CHAPTER TEN

"So, who are ya, and how can we help ya?" Trip asked.

"My name is Terrel Howard," the human looking man said. "I understand that you are looking for men to provide a security force." Trip was instantly on guard. If this guy wasn't an augment, he'd eat his hat. If he had a hat.

"Might be as I am," Trip nodded. "How many men you talkin' about?"

"We are a team of eight, including myself," Howard answered, looking at Kara. "You allow the slave to sit, while a potential employee stands before you?" he asked, a bit harshly. Trip didn't like the superiority in his tone.

"Reckon we're done, Mister Howard," Trip told the obvious augment. "Treat your men to a drink on me, and have a good evening," he nodded to Kron, who made a motion Trip didn't understand to the waiter.

"You don't even know our qualifications!" Howard objected.

"Well, I know an augment when I see one," Trip replied. "And I know an arrogant jackass when I see one, too, I reckon. Don't really care that you're an augment."

"But anyone reckons human slavery is okay, that's somebody I don't need on my boat. So thanks anyway, and please be on ya way," Trip made a shooing motion, and Howard's face tightened.

"Don't do somethin' you'll regret, now," Trip warned softly, smiling. It was clear that he was inviting Howard to do just that. Perhaps looking forward to it.

Howard wasn't stupid, however. He hadn't survived this long without some smarts. Rather than argue, he nodded, and walked away.

"You make friends everywhere you go, don't you dear?" Neera shook her head, sighing.

"Just get the next'un," Trip sniffed airily, causing Neera to snort. Kron laughed once, shortly, and even Kara started to giggle, but instantly cut herself off.

"None o' that, now," Trip said gently. "You're safe, now, I promise. You ain't no slave, no more, either, but reckon you better play like you are til we get shut o' this place."

"Of course, Master," Kara murmured. He food arrived, and she looked up, expectantly.

Waiting for permission to eat, Neera thought sadly. She reached out gently.

"Honey, you don't have to wait, or ask, just eat, if you're hungry," she said softly. "I'm willing to bet you are."

"Yes, mistress," Kara nodded, and lifted her hand.

"Don't call me that," Neera ordered. "We'll work on that later," she said, seeing Kara jerk. "Just eat." Kara nodded, eyes full of unshed tears.

Before Trip could speak, a Denobulan arrived at their table. He bowed respectfully.

"My name is Tragon-Das," he said formally. "At your service."

"Don't see too many Denobulan soldiers out here," Trip said easily.

"There aren't many," Tragon admitted. "My men and I are a squad of Denobulon special forces soldiers who. . .well, we found ourselves without a war to fight. So, we went in search of another."

"Find one? Trip asked, gently.

"One always finds war, if he looks hard enough," Tragon nodded. "We are currently looking for another one."

"How many of you are there?" Trip asked.

"Seventeen," Tragon informed him. "What is left of over forty," he added softly.

"Lost some in the first war, I imagine," Trip commented softly.

"Far too many to simply quit, and leave their killers unpunished," Tragon nodded. "But. . .orders are orders."

"That they are," Trip nodded. "Got any references?"

"I do, sir," the man held out a PADD, which Kron took, and began looking at.

"I have heard of this man," Kron said evenly. "He is honorable, and a fine warrior, as are all his men."

"My thanks," Tragon bowed. "From a Klingon Warrior, that is indeed high praise."

"Want to know what the job is?" Trip asked.

"Not really," Tragon shrugged. "Whatever you are doing will be violent, and you will need men capable of great violence. We require set ROE's, equipment allowances, and complete medical."

"We're going somewhere pretty bad. Ain't no point in lyin', som'o'ya won't be comin' back, in all likelihood. Maybe none of us."

"We have nothing to come back too, anyway, sir," was the only response. Trip looked at Kron, who nodded, then he turned his attention to Neera. She also nodded.

"Well, Tragon, reckon you and your men might have a job. There's a shuttle from a freighter called Athena bout a half-klick from the bar. Reckon you and your men can meet us there in the morning."

"We'll be there," Tragon promised.

"Meanwhile, you and your men enjoy your night on me," he said, offering him a small bag of the coins Kron had told him were accepted here.

"My thanks, Captain," Tragon accepted the money. "Until the morning," he added, and departed. Neera motioned for the last man, a Klingon, and waved him over.

"Got a name?" Trip asked, genially. The new arrival looked at Kron, who stared back with a blank face. Turning back to Trip, the young Klingon drew himself fully erect, standing almost seven feet tall.

"My name is Bat'el," he said. "I have twelve men in my service, all experienced and well trained. What work would you have for such a force?"

"Well, I need men used to workin' in space, or at least familiar with it. Men who can fight on ship if needed, or on the ground. They need to be able to board and capture ships, prisoners, and intelligence. You got any references?" The young Klingon handed over a PADD with the required information. Trip looked at it, then passed it to Kron, who merely handed it to Neera without looking at it. The younger Klingon bristled at that, but kept silent.

Kron's face revealed nothing.

"What do you two think?" Trip asked after giving Neera time to look it over.

"They have experience where we need it, if this is accurate," Neera told him, handing the PADD back. Trip turned to Kron.

"I am afraid I can offer no opinion on this one, Captain," he said simply.

"Huh?"

"Afraid to speak, then?" Bat'el pushed.

"You would not wish to hear my words," Kron told him, his tone flat.

"Your owner has given you leave to speak, dog, so why don't you. . . ." Bat'el's mini-rant was cut off as Kron reached up, grabbed the younger Klingon by his leather shirt, and slammed his head to the table, where he held tight.

"He is a liar, and a braggart," Kron told Trip, over the struggling Bat'el's head. Neera noticed several Klingons headed their way, and reached into her jacket to grasp the disruptor held inside in a shoulder holster. As the Klingon's approached, however, the oldest spread his arms, holding the others back, a look of amusement replacing his earlier look of anger and outrage.

"He has given you a false name," Kron went on, "failed to mention that he, in all likelihood does not lead the group he belongs to, that he is still a mere child, and should be in his father's house, where. He. Belongs!"

"Y'know, I'm startin' to get the impression you two know each other," Trip said easily, sitting back in his chair.

"He is, unfortunately, the youngest son of my father's third wife," Kron replied with great reluctance."

"Wait," Trip leaned forward again. "You two are brothers?"

"No!" both voices replied at once. This brought laughter from the assembled Klingons behind them. The older, grey-haired warrior stepped forward.

"Ah, Kron, I see you still have your sense of humor!"

STE

"Why have you brought him with you?" Kron demanded, having released 'Bat'el' from the table, and pushed him toward the others, where two older warriors restrained him easily.

"Manners, Kron," the older Klingon reminded him. "You were certainly taught better than that." Kron looked distinctly uncomfortable at that, but straightened himself.

"My Lord and Lady. . .Grim, may I introduce you to Dru'hak, the finest warrior it has ever been my honor to know. Dru'hak, Lord and Lady Grim, who's house I now serve."

"Well met," Dru'hak said, saluting much as Kron had done.

"I understand you wish to hire soldiers," Dru'hak turned to business.

"You still have not explained his presence," Kron replied. Dru'hak sighed.

"It was your father's idea," he admitted. "The boy needs leavening, and your father believed, rightly, that I could give it to him."

"He does not appear leavened to me," Kron noted in disdain.

"I am not yet finished with him," Dru'hak shrugged. "He is even more troublesome than you were," he added, with malicious glee. Kron turned to Trip.

"My Lord, yes, he is my youngest brother, Klec. His is. . .difficult."

And people say Klingons aren't diplomatic, Trip mused to himself.

"Kron, I take it you'd endorse Dru'hak and his men?"

"Without question, save one," Kron refused to let his brother's presence go.

"You should leave such worries to your betters, Kron," Dru'hak scolded.

"Older does not imply 'better'," Kron replied stiffly, though with some underlying amusement. "And you are nothing if not old," he added.

"Well, that's true," Dru'hak laughed. "And you always did have a problem with authority."

"Ya'll can get all caught up on yer own time," Trip laughed. It was clear the two had respect for one another. "Dru'hak, we are looking for men. Soldiers. Men who can fight on ship, or on the surface." He leaned forward.

"It's a dirty job, and it'll be violent. You'll almost certainly lose men, and there's no way 'round it. Pays well, but I'm afraid you'll earn ever penny."

"Without battle, we are nothing," Dru'hak shrugged, unconcerned. "Should we perish in combat, then that is a fitting death, an honorable death, for any Klingon. Kron, is this a job I would want?" he asked, serious.

"There will be much combat," Kron nodded. "Against a hard foe. One we will destroy, or die in the attempt. It is a matter of honor for the House Grim. There is no alternative save victory or death."

"We'll take it," Dru'hak said at once. "For you to say such, Kron, intrigues me. It must be quite the battle in the offing."

"I intend to make it so," Trip nodded. "Our ship, the Athena, is nearby. We'll leave early. Do you have problems working with other races?" Trip asked politely. "We will also have Denobulan soldiers aboard, along with human warriors, and possibly others. Most of those others will be ship crew, including at least one Vulcan, our chief engineer. Some of your men may have to work with him, which means taking his orders."

"It is unusual to see a Vulcan working on a ship other than their own," Dru'hak commented.

"Not your usual Vulcan," Trip shrugged. "Will it be a problem?"

"No, Captain, it will not. My men are disciplined, save perhaps for 'Bat'el'," he laughed. "And I assure you, he will be, when the time comes," he added, a bit more serious.

"Sounds like a winner to me, then," Trip smiled. He handed Dru'hak a bag similar to the one he'd given Tragon. "You and your men enjoy the rest of the night, with my blessing. We'll be leaving at 0800. I expect you to be aboard by 0700, so we can get you settled."

"We will be there," Dru'hal nodded, accepting the money. "Until then, Captain."

"We're heading back now, I reckon," Trip decided. "Been a long day. Kron, would you like to stay with Dru'hak and his men tonight?"

"If you have no need of me, sir, I would enjoy it."

"Take the night off, then, but you better be on board. Don't wanna lose you."

"I will be there."

Trip stood, and Kara immediately jumped to her feet. Neera stood as well, trying to calm the girl.

"See you two in the mornin'," Trip nodded. The three of them departed then, Kara still jumping at almost every motion.

"Perhaps we should send men along with them," Dru'hak said softly. "This is not a place for a man to be alone with two women."

"Never make the mistake of thinking Lord and Lady Grim cannot take care of themselves," Kron shook his head. "I have seen them in battle, and they are nothing short of amazing. I saw, with my own eyes, Lord Grim tear the head from an Orion slaver. With his hands," Kron added for emphasis.

"I was not aware humans possessed such strength."

"I do not believe they are ordinary humans," Kron confided.

"I should think not," Dru'hal scoffed. "If they were, I would not expect you to give your allegiance to their house."

With that they rejoined the rest of the group, where the more seasoned warriors were still razing Klec.

It was almost a foregone conclusion there would be a fight before the night was over.

STE

As Trip and Neera walked along, Kara tried to fall in behind them, but Neera would have none of that.

"Come up here with us, Kara," she ordered gently.

"Of course, Mistress," Kara replied at once.

"Kara, I'm not your Mistress, and 'Grim' here certainly isn't your Master," Neera told her calmly. "He simply didn't want to leave you here at the mercy of these. . .people. Especially that jackass Nee."

"Now that is not nice," Nee's voice came to them from the dark, and Kara let out a startled eep. Trip turned to see Nee behind them, flanked by two Orions, each with a stunner. Nee held a disruptor, pointed at Trip.

"I have come for the woman," Nee said simply. "It will be my pleasure to teach her how to address and refer to her betters," he added.

"You just couldn't let it be, could ya?" Trip sighed, pulling Kara behind him. "I had decided you might have two brain cells to rub together, but. . .well, I been wrong before."

"Normally I would not retake a slave I had sold," Nee told him. "Seeing as how you will soon be dead, however, I will be taking the other back as well."

"Neera, I got a feeling you'd like to get to know Mister Nee a little better," Trip said casually.

"You have no idea," the Amazon growled, her voice suddenly deep, gravely. Trip glanced over at her, and was surprised to see two fangs protruding from her mouth.

"Well, reckon I'll take the Orions, then," he said. Her only response was a nod. Trip looked at Kara.

"You stay here, and get down on the ground," he told her gently. "This won't take but a minute." She obeyed at once, kneeling. She instantly placed her hands behind her, with her head lowered. For some reason that enraged him.

"Whenever you're ready," he told Neera, who suddenly leaped at Nee too fast for the eye to follow. Trip was right behind her.

It took three minutes, it turned out, since Neera really, really, didn't like Nee. The Orions were no problem, especially since Trip had fought them before. Four blows, two dead Orions, and one very pissed off Trip, having had a shock stick used on him again.

"I'ma find me whoever invented these, and shove one straight up'is ass," Trip swore, holding one of the shock sticks in his hands.

Neera finally dropped Nee's lifeless body to the ground, gently wiping her mouth as she did so.

"Easy, darlin'," Trip said cautiously. She turned to him, eyes still wild, but slowly coming into focus.

"I think I can get behind your original idea where the Orions are concerned," she growled.

"And you say I'm dangerous?" he laughed.

"Yes," she told him. "I was just mad," she added. "Bastard," she hissed, kicking Nee's lifeless body just once more.

They turned to see Kara still kneeling, but now with a look of shock on her face.

"Take it easy, gal," Trip said, trying to reassure her. "Everything's okay, now. Ain't nobody gonna hurt. . . ." He stopped there, since Kara had fainted.

"Well, shit."

STE

It took a little while the next morning to get everyone loaded up and situated. The Athena was a pretty good sized freighter, capable of Warp 4 in a pinch, and had ample cargo room that allowed everyone a place to bunk, and to store gear. Once the ship was loaded, they lifted off, Trip anxious to be underway.

One hour later, well into space, Trip, Neera and Kron met with Tragon and Dru'hak.

"Either one o' ya'll ever been into the Delphic Expanse?" Trip asked. Dru'hak shook his head no, while Tragon stiffened a bit.

"I take it that's a yes?" Trip asked gently.

"We have, sir," the Denobulan replied. "It is a. . .strange place. One where death comes easily, and from any direction."

"Well, of course it is," Neera sighed. "I mean if it wasn't, we wouldn't need to go there, would we?"

"I have heard of it, but never been there," Dru'hak shrugged. "What I have heard, I do not like," he admitted.

"Well, that's where we're goin'," Trip told them. "Inside there, somewhere, is a race called the Xindi. I aim to hunt them down, and kill them all." Trip's voice was dull and flat, empty of all emotion.

"That is likely to be a large order," Tragon replied. "The Expanse is huge, Captain. If you don't know where they are, then. . . ." He shrugged.

"We'll find'em," Trip promised. "No matter how long it takes, or what it takes," his voice hardened. "I'm sure you two have heard by now about the Xindi attack on Earth?" Both nodded.

"Well, that attack killed seven million o' my people," Trip continued. "One of'em was my youngest sister." Understanding dawned on both men at that revelation. Klingons and Denobulans were both well known for their loyalty to family.

"We will help you get your revenge," Dru'hak said harshly, nodding in approval.

"My men understand the loss of family all too well," Tragon spoke more quietly, but with no less conviction. "We will go with you, for as long as it takes." He paused.

"Captain, if I may," he continued, "this vessel, while a good ship, will not likely survive long enough in the expanse for you to have your revenge. There are. . .anomalies, of some sort, inside the Expanse that simple consume weaker vessels. There are also many violent races and beings inside. Piracy and other attacks will happen, no matter how careful."

"Well, we ain't goin' there in this ship, though I agree, she's a good one," Trip smiled. "I've designed and built a ship designed for this job, and that's what we'll be taking into the Expanse. And the first pirate to cross our path will wish he hadn't."

"I see," Tragon nodded. "Do you have sufficient amounts of Trellium D to coat your hull?"

"What?" the question caught Trip by surprise. Tragon sighed gently.

"As I thought," he nodded. "You are not aware of the violent nature of the anomalies within the Expanse."

"Ah, not as such, no," Trip was getting an uneasy feeling.

"These anomalies, often referred to as micro-singularities, can damage a vessel, but that is not the worst. The anomalies pass through your ship, Captain, and anyone they strike is. . .well, if they are fortunate, they are killed instantly."

"What if they are not, 'fortunate'," Neera asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I have seen beings of many races who were. . .for lack of a better term, turned inside out. Alive."

There was a general silence around the table, as the others exchanged looks. Trip's gaze eventually returned to Tragon.

"So, you know what this. . .Trellium D is?" he asked. "And where we can get some?"

"As it happens, I do," Tragon smiled slightly.

STE

With the meeting over, Trip and Neera decided to check on Kara. They headed for her bunk, talking as they walked along.

"I'll send a message to Tarn that we're gonna need that Trellium D, and get him working on making a deal with this. . .well, the fella that Tragon told us about," he frowned. Despite repeated attempts to pronounce the alien name, Trip had given up.

"I'm glad we met Tragon," Neera nodded. "I do not like the idea of being turned inside out," her shiver added emphasis to the statement.

"I hear that," Trip agreed, stopping as they arrived at Kara's door. Trip rang the chime.

No response.

He looked at Neera and then tried again.

Nothing.

"Kara?" Neera called, frowning.

"Yes, Mistress?" they heard her reply.

"Okay if we come in?"

"Of course, Mistress."

"What is the deal here do you reck. . . ." Trip trailed off as the door opened, revealing a nude Kara, kneeling in the middle of the floor, hands behind her neck, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"What in the blazes o' hell?" Trip said before he could stop himself.

"Kara, get up, and put some clothes on," Neera ordered.

"My clothing has not been returned, Mistress," Kara told her. "This one if forbidden to wear covering of any kind without permission," she added.

"Yeah, well, that's over, as o' now," Trip told her, stripping the sheet from her bunk, and covering the nude girl's form.

"Kara, wrap yourself in this sheet, and then take a seat," Neera told her, moving to help her.

"As you wish, Mistress," Kara hurried to obey.

"Stop calling me Mistress, Kara," Neera said gently. "Just Neera, okay?"

"As you wish Mistress Neera."

Trip had an epiphany about then.

"Kara, how long have you been a captive?" he asked gently.

"This one is unaware of that information, Master," came the reply. Trip's hand halted Neera's repeating the 'don't call me that' line. Instead, he motioned her outside.

"Kara, wait here for a few minutes, and we'll find ya somethin' more suitable to wear, okay?"

"This one is accustomed to others seeing her unclothed, Master, if you wish me to remain so."

"No, no, I don't think that's necessary," Trip told her. "Going naked around here might not a good idea. Lot's o' things on a ship can hurt ya."

"I am accustomed to pain, Master," Kara informed him, still not looking up.

"Well, then, you can get accustomed to not havin' any, then. Right?"

"As you desire, Master." Trip led Neera outside, the closed and locked the door.

"Why did you lock her in?" Neera demanded.

"Make her feel safer," Trip explained as they moved down the passageway, where they could talk without being interrupted. "She's been conditioned to behave like that, Neera. Breakin' her out of it'll probably require a shrink, and a lotta time. Until then, we're gonna have to be real careful how we handle her."

Understanding came slowly to Neera, but as it did, her face grew dark, and slightly contorted.

"Easy, there, darlin'," Trip said softly.

"How can. . .how can you be so calm about this!" Neera wanted to scream, but settled for an ugly hiss.

"Well, I ain't got a lotta choice at the moment," he admitted. "Since we bought'er, we're responsible for her care. Got to keep my anger back so I can see to her needs. She needs a doctor for sure, and then, like I said, probably a lotta time with a shrink." Neera's harsh look softened at that, and she nodded.

"That poor girl," she said softly.

"We'll take care of her," Trip promised. "Meanwhile, how 'bout you get her something to wear, and show her around the ship. Maybe that'll at least make her feel more at ease. While you do that, I'll make a few calls."

"Okay," she agreed. She kissed him gently, deeply, then walked away to do his bidding.

Only when she was gone did Trip allow his anger to surface.

As soon as the Xindi were taken care of, he decided. Just as soon as that was done, he was going to crush the Orion Syndicate into space atoms. No, he decided, maybe something smaller.

STE

"Archer to Reed, report to my ready room, please."

"On the way, sir."

Just yesterday, Jon had expected to lose Reed's service for the fore-seeable future, if not permanently, and now this.

"I guess a day really does make the difference," he said to himself. Five minutes later, a slightly disheveled Reed entered.

"I apologize for my appearance, Captain," the fastidious Brit said at once. "I was in the Armory when you called."

"Never mind." Jon waved it away, and hit his com again.

"T'Pol, Phlox, please come to my ready room at once," he ordered.

"On my way," Phlox replied in his almost jovial manner.

"I am on the way there, Captain," a more reserved reply came from T'Pol. Both arrived in just a few minutes.

"Thank you for joining us," Archer told them. "This won't take but a minute or so." He looked at Reed.

"Atten'hut! Mister Reed!" he didn't quite shout, and Reed's Pavlovian reflexes snapped his body taunt.

"Commander T'Pol, please read the charges," he handed a PADD to her, which she took, her Eyebrow of Polite Inquiry rising to very nearly disappear into her hairline. She scanned the page briefly, and Archer would forever swear he saw the barest hint of a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"These are rather. . .serious," T'Pol shocked him further by helping him, just a little."

"I only just received them," Archer said grimly, giving Reed the 'Eye'.

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Starfleet, current assinment, NX-01 Enterprise is here-by awarded the Starfleet Medal of Meritorious Service for actions performed on the date of. . .yesterday, apparently," she concluded, lowering the PADD.

"Doctor Phlox, you should be very gratified to learn that yesterday, while being interrogated by Admirals Forrest, Black, and Gardner that Lieutenant Reed was credited for saving the life of Admiral Gardner. Admiral Gardner is now in Starfleet Hospital, San Francisco, recovering from cardiac and respiratory arrest."

"Outstanding, Lieutenant!" Phlox intoned, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Well done!"

"Thank you, sir," Reed managed to stammer, realizing that he'd been tricked. "It was your training that allowed me to resuscitate him."

"Probably made more than one enemy saving him, Malcolm," Jon snorted. "I'm proud that I'm the one who gets to do this," he added, placing the medal on Reed's uniform.

"That thought did occur to me, sir," Reed admitted, chagrined. "But I thought that Commander Phlox would have been very disappointed in me, had I allowed it to happen."

"And I was just kidding," Jon snorted. "Mostly," he added after a moment's thought. "Unfortunately that's not all," he sighed, and Reed fidgeted. First the carrot, then the hammer, he thought. He hadn't escaped after all.

"Effective immediately, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. His duty status and posting are to remain unchanged."

"Congratulations, Malcolm," Jon grinned, knowing he'd just gotten the Briton again. "And, I have something here for you, if you want them," he added, taking a small box from his desk. "I remember the day I pinned these on Trip," he said softly. "And I remember the day he gave them back, when he made Commander. I think he'd be pleased to see you wear them, if you'd like."

"Sir, I. . ." Malcolm struggled with that to say. Finally he just nodded, and said, "Yes, sir. I'd be honored." Jon arranged the new rank on Reed's uniform, then smiled, slapping the younger man on the shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Malcolm," he said earnestly.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Reed," T'Pol offered her blessing as well.

"Very good, Mister Reed!" Phlox was more animated, shaking the younger human's hand as well. "Richly deserved, in my opinion.

"Thank you, sir," Reed replied.

"I'm sorry for. . .well, no, I'm not," Jon gave way to laughter. "If you could have seen your face!" he almost howled. Phlox joined in, while T'Pol merely looked on.

"You had me going, sir," the still sweating Reed admitted.

"We all needed a good laugh, Malcolm," Jon admitted. "Thanks for being a good sport about it."

"The promotion helps assuage my injured feelings, sir," Reed rewarded the trio with a rare smile.

"I do wonder why I had to learn of this through an award certificate, Mister Reed," Jon told him.

"I just didn't think it was something that needed to be in my report, sir," Malcolm answered honestly. "I was actually expecting to receive orders to return for further questioning, or possible imprisonment."

"Well, that's not going to happen," Archer told him confidently. "Whatever really happened, and I'd really like to hear that some day, Admiral Forrest was about as subdued as I've ever seen him, and we go back a ways."

"You have brought great honor to the ship, and the crew, Commander Reed," T'Pol agreed. "Well done."

"Thank you, Commander," Reed nodded.

"Well, go on, and start showing off," Jon shooed him. "Get back to work, Mal."

"Sir," Reed stiffened, then departed.

"T'Pol, could I impose on your for one more minute," Archer asked.

"Of course, Captain. How may I serve."

As Reed neared the lift, he heard the ship wide com go active.

"Crew of the Enterprise, Attention to Orders," the sultry voice of T'Pol began. "Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. . . ." She read the entire thing in the same tone. By the time Reed reached the Armory, there was a reception party waiting.