A/N: hello! Unfortunately, real life has managed to catch up with me (that b****) and I fear that I won't be able to keep up the updateting speed of one chapter per week. The next chapters will have to be planned out meticulously, and I don't want to mess up. Maybe I'll need a few days longer with the updates, thus. Ah well, that's the fanfiction way of life, I guess!

STRINGS ATTACHED

CHAPTER SIX

Time passed slowly, so so slowly, as Malcolm lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn't sure when the Captain had left. He had stared at the door at first, then at the traitorous uniform on the bed for a while, and finally he had numbly sat down on his bed and let himself fall back on the mattress.

There had been shock, at first, which made him lose his sense of time, but really, who needed a sense of time when you were confined to your quarters? Only when the ship had started to rumble slightly had he woken up from his stupor and plunged right into self-loathing and guilt trips.

He had failed gloriously. Failed Enterprise, failed Trip, but most of all himself. What a stupid oversight to make. He was an idiot, risking the crew's safety, his Captain's sanity, and his and Trip's careers over making a point to his sloppy boyfriend.

At least he didn't have to worry about his relationship again. With a bit of luck (and God knew it was time the universe dished out some lucky coincidences for the two of them for once) they would be standing next to each other during their court martial on Earth. Chances were high that they could even share a cell in prison – Starfleet would never rule against the Captain and publicly embarrass the living legend Jonathan Archer, saviour of humanity.

His issues with T'Pol were about to be solved, as well: the Vulcans would pull her out of this mess without the blink of an eye, without so much as a raised eyebrow. She wouldn't ever see a court; Archer's crazy theories had no chance against Vulcan logic. It only proved that humanity hadn't been ready, indeed, and just maybe Malcolm was inclined to believe them, for once – their Captain had become paranoid and insane, their Chief Engineer was about to be convicted for mutiny, and their Chief of Security had managed to ruin everything because he hadn't properly tidied up his room.

Seriously, flying straight into Jupiter didn't sound so bad anymore. Although the shock had slowly ebbed away, it had left a numb, uncomfortable throbbing in his chest that spread coldness through his body. Failure. He had blown their chances. Archer would end their careers, maybe even derail humanity's space exploration, and his father would have been right all along.

Malcolm ran a hand over his eyes. Where had they gone wrong? They'd just saved Earth! He couldn't wrap his head around it, deeply engrossed in this maelstrom of guilt, anger and sarcasm, and would probably have stayed down there if it weren't for a sudden, cackling sound that filled his quarters.

Malcolm shot up with a jolt.

He needed a few seconds to recognise the sound. Archer had fumbled with the controls and the sound was distorted – but there was a distinctly human voice calling him through the comm panel.

Rushing to the wall where Archer had earlier stood, he was almost flung into the wall as the ship jerked to the side once before returning to the low rumbling he had already grown accustomed to. Whatever was going on, this was not good. Spaceships were not supposed to jerk.

Punching the buttons, he promised to himself to never let things go out of control like this again.

"Hello?" he asked, breathlessly.

The weird noise appeared again, and Malcolm, wanting to believe that this was a human voice calling his name, bit his lip. Had Trip found a way to contact him? Maybe he even broke out of the brig, making his way through some Jeffrey's tube and secret passages in the ship's belly only he knew about?

"You need to recalibrate the frequency," he instructed, immediately suffering déjà vu.

'Malcolm? Can you hear me?' The voice on the other side asked, slowly morphing into a human sound first and then into Hoshi Sato's lovely, lovely voice.

Relief filled him. "Hoshi!"

'Can you hear me, Malcolm?'

"Loud and clear." He grinned. "Do I want to know how you -"

'Trip taught me,' she interrupted him, and Malcolm wanted to snort because of course Trip had taught her how to rig the comm devices, what else would a Commander teach his Ensigns, but she urgently pressed on. 'Malcolm, where are you? What's going on?'

The delight he had been feeling ended abruptly as he remembered where he was. "I've been confined as well."

'Oh God', she moaned, and Malcolm realised how anxious she sounded. 'Malcolm, you need to get out of there. Now.'

"Hoshi, what happened?"

'I decoded the messages.'

The breath he sucked in was icy. Even though the rational part of his brain knew very well that she wouldn't risk the Captain's trust by calling him if T'Pol and Trip had just sent each other love letters, the fear and self-loathing was still there (nicely warmed up thanks to his earlier self-pity-party), simmering under the surface.

'Trip had just asked something about the overhaul's schematics.' – the cold in his chest dropped into his stomach, as Malcolm closed his eyes. You asshole, he thought with sudden clarity. He asked about schematics and you suspected him of cheating. Shame made his cheeks burn. He hadn't even considered this option, with all that was going on. You're not much better than Archer.

'I don't really understand the content. He asked about a specific part of the engine and why he couldn't just hook it up to... something. I don't know. But in the end, he asked why she didn't confer with him first.'

"So?"

'T'Pol answered as soon as she got the message,' she hesitated. 'It reached us a few hours after she sent it. Malcolm.'

"Yes, Hoshi?"

'It says: Trip, I never proposed any schematics. The Captain didn't inform me about any technical changes.'

Malcolm's mind went blank. Just blank. "What?"

'Malcolm,' Hoshi's voice sounded ominous. 'He's lying.'

"But..."

'Whatever the Captain's doing with this ship, she doesn't know about it. It was never her overhaul.'

The knots didn't connect. What the hell was going on?

"You're telling me that we've been dismantling and reconstructing this ship, and no one knows why?"

Malcolm's stomach plunged to the ground. Archer had sent T'Pol away and then ordered a complete system's overhaul but lied about its origins. Conveniently, he managed to get rid of the Chief Engineer, the only one who had loudly questioned what happened.

The bile rose in Malcolm's throat. Had Archer just played them? Played him? Had he sent him on a wild goose chase? But the rage he had seen in his eyes had been real. The betrayal, the exhaustion...

'We don't even know where we are going,' Hoshi moaned. 'He deceived all of us.'

"We need to stop this," Malcolm heard himself say, though his voice sounded like far, far away. This whole situation had almost a dream-like quality – he felt detached from it all, from what he was about to do. "Hoshi, are you still free to move?"

'I'm on the bridge right now. Alone.'

"Gather a team you trust. Travis, and Lieutenant Hess. Müller, and Phlox. Definitely Phlox." Mildly surprised, Malcolm listened to his own voice giving orders. It was very interesting. "Take the bridge, then tell department by department that Captain Archer has been relieved of duty for the time being."

Mutiny.

Wow.

He was conducting mutiny. His father wouldn't talk to him ever again.

"Arrest those that oppose you. We'll deal with them later." Once he knew how.

'Aye. I'll get Travis and we'll start with Engineering.'

Malcolm nodded, thoughtfully. Engineering was a good start – Trip's team was loyal to their Chief and had had premium seats during most of the fights between him and Archer. They also bore the brunt of the overhaul and the repairs right now. They had to be fed up and worried.

But there was a different problem Malcolm had to take care of himself. "Where's the Captain?"

'I'm scanning for him,' Hoshi said and was silent for a few seconds. 'He's... oh.'

"Hoshi?"

'He's in the brig.'

All the detachment, all the comfortable distance he had established during his first minute as a mutineer, crashed down on him all of a sudden when he registered her words.

Archer was at the brig. With Trip.

He had been livid when he left his quarters. For a second, Malcolm's stomach churned dangerously. Shit, he thought as the panic rose, he didn't even know how much time had passed since then. Shit shit shit. The Captain had probably stormed right to Trip, full of pent-up wrath.

'–alcolm?' Hoshi's voice broke through the whirlwind of emotions, and he realised that she must have called him already. 'Malcolm, can you hear me?'

"Still here," he croaked out. "Can you clear my way?"

She didn't answer at first, puzzling over his query. Then, she answered self-assured: 'Yes.'

"Give me two minutes. Then gather your team."

'Malcolm?' She said, before severing the connection. 'Be careful.'

Standing in the middle of his room, all alone again, Malcolm allowed his emotions to take over for five precious seconds.

Five.

Oh God all the pictures of Trip, lifeless, unconscious, calling for help, came back with a rush and almost suffocated him. Here he had been moping in his room, feeling sorry for himself and about his career all the while Archer was on his way and –

Four.

The Captain had been so mad when he left, full of anger, and the betrayal in his eyes had been real. Whatever was going on with the overhaul he had lied about, the emotions Archer had hurled into his face weren't fake.

Three.

And what the hell was the deal with the overhaul? Malcolm felt white, hot anger well up inside of him at the thought that the Captain had lied to them for days, had made them work hard for hours while deceiving them. Being the loyal man he was, Malcolm felt that something was profoundly wrong with the world if-

Two.

But seriously, what right did he have to being mad at the Captain, when all the while he had suspected Trip of being dishonest, unfaithful, yes, while the Engineer had just tried to do his job. Even after he had told him that he didn't like to talk about T'Pol in front of Malcolm, he hadn't even considered that –

One.

And now they were hurtling through space without weapons, without telemetry, in a ship half dismantled or rendered inoperative, based on the actions of a crazy Captain he had let reign for too long just because he hadn't managed to decide to –

Stop.

Breathe.

Calm settled over Malcolm's mind as he took a deep breath and pushed all the emotions, the guilty conscience and the chaos in his head away to concentrate on the task at hand: get out of here.

Tentatively, he typed his security override code into the door panel, but the door didn't swish open. He hadn't really expected it to, his staff was trained better than that, and half of his attention was already directed at the wall next to the control panel.

He had taped a micro phase pistol under the sink of his bathroom – of course he had. After the Suliban had taken over the ship, they all had learned from the experience. Trip had found ways to contact his team, Hoshi had won over her phobia, and Malcolm had geared up. He had opted for a micro phaser consciously, since shooting with a regular charge could easily be detected by the ship's sensors. He wasn't sure if the internal sensors of Enterprise were up to task right now, but he wasn't about to blow his chances. In this state of mind, Malcolm didn't take chances.

Now, he grabbed the small weapon, set the phaser, and aimed it at the wall between his door and the control panel. He only needed to get rid of the wall cladding to reach the electronics behind him; blowing the relays with a higher charge wouldn't help at all. As soon as the wall scorched, Malcolm threw a piece of cloth over the smouldering plastic to prevent it from producing smoke, grabbed the fabric, and tore a hole into the wall with a bout of pure violence.

The cladding tore down nicely and exposed the sensible relays underneath. Malcolm, knowing exactly where to pull, made short work of it.

His hands tingled from the electric shock he had known would hit, but he didn't have time to bother. He was on a tight schedule here, and Phlox' dermal regenerator would be able to heal his palm in seconds.

The door swished open as expected, and Malcolm fired even before it had completely disappeared into the wall.

One guard went down with a yelp, and Malcolm used the millisecond of confusion his partner needed, to charge into the corridor and kick him hard into the neck. The figure fell – Chan, he registered with a touch of bad conscience. Sorry, man – and Malcolm grabbed him and yanked him through the door into his quarters before the doors closed again.

The man he had shot was struggling to get up again and had already pulled out his phaser gun, but he reacted quickly and buried his elbow in the other man's solar plexus. With a grunt, he went down.

Malcolm waited a few seconds, but when the guard didn't move again, he knelt down, felt for a pulse with his left hand and reached for the phaser pistol with his right. He found both immediately, threw a glance into both directions of the corridor, and then darted towards the turbo lift.

He was about to cut a corner, but thankfully saw an armed guard standing in front of the turbo lift before he came into full sight. Pressing himself against the wall, Malcolm cursed the fact that the Captain had for once actually posted as many guards as his Chief of Security had always proposed, but then Hoshi saved him, again.

Her calm voice sounded through the deck. 'Ensign Takumi, please report to Sickbay immediately. Crewman Singh, please head to Engineering.'

Furtively, he glanced around the corner to see one of the figures turn to the turbo lift and wait. Thanks, Hoshi, Malcolm thought and aimed for the person.

He could have waited for the guard to enter the lift and take the next one, but that would have taken him a few more seconds – precious seconds he didn't have. Without any noise, he pulled the trigger and watched as the person hit the ground unconsciously.

It was Crewman Takumi – Malcolm felt a twinge of regret, because he remembered that Takumi had just recovered from a rather nasty injury he had received in the Expanse, but then he thought of Archer's anger and where the man was now, and quickly dragged Takumi into the turbo lift with him.

'Lieutenant Rowland, please report to the Bridge,' he heard. 'Ensign DeViro, please take up post at Cargo Bay Two.'

The lift took him to F deck, and luckily no one else entered – Malcolm hadn't dared to use his override out of fear of being detected. When it arrived at F deck, Malcolm held his phaser ready, but was faced with an empty corridor. He was either very lucky, or Hoshi had cleared his path for him.

Only a few hundred metres and a few corners left. Malcolm made a dart for it, fuelled by his own imagination and adrenaline, and didn't slow down when he saw Ensign Heston and Lieutenant Flores standing in front of the brig, turning when they heard him.

Panting, Malcolm skidded to a halt and pushed Heston out of the way into the small room where Trip had to be. His heartbeat was going a mile per second, and he didn't even pretend that that was due to the running.

"Lieutenant Reed, you're suppose-" He vaguely registered Flores holding Back Heston and shaking her head frantically.

The brig was tiny.

As Malcolm barrelled in, adrenaline pumping in his ears, he couldn't process the scene in front of him at first. There was Archer with his back to him in the small cell, but no sight of Trip.

Then Archer moved a bit to the side. Malcolm registered a mop of blond hair and a streak of bright red, and lost it.

Rationality returned a few seconds later and found Malcolm crouching in front of a slumped Chief Engineer. Trip was unconscious and would have keeled over if it weren't for the restrains holding him back, and Malcolm found that he had already grabbed his shoulders and gently shook him.

"Trip," he called hoarsely, "Commander. Trip."

There was a thin trickle of blood running from Trip's hairline down his face, and his lower lip was split. Bruises already began to form on the same side of his face, along his jaw line and circling his cheekbone.

He was breathing. Malcolm tried to concentrate on that but couldn't take his eyes off the sore skin that turned blueish and violet. He wanted to scream.

There were voices behind him, but Malcolm hadn't realised how close they were until suddenly Lieutenant Flores knelt next to him and twisted her arms behind Trip to reach the handcuffs. She was talking, yet he didn't understand at first that she wasn't talking to him.

"He must have attacked the Commander," Lieutenant Flores said.

A tsk-ing sound made Malcolm turn his head to the side, towards the sprawled-out form of the Captain he hadn't so much as glanced at so far.

Doctor Phlox was kneeling next to the prone man, running his scanner along his spine, and frowned deeply. "What happened to him?" he asked, disgruntledly. "He's out cold."

"I knocked him out," Malcolm began, flinching at the raw sound of his own voice, but he was interrupted when the handcuffs clinked and Trip slumped against him, face softly burying into Malcolm's shoulder.

Phlox was next to him immediately, the scanner next to Trip's head. Reading the device's results, an almost scowl like expression appeared on the Denobulan's face and shook Malcolm awake. Over the last few years, he had grown accustomed to the amiable doctor's open display of emotions, but he had rarely seen him angry.

"Doctor?"

"He has a slight concussion," Phlox said quickly, not needing to hear the question. "He'll be alright."

The knot in Malcolm's chest loosened a little bit. Enough to allow him to look at Archer without bile rising in throat again. "What about him? I hit him pretty hard."

He didn't feel sorry, though. Trip had been handcuffed, for God's sake.

"I noticed," Phlox commented drily, but packed his scanner away. "They'll be fine. I want both of them in sickbay."

The Doctor reached over and gently pulled Trip back. Malcolm, feeling the heat rise in his face, realised that he was still gripping the Engineer's shoulders and had basically cradled the other man the whole time. Awkwardly, he helped the Doctor to lower Trip to the ground and tried to think of something smart to say, when the injured man's brows began to twitch. Malcolm's heartbeat sped up immediately, relief washing over him.

"Ah, careful, Commander," Phlox said and shooed Malcolm away to get closer to Trip in the small cell.

Just as Malcolm had clumsily gotten up to give the Doctor some space, did Hoshi appear behind Flores and Heston.

"Malcolm!" She called and pushed past the two guards, panting and in a hurry. "Malcolm, we have a-"

Her eyes fell on Archer, then on Trip's bruised face, and she paled visibly. "Oh my God."

"They'll be alright," Malcolm answered, feeling a little bit light-headed now that his adrenaline level was coming down.

Hoshi composed herself with a quick shake of the head, and then focussed on Malcolm again. "We have a problem, Lieutenant."

Just one? He thought bitterly but didn't utter it. "Ensign?"

Hoshi held a PADD under his nose, biting her lip. "We're not going home."

Malcolm's brow furrowed. He took the PADD, but just in that second, he heard a low moan coming from Trip. Turning around, he saw just how the Doctor just gently slapped the Engineer's limp hand away from his bruised face, earning a few hoarse, slurred insults.

"We're not heading towards Earth," Hoshi clarified impatiently. "The coordinates are wrong."

That caught Malcolm's attention, and he pried himself away from watching. "What? Are the external sensors back online?" He quickly switched the PADD on and found T'Pol's message to Trip, which didn't tell him anything.

"I checked the time stamps on the messages between the Commander and the Sub-Commander," she explained. "Tellar Prime is between Earth and the nebula we explored. If we moved towards Earth, the Sub-Commander's message should have reached us faster than the Commander's message to Tellar."

"Yes?" Malcolm asked, fear knotting in his stomach as he realised where this was going.

"It needed longer. Much longer." Hoshi took a deep breath and looked at him. "We don't know where we're going, but it's definitely the wrong direction."

As if making a point, the ship rumbled deeply. Malcolm was suddenly very aware that there was nothing but hull plating separating them from the vacuum of space.

"Go," Phlox piped up behind him, and they all looked at the Doctor. "I have this under control, Lieutenant."

Indeed, Malcolm heard footsteps outside, probably from the Doctor's medical staff. He didn't want to leave Trip alone again. Not when Archer was going to end up in sickbay next to him.

Malcolm caught the Doctor's gaze and saw something flicker across the Denobulan's expression. The man was serious, busy with his patients' conditions, but that flicker had shown a little bit of joy. "Of course, you'll need to come to sickbay as soon as possible with that hand of yours."

Narrowing his eyes, Malcolm looked down at the palm he had electrocuted earlier. With all that was going on, he had completely forgotten about it... Phlox had noticed, though. Phlox noticed a lot of things.

"I promised Travis to help him in Engineering," Hoshi spoke again, urging him to turn to the matter at hand.

Malcolm understood what she meant. They had to get their ship under control again before they ended up in the delta quadrant or wherever Archer had steered them to.

"The Captain will no longer be in charge of the ship," he gritted out, therefore, and only Ensign Heston's eyes went wide at the announcement. "I'm taking temporary Command. Phlox, call me as soon as one of them is ready to talk."

-tbc-

R&R, pls!