Thank you to my readers and reviewers. Do you think it's time to get Archer back? :-) Hmmm...

§ 13 §

The planet was there, outside his porthole. A small reddish dot getting bigger.

Malcolm pressed his forehead on his raised arm, leaning against the porthole, and watched as Enterprise made her approach. Soon his comm. link would beep and Trip's voice, or perhaps T'Pol's, would summon him to the launch-bay.

He had seen Archer again, during his forced sleep, in Sickbay; and then again in the following hours, but he still had no clue as to what the man wanted to tell him; or if they could save him. Even the notion that he was still alive, if truth be told, was beginning to feel like nothing more than a wild fancy, Andorian Doctor notwithstanding. For all he knew the Captain was haunting him as punishment for failing to protect him.

The truth was that his self-assurance was beginning to waver, and the weight of the crew's expectation to feel like too heavy a burden. They believed they were getting their Captain back; but short of a miracle he was going to let them down. His bones no longer ached; his arm, thanks to Vulcan medicine and Phlox's creatures, had virtually healed; he was finally well-rested; but once he set foot again on the dusty surface of that planet, he had no idea what he was going to do.

Why didn't Archer open his mouth and talk? One bloody word, one little hint – that's all he asked! Always only those green eyes, stabbing him, drawing him in. A small little hint could save him feeling like a visionary. All right, technically he was. But it could have saved him having to convince T'Pol that he wasn't a guilt-ridden, delusional madman. He had been so confident then… Confident, no matter how illogical, that an answer to this mystery, sooner or later, would be offered to them.

He wished he still believed it. And in any case it better be sooner rather than later.

One thing he was relieved about, was that after the nebula incident Blake seemed to have lost his desire to play Captain of the Enterprise. More likely he had been told to relinquish command. Rumour had it the man had had a long conversation with Forrest. What was certain was that T'Pol had full decisional powers once again.

The buzz of his door almost startled him.

"Come," he said, turning.

The door opened to reveal an unexpected visitor.

"Ensign," Malcolm greeted. Hoshi darted him a shy look and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry I'm disturbing you in your quarters, Lieutenant."

She kept standing well outside, fingers locked together in unease.

"I wanted to speak to you before you left. In private," she added tersely.

Malcolm looked at her hesitantly for a few moments before realising he was likely appearing rude. He snapped out of it and mumbled, "You're welcome to come in." He had sounded rather self-conscious, but he wasn't comfortable being alone with a woman, a junior officer, inside his quarters.

Looking no less hesitant, Hoshi nodded and crossed the threshold, stopping just inside.

Now that he took a good look at her, Malcolm could see on her face the signs left by the hours of extra work. He thought he knew, actually, why she was here.

"I promised you I would break that message," Hoshi said tautly, looking like she had rehearsed the words before. "And I didn't. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am."

Right. Malcolm let out a soft, mirthless huff. "You heard Shran, Hoshi. Andorians have been studying that language for ages, and yet they haven't been able to understand much of that message. You shouldn't feel bad."

"Yes, but they don't have anyone missing; or anyone going down to the planet again," Hoshi said in frustration. "It was important for us to know what that message is saying. Understanding alien languages is my job, and I should've been able to---"

"Hoshi," Malcolm interrupted her with gentle firmness. "I know."

Yes. He did know how it felt failing in a job.

"But don't worry, I'll find a way to bring the Captain safely back."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Malcolm regretted them. He had no right to give her false hope. But even as he thought that, a tiny core of resolution was again forming in his chest. He held on to it for dear life, willing it to grow. He needed it right now.

"T'Pol to Lieutenant Reed."

Malcolm turned to the comm. link. With a few quick steps he was at his desk.

"Reed here."

"The Doctor and Commander Tucker will be joining you in the launch-bay in ten minutes."

"Understood."

"Lieutenant..."

There was a small pause. Malcolm waited.

"We do not know what to expect on that planet," the voice finally came back, not quite as Vulcan as usual. "Do exercise caution."

The link was cut and Malcolm drew in a deep breath. "Somehow I don't think I will be able to," he muttered under his breath.

It hadn't been the right thing to say. Hoshi bit her lip, worry marring her features.

"If it's a test of faith, or courage," Malcolm said, with a mitigating shrug, "I'm afraid there won't be much room for caution."

Malcolm watched Trip push the hatch of Shuttlepod One open and slowly step off it, onto the red dust. A wave of heat invested them, making him wince. He had forgotten just how hellish this place was.

A moment later he had got off the pod behind the Engineer; and though Trip didn't need to look back to know that it was him, he did anyway in what Malcolm recognised as a gesture of encouragement. He was grateful; he appreciated what Trip was trying to do – make him feel that he wasn't alone in this – though in truth he didn't know what anyone could do to help him, when he didn't know how to help himself.

Their eyes met for a second; then, while Phlox remained in the pod, ready to join them if need be, the two of them began to walk slowly towards that cursed obelisk. They had landed the pod as close as safely possible to it: the artefact stood at some hundred-and-fifty metres straight ahead.

"Any plan?" Trip said softly after about two thirds of that distance had been covered.

It was a hell of a question; but Malcolm had expected it, sooner or later; indeed, he had expected it sooner. He licked his lips, which in this heat had got even drier than his tension would have warranted, looking for something intelligent – or at least not completely stupid – to reply.

"To have---"

Faith and courage, he was going to say. Archer cut him off; indeed, the small smile on Archer's face cut him off, for that was something new. It wasn't enough to contrast the man's paleness or his hollow cheeks, yet a stunning sight it was. The Captain's eyes were weary, but a hint of the old light appeared in them, and it sent a shiver down Malcolm's spine.

"Hey..."

Malcolm could hear Trip's worried voice beside him, but didn't want to 'lose' his vision. Surely this time the Captain would bloody well tell him what to do! But no. He just kept looking at him, that deep gaze summoning him... summoning him...

Malcolm turned abruptly to Trip. "I've got to go, Trip," he said with quiet assurance.

"Go? Where?" the Engineer enquired warily.

"To wherever the Captain is, past that obelisk."

Trip swallowed. "Malcolm," he warned, "I don't think that's a particularly good idea."

For the first time since he had woken up in Sickbay with a concussion, Malcolm didn't feel lost, or even wavering; he had a task. It was more like a bet, perhaps; but worth the risk.

"That's the test of faith and courage," he said, locking eyes with Trip.

"That sounds more like guilt and madness to me," Trip countered tautly.

"I believe that's what the Captain wants me to do," Malcolm insisted. He bit his lip. "I know it is."

Trip opened his arms in a critical gesture. "Based on what? We cannot be sure that what you're seein'..." He trailed and shook his head. His voice was suddenly more formal as he continued, "You saw what happens to those who step past that obelisk, Lieutenant. I don't want to lose another officer."

His blue eyes added, another friend.

In the silence that followed Malcolm watched as conflict dawned on Trip's face. The man was obviously torn between the need to balance heart and reason; for the former undoubtedly wanted him to risk an 'okay, let's do this and see if it works', while the latter reminded him of his responsibility towards the ship and any member of the crew – including what surely must sound like a delusional Security Officer.

"I'm telling you," Malcolm said, talking to the friend. "That's what I'm here for."

They held each other's gaze for another silent moment. Then Trip shook his head again.

"You won't do that, Lieutenant. I order you not to."

Malcolm closed his eyes, the better to gather his thoughts, and Archer was still there, he too silently ordering him.

Sorry, Trip; you're outranked.

Blinking his eyes open, Malcolm shifted them back to the obelisk, now standing no more than fifty metres away, gauging the distance; then he turned to his friend. He was going to do something he didn't like, and wanted Trip to read in his gaze that he was sorry.

The punch was unexpected, so it did its job quite well without having to be too heavy. Trip tottered, stunned.

Malcolm took off at a run.

TBC

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