Archer woke up, feeling more tired than usual, then remembered Trip's interruption during the middle of the night. A quick glance at the chronometer confirmed he still had a couple of hours before alpha shift. He would have expected the alert from Communications by now, telling him they had established contact with the shuttle. He wondered what was keeping them, then pushed the thought out of his mind and went about his routine as usual. Still... Could the night communications stand-in somehow overlook his request? He didn't think that was possible but everyone was at the mercy of a human mistake.

As he was looking at his reflection shaving in the mirror he realized he had not stopped waiting for the incoming beep from Communications. He could no longer delude himself that there was no issue. Instead of heading for the mess hall, he proceeded directly to the bridge. Where he was completely unsurprised to find Trip, looking like sleep had eluded him for the better part of the night. The engineer came by his side as soon as he sat down.

The communications specialist was at his station, nervously trying very hard not to stare behind him at his superior officers. Archer waited for the young man to volunteer status, finally deciding to let him off his misery.

"Specialist Snordoff, any word?"

The young man swiveled his chair until he was facing the captain and Trip, standing right by Archer.

"Negative, sir. We've been hailing all frequencies, but have not received a reply."

Archer frowned. That was unusual. "Thank you, Specialist. Did you follow all protocols?"

"Aye, sir. I followed all regulations protocols about establishing contact. I also alerted several Starfleet stations on the flight path of the shuttle to be on the lookout for the vessel."

Archer nodded "Good thinking. Any other protocol we could try?"

The Specialist seemed relieved "Ensign Hoshi would know if there are other protocols that are applicable."

"Please have Ensign Hoshi come to the bridge. Thank you, Snordoff." Time to call in the big guns, Archer thought to himself. A feeling that was evidently shared by the Specialist.

xx

"Computer, record. This is Shran of Andoria. Our shuttle encountered a gravitational shear and we were thrown onto an asteroid near two small planets. I can't figure out where exactly the system is but we seem to have been thrown light years off our course to Fatepe-Ijtr. Tell the Jitreds we'll catch them next time to talk about the United Federation of Planets. Computer pause."

Shran sighed. He glanced towards the right aft side of the cabin, where he had laid the dead as best as he could, given their state of rigor mortis, and hid their bodies with boxes and assorted materials from the hatches, to honor them with a measure of discretion. It had been a painful and slow process.

"Computer record. Four of the six passengers are dead, three of them Starfleet, and one of them my aide. The only ones alive as I record this are myself and Commander T'Pol, though she is injured and has not regained consciousness. Computer pause." T'Pol still had not woken up but the fact she hadn't died in the first hours made him hopeful that she would get better. Of course, if he had calibrated scanners, he would be able to get some kind of diagnosis about what was going on, though the head wound was kind of obvious.

Partly for lack of better thing to do, Shran picked up an emergency ration and a new skin of water. He looked at T'Pol, wondering if she needed to drink. It was rumored on Andoria that Vulcans could spend weeks without drinking any water, another proof of how they were dried up husks disconnected from the pulse of life. But he had seen her drink on Enterprise. Unsure which was true, he decided he would wait until she regained consciousness.

Shran looked ahead through the front window of the shuttle. He was getting bored and antsy, with nothing to do. And with every limb hurting, he couldn't even pace. At least, in the two days they had been traveling to Fatepe-Jitr before the accident, he could banter with the human crew or talk to his aide and there was enough activity on all sides to keep him entertained, T'Pol excepted, all she did was stare at her hand-held padd as if it held something of great interest. He had to admit they needed someone in their party to know the United Federation of Planets constitution and regulations and there was some use to learning about Fatepe's organization and civilization, but it made for a poor traveling companion. And now there was nothing to do and nobody to talk to. His only audience was the computer. And through the computer his friend Archer.

He went on. "Computer record. The emergency systems in the shuttle are still working but the communication beacon has been destroyed. There is no way for me to let Enterprise know where we are or where I think we are. Archer, I am leaving this recording in case you are too late. Based on what I can see through the shuttlecraft window, the asteroid is caught on a loop between two small planets. I see them passing through every six hours or so. Those are the good hours. Because when I don't, this place becomes an icebox - it reminds me of summers on Andoria. Looking at your frail little ship, I don't know how many hot to cold to hot it can take before the outer skin becomes brittle. If that happens, Archer, you owe me big."

xx

Hoshi shook her head in frustration. "Still nothing, Captain." She had been leaning into her earpiece for hours, trying to discern the faintest echo coming back at them, a needle in the haystack that might let them know where their friends and colleagues were.

Archer got off his chair, walked to her station. "It's ok, Hoshi" he said soothingly, feeling the frustration mounting in the Ensign.

She swiveled her chair to him and Travis "When were they due to arrive?" she asked.

Archer hesitated, then nodded to Travis. The mission to Fatepe-Ijtr was top secret, but that didn't hold against finding his people if they were lost. And Shran might as well be one of his people on this mission.

Travis called up a record on his console, looked up at Archer "If they followed the flight pattern I established, the earliest they would arrive is later today, ETA in four hours. I allowed for a degree of uncertainty on a trip that long, but no matter what they should be there before delta shift."

Archer narrowed his eyes at the screen. Another four hours of waiting? Not on his watch. "Hoshi, put a call in to Council Member Proiit on Fatepe-Ijtr in six hours. Unless they arrive before then and contact us." He turned to the bridge at large "I want every senior officer in the command center in thirty minutes. You too, Travis. Hoshi, keep monitoring for any incoming hails." Archer went back to sit in his command chair, brewing, while his officers discreetly delegated or cleared their schedule as required.

xx

There was darkness and there was searing light. The darkness was outside and the searing light was inside, sending waves of pain down shrieking nerves in her head. She wanted to flee the pain into the darkness, where she had been finding a measure of peace until something tugged at her that would not let her escape the fury of the light. She knew what the something was and yet she didn't. She knew there was something she needed to do but she didn't know what. The pain in her head precluded any organized thought and obliterated all memory.

Instinct took over.

"…tu" she croaked. Shran's head whipped around at the sound.

"What did you say?"

"O'tu" Shran shook his head. It sounded Vulcan, but it was not any word he knew. He had studied Vulcan throughout his military education, Andorian imperial guard believing that it was a sacred duty to know the language of their enemy and be able to tell exactly what these Vulcan liars were saying. But he wasn't sure if she was actually saying a word that existed and his knowledge of the language was not good enough that he could figure it out.

He walked over to hear, crouched by her side "What?"

T'Pol's head was a hot nova of pain. She tried to garner her thoughts across the wall of flames that had invaded her skull. Her eyes were open and she could see Shran. How did she know his name, who was he? She closed her eye, chasing down the tendril of thought that would lead to the knowledge of who he was, why she knew him. But she came up empty-handed except for the knowledge she needed to speak Standard English, not Vulcan. The words abutted against the edges of her mind, but disappeared as soon as she tried to grab them.

She made an effort to think back to the Standard she had learned. "Cold" the word she was looking for was cold. She took a hold of it. The other word that crossed her mind was "I". There was something missing. Another memory came up. 'I' was the subject and 'cold' was the predicate but it was incomplete. A verb. She needed a verb. The word 'be' floated in her consciousness. She considered it. 'I be cold'? it didn't sound right. 'I am cold' that sounded right, but 'be' started with a 'b' and 'am' started with an 'a' and the root was not the same therefore it might not be the same word, unless there was a relationship between 'a' and 'b'? Her mind was too tired to sort it out. She opened her eyes, looked at Shran. She found it difficult to talk, made herself do it through the haze that surrounded her brain, "I...cold" she closed her eyes and drifted back into unconsciousness.

Shran sighed in frustration. She was cold. He was nippily comfortable and she was cold. Vulcans were such big babies. His antennae were dancing their own jig on his head, disclosing his true state of mind. She had woken up.

He got up from his seat stiffly, though he could tell that in a little while he would be able to walk normally. Just in time for the emergency system or the outer hull to fail, whichever came first. Peachy.

He hobbled to the hatch where he had seen the emergency thermoblankets and grabbed both of them. These things were way too hot, he would never be able to sleep with one of them. They were perfect. He went back to where T'Pol lay, and started considering, antennae raised in a half-frown. Putting the blanket on her was the most obvious approach, but that still meant she was laying directly on the steel floor, and that was not good. And he wanted to move her as little as possible, afraid of jarring her head or her body. Also, there was little room for him to maneuver between her seat and the wall.

An idea came suddenly and he proceeded, lifting her body so that one half was up towards him while he tucked the blanket behind her whole length, then slowly, part by part, lifting her an inch or so off the floor, just enough to grab the blanket and pull, and bring it to the other side. It was a long and drawn out process but then he had all the time in the world. When he finally straightened up again, he felt like he did after a hard won victory aboard the Kumari. This time, there was no downside, no casualties, and his antennae twitched in all directions in glee.

Eventually, T'Pol was cocooned in the blanket and he could go back on to waiting.