A Matter of Time

by Soledad

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

I always wondered why, in canon, it would be Tucker who steered the Suliban cell ship, considering the fact that Archer was a pilot and he wasn't. So I gave Tucker's role to Sandra, since she's basically a second edition to Suzie Costello, who had the uncanny gift of "getting into alien tech" and would be capable of doing the same. In theory.

The Klingon phrases not from the onscreen dialogue are from Marc Okrand's "Klingon Dictionary", the printed version. Since he's the linguist who practically created the language, they are as canon as canon goes. The translations are at the end of the chapter. Unfortunately, I can't offer translations for the onscreen dialogue. I tried to backtrack the phrases in the Dictionary but didn't find them. So I simply decided that they came from a different dialect.


Chapter 11 – Search & Rescue

Within ten minutes, the captured Suliban cell ship launches from the Shuttle Bay and heads downward. Enterprise is still moving slowly through the blue gas of the red giant's phosphorous layer. The little ship is cramped and trembling. Archer and Sandra are sharing the single cockpit bench, desperately trying to make sense of the completely alien technology as they go, while Ianto is standing behind them – no other seats being available – and watching the sensor readings.

Fortunately, their visibility through the blue gas is non-existent, so they don't have to fear an attack – yet. That doesn't mean they're safe, though, by far, since much of what they do with the ship is guesswork at best. The maintenance manual can only help them with the most basic things.

To add insult to injury, a light on a side panel begins to blink, and an alarm starts to sound.

"What's that?" Archer demands.

Sandra shrugs. "Travis said not to worry about that panel."

"That's reassuring," Archer says in a tone that clearly indicates that it is not.

Ianto calls up the mental image of the maintenance manual to check the possibilities.

"It's a proximity alert, sir," he reports only seconds later. "We're about to…"

He's interrupted when the ship is buffeted by a sudden pocket of turbulence. Archer and Sandra are knocked together. Sandra is holding an alien steering mechanism with both hands, her face locked in that single-minded concentration Suzie used to display when "getting into the alien tech", as she called it. Sandra seems to have inherited the ability, together with the DNA, even though she overcompensates a bit for the impact, so that the ship weaves for a moment before it stabilizes.

Ianto needs all his considerable willpower not to get sick, and even Archer looks a bit queasy.

"They sure didn't build these things for comfort," he mutters.

Sandra flashes him a wicked grin. "Wait 'til we get the Klingon in here with us. Ianto, can you tell me our location?"

"If I'm reading this right, we should be about twenty kilometres from Enterprise, Ianto replies, studying the control panel.

"Drop the pitch thirty degrees," Archer orders. "Steady as she goes."

I hope so," Sandra mutters, wrestling the steering mechanism into obedience. "And in we go…"


On the Main Bridge of Enterprise, the tension can almost be physically felt. But they are all professionals and keep their calm… at least outwardly. In truth, Reed is the only one among them who's seen actual battle in outer space – well, save perhaps T'Pol, whose past is still nebulous to them – and even in that battle, Starfleet Intelligence was merely a covert observer.

Mayweather might have been in some minor skirmishes, usually with pirates – that's part of life as a space boomer – but this is difficult. Now a hostile alien force is actively seeking to destroy their ship.. and they don't even know why. It is a disconcerting fact.

"Hold on," Reed warns everyone as they hear the low-frequency boom of another deep charge.

They all brace as the ship jolts.

"That one was a lot closer," Mayweather says, a bit unnecessarily. They might be new to deep space travel, but they aren't stupid. They can all figure out that much on their own.

"If we change our position, they'll have to start from scratch," Reed suggests.

Which, too, is stating the obvious, but he's getting anxious and needs a ventil to calm his nerves.

T'Pol gives him an even look. "If we change our position, the Captain will have no way of finding us," she returns.

It is the bitter truth and Reed knows it. Still, sitting there like a duck in a pond, in clear sight for everyone to target them, goes against every instinct he's inherited from his naval ancestors… or got drilled into him at the Security Academy.

"All right," he says. "We'll wait… for now."

"That," T'Pol tells him coolly, "is not your decision to make, Lieutenant. The captain has entrusted his ship to me."

"Yeah; to save it, should he fail to return," Reed points out with some vehemence. "Not to let it be shot to smithereens in the illogical hope that he would return before the Suliban manage to locate us."

Calling a Vulcan illogical is the greatest insult possible. Everyone knows that; the Bridge crew holds their collective breaths, awaiting the explosion. The answer, however, is rather anticlimactic: it manifests in that perfect Vulcan eyebrow™.

"As you say, Lieutenant," T'Pol replies calmly. "We shall wait… for now."


In the meantime, the Suliban cell ship with Archer, Sandra and Ianto on board, is struggling its way through he thick layer of phosphorous towards the base of their enemies. The trembling that can be markedly felt is only partially caused by the roiling gas. Their lack of familiarity with the alien system is also part of the problem, as Sandra fights the redundant technology valiantly.

"I think we're in position," Ianto, who's been left in charge of the control screen, finally says.

"About time," Archer glances at Sandra. "Bring the docking interface online."

She automatically reaches out to press a button; then thinks better of it and presses another one. The interface hums to life.

"Coaxial ports," Archer says.

Sandra hits another control. They hear a brief hissing sound.

"Open," Ianto reports.

Archer takes a deep breath. "Let's go."

Sandra takes the steering mechanism in both hands, and gently begins to ease the ship downward (it reminds Ianto how Suzie used to always beat them in video games). Through the windows, they see the blue phosphorous clouds begin to thin out – until they abruptly break through to clear space. The trembling stops… but there is nothing to see in front of them.

"Where is it?" Archer looks around, confused. "According to the sensor data it was right here.

Ianto studies the alien graphic on his control screen. "Bank starboard, ninety degrees," he says to Sandra.

She moves the steering controller, and the ship banks sharply, dizzily revealing the huge Suliban Helix directly below them. It's too far away to see the individual components of which it consists – in fact, it appears like a tower hanging freely in space. It is an impressive sight.

"There you are!" Archer murmurs, a little jazzed, and Ianto nods.

"That's the upper-support radius," he tells Sandra, consulting the graphics. "Drop down right below it and start a counter-clockwise sweep."

Sandra looks at Archer for confirmation and the captain nods. "You heard the man, Ensign," then he removes a hand-held scanner from his belt and starts looking for the next best airlock.

Ianto could tell him where it is, of course, but that's knowledge he's not supposed to have – not to mention that the general location of airlocks and the distance between them in a standard Helix is about the only piece of solid information the Temporal Agency had (or rather will have) about 22nd century Suliban Helices – so he chooses to shut up and allow Archer to do his job.

Instead, he opts to watch on the control screen how their tiny cell ship descends down past the numerous levels of the Helix. Other cell ships, mostly larger than theirs, engage and disengage from the huge structure in no discernable pattern.

Once again, he must think of worker bees; which is the more surprising, knowing that the Suliban are actually highly individualistic people. It is deeply odd that they would willingly become but little cogwheels in such a large system; but apparently, fanaticism is a tendency shared by most so-called intelligent species.

Sandra is now slowing their descent, and begins manoeuvring the ship horizontally. The hull of the Helix is moving past the windows – it is an impressive spectacle, but she has no time to care about it right now.

"Captain," she says dryly. "An airlock any time now would be nice."

"A little more," Archer is working on his scanner frantically. "Just a little more..."

Sandra is gritting her teeth with Suzie's single-minded concentration as she keeps wrestling with the steering mechanism. There is a scraping sound, then the ship abruptly bumps into the Helix. Ianto loses his balance and is thrown against Archer's back, who gives Sandra a wry look.

"Your driving style reminds me of Trip," he says. "At least we aren't damaging Enterprise this time."

Sandra shrugs unrepentantly. "You know the saying, Captain: miracles we can deliver immediately; for the impossible we need a little longer," she glances back at Ianto who's landed rather hard against the cockpit bench. "You okay back there, Jonesy?"

Ianto stiffens at her slip of tongue (and he can see Archer has noticed it, too), but pretends that it didn't happen.

"A few bruises, slight loss of dignity… the usual," he replies, without missing a beat, and Sandra delivers the standard riposte right on time.

"That's Torchwood for you," then she looks at Archer. "I believe, Captain, we're right where we're supposed to be."

"Affirmative," Archer consults his scanner, focused completely on the mission again, but Ianto knows it isn't over yet. As soon as they're back aboard Enterprise, there will be questions; and he'll have to decide how much to reveal, quickly.

"Let's dock this thing," Archer says, and the ship slows down, almost to a stop. Through the window, they can see a circular airlock protruding from the Helix.

Archer now takes over half the controls. A Suliban pilot may be able to steer the vessel single-handedly, but for humans not familiar with the technology, it is a two-person job

"Manoeuvring thrusters," Archer says in a clipped tone. "I'll do the steering for this part."

"Be my guest, Captain," Sandra's relief, as she switches to manoeuvring thrusters, is palpable. She is a wiz when it comes to the hardware, but Archer is a pilot, born and trained to perfection.

Once again, Ianto is reminded of a video game as their captain begins to carefully manipulate the alien controls, having the ship edge sideways towards the airlock. After a tense moment or two, there is a loud clang; the ship jolts slightly and they can hear a series of whirring mechanical sounds as the docking ports lock into place.

Archer releases a long-held breath and wipes his sweaty face with the sleeve of his uniform jacket.

"Not my best docking manoeuvre, but it will do," he says. "What now?"

Before anyone could think of an answer, the hatch opens to reveal a darkly-lit corridor, leading – presumably – to the inside of the Helix.

"Right," Archer says dryly. "Gear up, people, and let's go!"


Mere minutes later they are on their way along the corridor, phase pistols drawn. Ianto carries the silver equipment case, while Sandra keeps her eyes on the scanner and Archer protects their back, with a phase pistol in each hand. It is one of those ridiculous superhero moments in which Jack has always excelled. Ianto fights back the memory of the Brecon Beacons and Jack breaking through the door of the house on a tractor, of all things – something else he'll have to share with Sandra eventually.

It is apparently genetic, too, and so are Archer's reflexes. Because when they round a corner and catch a Suliban by surprise, the spotted alien doesn't even find the time to draw his sidearm before Archer fires and knocks him to the ground, unconscious.

"Stun seems to work," the captain eyes the new weapon with appreciation.

"I for my part prefer the Torchwood-issue stun gun," Ianto mutters. "It's smaller, less obvious and a great deal more efficient."

"Of course it is," Sandra replies with a wicked grin. "I've constructed it, after all!"

"Actually, that was Suzie," Ianto corrects, but she shrugs his objection aside.

"Same difference. I could have done it, too. I'll never understand why Starfleet wouldn't consider our design for mass production. These phase pistols are so clumsy!"

"But they've got a much greater range," Ianto reminds her. "With our stun guns, you need to get really close to your target; that might be dangerous, say, with a Klingon in the game."

"Speaking of which," Archer interrupts," do you two think you could perhaps reschedule your fascinating discussion for later and focus on actually finding the Klingon?"

"Don't worry, sir," Ianto replies with a bland smile. "We of Torchwood Cardiff can multitask with alacrity. We had to, if we wanted to survive."

"I hate to remind you, but we actually didn't survive," Sandra points out, her eyes still fixed on the scanner.

"Semantics," Ianto replies airily. "We're both here, aren't we?"

"Living someone else's life – in my case anyway," Sandra returns. "On borrowed time in yours."

"Still better than being dead," Ianto shrugs.

"People," Archer says with forced patience. "As fascinating as this is, would you please shut up and focus on your jobs?"

"Sorry, Captain," Sandra looks genuinely contrite this time. "Neither of us is really military material."

"Yeah, that was UNIT," Ianto comments. "We're more… ad hoc, as Jack would say."

Archer appears close to exploding, but in that moment Sandra's eyes lit up.

"Oh!" she says brightly. "I think I've found him. This way…"


On the Main Bridge of Enterprise, everyone is waiting anxiously for the return of the landing party – or, at least, for a life sign from them. But Hoshi, pressing the small, hand-held earpiece generally known as a Feinberger module to her left ear, has to admit that it is harder to establish contact with them that she would have thought.

That T'Pol is displaying subtle signs of impatience – the Vulcan equivalent of screaming in frustration – does not help.

"Anything?" she might imagine the desperate urgency in the Vulcan's controlled voice… or she might not. She listens more intently, then shakes her head.

"The phosphorous is distorting all the EM bands..." she manages to jerk the earpiece away just in time before her eardrums would burst. "Grab on to something," she warns the others. "Incoming!"

This time the effect of the inverted deep charges is a great deal more serious. The two rapid booms are followed almost instantly by two powerful jolts. Bulkheads blow out and consoles go down, debris and streams of spewing gas envelop the Bridge. For a moment, Hoshi seriously wonders if they were actually hit… and whether this means the end of their mission.

But even in the middle of the chaos, she can hear the calm, authoritative voice of Lieutenant Hess ordering the maintenance crew to the Bridge, and soon the crewmen Haynem, Dillard and Rhodes arrive and start working on the damaged consoles. A few minutes later the spewing gas subsides and the instruments flicker back to life... a fact that makes Lieutenant Reed only moderately happy.

"This is ridiculous!" he growls at T'Pol. "If we don't move the ship, Captain Archer won't have anything to look for when he gets back."

He is right, of course, and T'Pol knows that. She is still hesitating to give the order, though.

"We are going to need that ear of yours," she finally says to Hoshi, coming to a decision; then, while Hoshi presses the Feinberger to her ear, she turns to Mayweather. "Move us away, five kilometres."

Mayweather looks up to her doubtfully. "In what direction?"

T'Pol, rather uncharacteristically for a Vulcan, hesitates for a moment.

"Any direction," she replies.

Mayweather nods and moves the ship, while Hoshi holds on to her earpiece for dear life and keeps listening for anything that may come through the comm system.


The Torchwood-issue scanner works like a charm, which is not a surprise. It is still vastly superior to anything mankind has come up with, even in the 22nd century, and in this particular case Ianto doesn't mind that UNIT clearly had the ruins of the Hub plundered after Jack's – their Jack's – departure from Earth. With Sandra, the technology is still in the right hands… and it can mean the difference between life and death. They must remain one step ahead of the Suliban, all the time, if they intend to get out of here alive.

"This way," Sandra says and turns to the left.

The narrow little corridor ends in front of a closed door, but closed doors have never been a hindrance for Suzie Costello, no matter in which incarnation. She removes a wall panel the others haven't even spotted, and inserts a little gizmo that doesn't look like standard Starfleet equipment, either, into the nest of circuits behind it. It fuses the circuits in two seconds and the door slides open, revealing what must be some sort of interrogation room.

Or a medieval torture chamber. One of the two.

In any case, Klaang is alone in there indeed, restrained in an elaborate chair, with tubes and devices still connected to his massive body. He's semi-conscious at best, but still an impressive sight in the steely blue light from the phosphorous layer above pouring in through the window.

"Well," Archer says, surprised and relieved that there's no-one there than the Klingon. "This is gonna be easier than I thought."

"Famous last words, sir, famous last words," Ianto comments, taking up position at the door to watch the corridor. "I'm afraid you've just jinxed the whole thing for us."

Archer laughs. "Don't be ridiculous!" then he turns to Klaang who is staring at him with open hostility. "It's okay. We're getting you off this thing."

"No, sir," Sandra corrects. "I am getting him off this thing. You are staying out of the way."

"Oh, am I?" Archer asks sarcastically. "Why would I?"

"Because you're a big guy and he'd instinctively see you as a threat – or as a challenge," Sandra replies, while moving to the chair and beginning to unstrap Klaang. "Besides, I've got the better hair for the job."

Ianto suppresses a giggle because truly, Sandra's untamed mane of curly, wavy dark hair does have a vague likeness to that of the Klingon. Sandra winks at him, releases the third and final restraint and drops to the floor at the same moment, rolling out of harm's way just in time when Klaang swings his arm up, intending to knock her across the room.

"Not to mention the fact that I've got ample practice in stepping out of the reach of men twice my size who are trying to beat the crap out of me," she adds darkly.

It doesn't matter that it was Suzie's shitty childhood. The old reflexes are still working and still useful.

Klaang, in the meantime, has gotten to his feet and is savagely pulling the tubes and wires from his body. Ianto locks his stance and takes aim at him with both hands.

"BljatlhHa' qaHoH!," he says in the military jargon called Clipped Klingon.

It isn't the best phrase for the current situation, but the only one he can think of at the moment.

"I really don't want to have to carry you out of here," he then adds in English, almost conversationally.

Klaang eyes him, a bit hesitant. Being spoken to in Klingon, and in the military slang at that, has clearly surprised him. It can't be guessed whether he actually understands English or not, though. In any case, he seems to be in control of his reactions now.

Mostly.

Hopefully.

"I think he gets the idea," Archer comments. "You're full of surprises, Mr Daniels."

"I try to do my best, sir," Ianto replies modestly.

Archer gives him a jaundiced look.

"We're definitely having a very long conversation, once this is over," he promises. "Now, give him a hand."

Ianto admits to himself that he's not too anxious to get close to the huge barbarian, but steels himself and throws Klaang's massive arm over his shoulder, helping the Klingon to follow Archer out the door. Sandra takes over the rear, since all they have to do is to track their own steps back to the ship.

How exactly the captain is planning to squeeze all four of them – including the enormous Klingon – into the one-man Suliban vessel, though, is everyone's guess.

They move as quickly as they can. Archer, pistol at-the-ready, is leading the way confidently enough. Not that surprising, really; Jack also had an excellent sense of direction. Sandra still keeps half an eye on her scanner, just in case, while Ianto has begun to sweat profoundly, bearing part of the weight of the huge Klingon, who doesn't seem to be fully lucid yet, as he begins to bellow again.

"Qu'taw bob!" he shouts, almost crushing Ianto with his weight as he's struggling along.

"YljathQo'!" Ianto snaps at him.

Klaang has fallen back to a dialect he doesn't understand, and it frustrates him. He was taught the main dialects on Futurama, but Klaang must be originating from some remote province.

"Muh tok!" Klaang snorts.

Whatever that means, it clearly isn't a compliment.

"Lo'laHbe'ghach!" Ianto returns sourly and yanks on the Klingon's heavy arm lying across his shoulder like a log to make him move faster. They don't have all day.

Which is truer than he might think, because as they keep moving, suddenly a Suliban weapon's blast tears away a large chunk of the wall next to them. Naturally, they dive for cover, but Klaang seems to be unable to shut up, regardless of the situation. He keeps screaming obscenities at the Suliban in that obscure dialect of his.

"Dajvo tag:h! Borat!" he shouts.

At least Ianto thinks they are obscenities. There's no way to tell, really.

"You tell him, big guy," Sandra comments dryly.

Archer ignores them both, his tactical mind already calculating the next necessary step.

"Give me the box," he says, indicating the silver case hanging from Ianto's shoulder. But Ianto shakes his head.

"No, sir. I'm more than qualified to dissolve a maglock, regardless of its size or complexity. However, I'm not qualified to command Enterprise. She needs a captain – her captain. You can't let her in the hands of a Vulcan."

As he's intended, that argument works. Archer nods and takes over supporting the Klingon.

Just then, a Suliban attacker rushes into view from an adjoining corridor, catching them by surprise. As he takes aim at Archer and Ianto, though, Klaang strikes the creature with brutal force, knocking him into a bulkhead. He then grabs the Suliban and pounds him with a couple of powerful blows that could knock a Judoon out cold, knocking him unconscious!

Then he turns to Archer and Trip with a feral grin, baring his razor-sharp teeth. It is an unsettling sight; they're glad he's on their side, at least for the moment.

"MajQa'!," Ianto tells him, when another Suliban weapon's blast whizzes by. Ianto turns to Archer. "Sir, you should get to the ship. I'll be right behind you."

Archer hesitates, but Sandra, coming from Torchwood and therefore a lot less idealistic, simply pushes him and Klaang take off down an adjoining corridor.

"Be careful, Jonesy," she adds before hurrying after them.

"Always," Ianto promises to her retreating back.

Then he puts down the case, opens it and removes the rectangular device within. He activates it and attaches it to the wall. He touches a series of controls in the pre-practiced order, then goes to his knees, covering his head. Soon, a low-pitched whine begins to build up in volume and intensity... and then the device emits a blinding energy pulse that radiates in all directions.

As the light recedes, Ianto gets to his feet. The corridor begins to tremble, there is the rumbling sounds of docking ports unlocking. Ianto looks down just in time to see the floor separating right before him. The entire corridor splits apart. Force-fields flash on as the interlocking elements making up this section of the Helix lose their cohesion.

Ianto mutters something truly vile in Welsh as he realizes he's been cut off from the others. He doesn't have the time to work out a strategy right now, though, as a Suliban weapon's blast strikes nearby. He has no choice but to turn and run.


Cramped into the tiny cockpit of the trembling Suliban cell ship, Archer, Sandra and the Klingon watch with morbid fascination as the entire upper section of the Helix is dismantling in front of their eyes. Some sections are huge, comprised of dozens of cell ships still connected to one another. Other sections are made of only one or two ships. The myriad sections tumble slowly away from the core.

"Captain," Sandra says quietly, "we should pick up Ianto and leave while we still can."

"You're right," Archer flips open his communicator. "Archer to Daniels."

"It worked," Ianto's tinny voice answers.

"I can see that," Archer replies. "Where are you?"

"Still on the central core, I'm afraid, "Ianto says flatly. "There's nothing you can do for me, sir. Get Klaang back to Enterprise. That's why we came here in the first place, right?"

"What about you?" Sandra asks. "We can't leave you behind. Even if we came back for you, it would be near impossible to isolate your bio-signs."

"Don't you dare to endanger the entire ship by coming back for me!" Ianto says sharply. "I have my own means to escape. You two see to get Klaang home safely."

"What sort of means?" Archer asks, not really believing it.

""That, sir, is another topic for that long conversation you're planning to have with me," Ianto replies. "Now, get out of here before the Suliban realize what's happening!"

After a moment of hesitation Archer accepts the inevitable and nods to Sandra to move them. Ianto watches through the window of the interrogation room as the tiny cell ship disengages from a large, floating section of the Helix and begins to wend its way upwards through the chaos. Then he, too, leaves the chamber, moving along the corridor cautiously.

He's about to round a corner when he sees two Suliban moving down the adjoining hall, their backs turned to him. He quickly pulls back, waits for a moment, then pulls out a hand-held scanner – Torchwood-issue, like the one Sandra used – activates it and starts moving in the opposite direction.


In the Suliban cell ship conditions are cramped at best, with Klaang filling the entire aft section with his bulk. Sandra is at the controls, while Archer keeps his pistol aimed at the Klingon, just in case.

To make the situation even more unpleasant, Klaang, still somewhat delirious, keeps bellowing at Archer – not that either he or Sandra would understand, of course, which makes the captain wonder about his quartermaster and his unexpected fluency in alien languages previously unknown to mankind.

Another topic they'll need to discuss – assuming that Ianto gets away from the Helix in one piece, which Archer begins to doubt.

"We shouldn't have left him behind," he mutters unhappily.

Sandra is focused on the controls; she doesn't even look up as she answers.

"Torchwood agents generally don't live long," she says dryly. "Unless they are Jack Harkness, that is. Ianto and I are unique in that we've come back from the death. Repeatedly. But that isn't – wasn't – what usually happened at Torchwood. At any branch of it, frankly."

"I know about you, of course," Archer says slowly. "But what about Daniels… or whatever his real name happens to be?"

Sandra, her eyes glued to the controls, shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Captain; it's not my story to tell."

"RaQ~o jadICH!" Klaang bellows, and Sandra shoots him an irritated glare over her shoulder.

"I don't particularly like the way you smell, either. Perhaps you should try a different brand of deodorant; one that doesn't expire so quickly."

Klaang bangs the bulkhead with his fist. "MajQa!"

It's hard to decide whether he's enraged or amused. Perhaps it's the same with Klingons. But Archer has had enough. Trying to remember what Ianto said to make the Klingon shut up he barks "YljathQo'!"

Or something similar; with unexpected results. Either he got it right, or he managed to say something particularly insulting. In any case, he's shocked the Klingon into silence. Temporarily, at least, but he's not above to count his blessings.

The relief is woefully short-lived, though. Based on Sandra's pinched expression as she's checking her readings, the next problem has just emerged.

"What's wrong?" Archer asks, already dreading the answer.

"I don't get it," Sandra mutters, confused. "This is right where they're supposed to be..."

Archer wants to ask what she means when realization hits: if Enterprise was forced to move from her current position in order to avoid detection, they may never find the ship again.

Unless he thinks of something very quickly.


The same thing is concerning Lieutenant Reed on the Main Bridge of Enterprise, which is getting rattled by the jolts of the deep charges again. It seems that their brief respite is over, all too soon.

"The charges are getting closer again," he warns T'Pol, who acknowledges the warning with a brief rising of one eyebrow.

"Another five kilometres, Ensign," she says to Mayweather, who carries out her order but cannot refrain from voicing his own concerns.

"At this rate, the captain will never find us."

"Wait a minute," Hoshi interrupts. "I think I've got something..."

Everyone turns to her. She's still holding the Feinberger module tightly to her left ear and listens to something only she can hear with intense concentration.

"Amplify it," T'Pol orders.

Hoshi taps a control; a cacophony of radio signals, background noise, and distortion fills the Bridge.

"It's the captain," she tells them.

Reed shakes his head. "All I hear is noise."

"Because you don't have the ear for it," Hoshi returns, a clear note of annoyance in her voice; she's fed up with them questioning her professionalism all the time. "Listen more carefully! It's just a narrow notch in the mid-range," she tilts her head to the side as she listens. "He says he's about to ignite his thruster exhaust."

T'Pol quickly moves to her viewing device and peers inside. There's a long, tense moment that seems to go on infinitely, but then…

"Coordinates: one fifty-eight mark one three," she says to Mayweather who works like a demon at his console.

"Laid in," he reports at almost the same moment.

"Ahead, fifty KPH," T'Pol orders; then she turns to Hoshi, her expression guardedly appreciative. "Esparan," he says quietly; the Vulcan equivalent of a 'thank you'.

This is the first time she has acknowledged Hoshi's abilities. Hoshi blushes and offers a slight smile.

"You're welcome."

"I've got them!" Mayweather reports. "Two kilometres, dead ahead."

"Initiate docking procedures," T'Pol orders; then she looks at Anna Hess, manning the engineering console. "Keep the grapplers ready, Lieutenant; just in case."

Anna Hess nods wordlessly and makes the necessary preparations; which is when Hoshi drops the next bombshell.

"Subcommander, I'm only picking up three bio-signs," she reports worriedly. "One is Klingon... the other two are human."

T'Pol's look is impenetrable. "Is it possible to identify the human bio-signs?"

Hoshi shakes her head apologetically. "This is not a Vulcan ship, Subcommander; and your people chose not to share with us that particular piece of technology."

"I see," T'Pol seems as unflappable as ever. "In that case we shall have to wait until we can identify them the old-fashioned way. Bring in the Suliban ship, Mr Mayweather. I am going down to the Shuttle Bay; Lieutenant Reed, please accompany me. Ensign Sato, ask Commander Tucker to meet us in the captain's Ready Room in ten minutes. Lieutenant Hess, you are in command."

By the time the crew acknowledges her orders, she is already halfway to the turbolift, Reed hot on her heals.


Ten minutes later all senior officers – with the single exception of Phlox who has whisked off the Klingon to Sickbay to check him over – plus Sandra Massaro are gathered in the captain's Ready Room, arguing about the next step they need – or want – to make. There's no consensus about it so far.

"Our mission is to return the Klingon to his homeworld," T'Pol emphasizes. "Another rescue attempt could jeopardize that mission."

"Besides, Ianto specifically told us not to go back for him," Sandra adds. "He said he had his own means to escape."

"And you actually believe that?" Tucker asks doubtfully.

Sandra nods. "He's always been very resourceful."

Reed looks at her in suspicion. "You know him from before?"

"In a manner," Sandra replies with a shrug. "It was my… donor who used to work with him. But yeah, I know what he's capable of," she looks at Archer. "And since you've got the Harkness genes in spades, Captain, he can also estimate just how stubborn you can be."

"You mean he might have lied, just to prevent us from starting another rescue mission?" Archer asks slowly. "Does he have a death wish or whatnot?"

"I don't think he wants to die any more than either of us," Sandra replies thoughtfully. "But he's Torchwood, and Torchwood agents are prepared to die if it would move a mission forward," she turns to T'Pol. "Your people have got a saying: The needs of the many…"

"… outweigh the needs of the few,,, or the one," T'Pol finishes for her. Then she looks at Archer. "Captain, the situation must be analyzed logically. As regrettable as it would be to leave Mr Daniels behind, you were told the possible ramifications, should Klaang fail to take Sarin's message to Qo'noS. It is a risk we simply cannot take."

"So we just toss Daniels to the wolves and go our merry way?" Tucker demands angrily.

"It was his choice," T'Pol points out with infuriating logic. "Are you going to make his sacrifice pointless by putting the mission at an unacceptable risk, just to calm your own conscience?"

There's a long moment of heavy silence. She is right, and so is Sandra, and they all know it. They still don't like the idea of having somebody – anybody – behind to the tender mercies of the Suliban. Archer, especially, knows that this is one of those hard decisions that he has to make: a captain's burden that he cannot delegate.

He curses under his breath and pushes the button of the comm unit built into his desk.

"Mr Mayweather, this is the captain. Set course for the Klingon homeworld and engage as soon as you're done. Go to maximum warp; we're running out of time."

~TBC~

Klingon phrases:

BljatlhHa' qaHoH!" = Say the wrong thing and I'll kill you! – in this, shortened form: If you misspeak, I'll kill you!

YljathQo'! = Be quiet!

Lo'laHbe'ghach! = Literally: Become worthless! Ianto tries to use the phrase in the sense of "Worthless git!" At least I hope it works that way. *g*

MajQa'! = Well done!