovers or good friends didn't really matter right now. Archer was furious beyond belief and Malcolm suspected the other man would gladly help Trip tear him to pieces.

"Sir," Malcolm said quietly. "I don't remember anything. I don't remember trying to force myself on Hoshi, I don't remember making her fall. I don't remember getting drunk! I don't remember any of it!"

Trip snorted again. "Tell it to the Starfleet Tribunal."

Archer nodded. "Dr. Phlox said this might happen. That bottle of bourbon you ingested was tainted. In fact, you were close to dying yourself before Phlox pulled you through."

"Too bad he did," Trip commented darkly. "But that was before we found the tape."

"We're meeting up with a Vulcan ship in two days," Archer continued. "You'll be transferred to them and taken back to Earth to stand trial," a pained look crossed Archer's face, "along with Hoshi's body where she'll be buried."

Malcolm shivered. This can't be happening, he thought wildly. This can't!

"Commander," Archer nodded at Trip to follow him as he turned to go.

'I'll catch up with you in a minute, sir," Trip replied as he walked slowly towards the cell. He stopped and stared at Reed.

"Trip," the Captain warned.

"Don't worry, I don't intend to beat him or anything," Trip replied, his eyes never leaving Malcolm.

Archer hesitated a moment and then nodded. He left without another word or glance at Malcolm.

Malcolm's head was still leaning against the bars of his cell. He still could not believe this was happening and why couldn't he remember a single thing? He had been drunk before, but had never completely blacked out.

He felt a hand grasp the front of his uniform and he was yanked hard up against the bars, his face pressed tightly between two of them. Trip leaned in until he was nearly nose-to-nose with him. Malcolm stared into the Southerner's blue eyes, nearly black with rage and wondered if he was safe.