Thank you to all of you who have read, and especially to my reviewers. I hope you will leave a last comment.

§ 8 §

As he walked along the corridor to Sickbay, Archer endeavoured to slow his pace and relax his tense muscles. There was no more reason to worry, after all: the away team was back and so was the Shuttlepod; and all more or less in good shape. Besides, he should be used to this by now – more often than not Sickbay was an obligatory stop after an away mission, and not just because it was near the decon chamber. If the away mission included Malcolm and Trip, then, one or both would unfailingly require Phlox's care. It was becoming a bit too predictable. With all the worry lines those two gave him, soon he'd look older than his age.

As he approached the infirmary doors, they opened to let Hoshi out. The Ensign's face lit up in a smile as soon as she saw him. Archer let his eyes roam discreetly over her body: no obvious injuries could be seen, thank God.

"Captain," Hoshi greeted him happily.

"Are you all right, Ensign?" Archer asked all the same. He wanted to make sure. He felt particularly responsible for this member of the crew, because he had been the one who had insisted on having her on board as his Comm. officer.

"Yes, Sir, thank you," she replied. "Only a few minor bumps."

She looked tired and a bit dishevelled; strands of her dark hair had escaped her usually neat pony tail, and her eyes were circled. Archer gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"I'm glad," he told her in fatherly tones. His eyes lifted to the Sickbay door behind her, in anticipation of what he might find in there.

"Captain."

"Yes?"

Archer's eyes returned to the linguist. She looked hesitant, but also determined. That was Hoshi all right, delicate but strong. Archer narrowed his gaze and tilted his head. "Go ahead, Ensign," he encouraged her.

Hoshi cleared her throat. "The Commander and Lieutenant... None of it was their fault, really. Bad luck played a big part."

"Yeah, they never leave her at home," Archer commented, deadpan. "I thought you were going to ask me never to send you on an away mission with the two of them again."

An impish smile brought two endearing dimples at the sides of Hoshi's mouth. "Weeell," she drew out, "With them one is always sure to get enough excitement." Her smile fell as she added, "They, uhm, didn't need another mission going awry so soon after the other one, Sir, if you know what I mean."

Archer liked this crew. He was proud of the way they looked after each other: here was Hoshi trying to tell him to take it easy on the boys. At the same time the words struck him hard. He should have realised Trip and Malcolm needed more time to recover from their first misadventure. He should have been able to see through their front, been more attuned to their feelings.

"Get a good rest, Ensign," he said, his gaze softening in a silent thank you, as he dismissed her with a nod.

When he went through the doors, the first thing he noticed was Travis's face: it was black and blue, and a plaster stood out on one of his cheeks. The man was sitting on a biobed facing the door, both hands gripping the edge of it as Phlox passed his medical scanner over him. Behind him, Trip and Malcolm were looking on, one on each side like a couple of improbable guardian angels. All three raised their eyes to the sound of the doors swishing open. Phlox only cast a quick glance over his shoulder and returned to his job.

"Gentlemen," Archer greeted the ensemble, keeping his tone neutral.

"Capt'n," Trip said, while Malcolm immediately took a more formal stance. Travis straightened his shoulders and a groan escaped his lips.

"Ensign Mayweather has a couple of cracked ribs, and various bruises, Captain," Phlox informed him with his unfailing glee.

Archer still remembered how weird his mirth-at-all-costs had seemed at the beginning of their mission; as if the man were rejoicing with every injury he had to treat.

"He also collected a cut, which Lieutenant Reed treated on the planet quite competently," he continued. "I recommend the Ensign stays off duty for at least a day; better two."

A groan of displeasure welcomed the words.

"As for Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker," Phlox continued, with a silencing glance at the protesting helmsman, "they seem to be fine, aside for a few bumps. All of them suffered stun blasts, Ensign Sato included, but they were mild ones."

"Capt'n, I can explain," Trip began, tail between his legs. "It was a small glitch with the engine."

"It was my fault, Sir," Malcolm – of course – proclaimed, chest out to face the storm, or maybe offer it to the firing squad. "The glitch with the engine occurred because I fired on an asteroid."

"Actually, Captain," Mayweather mumbled around his bruises, "I was the one who got us into trouble. I flew the pod right through the small debris, and the exhaust ports got clogged."

Archer let his eyes slowly stray from one to the other. Yes, it was a fine crew.

He let the silence become just a touch uncomfortable; then enquired, "How did the new upgrades work?"

Three pairs of eyes exchanged a quick puzzled glance.

"Just fine, Capt'n," Trip replied for them all.

Archer drew in a deep breath. "Then I suppose the mission was successful." He restrained a grin as surprise showed on the men's faces, in various forms and degrees. "Take two days off, all of you," he went on to order. In the stunned silence he turned and left, and was already at the door when Malcolm spoke.

"Captain, what about the anti-robbery device?"

Archer turned. "What about it?"

"Permission to keep it, Sir?"

Malcolm and his security obsessions. He had almost forgotten about that weird idea of his; deep-freezing any crooks who might try to steal their pod.

"How is it actually activated?" Archer enquired, curiously.

"It's set to go off when the language spoken inside the Shuttlepod is not English, Sir."

Archer raised his eyebrows. "Whose English, Lieutenant?" he teased. "Maybe you could fine-tune it," he added with a smirk. "Make it English and Vulcan; wouldn't want T'Pol to freeze her... self," he finished, catching himself.

As the doors were beginning to close after him, he could hear an explosion of chortles. Stopping both, he peeped back in and said, "And find a way to switch it off quickly, just in case."


Hoshi cast a look inside the Observation Lounge, uncertain whether she should intrude. Trip and Malcolm had been sitting there for most of the morning – on day one of their two days off – talking. Or maybe in silence, as they were now. All she knew was that she wanted to make sure the two of them were okay. The tension between them, recently, had been telling, and painful to witness.

Summoning the courage, she took a step inside. She had always found the Observation Lounge slightly disquieting. Beautiful as it was to watch the stars go by, it was a powerful reminder of where they were and how fast they were going.

The two officers turned to her, and it was reassuring to see Trip wave her over, and Malcolm break into a faint smile. At least they didn't seem to mind her presence.

"Commander, Lieutenant," she said, approaching. "Thought I'd drop by to say hello."

"It's good to see ya," Trip said, though not with the open enthusiasm he would usually put in the words. As he gestured for her to sit down, in fact, he had that look of slight apprehension typical of someone who is about to face a test.

Sliding into the seat, Hoshi noticed that Malcolm's eyes, on the other hand, weren't straying from the cup of probably cold tea in his hands. He was the only person she knew who could look more exhausted when off duty than when he worked a double shift.

Feeling Trip's gaze on her, she turned back to him.

"I'm sorry, Hoshi," the Engineer blurted out, those very blue eyes burning with feeling.

"There's no need," Hoshi hurried to reply, embarrassed by Trip's embarrassment. "Away missions always involve a certain amount of risk. We all accept that."

Trip exchanged a quick glance with Malcolm.

"What the Commander is trying to say," Malcolm took over in a deep voice, eyes back on his cup, "Is that he's sorry you had to witness my inexcusable unprofessional behaviour."

"What I meant, Hoshi," Trip said, with a long-suffering sigh at Malcolm, "Is that we shouldn't have let the tension get the better of us." He winced. "You and Travis had to suffer our squabblin', and that wasn't right."

"I am the one to blame, Commander."

"Do you always have to take all the credit, Lieutenant?"

Hoshi tilted her head. "You were saying?" she teased, letting a smile soften the words.

Malcolm sighed. "Right," he croaked out, while Trip rolled his eyes in self-reproach.

"It's not fun seeing you argue, I admit," Hoshi said, more seriously. "But I know there is a good reason why you're acting that way. And I hope you'll be back to normal soon. I miss your old yous, if you know what I mean."

Another quick glance passed between the two.

"We'll be okay, Hoshi, don't worry," Trip said, switching on his gentle charm. "It's just a few glitches, but we'll fix them. We're as tough as nails."

Malcolm nodded. "Indestructible, weatherproof, not to mention doughty and indomitable."

"You mean you agree with me, Lieutenant?" Trip wondered, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Malcolm jerked his head to the side, in that funny way of his. "Most of the time, Commander."

He finally lifted those shifty grey eyes long enough for Hoshi to fathom them. She liked what she saw in them: the self-assurance she was used to, in Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.

"Is that good enough for you, Ensign?" the man enquired.

Hoshi felt her face relax in a smile. Yes, things would be okay.

"Good enough, Sir."

THE END