The situation stands: Lt. Reed is designated fourth-in-command of Enterprise. The on-board military contingent is separate from the chain of command; thus, while Hayes is of a higher rank than Reed, neither is directly under the command of the other. I suppose this could prove problematic should Reed's three senior officers ever become simultaneously incapacitated, but the tension inherent in the question of who should take command in that situation--Reed or Hayes--is too good to pass up. To explain day-to-day operations, how about a Trek reference point? Think of Worf's duties aboard the 1701-D split into two: Reed is Weapons and Tactical officer for ship-to-ship combat (Worf's bridge duties), whereas Hayes is in charge of hand-to-hand fighting (Worf's chief of security duties, a combination of military police and infantry roles). On some level, Reed still wishes he'd become a Marine and might occasionally insert himself into situations where his authority does not rightfully extend.

If I were writing this as a novel rather than serialized fiction, I'd probably revise the concept during rewrites. Hayes (or another character) would be recast as a lower ranking officer, or perhaps an enlisted man. But this would affect how Reed conceptualizes the Hayes character, in this story, as a reflection of who he might have been, perhaps should have been. For that Hayes must have a higher rank. (Thinks Reed, had I followed this route, I could have been more.)

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Engine Room

08:23 UTC

"Are you surprised to see me?" Amanda said. "Shouldn't the XO--congrats by the way. Shouldn't you know who's stationed on your ship?"

"I didn't think to check the crew manifest for old girlfriends."

"Girlfriend?"

"You know what I mean."

"I know what you wanted."

"Amanda..." Trip's eyes traveled to her chest. "Corporal Cole--"

She thrust out her chest. "What are you looking at, as if I didn't know?"

"Y-Your rank patch. I see you haven't been promoted yet. Wonder why."

"You're one to talk about promotions. Think they'll let you keep that third pop solid this time?"

Trip exhaled loudly. "Why are you here, Corporal?"

"Maybe I missed our verbal foreplay."

"Cole--"

"Or maybe Major Hayes sent me here to present a requisition list to the XO."

Trip looked her up and down. "You don't have a padd."

"I said 'maybe.'" From her pocket, she pulled a device roughly half the size of a padd and tossed it to him. "Marines use these now. I'll need it back after you've downloaded the data."

Trip located the data port, plugged it into his terminal, nodded. "Why send you? Does he know--does anybody on board know about us?"

"I don't kiss and tell," she said. "Thumb print sign if you approve."

"You're not exactly known for your discretion." He pressed his thumb onto the screen and tossed the mini-padd back.

"I promise I won't ruin your career, Chuckles, and I'm not looking to rekindle anything. Though you have to admit those two weeks in Key Largo we sizzled. The week after you graduated OCS too. And the weekend before the Andrew Cunningham shipped out." She laughed. "Relax. I'm just busting your balls. My aunt says hello, by the way."

"Yeah, tell her hey."

"Will do." The mirth vanished from Amanda's face as she struck a rigid pose, hand rising to her brow in salute. "If that will be all, Commander."

"That'll be all." A pause. "Oh, dismissed."

He watched her leave, the picture of military sharpness, and realized with more than a little annoyance he had no idea what he had just signed. His eyes scanned the data he had downloaded. "Oh hell. Cole!" He set off in pursuit.

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Weapons

08:29

Major Hayes flipped open his Agency-issued communicator. The Marine earpieces were easily enough integrated into the onboard comm system, but the brass were dragging their heels approving them. "Hayes," the major said.

"We're a go, sir."

"Acknowledged, Corporal. Good job."

Correction: the earpieces had just been approved courtesy of Commander Tucker. The earpieces, and a few other things.

"What did she mean by that, sir? What's a go?" The voice was Lieutenant Reed's. He was able to ask his question because he'd heard the call over the major's communicator. Damn things were set to speaker function automatically.

Hayes dropped the communicator and before it struck the deck his fist struck Reed on the chin. Reed crumpled, and Hayes knelt to check his vitals. "Tour's over, Lieutenant." Hayes retrieved an earpiece from his pocket, slipped it over his ear, and tapped it to activate it. He heard static until the connection had been established. "All teams, get into position." Apes won't know what hit them.

He stood and was checking his sidearm when he felt a hand at his ankle. The Brit had more fight than he credited him with. Don't waste time with a retort, EllTee. Just strike.

"Already?" Reed said. "A pity. We were coming to the best part."

At least that was what Hayes assumed Reed would have said. A dart from Hayes's gun rendered the lieutenant unconscious before he could complete his statement. Hayes flipped Reed over and tied his hands with a plastic cord. Recalling a favored quote, Hayes said. "I do not envy you the headache you will have when you wake. Sleep well and dream of large women." Then he chambered another round.

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Bridge

08:31

To test short-range sensors, Lieutenant Commander Matthews directed them toward Manhattan, Montana, a small town that because of its proximity to Bozeman benefited from that city's sophisticated sensor cloak. It also happened to be his wife's hometown and current location since she'd taken the kids there for an extended visit with her parents. Greg didn't expect he could detect their house from spacedock. Still he had to direct the sensors somewhere, and getting through that cloak was a challenge.

That challenge would have to wait.

Greg's screen went black. Judging by the murmurs coming from the other bridge stations, his wasn't the only screen down. "Let's get a repair crew up here. Yeoman, contact..." His voice trailed off. The blank screen was no loner blank. On it appeared a logo featuring a stylized shark and emblazoned with the words "UES Marines" and "Macos." Hayes's squad.

The door opened, and the three who entered wore Marine BDUs. Greg stood. "What the hell?"

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Bridge

08:33

Gunnery Sergeant Carlos Tudyk loomed over the bound forms of the on-duty bridge crew, chagrined that one of them, Commander Matthews, was the vessel's third-in-command. At least the captain was safely ensconced under guard in the ready room. Standard Operating Procedure called for hauling out and depositing him with the others, but the gunny doubted he could steady his nerves while holding a gun, even a dart gun, on the CO. This deviation from SOP was justified, though, since segregating the captain ensured his officers wouldn't try anything.

"This is Tudyk," the gunny said, tapping his earpiece. "Bridge is secure."

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Weapons

08:34

A sergeant, his voice distorted by its conveyance through the comm system, said, "Engine room secure."

Another voice: "Armories one and three secure."

And another: "Armory two and four secure."

"Acknowledged," Major Hayes said. "Perkins, Weapons is yours. Barker, Watson, you're with me."

The named Marines fell into step beside the major and escorted him to the bridge where he parted from their company and proceeded to the ready room. Inside he found the captain leafing through an astronomy text and his guard standing at attention with sidearm holstered. When the door had closed, Hayes too snapped to attention.

Archer wheeled around. "I'm waiting for an explanation, Major."

"Five minutes, Captain."

"No, Major. Now."

"What I mean, sir," Hayes said, "Is that within five minute my men infiltrated your computer system and secured all vital areas on your ship. As of this moment we are in control."

A tense moment as Archer fought to maintain his composure, then, "Is this...drill over?" At the major's nod, Archer hit the intercom. "Yeoman, patch me into Weapons and Engine Control."

"This is Corporal Callahan, sir," came the reply. "I can fulfill your request."

Hayes spoke up. "Securing communications was a vital objective. I'll have your yeoman released immediately."

"How about having all my people released? And restoring control of my computers?"

"Of course, sir." Hayes tapped his earphone and relayed the orders.

Noting the earphone, Archer said, "I don't recall authorizing those."

"Commander Tucker did, sir." A pause. "Unintentionally."

"Explain."

He did, and Archer cursed.

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Conference Room

10:15

"In three minutes--"

"It was five."

"Excuse me, Commander?"

"Nothing, Admiral."

Archer groaned inwardly. Admiral Forrest's eyes were as cold as his voice; Trip should have known better than to speak. Given a few hours more, the engineer would gradually have abated, but it and his frustration were still open, throbbing wounds. Archer had seen it in the man's eyes when they met the Admiral at the airlock. It had remained there during the deathly quiet walk to the conference room, and it remained still. Forrest must surely have noticed it also, but was evidently in too foul a mood himself to care. Again, Trip reminded Archer of his dad, the brave scientist who kowtowed to no one. Henry had stood up to this very Admiral a time or two. But, unlike Henry, Trip had a military career to consider.

Forrest continued, "In three minutes, Earth's brand new state-of-the-art flagship was taken, its computer systems commandeered by a virus installed by one of its command staff." He glared at Trip, daring him to speak. Wisely, the engineer bit his tongue. "Nice touch that, Major," Forrest said.

Yesterday morning Archer had conducted his first departmental briefing in this room. Today his people were being chewed here out like first year cadets. His baser half was grateful to avoid the brunt of the tongue lashing, but his higher self, his officer self, his Archer self resolved to step into the metaphorical line of fire if Forrest did not switch targets. His people's actions were his responsibility.

"So far," Forrest said, "we've been treating space exploration like it's one giant field trip. It's dangerous, but we've got our permission slips signed, so everything's going to be all right. Problems, when detected, are easily fixed. Stray meteoroids call for thicker hull plating. Faulty machinery for better designs. Human error for better people." At this, he skewered Tucker with another glance. Then he plowed on before Archer had time to make good on his vow. "Some problems have no easy solutions.

"No longer do we describe ourselves as 'peoples of the earth.' Despite our differences, we are united. We have eliminated war and poverty from our planet. The few conflicts we do have are colonial disputes. The future looks bright, but it takes a lot of polish to maintain that shine. We settle our conflicts diplomatically, sacrificing our lives rather than taking up arms against our fellow humans."

Was Forrest practicing a speech? Without realizing, Archer crossed his arms. He would have preferred hearing the Admiral rant.

"Every time Earth has employed arms these past five decades it's been the Marines who have done it. On land. We've run sims, we've run drills, but never once has UESPA engaged in ship-to-ship combat. The farther we get from home, the more likely that scenario is to play out. We're headed into hostile waters. You all have access to the Vulcan database. There are races catalogued there that will fire on us with little or no provocation. It is the belief of Fleet Command that members of one such race attacked Palmyra one week ago today."

"Have the Vulcans confirmed that, sir?" Archer said.

"That question is best asked in private, Captain."

"These are my best people. I trust every one of them."

"But the Vulcans don't trust us," Trip said. "Not completely. It's okay, Captain. I'm sure the answer is beyond our clearance level for a reason." Trip's mask of good humor was back in place, but Archer could still detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Forrest said, "Actually, Commander, as Executive Officer you have the proper clearance."

"Hmm. I'm still XO. What do you know?"

"Trip," Archer said.

"Sorry, sir."

Forrest heaved a sigh and raised his voice to address the room. "No one planetside knows this drill happened, and it would be bad for morale if they did. I need not remind you that you are forbidden to speak about it to family, friends, and especially the press under penalty of court-martial. A security blackout is in effect thanks to Major Hayes. The blackout will be lifted within two hours. You are to relay this directive and its penalties to your subordinates before then. If this gets out, I will hold everyone in this room responsible. Captain Archer and Commander Tucker, please remain. The rest of you are dismissed."

As his staff filed out, Archer noticed Lieutenant Reed raising the icepack he'd kept hidden beneath the table during the debriefing back to his face. The swelling would be awful by the time of the deployment ceremony. Nothing to be done for it except to send him to MedBay and give Phlox his first patient. Reed would have to settle on a cover story--Archer was thinking bar fight or training accident--or hide himself away during the ceremony.

Trip sipped on a tumbler of water while Forrest consulted a padd. The silence drew on, until at last Forrest nodded to himself and powered down the padd. "Let's drop the military formality for now. Tucker, that was a damn stupid thing you did."

"Cole is a Marine, sir. She's on our side."

"She might have been compromised, or her equipment might have been sabotaged. You had no way of knowing."

"I know her," Trip said. "Least I thought I did."

"Is there something going on between the two of you?"

"No."

"Tucker?"

Trip sighed. "We grew up in the same city. I met her in high school. I know her family. That's all."

"All that makes her a prime target to subvert. It would be a sound tactic, getting to a command officer through an old...friend." Forrest didn't let Trip respond. "You're a hell of an engineer, with a hell of a mind. Use that mind to realize how thin the ice you're standing on is. We cannot have another incident. We do, and you're out of here. As in, off this ship. Behind a desk back in Bozeman."

"Sir," Archer said.

"Your influence only goes so far, Jon."

"It goes higher than you."

"Captain!" The voice was Trip's, as was the look that said, Thanks for what you're trying to do, but for the love of God shut up. "I understand, Admiral. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Forrest said. "Your mission has become far more militaristic than we planned. Should the captain be incapacitated, your decisions will affect not only every life on this ship, but potentially every life on Earth. I don't want to lose you, Tucker, but I have to know I can rely on you to make such decisions. Tell me now, all cards on the table: can I rely on you?"

Trip sobered up. "On my life, Admiral, you can."

Forrest nodded, powered up his padd and slid it between the captain and his second. Both gasped.

"Yes, gentlemen," Forrest said, "you're getting nukes. Pray God you won't need them."

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Ready Room

11:10

"It was my fault, Trip. Forrest knows that."

"You're an Archer. Nothing is your fault. I shouldn't have gone along with you, and I don't blame you. So, let's drop it, okay?"

"Okay." Archer leaned back in his chair. "About dinner tonight..."

Trip shook his head. "After Hayes disrupted my Engine Room for two hours, dinner is the last thing on my mind." He fluffed up the bed's single pillow and leaned back against it. "You need an extra chair in here."

"I can't eat with the Vulcan again without proper backup."

"From what I hear, you didn't eat with her the first time. What? I have my sources."

"So your uncle is a chef and a gossip," Archer said.

"Half the crew is doubling up duties. Why not him?"

Archer smiled. "At least he isn't tripling up. What's on the menu for tomorrow?"

"Don't you start."

"Be at dinner, and I won't have to."

"What do you have against her?" Trip said. "That she's Vulcan?"

"I don't know how to act around them. On duty I'm fine, but off--how do you socialize with someone who never cracks a smile?"

"I bet your linguist could help with that. How about inviting her?"

"Hoshi's been with T'Pol all morning," Archer said.

"How about Reed?"

"He's not up for it. Hayes practically broke his jaw."

"Damn, those Maco boys play for keeps." Trip cracked his neck and Archer made a face. "Anyway," Trip said, "I haven't even invited her yet."

"Well, do it."

"Fine, I'll stop by her office."

"She's probably still at Hoshi's."

"Is that why Sato wasn't at Forrest's bore and grill?"

"Careful, and yes. T'Pol's office is technically a Vulcan consulate, and they have to approve any military ops within two clicks of their soil. When the Marines went to clear it with her, she told them where she'd be."

"So, you knew?"

Archer shook his head. "Found out after the fact. They're probably still there if you want to get that invite out of the way."

"Nah, I'll just message her."

"Trip..."

"I'll do it, I promise. But I ain't stopping by. If there's one thing my momma taught me, it's that a gentleman never interrupts girl talk."

"Even interspecies girl talk?"

"Especially interspecies girl talk."

TBC