A Matter of Time

by Soledad

For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the Introduction.

The immunization procedure is borrowed from the original "Andromeda Strain" movie because it makes much more sense than the stupid blue gel in canon. Some lines of the dialogue have been taken from the first draft of the pilot episode.


Chapter 09 – Rest & Recovery

"I am taking command of Enterprise," T'Pol declares matter-of-factly when they learn that the captain has been wounded.

There is a moment of shocked silence on the bridge; then Commander Tucker says in a low, dangerous voice, "The hell you are! Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you just kind of an observer on this mission? I don't remember anyone telling me you were a member of Starfleet."

"My Vulcan rank supersedes yours," T'Pol tells him with the cold arrogance so characteristic for her people.

Tucker forces himself to remain calm. It's not easy, but he manages to do so… barely.

"No, it doesn't," he replies. "This is an Earth vessel and I am her executive officer. You're in no position to take command. If anyone, I am entitled to do so."

T'Pol gives him an icily superior glare. "As soon as I have checked on the condition of the landing party, I shall contact Ambassador Soval. He will speak to your superiors and I am certain they'll support my authority in this situation."

"You can't let her make that call, Commander," Lieutenant Fuller, Reed's second-in-command warns Tucker. "If she does, the mission is over."

"I know that," Tucker answers grimly and looks at Crewman Baird, Hoshi's ersatz at the comm. "Maintain complete radio silence, Crewman. No calls in or out until I say so."

Baird nods and takes the comm system off-line. T'Pol gives Tucker a look of cold disdain.

"That will not change anything, Commander," she declares. "Or do you truly believe I cannot find a way around your block?"

The answering look Tucker gives her is full of disgust… almost hatred.

"You must really be proud of yourself… trying to put an end to this mission while the Captain's still unconscious in Sickbay. You won't even have to look him in the eye."

"Your precious cargo was stolen," T'Pol reminds him coldly. "Several Suliban and other people were killed... and Captain Archer has been seriously wounded. It seems to me this mission has put an end to itself."

"No, it hasn't!" Tucker replies stubbornly. "Jack isn't dead yet, and I won't allow you to stab him in the back while he cannot defend himself. He deserves a chance to see this through. If you knew him, you'd realize that's what he's about. He needs to finish what he starts. His father was the same way," he adds pointedly.

T'Pol arches a superior Vulcan eyebrow at him. "You obviously share your Captain's belief that my people were responsible for impeding Henry Archer's accomplishments."

"Weren't they?" Tucker returns, hostility unveiled in his voice. "He only wanted to see his engine fly... they never even gave him a chance to fail. I won't allow you to do the same to Jack; and make no mistake, I'll shoot you or have you thrown into the brig if I have to!"

T'Pol is completely unfazed by the threat. "You are being overly emotional," she says.

"You bet I am," Tucker replies. "Now, I'm giving you the choice: help us finish our mission or spend the rest of it in a cell. It's up to you."

"You cannot threaten me," T'Pol says evenly.

"I'm not," Tucker answers with a shrug. "I'm trying to appeal to that much-prized logic of yours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to Sickbay. You can come with me, or you can stay here under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Fuller. Your choice."


In Sickbay, neither Sandra nor Ianto is happy to be separated from their wounded captain. Granted, Archer is not their captain… only that, in a way, he is. Doctor Phlox, however, is not impressed and shoos them into the decontamination unit.

"Is this really necessary?" Ianto asks impatiently.

"I'm afraid it is," the Denobulan replies in his usual, annoyingly cheerful manner.

"I don't see you putting the others here," Ianto tries to argue, but the doctor is adamant.

"The others scanned negative. You two, unfortunately, were exposed to a protocystian spore; so we'll start decontamination and immunization procedures immediately. It is a two-phase process that takes some time, but you should be ready by the time I've repaired Captain Archer's femoral artery. Please proceed to the infrared radiation decontamination room and let me do my job."

Sandra and Ianto exchange annoyed looks, but there's nothing they can do. They both know the procedure, some of which was part of their respective training, so they shed their wet and soiled clothes before entering Decon. After having used Torchwood Three's communal showers for years neither of them is particularly bothered by their own nudity.

Naked as on the day they were born, they walk into a small chamber with six round platforms in the floor. They stand on one of the platforms each and wait.

"You are about to undergo long-wave radiation," the impersonal voice of the computer instructs them. "A buzzer will sound. Close your eyes and stand still or blindness may result."

"How reassuring," Ianto mutters but does as he's told.

"Yeah, I hate this part, too," Sandra agrees. "Even when they only simulate the treatment."

But she closes her eyes, too. There's a buzzing sound, followed by a short moment of intense heat, but that's basically it.

Still naked like a newborn puppy, they go over to a very similar room – with the only difference that next to each platform there's a ridiculous-looking helmet on a low podest, encased in translucent plastic.

"This is a xenon lamp apparatus," the computer tells them. "To insure complete effectiveness, spread your feet apart. To protect scalp and facial hair, place the metal helmet securely on the head. Make sure the helmet is firmly seated and the visor lowered. Then raise your arms and wait."

They fumble with the helmets a bit – this procedure was not part of their training – but finally manage to get it right. The mental image of himself, bare-arsed naked but wearing a medieval-looking helmet, makes Ianto giggle hysterically.

"Jack would have loved this," he says.

"No doubt," Sandra agrees. "Any excuse to get naked would be a legitimate one for Captain Harkness."

"Well, to his credit, he did look bloody good naked," Ianto points out.

"I'll take your word on that," Sandra replies, and they both laugh.

Then they take on the required position – arms raised, feet slightly spread apart – and even through their eyelids they notice that the room is filled with harsh light for a moment. There's white-hot pain, as if their entire body would be on fire. It lasts only a second or two, though, almost too short to take conscious notice of it, than the room goes dark again. Well… back to normal illumination anyway.

"You may now remove the helmet," the computer tells them.

When they do so, they find their bodies covered in a fine, white layer of some kind of powder – and any body hair they might have had is gone. The difference is particularly visible on Ianto who's been on the fuzzy side since entering puberty.

"You will notice a fine white ash on your body," the computer continues. "This is the outer epithelial layers of your skin that have been burned away. Please replace the helmet in compartment and proceed through shower in next room. Then you may dress and return to main Sickbay area."

"I thought burning people alive has been outlawed after the fall of the Inquisition," Ianto mutters angrily as they stand under the shower. The loss of body hair may seem to be a small matter, but he feels… well, not quite himself naked like a snail.

Besides, Jack – being naturally hairless – liked his furry chest. It's like losing another piece of his past, even though, rationally, he knows that his body hair will regrow eventually. Or so he hopes.

Sandra laughs. "The apparatus is practically medieval by now. It's originally been developed in the mid-twentieth century to contain and eliminate alien germs that might have been brought to Earth by returning satellites. Believe me, it was a real pain in the ass to integrate it with the rest of Sickbay equipment."

"And nobody thought of replacing it for two hundred years?" Ianto asks incredulously.

Sandra shrugs. "Why should they? It may be crude by 22nd-century standards, but it's still efficient."

"It's barbaric!" Ianto grouses and Sandra laughs again.

"Oh, don't be such a girl! It's not easy to disinfect the human body, one of the dirtiest things in the known universe, without killing the human being at the same time. Now, if you're finished with scrubbing the ash from your private parts, let's see how the captain is doing."

"Not right away, you can't," one of the med techs whose name Ianto can't remember at the moment, says via intercom. "You're required to rest for six hours after exposure to the xenon lamp. Go to the observation room and sleep. Doctor's orders."


Neither of them is happy with the idea but rules are rules, so they do as they're told. When they wake up four hours later, they find Archer, finally conscious again, on a biobed in the room for ambulant treatment. Dr Phlox is working on the captain's injured thigh – or rather, he's watching a saucer-sized, leech-like alien creature doing… something with the now-healing wound.

Tucker and T'Pol are also present, watching the process with vague disgust (Tucker) and scientific indifference (T'Pol), respectively. The doctor seems supremely content with the results.

"Very nice, very nice," he beams at Archer, seeing that he's awake. "Your myofibers are fusing beautifully."

Archer leans up on his elbows and looks down towards his wounded leg sceptically. Ianto can't blame him. Phlox's methods are unorthodox at the best of times; disturbing at other times.

"How long have I been...?" the captain asks hoarsely.

"Less than six hours," Phlox carefully removes the creature and places it into a jar of liquid. "I thought it best to keep you sedated while the osmotic eel cauterized your wound."

Archer stares at the creature swimming in the liquid.

"Thanks," he mutters, clearly glad not having been awake during the process and Ianto whole-heartedly agrees. He didn't expect the sickbay of Starfleet's newest, most advanced starship to be something between dubious 1950s sci-fi movies and Dr Moreau's lab, either.

"How are you doing, Captain?" Tucker asks, moving closer to the biobed.

Archer gives T'Pol a wary glance. "That depends. What's been going on for the last six hours? I vaguely remember you declaring that you'll assume command; right before I passed out."

"That was my intention, yes," T'Pol replies calmly. "As your highest ranking officer, I should have been in charge while you were incapacitated."

"But…?" Archer asks because there is definitely a but coming.

"Commander Tucker disagreed with me," T'Pol tells him matter-of-factly. "We had an… argument and he threatened to have me put into a containment cell."

"And you gave in, just like that?" Archer finds that hard to believe.

"I would be of no use for the ship in a containment cell," T'Pol points out, and it would be hard to argue with that logic. Vulcans may be pompous, condescending bastards, but they take their responsibilities very seriously.

Archer accepts that statement with a nod.

"Are we underway?" he then asks, as he can sense that the ship is moving.

Tucker nods. "We're currently tracking the Suliban vessel that left Rigel shortly after you were injured."

"You actually got their plasma decay rate?" Sandra, who's getting her bruised ribs treated on the neighbouring biobed, now that he's gone through decontamination, asks sceptically. "I thought our primitive sensors can't do that," she then adds, shooting a dirty look in the Vulcan's direction.

"With Mister Tucker's assistance, I modified the sensors," T'Pol remains as unperturbed as ever. "You now have the resolution to detect their warp trail."

Archer is clearly bolstered by this and tries to sit up, wincing a little. "What happened to this is a foolish mission?" he teases.

"It is a foolish mission," T'Pol returns coldly. "The Suliban are clearly a hostile race with technology far superior to yours. But, as Commander Tucker rather… forcefully reminded me, this is your ship and your mission, and we are obligated to anticipate your wishes."

"You didn't have to actively support us in this, though," Archer says, playing devil's advocate.

"On the contrary, Captain," the Vulcan replies. "As the science officer, it is my duty and my responsibility to do my best to enable ship and crew to fulfil their mission – even if I personally disagree with that mission."

"Which you do," it isn't a question from Archer's side but T'Pol nods in agreement nonetheless.

"Which I do. Now, if you will excuse me, Captain, I have a great deal of sensor data to analyse. I am certain that Lieutenant Reed will gladly have me shot, should I try to do anything untoward, so you need not to worry about me being on the Bridge," she adds dryly.

Archer stares at her sceptically for a moment, but then dismisses her without further questions.

"Modifying the sensors was her idea, sir," Tucker comments after she's left. Archer shakes his head doubtfully but drops the topic.

"Am I fit to resume command?" he asks Phlox instead.

"As long as you stay off that leg and return for more eel therapy tomorrow," the Denobulan replies cheerfully.

Archer glares with unveiled disgust at the… thing swimming in the jar, but after a moment he consents.

"Trip, go back to Engineering," he says. "You may have to keep an eye on the engines. Mr Daniels, if you'd assist me in returning to the Bridge…"

"Gladly, Captain," Ianto, well-rested after the xenon lamp procedure, is more than fit to help a man, even one as big and heavy as Archer, onto his feet and into the turbolift.

Once in the lift cabin, Archer looks at him pleadingly. "I think the situation justifies some caffeine intake, doesn't it?"

Ianto smiles. "As soon as you're safely in your chair, sir."


Half an hour later – after a quick shower and a double serving of Ianto's industrial strength coffee – Archer finally can return to the Bridge indeed… with some support from his quartermaster… barista… babysitter… whatever- Ianto, still not quite used to travelling in space aboard a real, honest, down-to-Earth starship, is all too happy to accommodate him. He's always grateful for an opportunity to visit the Bridge.

This is a very different experience from travelling in the TARDIS – or even aboard the time ship Relativity. Closer to home. Something completely human, even though Zefram Cochrane had a hand in its invention. But again, some people still stubbornly believe that the Alpha Centauri worlds were settled by ancient humans, taken there by the Providers or any other powerful beings, so the difference is irrelevant.

They find Lieutenant Reed in command, being the highest ranking officer on duty – if one doesn't count T'Pol who's sitting at the science station, immersed in the analysis of the data – while Hoshi is sitting in Reed's place at Tactical, watching the monitor that shows a complex tracking pattern; one can hear the pinging sounds of the various sensors. When they enter, Reed hurriedly vacates the captain's chair for its rightful owner and joins Hoshi at Tactical. Hoshi steps down, letting him take over and stars at her hand in concern,

"What are the symptoms of frostbite?" she asks.

"Your appendages blister, peel, turn gangrenous..." Reed deadpans.

Hoshi keeps staring at her hand. "I think I have frostbite."

"Let me see," Reed says and she holds out her hand. The armoury officer pretends to examine her fingertips. "Hmmm. Looks serious. Doctor Phlox may have to amputate."

Both Archer and Mayweather bit the inside of their cheeks to stifle their laughter. Ianto, on the other hand, fights the urge to hit Reed. Sometimes the lieutenant can be every bit the prick Owen used to be. Especially with Hoshi, who realises she's been had and gives him a dirty look.

"I never had to worry about frostbite in Brazil," she mutters glumly.

Reed opens his mouth to make a comment and Ianto seriously considers hitting him if it turns out something mean-spirited. Fortunately (for the armoury officer), the change in the pinging noise saves them both from the necessity.

"Captain, they're getting too far ahead of us," Mayweather reports.

"Match their speed," Archer orders, not willing to lose the track.

"I'm not authorized to go beyond four-four," Mayweather reminds him.

That can be helped," Archer taps the comm button on the arm of his chair. "Archer to Engineering."

"Engineering here," Tucker's voice answers.

"Trip, would you please give our intrepid helmsman permission to go to warp four point five," Archer asks.

They can all hear the smile in Tucker's voice. "It's okay, Travis. I'll keep an eye on the engines."

"Acknowledged," Mayweather grins in delight; he just loves to push the new, advanced engines a bit. He slowly pushes the lever upward, increasing their speed. "Warp four point five, Captain, and steady.

The pinging returns to normal and Archer nods contentedly.

"Very well. Lieutenant Reed, you have the Bridge. I'll be in my ready room, resting my dratted leg, but call me immediately, should anything happen. Mr Daniels, if you don't mind accompanying me, I'd like to discuss something with you."

Ianto is mildly shocked by this unexpected turn of events but his mask remains firmly in place.

"Yes, sir," he replies simply and helps Archer to reach his private refuge with as much dignity as one can muster while hobbling around on one leg.


"Sit," Archer orders as the door slides shut behind them. "I need to pick your brain."

"Mine, sir?" Ianto asks in surprise, while helping the captain to put his injured leg up on another chair. "I'm not a scientist… or a tactical officer."

"True," Archer allows. "But I've got the nagging feeling that you know more about this whole mess than either of us; including T'Pol."

"In that you're right, Captain," Ianto replies honestly. He doesn't want to lie to Archer as long as it can be avoided. Which doesn't mean that he can tell him everything, of course.

Archer nods. "Thought so. I won't ask you how that's possible; not yet anyway. When this crisis is over, we're gonna have a nice, long chat, you and I. Right now, I want to know everything you can tell me about Klaang. I have no reason to believe he's still alive... but if that butterfly woman was telling the truth, it's crucial that we try to find him. Do you know where he is?"

"No, sir," Ianto replies truthfully; due to the changes in the timeline, not even the Temporal Agency had all the necessary details. "What, exactly, did the Arcateenian tell you?"

Archer recites his cryptic conversation with Sarin as well as he can remember.

"Do you know anything about this time war?" he then asks. "Did Torchwood know anything about it?"

"Not to my knowledge," Ianto replies carefully. "I know there was a time war, a devastating battle fought between the people of Gallifrey and a robotic race called the Daleks, but that was a long time ago and had nothing to do with Earth."

"Who won?" Archer tries for a joke… and fails.

"Theoretically, the Gallifreyans," Ianto shrugs. "It was a pyrrhic victory, though, as both races were wiped out in the war… or so it seemed."

"But it wasn't so, was it?" Archer presses on and Ianto shrugs again.

"That's the thing with time wars, sir; they're never really over. Personally, I doubt that it would have to do with our current problem, though. We at Torchwood had extensive files on both Daleks and Gallifreyans. Neither of them had anything in common with the Suliban."

Archer eyes him doubtfully. "You seem awfully certain in your knowledge, Mr Daniels."

"I should be," Ianto replies dryly. "I faced them both."

"But you've just said that both races were wiped out…"

"They were. But as I've also told you, sir, time wars are never really over. There are always loopholes… and escapees."

"And you've met those escapees?" Archer is finally catching the drift.

Ianto nods. "Have your family legends ever told you anything about the Battle of Canary Wharf?"

"Only in vague outlines…" Archer's eyes are widening in shock and realization. "You're one of the survivors!"

"Correct, sir. So believe me when I say that the Suliban are a completely different deck of cards in the ongoing game."

"I never knew that the survivors went to work for Torchwood Three," Archer mutters and Ianto shakes his head.

"They didn't. I was the only one. And it wasn't a known fact, so you shouldn't blame yourself for not knowing. Jack really hated Torchwood London. He and Director Hartman rubbed each other the wrong way."

"You must tell me more about Torchwood once we'll have the time for it," Archer says. "Right now, though… do you think that the Suliban could be working for one of those factions?"

Ianto thinks about the possibility that, frankly, has never occurred to him. Not even the Temporal Agency had a clue who is behind the Suliban attacks, which is why they've sent him to the 22nd century in the first place."

"I think we can leave the Gallifreyans out of consideration," he finally says, careful not to use the term Time Lords until he can be sure how much Archer may know about them… if he does know anything at all. "As far as I know, there was only one left of them by the 21st century, and that one was friendly towards mankind… in a rather condescending way. The Daleks… they are known to have used other species as canon fodder but never as intelligent and sophisticated ones as the Suliban. Ones that could turn on them. Their declared goal was to exterminate all non-Dalek life forms."

"Sounds like a bad sci-fi cliché from the 1950s," Archer comments. "The crazy, homicidal robots on their way to world domination."

"They were exactly that, in fact," Ianto replies. "Except that they weren't really robots. They were organic beings, enclosed in robotic bodies. As for mad and homicidal… you'd be all that, too, did you have to live out your life trapped in an oversized pepper pot, without the slightest chance to have contact with the outside world."

"That wouldn't make them less of a threat, though," Archer says thoughtfully.

"No, sir," Ianto agrees. "Nor do I feel particularly sympathetic towards them. They chose a way to survive that would cost the lives of every other living being – they don't deserve compassion."

"You still don't think they'd be behind the Suliban, though?"

"It isn't impossible, of course," Ianto allows. "But I don't think it would be likely. I suspect a much more creative mind behind all this; one that thrives on dead and destruction. And, yes, world domination would be very much part of the game."

"Do you happen to know of such a creative mind?" Archer asks.

"I used to," Ianto corrects. "But that particular megalomaniac was killed and incinerated in the early 21st century."

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Archer presses on, eager to find some explanation, any explanation, in fact, for the mess they've found themselves in.

"I didn't see it with my own eyes, if that's what you mean, sir, but I happen to know that Jack did. He had a… let's say personal interest in making sure that it indeed happened," Ianto answers and the captain deflates.

"So we still don't know anything that would help us."

"Afraid not, sir. Our best chance is tracking down the Suliban vessel and see where it leads us."

Archer nods unhappily. Then he frowns. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what, sir?"

"We've just dropped out of warp," Archer glances at the window. Ianto follows suit. Indeed, the elongated streaks seen during warp transit are gone. All they can see are the shiny, unmoving points of distant stars in the dark, velvety folds of deep space.

Archer pushes the comm button. "Archer to T'Pol. Report."

There's a moment of silence, then the Vulcan's voice replies, "If you're feeling well enough to come to the Bridge, Captain, now would be a good time."

"Sounds promising," Archer allows Ianto to help him taking his injured leg off the other chair and pushes himself into a standing position. "Let's see what it is."


The walk from the ready room to the Bridge proper is a short one but painful (for Archer) nonetheless. Lieutenant Reed vacates the captain's chair hurriedly as the door opens and goes over to Tactical. Everyone else is staring at the main viewscreen, which shows a distant orange planet. As Archer hobbles to the command chair, T'Pol rises from the science station where she's been working and joins him.

"Well?" Archer asks impatiently. "What is it?"

"It is a gas giant," the Vulcan states the obvious and Archer rolls his eyes.

"I can see that. From the looks of it, a Class Six or Seven."

"Class Seven," Ianto corrects automatically, which earns him surprised looks. "What?" he asks crossly. "Just because I keep you all fed and clothed, it doesn't mean I'm an idiot!"

"Calm down, Mr Daniels," Archer says with an unmistakable tone of command in his voice and Ianto knows better than to disobey. The captain then turns to T'Pol. "So, why are we looking at this particular gas giant, Subcommander?"

"The Suliban vessel dropped to impulse a few hours ago and altered course," T'Pol replies with Vulcan precision. "Their new heading took them through its outer radiation belt."

Archer needs a moment to realise what this means. "We've lost them?"

T'Pol reluctantly nods. Archer's features tighten in anger but he keeps it under control – for now. "Move us in closer," he orders Mayweather.

As the helmsman adjusts their course, they all watch the orange planet growing steadily larger on the viewscreen.

"Anything?" Archer asks after a moment.

Reed, who's working frantically at his console, shakes his head.

"The radiation's dissipated their warp trail," he reports unhappily. "I'm only picking up fragments."

Some of Archer's tightly controlled anger bubbles onto the surface as he turns to T'Pol. "You finished helping us?"

T'Pol gives him a cold glare but then she, too, turns to Reed. "Switch to tactical view, Lieutenant!"

Reed hits a control and the image on the viewscreen changes. It shows the graphic view of the gas giant now, above which a fragmented ion trail can be seen.

"It's like a contrail that's been broken up by winds," Ianto comments softly, earning identical blank looks from the others. The only one who would understand what he means – Sandra – is currently not on the Bridge.

Neither do the others appear to understand T'Pol's intention.

"What now?" Reed asks.

"Run a spectral analysis of the fragments," T'Pol orders.

Reed hits a series of controls. On the graphic, a sequence of numbers appears by each fragment; the sequences are all different. Reed stars at the graphic, discouraged.

"There's too much distortion," he complains. "The decay rates don't even match."

"Which can only mean one thing…" Archer trails off as realization is dawning. He and T'Pol exchange a look of understanding. Despite their mistrust of each other, they're clearly both thinking alike for the first time since her arrival.

"Calculate the trajectory of each fragment," T'Pol orders Reed, who looks at the captain, a bit confused.

Archer pushes himself to his feet with some effort. "You heard her."

Reed clearly doesn't have a clue what they're looking for, but he starts the calculations anyway. T'Pol returns to the science station to double-check the results, and Archer turns to the aft station.

"Crewman Calderon, recalibrate the sensor array – narrow-band, short-to-mid-range."

Sophie Calderon, one of the junior scientists (and a lovely black woman at that), nods crisply. "Aye, sir."

"Measure the particle density of the thermosphere," T'Pol orders Sandro diPinto, another science section crewman, who's working next to Calderon.

The two scientists set to work, and soon the viewscreen graphic changes, displaying telemetry for each of the fragments. Archer makes a sound that's part surprise, part satisfaction.

"Those fragments weren't from one Suliban ship...," he comments.

"They were from fourteen," T'Pol replies. "And all within the last six hours. I believe we've found what we're looking for."

Ianto feels his stomach tighten with fear and excitement. He is the only one on board who can at least make an educated guess what they are about to find. There were all sorts of unconfirmed data about Suliban helices on Futurama, but no temporal agent has ever actually seen one until now. It is exciting, yes, but he knows that it could be dangerous – lethal even. It is the likely place to find Klaang, but it can also be a trap of which they won't be able to walk away unharmed.

Archer seems to have similar thoughts because he hesitates for a long moment before making his decision – a difficult one.

"How are your targeting scanners?" he asks Reed.

"Aligned and ready, sir," the armoury officer replies proudly. There are many long hours of hard work behind that statement.

Archer nods. "Bring the weapons on-line... and polarize the hull plating," he orders.

While Reed is carrying out the captain's orders, the others exchange startled looks. Hoshi isn't the only one who becomes deathly pale. No-one expected an armed conflict during this journey, and there are justified doubts that the new, untested weapons would keep up the promises of their designers. But Archer has made up his mind and he won't change it now, when they have come so close to their target.

"Lay in a sixty degree vector," he says to Mayweather. "We're going in."

~TBC~