CHAPTER EIGHT
"Grav, what are your crews doing now?" Trip asked the Tellar hull builder.
"A few are finishing some minor work, or assisting the other crews with hull related issues too important to be left to amateurs. The rest are engaged in cleaning and servicing the inferior equipment they were forced to use in the construction of this garbage scow."
"Loose ends, then," Trip clarified.
"For the most part," Grav nodded.
"Start laying down the second hull," Trip ordered. For once, Grav was unable to think of a suitable insult.
"Sir?" His confusion was clear.
"Next shift," Trip ordered. "Time pressure for the new one is a little less than our current love," he nodded to where the as yet unnamed ship was being constructed. "Everything to be identical. And while you're at it, lay in enough materials to build two more after that."
"Sir. . .Trip. . . ." The Tellar trailed off.
"This was never a one off, Grav. You knew that, or should have."
"I didn't think even you would be so foolish and unthinking as to began building more ships until this one had been through it's field trials!" Grav found his voice finally.
"I designed this ship," Trip said confidently. "Everything on it will work just fine. And you and your crews have built a remarkable vessel. Well done. Now, make me more of them. Starting next shift."
"Very well, but I want it on record that I had no part in this senseless waste of resources."
"I'm sure it'll make it in there somewhere," Trip grinned.
STE
Trip looked around at the various department heads. This was a progress meeting. Also a barn storming session. And a gripe session. Among other things.
"We're working as fast as we can safely do so," Hamish told him. "We're working four crews, in double shifts where necessary."
"The engines are ready for testing," Kov said simply. "I expect them to perform with precision, especially after shakedown."
"Tek-Grav informs me you have ordered another hull begun," Tarn added, looking a bit left out.
"I have," Trip nodded. "I also ordered him to arrange for the materials to build two more." Everyone looked shocked at that.
"This was the plan, all along, gentlemen," Trip headed off their arguments. "Earth, and the rest of our homeworlds, face more threats than merely the Xindi. We're going to be able to respond to those threats as they arise, or I'll have the head of whoever is responsible for us not."
Faces paled at that, or darkened, depending on the race, and Trip winced. By now, four and a half months into the project, everyone had heard about the Orion incident, either officially, or more importantly by rumor.
"I didn't mean it like that," he promised, hoping to assure the group. "I just meant that whoever was responsible would be looking for a new job. And I don't want that, since I'm sure this is the best group we could possibly have."
"Now that we're so far along, I've got to start making crew arrangements for the first ship. That means I'll be away more and more, probably. Tarn, I'll be more dependant on you than ever. I know I've put a lot on you, but it's only because I know you can get the job done, and I can trust you." Tarn looked pleased by that statement.
"I'm honored by your confidence, and I will not fail you," he promised. "I'd volunteer for ship duty, but. . .I'm an old Andorian, Trip. You'll need younger, stronger men, where you're headed."
"Same here," Hamish admitted. "If I were ten years younger, I'd already be signed up. At my age, though," he shook his head. "I'd just be a liability, Trip."
"I'm honored that you both would consider it, thank you. But you're needed here more than on the ship. You can get things done here no one else can. Anyone can shoot." The two older men chuckled. Trip looked at Kov.
"Oh, I'm going," Kov surprised him by saying. "There's no way you're going without me, Trip. You need a good engineer to keep the system you've designed working. And you won't have time to do it yourself," Kov raised a hand to forestall Trip's comments.
"I've made detailed manuals on the maintenance and integration of your system into the other ships. Even an Andorian could do it," he grinned at Tarn. The two men shared none of the usual problems or distrust common between their peoples, and were actually friends.
"You little pointy eared lek, I was building starship engines when you were just a distant pon farr in your father's future!" Tarn laughed, and Kov joined him.
"Kov, I. . .I don't know," Trip said evenly. "We really need someone here to oversee the construction and installation of the engines on the other three ships. Are you sure that someone other than you can accomplish that?"
"They won't have to build them," Kov said airily. "All engines, both warp and impulse, for the other three ships will be ready before we depart. All they have to do is get them installed, and hooked up. And I'm making detailed notes on everything. There should be no problems. And jokes aside, between Hamish and Tarn, there won't be any. Of that I am certain."
"Wow," Trip said softly. "I guess I need to get down your way more often."
"We'd certainly welcome your visit at anytime," Kov promised.
"Well, I guess that's settled. Meanwhile, I've got a lot of other positions to fill, and that takes time. I'll just be a com call away if there's a problem, but day to day, it'll be up to you three, and Grav."
"We will not disappoint you, sir," Tarn promised.
STE
"Kron, you up to a little recruiting trip?" Trip asked.
"I am at your service, sir," Kron saluted.
"You really have to stop doing that," Trip told him. "I can't have my chief of security bowing and scraping all the time."
"I only wish to show my. . .what?" Kron's brain caught up to his hearing.
"You heard me, mister," Trip said seriously. "You'll be in charge of security when we set out. That means you'll need to come up with a list of replacements for Tarn to choose from."
"I will see to it immediately, Captain," Kron promised, unable to contain his pride and excitement.
"So, we need some marines," Trip told him. "Know where we can get some?"
"Marines?" Kron frowned. "I am unfamiliar with the term, sir."
"Ship board soldiers," Trip clarified. "I want them to be able to repel boarders, board and capture ships, prisoners, or intel, and serve as shock troops if we have to go planetside. Get the idea?"
"Indeed," Kron nodded. "And yes, I know where we can 'get some'."
"Outstanding!"
STE
"So we're going to what amounts to a Klingon bar and brothel," Neera didn't bother to hide her aggravation.
"Well, I'd not o' put it that way myself," Trip hedged. "It's a popular place, according to Kron. A place where, as he put it, 'warriors congregate to brag and drink'. And to wait for the next job."
"Mercenaries," Neera scoffed.
"Are we much different?" Trip asked. "I mean, when you get right down to it, we're basically building a private navy, honey. Everyone in the galaxy is gonna see us as either mercs, or privateers, or worse."
"We're completely different from those kind, and you know it," Neera shot back.
"I do," Trip nodded. "But they won't," he waved toward the bulkhead, and the stars beyond it. "Planetary gover'ments don't cotton much to ships they can't control."
"True," Neera nodded, seeing his point. "I'm still not sure this is a good idea, however," she added.
"It's a test for Kron as much as a recruiting mission," Trip told her. "And he's smart enough to know that. He's also smart enough to know I've placed great trust in him with this. If it doesn't work, it won't be because of him."
"Kron is a remarkable warrior, once you get passed his. . .prejudices," Neera had to force herself to admit.
"I think you put him passed those prejudices pretty well, darlin'," Trip smiled, remembering.
"Of course I did," Neera sniffed as she closed her bag. "That's what I do."
"Anyway, we need security troops, and ground fighters, just in case. Other than, say, thirty or forty of you, I think a whole buncha Klingon warriors fits that bill pretty well."
"There will be several of us," Neera reminded him. "Jerl McCann is assembling a team to serve aboard our ship, as well as the other three. What?" she asked, seeing that Trip was looking at her strangely.
"Our ship," he repeated her words. "You know, I really like how that sounds," he admitted, grinning.
"As do I, my Trip," Neera stroked his cheek, giving him a soft smile that was for him alone. No one else ever saw it. Ever. She leaned into him, kissing him gently. They were interrupted by Kron's gravelly voice.
"The ship is prepared, sir." Sighing, Trip broke away from her.
"If he keeps that up, we'll have a problem," Neera growled, her face still slightly flushed.
"I'll speak to him," Trip promised, grabbing his bag. "Let's go."
STE
"Yes, sir, I do know that you want to know where it came from," Jon said again, for at least the tenth time. "But Lieutenant Reed had to give certain assurance just to get the information in the first place, Admiral. And he isn't willing to reveal his source, for the same reasons I've already given you."
"Something like this is too important to worry about Reed's 'word', Jon," Forrest shot back. "I want him on a shuttle for debriefing the minute this conversation is over."
"Yes, sir," Jon sighed. "Max, why can't you just accept a gift horse without looking it in the teeth?" he asked.
"Dammit, Jon, you know why!" Forrest almost hissed. "This 'briefing' is more information, combined, than we've received about the Xindi from all our other sources to this point. We need to know who he's getting this from, and talk to them ourselves."
"He's not going to give it to you," Jon shrugged. "All you're going to do is cost me the best tactical officer in the fleet, at a time when I need him the most. I already lost Trip because of all this. How many more will I have to give up before Starfleet get's their head out of their ass?"
"That's enough, Captain," Forrest warned. "And we'll send you a new tactical officer if it becomes necessary."
"It won't be Malcolm Reed, Admiral, with all due respect," Jon sighed. "And I need him, sir. Especially now." Forrest seemed to cool a bit at that.
"I know you do," he admitted. "But. . .we can't allow a possible intel source to exist only in a Lieutenant's head, for God's sake!"
"According to Reed, he was given all the information there was, Admiral," Jon pointed out. Again.
"We'll be the judge of that," Forrest said, a hint of finality in his voice.
"Yes, sir," Jon surrendered. "I'll have him on his way as soon as possible."
"Good. Forrest out." The screen went blank, and Jon sat down, massaging his temples before reaching for the com.
"Archer to Reed. My ready room."
"On my way, sir," came the prompt answer. Two minutes later, Reed was at the door.
"Take a seat, Malcolm," Jon ordered. "I've just had a very confrontational discussion with Admiral Forrest."
"About me." Reed said. Not a question. A statement.
"Yes. You're to shuttle down to Starfleet HQ immediately. They want a personal debriefing, and will, in all likelihood, demand your source."
"With respect, sir, that's not going to happen," Malcolm said stiffly.
"I know that, and I told Forrest the same thing," Jon smiled wanly. "Doesn't matter what I say, he won't be swayed. I don't know what will happen, Malcolm. And I can't afford to go with you, either."
"I wouldn't expect you too, sir," Malcolm smiled. "As Trip would say, I saddled the horse, I'll have to ride it." Jon laughed a little.
"Yeah, that's definitely something he'd say, all right. I don't want to lose you, Malcolm, but I can't shake the feeling you won't be back."
"I'm afraid that's entirely possible, sir," Malcolm sighed. "I don't want to leave. But I suppose if I don't go, then they'll just send MACO's after me."
"Probably," Jon agreed. "Do what you think is right, Malcolm," he ordered sadly. "I need you, badly, but don't compromise yourself to get back. I need to know who you think is capable of taking your place if you don't return. I'm sure Starfleet will send someone, but. . .I like to make my own decisions when I can."
"Ensign Peters is my best officer at Tactical, sir," Reed said at once. "Ensign Matthews for ship security. Both will do well."
"But not as good as you," Jon said, shaking his head.
"I didn't start out being efficient, sir," Malcolm noted, not responding to the praise Archer had given him. "They will learn, just as I did."
"This is not the time to be on a learning curve, Lieutenant," Jon pointed out.
"I know, sir, and I'm sorry," Reed replied, meaning every word. "This is how it has to be."
"Well, better get ready," Jon ordered. "I'm sure Forrest is watching to see when the shuttle leaves."
"I'd imagine so, sir," Reed tried and failed to stifle a smile.
"Good luck, Lieutenant, and thank you. For everything."
"It was my privilege sir. It always has been."
Malcolm left Archer's ready room and looked around him for a brief moment. This ship had become his home. He would miss it greatly if wasn't allowed to return.
For now, however, he didn't have time to waste in regret, or reflection. He had to make a call before he left the ship.
Just in case.
STE
Another officer had been detailed to shuttle Malcolm down to the planet, since he probably wouldn't be back for a while, if ever. He was surprised to see T'Pol waiting at the air lock.
"This is a most inopportune time for the ship's Tactical and Security officer to be off the ship," she said with typical Vulcan understatement.
"Out of my hands, Sub-Commander," Reed replied, shrugging. "It was a privilege to serve with you, T'Pol," he added.
"It was likewise gratifying to serve with you, Malcolm," T'Pol nodded. "Before you go, what can you tell me of Commander Tucker," she shifted gears smoothly.
"Captain Archer hasn't informed you?" Reed was surprised.
"He merely informed me that the Commander had not be a victim of anything. . .untoward. Nothing more."
"Well, all I can add to that is that he's working for a private firm, now. He's off planet, in an undisclosed location. I spoke to him personally through a com call. He is well, and working, which was pretty much all he was willing to reveal." He paused, considering.
"I will add, as a personal observation, that whatever he's doing is probably connected with his desire to extract revenge on the Xindi. I can't prove that, and he didn't admit it, but. . .it makes sense."
"Indeed, it is a logical deduction, considering his reason for leaving" T'Pol nodded her agreement. "It is agreeable that he is unharmed, and has found a way in which to channel his anger." And that, Reed knew, was as close as T'Pol would ever come to admitting that she missed their former chief engineer.
"Live long, Lieutenant, and prosper," T'Pol intoned.
"And you, Sub-Commander."
With that, Malcolm Reed boarded the shuttle pod for the long ride to Earth, and his uncertain future.
STE
Sir, we may have a problem," McCann stood before Janos' desk once more. Janos looked at him, waiting for clarification. Finally, with a sigh, he managed to growl;
"Why must I always wait for you to provide me with information, Jerl?"
"Apologizes, m'Lord," McCann replied. "I just had a transmission from Reed, sir. On the private channel I provided him." He fell silent, and Janos felt the sudden, almost overwhelming need to crush something. McCann looked like a good target, he decided, gazing intently at his chief intelligence officer.
"Er, Malcolm has been ordered to Starfleet Headquarters for a debriefing, sir," McCann responded to the threat of violence in his Master's eyes. "He is unsure what fate awaits him, and wanted us to know that he may be. . .unreachable, for some time, depending on what Starfleet does."
"Does?" Janos inquired.
"Reed has no intention of revealing where he got the intelligence, sir," McCann nodded. "He does not expect that to go well. He is prepared to be incarcerated, if necessary, rather than reveal his 'source'."
"Did he ask for any assistance?" Janos asked.
"He did not, sir. He merely wanted us informed, should we attempt to reach him. He does not expect to be allowed outside communication, once he refuses to accede to Starfleet's demands."
"Quite a young man, indeed," Janos murmured. "It would seem, Jerl, that young Charles chooses his friends well, would it not?"
"I have had the same thought, myself, m'Lord," McCann nodded.
"Very well, then," Janos stood. "Keep on top of this, Jerl. If Reed gets into any trouble, I want a plan in place to get him out, up to and including direct action to remove him from their custody, should it become necessary."
"Sir?" McCann couldn't hide his surprise. He knew Janos liked, even respected Reed, but this was. . . .
"We can't afford to have men of his caliber sitting in a cell when the Earth could be attacked again at any moment. If Starfleet doesn't want him, I do. Understand?"
"Of course, m'Lord."
"Get him a lawyer," Janos ordered. "The best you can find on such short notice. The minute he's accused of anything criminal, I want to know it, and I want that attorney ready to go to his aide, I don't care what time of day or night it is."
"At once, m'Lord."
