A/N: whoop, whoop, it's happening! I was deadly afraid of this chapter, and then I couldn't stop writing. Love! Explosions! Science! This one has it all. What a ride. I hope you enjoy this extra long demouement. Bless Malcolm, by the way, for being the perfect character to ask about science stuff. Bless T'Pol, for being the perfect character for copy&pastying science explanations. Bless wikipedia, most of all.

I hope I managed to explain everything now, if you still have questions, feel free to ask. Look out for the epilogue in the next days, I hope to get it up very soon.

Have fun!

STRINGS ATTACHED

Chapter Eleven

Malcolm had been more than happy to hear Trip's voice over the communicator. Elated, even. After hours of brooding and soul-searching in the shuttlepod, questioning himself and everything else, he had finally arrived at a moment of hope. Knowing that Trip was still there on the other end, metaphorically and literally, was a huge relief.

That relief, however, dwindled dangerously as Trip unfolded his plan.

Uncontrollable explosions in spatially abnormal environments, based on distorted calculations.

A warp reactor cold start that could very possibly trigger another explosion or do nothing, which would still mean that the former propulsion thrusted a dead Enterprise right into the trellium explosion.

Oh, and then there was the issue of transporting a crewmember into open space, whom Malcolm and T'Pol had to collect somehow, but Trip had decided to make that their problem.

And to think that he had been so happy when he had heard that drawl again.

"Go back to the transporter in open space, please."

'Ah, yes. So, the problem is that flying the shuttlepod is basically suicide, right? I thought we could deinstall our transportation platform, hurl it into space, and then have the shuttlepod's pilot activate the transportation from within the shuttlepod itself.'

"To have the pilot transported out of the shuttlepod."

'Yes.'

"Into open space."

'Yes.'

"Trip, when was the last time you slept?"

'What? Why? We can't transport them into your shuttle or Enterprise because of the warp fields!'

"Where should that platform even float?! Everything will be exploding left and right!"

'I don't know, somewhere! Space is pretty big, Malcolm.' Looking at the comm panel, Malcolm could practically hear Trip rolling his eyes passionately.

"They'll die!"

'No, they won't! You'll just have to collect them with your grappling hooks or whatever! The pilot will have to wear an EVA suit anyway.'

"Why is that?"

''Cause we can't have oxygen close to the trellium, otherwise it'll solidify immediately.'

"I see. I guess then it won't be an issue to hurl out the explosive trellium into space later."

'Exactly!'

"Trip?"

'Yes?'

"That's insane."

'It's not.'

"It's insane. You're insane."

'Travis!' There was a bit of random noise on the other side. 'Tell them it'll work. You said you could fly the shuttlepod.'

'Sir,' a new, polite voice joined the conversation. 'It's insane.'

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Malcolm had a vivid picture in front of his mind's eye of Trip strangling Travis.

Right now, Enterprise was flying next to them, away from the string, matching the shuttlepod's speed of Warp 1.1 to allow scheming and the engines to cool down. Soon, though, the disk would take over, turn around, and speed up. They didn't have time to argue.

"Listen, an explosion isn't that easy to control…"

'You don't need to control it. You just need to keep it going!'

"That's what I mean!"

Thankfully, Hoshi's voice piped up, sounding a bit exasperated. 'Sub-Commander, what do you think?'

Ah, clever and diplomatic Hoshi. What a great evasive manoeuvre.

T'Pol had been very quiet throughout the conversation. When Trip had outlined his plan, she had started to type furiously into her PADDs and consoles. As she heard her name, she looked up, checked her readings, and turned towards the communication console.

"It's feasible."

"What?" Malcolm asked, taken aback.

'What?' Three voices asked from the other end of the line, also taken aback.

"It's feasible. We'll have to position our shuttlepod very carefully from the very beginning and then move quickly in accordance with the ship's movements and the explosion." For a second, T'Pol and Malcolm shared a wonderful moment of non-verbal conversation when he wrung his hands in despair and she widened her eyes and gestured towards the numbers on her screen. "As long as Enterprise doesn't lose core containment, it could work out. If it does, though, it would very likely destroy us as well."

'Leave that to me.' Trip sounded smug, and Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose and tried very hard to stay optimistic.

He breathed out slowly. T'Pol's accordance had shifted the balance. She wouldn't proclaim the plan to be realistic if her numbers didn't add up. And they didn't have a plan B anyway; Evacuation was difficult and dangerous thanks to the handling of the sensitive trellium, and the evacuation pods didn't have a proper propulsion system. It could take weeks until the shuttlepod found help, and the pods didn't have weeks.

"Who will fly that shuttle?" He asked, at last, capitulating. "Travis?"

'No,' Trip answered quickly, 'I need Travis at the helm. The ride will be rocky, propulsion unpredictable. We need him here.' Malcolm was pretty sure Travis was visibly relaxing on board.

'Sir,' Hoshi, again, 'Engineering reports that the disk's control will be back in about two hours.'

Malcolm looked up at the ship next to them, worry clouding his mind. Had they lost too much time talking already?

'Shit. I'll need to prep the shuttlepod. Travis, Malcolm, T'Pol, work out a flight plan for the shuttles to get the explosion right. Hosh, supervise the trellium transport and the crew preparations, please?'

'Aye, Commander.'

"Trip?" Malcolm asked, suddenly afraid that this might be the last time they talked. "You'll check back in, right?"

'Keep your shirt on, Lieutenant,' the voice on the other end drawled, teasingly, though there had definitely been a small moment of hesitation. 'We'll reconvene in an hour.'

"Commander," T'Pol urged. "Who will fly that shuttle? It will be a difficult task, especially in zero gravity."

"That person will have to deal with floating through space alone, for a while," Malcolm added, thinking about the human side of the ordeal T'Pol would probably deem illogical.

'Don't worry.' Trip reassured them but didn't sound too happy. 'I know just the right person. Tucker out.'

Trip headed towards the transportation platform, deep in thoughts and frowning grimly.

Had he made the right decision? After allowing Travis to take over the communication with the shuttlepod, he had asked Hoshi to contact the Captain. Her wide eyes had told him enough, even though she nodded quickly.

The feeling in his guts wasn't too happy about the choice his brain had made either, and Trip didn't like going against his guts. With the alternative being losing Enterprise, however, the choice had been between the devil and the deep blue sea. As time was running out as quickly as it did, the one solution they had was as close to perfect as it would get.

Someone needed to fly that damn shuttle to get the trellium out of their warp bubble, there was no way around it. Malcolm and T'Pol's worries were well-founded: piloting it was going to be one hell of a ride. Not only did the pilot have to fly with a few kilograms of highly explosive trellium towards a more than unstable structure, it had to be done in zero gravity and in an EVA suit. Everything had to happen extremely fast and precise to deliver the packages of trellium at the right places, then they had to use the transporter by themselves, and then, if Trip didn't mess things up too badly, they would be floating through space. Waiting for a shuttlepod to pick them up without knowing if that shuttlepod still existed. All alone.

The vastness of space had a terrible effect on a sole, tiny human. Even though they were all trained astronauts, versed in extravehicular activities, Mal had been right to point that out. It was one thing to face the darkness of space with a stable point of reference, like the ship or even a planet next to you. It was a completely different thing without any proof of existence around you. They were in a void, after all.

All alone with yourself and the possibility of being the sole survivor until your oxygen ran out, even the tiniest drop of doubt or fear could turn into a maelstrom of despair. Trip knew that from first-hand experience. The last time he had started to panic in open space, he wouldn't have survived had he been alone…

'I know just the right person.'

That son of a bitch.

Years ago, during Omega training and miles above Titan, that one routine extravehicular activity could have been his last if it weren't for Jonathan fucking Archer. Something had gone wrong and in the matter of seconds, Trip had started to hyperventilate and lost his mind completely. He still remembered the panic, the fear and the crystal-clear solution that had suddenly been there: your suit's malfunctioning – just take the helmet off, Trip. He had panicked. His team had panicked. And suddenly there had been Jon's voice, calmly talking him out of it… while he, as he later told him, had been scared shitless himself.

Jon wasn't only an excellent pilot; he also had a talent of staying calm in crazy situations. He sighed. According to Phlox, there were no traces left of alien influence in Jonathan. The unconscious aversion had been against Trip specifically, not against the ship… And Trip couldn't give up on this ship. He had tried to imagine it for a few hours. Imagined leaving her behind. He couldn't do it. And Jon wouldn't either.

They had to try.

Jon was already there, restlessly waiting for him in front of the transporter that was going to decide upon his fate. When he spotted Trip approaching, a cool mask slipped over his features, but Jonathan's jaw was visibly tense and his eyes sharp.

"Hey," Trip greeted, guardedly.

"Hey," Jon answered, just as careful.

He remembered how they had parted just a few hours ago and cringed inwardly. Would talking to Jon ever feel normal again?

"New plan. Are you still up for something incredibly stupid and reckless that could possibly kill you?"

"Of course!" Jon's eyes lit up and he nodded, eagerly. He tried to hide it, but there was that twitch in the corner of his mouth and that eyebrow was going up, spelling out I told you so.

Smug bastard. Trip couldn't let that slide.

"Great," he threw him a hypospanner and gestured towards the transporter console. "Better get acquainted with the console. Sever it from the ship while I talk you through transporting yourself while being transported at the same time."

That look on Jon's face as he caught the hypospanner balanced months of petulance. Trip hid his grin by turning towards the platform and crouching down. He needed to turn the ship's inbuilt transportation module into a mobile platform and a remote control console in one hour. Transportation technology wasn't his area of expertise, but he had a fairly good grasp on the basics.

"At the same time?" Jon's voice shook, but Trip heard how he shuffled over to the console, following his order.

The Engineer loosened a few screws of the cover panel of the lower platform, spending a lot attention to the design because, hey, you never knew when different screw constructions and panel models turned out to be interesting.

"Yes," he said, revealing the insides under the platform, "we can't transport you out because of the warp fields and the loss of power once we stop the engines."

"But then the platform won't work either…"

"Here's the idea," Giving in, Trip put the cover panel aside and turned to Jon. As he unfolded their plan, the older man turned pale, but kept listening with his face set on a stoical expression.

"T'Pol and Malcolm will tell me where to drop of the platform?"

"They are looking for the coordinates right now. It has to stay within functioning distance, even if it's affected by the explosion."

"Otherwise, it won't materialize me."

Trip swallowed. Either that, or the dematerialization wouldn't start and Jon blew up with the shuttlepod.

His silence was enough affirmation. To his great surprise, however, Jon's gaze just wandered towards the freshly painted transportation platform. "Okay. Let's do this."

He'd be briefed in detail later by Travis; they had no time to discuss this now. Trip nodded and returned to his work, trying to put the nagging feeling in his chest to a rest. If he said he'd do it, Trip wanted to take his word for granted. The ship meant everything to Jon. He wouldn't risk it just because they couldn't share a normal conversation anymore. And Phlox said he was healthy and fine.

Grabbing his hypospanner, Trip lay on his back and slid underneath the transportation platform, immediately finding the right coils and cables, prying them loose. His mind was going overdrive, but he had no times to think about alternatives. They had to do this. There was no other way.

"Trip?" Jon's voice piped up. "Before I'm flying out… I want to apologize."

The ship trembled slightly, and Trip caught a small twitch in one of the cables. It shouldn't do that. Automatically, his hands focused on reknotting the mess of cables the twitch had disappeared into. "You did that already."

Extensively. He didn't need to hear about the drama he and T'Pol had created again. Gloomily, Trip knocked his hypospanner against the plating to indicate that he was very busy.

"Not about that," Jon's bodyless voice said. "I've been thinking clearly for the first time in weeks… You were right about blaming me and not the device. It all started so much earlier."

Trip sighed as he held up the scanner to check on the current's amperage. Jon knew that he had him trapped right now, literally, and took the chance to get all the baggage off his mind. Trip, though, didn't need that baggage either, thanks a lot, and clanked with the hypospanner again for good measure. Very busy and all that. Maybe he could just tune it out…

"I'm very sorry about your sister."

Trip flinched so badly that the scanner fell out of his hand and hit him right in the face, along with his feelings. "What?"

"I'm sorry about Elizabeth. You were the only one who could have gotten us through the Expanse. Gardner was afraid you'd wanted to stay with your family, so I acted as if there was no reason to grieve…"

Elizabeth.

One year too late, and that asshole tried to talk to him about Lizzie. The walls around him started to close in and Trip realized that he had stopped breathing. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't push away the thoughts about Lizzie and keep the ship flying on his own at the same time, again.

"I can't believe I didn't even tell you how sorry I was." Jon sounded sincere, and that hit deeper than anything else.

"Sure you did," Trip answered quickly, forcefully nonchalant, while he pressed his sleeve against his prickling eyes. Shut up. Just shut up. This couldn't happen now.

"Not really," Jon sighed. "I guess I understand why you turned to the others. I didn't even react to your sleeping problems. Also, I think we should talk about that Lyssarian larva – "

In one swift motion, Trip pushed himself out from under the platform and glared at Jon, who had stopped talking in surprise.

"Jon, what the fuck are you doing?"

The Captain raised his hands. "I'm apologizing."

"Why?" Maybe he had already died and this was purgatory. Or hell.

"This might be the last chance I get."

Propped on his elbows, Trip groaned. "You'll survive. I'll survive. The osmotic eel will survive. Stop being dramatic."

"But… there's still not much time." Jon stopped working on the console to face Trip directly. "I'll resign once we get out of this mess."

Trip drew in a sharp breath. He needed a few seconds to parse that sentence, and then the words hit him heavily – which was unexpected, but true. Enterprise meant so much to Jon… maybe even more than she did to Trip. Enterprise was everything Jon had dreamed about in his life.

"I doubt they'll make a Vulcan captain," Jon jerked his gaze away, not able to look at Trip anymore. "If we pull this off, your promotion should be a given anyway."

The whirlwind of emotions in Trip's chest stilled, slowly. After the guilt and fear of putting the ship and crew through the utter nightmare it was facing and the sudden return to grief, this piece of information was a welcomed distraction and almost easy to figure out. "Don't do that. You're punishing yourself."

Jon's hands balled into fists. "How can I stay in command? What I did is inexcusable."

"You weren't in control," Trip argued, finding truth behind the words. With every syllable, he was more convinced that he didn't want Jon to resign. There had to be a better solution. "No one is better qualified to command Enterprise than you are."

"It's my fault we're in this situation. I have to accept the consequences."

He wasn't sure what 'situation' exactly Jon was referring to, but there was so much regret in the words that Trip felt his throat constrict. Jon was right – even if they got out of this mess, he had no idea how they were supposed to ever go back to normal.

He was serving under a Sub-Commander he had been crazy about and a Captain who had built up resentment against him for at least a year. He was in a relationship with his Chief of Security, but as long as he worked with T'Pol, he'd never get Malcolm's full trust.

He swallowed. "Columbia still needs a Chief Engineer..."

He had checked Columbia's crew assignments after T'Pol had shredded his heart and his dignity, and he knew for a fact that he'd get the position if he wanted to. But then Mal had happened and he had forgotten about Columbia. Over the last couple of days, however, the thought had flitted through his head again a few times, but he had pushed it away to focus on the current situation.

Trip didn't know when things had gotten so complicated. Somehow, leaving seemed to be the easiest option for everyone involved. There was a certain lure in starting new…

Jon stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "That's completely out of the question."

Trip looked at him, unimpressed. "You're not exactly in a position to order me around."

"Enterprise needs you. This whole situation proves it!"

Trip shrugged. "They won't let you resign anyway. You're Starfleet's hero."

"Perfect. Then I won't accept your resignation."

They stared at each other; eyes narrowed. It almost felt like the old times.

"Well, if we go up in flames, no one needs to resign," Trip sighed, thinking about their schedule. "Maybe we should concentrate on that first."

Jon had opened his mouth to argue, a small smile tugging at his lips, but Trip crawled back into the tiny space under the platform quickly. This time, Jon didn't start talking again.

Malcolm drummed his fingers on the shuttepod's piloting console impatiently. Once or twice, T'Pol had shot him a scorching sideway glance to stop him, but he had started again and again unconsciously.

Minute by minute, new data was coming in by Enterprise, seeking verification or further processing by the Shuttepod's more reliable sensors. T'Pol, the bridge, and the science labs were in a constant exchange, while Malcolm's part – shoot the phasers at the right moment, shoot the grappling hooks at the right moment – had been planned already. He had checked and rechecked over a hundred times, and there was nothing more for him to do but wait.

The suspense was unbearable. With nothing to do but listen to scientific terms he didn't understand, the only thing left to do was worry. The scenario they were planning was dangerous and prone to failure; If just one of the many components failed – the shuttlepod exploding too soon, Malcolm missing a shot, T'Pol miscalculating, Engineering couldn't get rid of the disk, Trip messing up the cold start, Travis losing control over the ship – the whole plan was bound to go up in literal flames.

So he drummed his fingers on the console even though it annoyed the hell out of T'Pol.

"Lieutenant," she addressed him suddenly, ice in her voice. "May I suggest a short meditation to prepare you for the task ahead?"

… which was basically T'Pol's way of telling him to get a grip.

He knew that she had to concentrate, that her abilities to quickly calculate in her head were their only chance of getting out of this in one piece. He had tried to follow Trip and T'Pol's plan before, but the science had gone straight over his head. It had been very frustrating.

"Sub-Commander…" he started, therefore. He had had one utterly embarrassing conversation with T'Pol before, why not build on that? "Do you think Trip is right? With his theory about Vosk and the... string theory time travel?"

"The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible." The answer came quick as a shot, "… and, Lieutenant, cosmic strings are not part of what humans call string theory."

A small muscle around T'Pol's right eye twitched; Malcolm must have offended many things she held holy to get that response. Somehow, he found that very amusing – no wonder Trip had loved to rile her up. "So, he's wrong? The space Nazis are not riding that cosmic string's vibrations to travel through spacetime."

"It's a wild hypothesis and not based on evidence," the Vulcan repeated what she had told Trip over the comm link earlier and what the Engineer had merrily ignored. There was that twitching muscle again.

"Can you… I don't understand it."

Nodding, T'Pol pulled up a coordinate system. There were a lot of numbers moving on it, changing, in a crazy yet precise rhythm. "This is a mathematical model of the cosmic string close to us," she explained. "It is a one-dimensional topological defect that probably formed during a symmetry-breaking phase transition in the early universe when the topology of the vacuum manifold associated to this symmetry breaking was not simply connected."

The Brit blinked as the moving numbers seemed to blur a bit. "Ookay…"

"In Vulcan elementary school books, the formation is explained somewhat analogous to the cracks that form when water freezes to ice," T'Pol sighed and Malcolm tried not to be insulted. "There was a theory that, just after the cosmological inflation, inconsistent symmetry phase transitions occurred. The cosmic strings are the small parts of the early vacuum that were caught between two inconsistent phase transitions."

"And they mess with gravity because…."

"They are geometrical derivations from what humans would call Euclidean geometry. A circle around the outside of a cosmic string comprises of a total angle less than 360 degrees."

"I… don't understand." Apparently, he was going in a circle as well, but this one was definitely 360 degrees.

T'Pol tilted her head. "While they are incredibly thin, they have immense density. This creates tension." She gestured towards the screen. "If the tension is high enough, they vibrate and thus create gravitational waves."

"But…" Malcolm felt like a school kid asking about higher mathematics, "shouldn't we have detected them sooner? Why didn't the Vulcans notice them sooner?"

At this, T'Pol seemed a tad disgruntled. "That is correct. This is the first vibrating string ever detected. It's… puzzling."

"What if we didn't notice them because Vosk's people travelled through time and changed the timeline?" Here was a mystery more to Malcolm's liking. With agency and secrecy, and less math.

"The Vulcan Science Directorate determined that time travel is impossible. The consequences would be… unbearable." For a second, T'Pol almost seemed forlorn.

"Maybe that's not the case in the 29th century. Daniels called it stealth technology, after all."

"If you are correct, this would imply a multiverse structure," T'Pol said pensively. "As they would contaminate the specific timelines yet seem to be able to return to their own."

Malcolm whistled, overwhelmed. "Multiverse time travel, huh?"

"There are theories about the structure of the multiverse that comprise of membranes. Some are thought to be connected via strings attached to their surface…"

The Vulcan trailed off and followed Malcolm's gaze out into the void. He had a feeling that this went over her head now, as well.

"The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined a long time ago that if time travel is possible, it had to be connected to a multiverse structure."

She pressed her lips together. Malcolm crossed his arms in mock indignation. "You never told us about that part."

'Enterprise to Shuttlepod One,' Hoshi's voice suddenly crackled though the comm link.

"Shuttlepod One?" Malcolm reacted fast, noticing that she had used the number for the first time – it meant that Shuttlepod Two was ready.

'We'll be ready in ten minutes.'

"Understood."

'Is everyone in position?'

'Engineering team B, checking in from the impulse drive chamber,' Lieutenant Hess' voice piped up. 'Looking forward to shredding that disk into pieces at last.'

'Engineering, checking in from Main Engineering.' Trip chuckled. 'Anna, leave something for the scientists.'

'Science checking in. We're done with that disk. Pulverise it, Lieutenant.'

'Helm checking in,' Travis spoke. 'We are ready.'

"Shuttlepod One checking in," T'Pol spoke up. "The phasers are manned and ready, the sensor readings are clear."

'Shuttlepod Two checking in,' Archer's voice joined the chorus, finally, and Malcolm felt his stomach drop. Hearing the Captain via comm had once been so normal. 'Ready when you are.'

'Nine minutes, everyone.' Hoshi announced.

"Be careful," Malcolm said, out of protocol. He was pretty sure Trip knew that that message was directed at him.

Nine minutes.

He was being incredibly stupid, but Trip had a feeling that many people on this ship wouldn't be surprised at that revelation, but as the crew was constricted to quarters or their stations, no one crossed him in the corridors.

They were supposed to be strapped down, cushioned and safe. He was supposed to be strapped to the warp drive, yet here he was. Running though the corridors to the hangar bay. Eight minutes and forty seconds.

Malcolm would kill him if he knew. Be careful, my ass… but Jon could very well die today, and Trip wouldn't get a second chance.

He skidded into the hangar bay just when a crewman zipped up Jon's EVA suit. The older man already had the helmet in his hands.

"Jon!" he called, before that helmet could separate them. He stopped a few meters in front of them, out of breath.

Jon turned around and did a double take, surprised. "Trip, what are you doing here?"

They had no time to chitchat. "Don't do anything stupid," he panted.

"More stupid than flying into an explosion?" Jon was grinning, but Trip recognized the uncertainty underneath. He knew the man well enough to see it. Fear as well, which was was good. Fear made your reflexes react to danger.

"I'm serious," Trip snarled. "Do exactly as T'Pol says. No heroics. No stunts. In and out."

"I will," Jon tried to smile now, but it didn't reach his eyes. "But I'd be more at ease if I knew that you concentrated on the ship."

"Use the transporter, Jon." Trip ignored the hint. He had to get through. "It'll work. Don't play the hero, please."

The easiness was gone, now. Jon didn't try to play it down anymore. Instead, he nodded slowly.

If Jon sacrificed his life for them today because he thought he had to, Trip wouldn't forgive him ever. Jon would have flown that shuttlepod even if it meant his death, because guilt and responsibility would have pushed him to – if these feelings pushed him to ignore his only chance of survival now, if he thought he couldn't take it because he had messed up in the first place, Trip would be able to forgive himself either.

This wasn't about accidents. Accidents happened, especially in Engineering and/or with Malcolm around, and sometimes accidents resulted in death. Trip was no fool, he knew that. He also knew, however, that he didn't deal well with that specific mixture of loss and guilt. He still woke up screaming for Lizzie to run; he still felt guilty about Charles and Sim, even though he hadn't even met the latter. If Jon died today, Trip still might be able to save Enterprise, bring them home, explain what happened to Starfleet and get a promotion – but he'd never recover on the inside.

Whatever was going through Jon's head at that moment, it rendered him silent as well. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was shaky. "Get back to your station, Commander."

The man still wasn't in command, but Trip didn't feel the need to point that out. There were more important things to say, but he didn't know how to do that with so little time.

The Captain had turned away and studied the helmet. With the Ensign, he began to check the suit's pressure and data stream.

"Cap'n," Trip called, emphasizing the word on purpose, and Jon flinched without looking up again. "Did I ever tell you about the time I completely blew up in Rostov's face when I was pregnant?"

Jon was silent for a second, then a small smile spread over his lips. This one was genuine. "You didn't."

"I was pumped with hormones. The poor guy didn't stand a chance." Trip crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the heat rush to his face. He hadn't spoken much about that very special episode in his life. "I'll tell you when you're back."

It might have been the flickering lights, but when Jon finally looked at him, his eyes seemed a little bit wet. "At dinner?" He asked, and his voice was husky.

"Sure," Trip smiled and turned away, ready to rush back to his station. Six minutes. "Good luck, Jon."

Malcolm watched how the hatch of Enterprise's hangar opened and a small, vulnerable looking shuttlepod flew out. A yellowish shimmer appeared as it built its own warp bubble before it distanced itself from Enterprise and disappeared quickly.

The Captain was off to place the transportation platform at the coordinates Malcolm had send him earlier. As far away as possible from the explosions, yet not too far away to exceed the transporter's limits. Close enough for the shuttlepod to reach him with impulse if their own warp drive was damaged during the manoeuvre they were starting right now.

It took only a few minutes for the Captain to return. Malcolm's sensors blinked as Shuttlepod Two eased into the route they had plotted, slowing down as it neared. Sighing, Malcolm grabbed the helm and steered his own shuttlepod well underneath Enterprise to get into the right position. T'Pol nodded when they reached the precise coordinates she had calculated, and he stopped and aligned the phasers.

They were really doing this.

The comm crackled.

'Bridge is ready.'

'Engineering is ready.'

'Engineering team B is ready.'

'Shuttepod Two is ready.'

He exchanged a glance with T'Pol, who nodded. They hadn't spoken in a while, there was no need to. "Shuttlepod One is ready," he said.

"Shuttlepod Two, position the first kilogram of trellium at the transmitted coordinates," the Vulcan ordered and leaned over her screen.

Malcolm transferred the helm to T'Pol's station and concentrated on the weapon's system. As he watched through the magnification screen, he saw a dim light shimmer where the trellium rocks had fallen out.

'Charge one has been placed,' Archer's voice announced.

"It's moving as predicted."

'Enterprise, get ready to shut off as many non-life-support systems as possible.'

Malcolm wanted to close his eyes at Trip's order but didn't dare to let the screen out of his sight.

'Telemetry down.'

'Weapons down.'

'Non-essential medical down.'

'Impulse down.'

'Second charge has been dropped,' Archer informed them.

Malcolm shifted in his seat.

"Gravitational wave incoming," T'Pol warned, voice sharp and louder than before. So far, everything went as planned. "Impact in 30 seconds."

'Get ready, everyone!' Trip called, and Malcolm clutched the weapon's console until his knuckles turned white.

'Third and fourth charge dropped!'

Shuttlepod Two was flying an arch now.

"Impact in 20 seconds," T'Pol sucked in a breath. "Lieutenant, fire at the arranged coordinates on my command."

There was noise over the comm link, Malcolm thought he could hear Trip's voice. By now, Lieutenant Hess and her team would be ready to rip out the disk embedded in the ship's system. She was probably talking about it with Trip. The incoming gravitational wave was messing with the quality of the communication, which was bad but had been expected. Hoshi was still on the comm at the bridge, somehow discerning single voices through the distortion with her ears alone, and would be able to communicate important data if there was the need to.

"Fire!" T'Pol ordered, suddenly, and Malcolm reacted immediately.

He briefly heard Trip shouting over the comm, and then the first explosion went off. The chemical mixture and the phase energy had been determined correctly. Soon, there would be a chain reaction.

"Captain, transport!" T'Pol called and grabbed the helm of the shuttlepod. "Enterprise, go! Lieutenant, fire in 3… 2…"

The readings were messy. Malcolm stared at the screen, at the way the explosion moved, how the sensitive trellium exploded or didn't explode, and fired at the edge of the explosion closest to the highest concentration.

Protected by the warp bubble, the shuttlepod still shook as if it was crashing through an atmosphere. T'Pol was shouting something, but the sudden shrieks of the pod's systems drowned her voice. She steered the shaking pod into a hard left turn, and one glance at the screen told Malcolm why – Shuttlepod Two, loaded with thirteen kilograms of trellium on top of its alloy, hadn't blown up yet, even though it was in the position T'Pol and Malcolm had calculated.

His insides froze. This wasn't good; the gravitational wave had to hit any second. With that much of the trellium not blowing up into a protective layer, Enterprise would be hit.

He fired at it wildly, hitting shuttlepod and trellium that had cooled down already. The controlled explosion they all had wished for wasn't going to happen – now they had to concentrate on quantity, not quality.

Malcolm pushed the trigger again and again and hoped that Enterprise, now without protection or flight control, was doing fine.

Everything went to hell in the matter of nanoseconds.

T'Pol had just given the order to fire, which meant that Anna had to make do with the disk, and Trip turned around to ask about the intermix pressure. He hadn't heard the answer before everything lurched to the side violently.

He was thrown against the railing of the drive's platform. His left arm hit it painfully, but the two thick belts that strapped him to the engine prevented him from falling over the safety rails – he needed to thank Hoshi for that brilliant idea. Then the world as he knew it suddenly stopped working and he was floating over the ground, held at bay again by the belts. Even though he knew it would happen, his stomach still dropped in a millisecond of confusion, until his brain kicked in again.

Enterprise had lost artificial gravity.

Which was good news, technically, since it meant that Anna had managed to rip out the disk and thus triggered the Big Shutdown. All the systems the disk had managed to infiltrate were failing – excluding the auxiliary system of life support and a few systems they had managed to reroute earlier. They had light, air, a little bit of power, but no gravity, no communications, and no sensors to the outside world. No chance of knowing if their plan worked until the ship blew up around them.

Please get that explosion right, Mal.

No time to lose. Trip grabbed the belt and heaved himself back towards the engine with a grunt. His left arm hurt like hell, but he didn't bother to look at it and instead concentrated on the machine in front of him. He didn't need to read the numbers as he heard the noise of his engines – the reactor had almost shut down completely and wasn't shy in voicing its protests. So sorry, babe.

They only had a few seconds. No time to think about the fact that his feet didn't touch the ground.

"Prime the injectors!" he ordered, and someone behind him called "Yes, sir!". He hadn't even had time to check if everyone was okay after that initial lurch. As the belt that held him in place trembled, Trip dimly registered that the ship had to shake heavily. He smelled smoke.

"Relays!"

Trip dove down in front of the Drive and started to pull out the hot antimatter flow regulation boards one by one. Ouch! He should have thought about safety gear, damn, but he hadn't. Now his palm and fingers started to smart, but he had no time to take care of that.

"Ready to initialize the matrix!" Rostov called.

"Full power to containment!" someone else answered.

"Fire up the antimatter stream!" He yelled when he was done exchanging the boards. Come on, darling. Come on. The humming still wasn't there yet. The sirens were loud, but Trip knew that he'd hear her humming anyway. It wasn't there.

Someone shouted a dozen of numbers he couldn't make out, and then Trip pushed in the new antimatter containers. Come back to me, babe. Don't explode, okay?

The ship didn't explode.

It didn't do anything.

Trip planted his burned hand on the console. Usually, during booting, it vibrated softly.

There was nothing. No humming, no vibration. He didn't need to look at the screen to know what it meant. The cold start hadn't worked. The engine hadn't had enough time to recover.

Shit. This was bad.

"Once again!" he yelled. Time was running out. "Injectors, quickly!"

The smell of smoke got stronger. Some relays must have fused, but they were all strapped to their stations and couldn't put out a fire. He only hoped that no essential part of the engine had given up.

He pushed himself back down to pull out the plasma boards again – cold, this time –, when he was thrown to the side, hitting the engine's front hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. The ship around them screeched in an uproar. Some valve broke, and the room went hazy with smoke.

Malcolm had never seen anything like this.

The trellium explosion unfurled gorgeously, not exactly according to plan but thick and lovely as they wanted it to. As the gravitational wave hit the vaporized mineral, a physical reaction was triggered that emitted energy in the form of radiation that looked like blueish northern lights. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

He didn't spare it one glance, though.

His eyes were completely locked on the ship, the other ship, that had suddenly appeared in the light of the explosion.

Just like that.

A ship. A monstrous ship.

A monstrous alien spaceship, at least three times larger than Enterprise, different in shape from anything he had ever seen. Even the colour, at least what he could make of it, was different. Only the parts of the ship that were illuminated by the light were clearly visible, the rest of the ship was somehow strangely blurring with the dark backdrop of space, like a trick to the eye.

It had suddenly appeared. Malcolm and T'Pol had been flying in a crazy route, firing at the explosion relentlessly while trying to keep an eye on the dead Enterprise behind them, when that thing had appeared out of nothing in the blueish light.

It had taken Malcolm a second to understand what it even was. Just like T'Pol, who stared ahead and stopped steering the shuttlepod, he had ceased shooting at the explosion. The sight in front of them was just too much.

"Is this…" Malcolm somehow croaked, losing his voice, just when T'Pol hissed "Vosk."

It was Vosk. It had to be. Trip had been right, they had been used like a tool to bring Vosk back to their time, and now this monster was here –

Well, it was over almost as quickly as it started.

The alien ship was hurtling straight into the enormous, spacetime-bending explosion they had just created, and apparently, being able to travel a cosmic string didn't save you from getting blown up.

The nose of the ship was already surrounded by fire and explosion when Malcolm and T'Pol had grasped what the hell was going on. The trellium that was supposed to liquify under the pressure of the gravitational wave, vaporize in an explosion and then liquify again, now clung to the hull of the ship and blew parts of it up into oblivion.

Sound didn't travel through the vacuum. Still, as he watched how the ship desperately tried to steer away from the huge explosion it was crashing into, Malcolm thought he heard it wail. Then the fire must have reached the ship's reactor, or engine or whatever, for the sky suddenly blew up in light.

Malcolm and T'Pol were thrown out of their awed stupor when the shockwave of the explosion hit, too enormous to be kept back completely by the thin trellium nebula, and their shuttlepod was hurled through space like a children's ball tossed into the waves of a storm.

"Sub-Commander!" Malcolm yelled, grabbing what he could get a hold of. "Hull plating won't hold!"

"I'm flying us out!"

With swift, precise movements, T'Pol turned the shuttlepod around and activated warp. Malcolm only had a nanosecond to see a dead Enterprise floating through space upside down before the lights around them turned into thin, pale stripes and the shaking stopped.

He closed his eyes in the sudden silence, the sudden calmness, and just breathed.

"That…" T'Pol started, a hand covering her mouth in a very un-Vulcan display of shakiness. "That had to be Vosk's ship. It came out of nowhere. From the other side."

"Enterprise hadn't powered up yet," Malcolm whispered, staring ahead as he opened his eyes again. Reality was sinking in slowly and dreadfully. They had left Enterprise behind, without protection against that explosion.

T'Pol looked at him and then punched in an order at her console. Numbers appeared on her screen. "It's been only forty seconds," she said. Her voice wasn't as calm as it usually was. "Still well within the parameters the Commander suggested."

"But the explosion…" Malcolm didn't want to think that thought through to the end. All of this had happened in only forty seconds? Unbelievable.

"We were a lot closer than Enterprise." T'Pol drew in a deep breath and made the shuttlepod drop out of warp in an impressive display of regaining control. "We need to get to the Captain."

In that second, a light blinked on the radar. A new warp signature had popped up.

"It's Enterprise." T'Pol exclaimed and Malcolm's blood surged in his ears.

He flung himself at the comm and opened every channel, feeling dizzy. "Enterprise, come in! This is Shuttlepod Two!"

No answer came. He dropped the comm disappointedly, even though they had known that if Enterprise managed the cold start, all of the other systems wouldn't power up that quickly. Malcolm and T'Pol didn't have a way of knowing what state the ship was in. Without comms, reliable sensors and, oh yes, with the giant alien ship appearing out of nothing and blowing up, there was no way of knowing how much damage Enterprise had taken.

When the explosion had knocked them around, Malcolm's right temple has started to throb, and the throbbing got stronger now. Two minutes just weren't enough time to deal with everything. Malcolm hadn't yet processed it all when the next detail fell into place.

A single, distorted voice made it through the open comms. 'Hello? Can anyone hear me?'

The Captain. Alive.

'Shuttlepod Two? Hello?'

According to external sensors, they weren't far away from the rendezvous point with Archer. T'Pol typed a few coordinates into the system and the shuttlepod changed course immediately.

Numbly, Malcolm watched her, planted a hand over his mouth and suddenly started to giggle, which seemed like an adequate reaction.

They had just witnessed the first multi-dimensional time travel from the 29th century, which blew up in an explosion galore right in front of them, powered by a gravitational wave from a cosmic string that hadn't been discovered before, and somehow T'Pol had still remembered to keep on course to collect the Captain. She must have thought about that when she hurried the shuttlepod away, which Malcolm found incredible to believe. She was capable of the craziest things.

Laughing had never felt so good. Waves of pressure fell off him – he still didn't know if Trip was alright, but T'Pol had said that the silence was well within parameters, and considering everything that had been going down, overwhelmed Malcolm thought that trusting T'Pol seemed like a good idea. Given their odds, things were turning out quite well.

"Captain, this is Shuttlepod Two," the Vulcan spoke into the comm, sparing Malcolm a worried and confused glance. Illogical humans and all that. "We're with you in a second."

'Oh, thank God.'

"Are you alright, Captain?" Malcolm managed to ask, still out of breath, and shrugged at T'Pol as he wiped away a tear.

Now he was even crying in front of the Sub-Commander, and he didn't even care. It was all so ridiculous. He started to giggle again immediately.

'I'm fine, Malcolm. Did everything work out?'

A tiny dot in the blackness around them grew bigger. Soon, Malcolm was able to make out the brown EVA suit that reflected in the lights of their pod. The Captain floated through space upside down and was spinning slowly.

"Affirming visual contact," T'Pol announced, and stopped the shuttlepod a good distance from the lone figure. She looked at Malcolm before answering the Captain, but he only shrugged. "The trellium explosion worked as planned, Sir."

"Captain, I'm getting the hooks out. Prepare to strap yourself in."

'Understood. Have you heard from Enterprise?'

Malcolm shot out the grappling hooks a good deal next to the Captain. When the tether had stretched out, Malcolm prepared to steer the shuttlepod to move the hook closer to Archer. "We detected Enterprise's warp signature, but there hasn't been any contact, yet. I'm moving the tether closer to you."

Archer didn't comment about Enterprise, but Malcolm could feel the tension the man was feeling through the comm link. He was feeling it himself. Instead of concentrating on things that were out of their hands, they began the fiddly task of getting the tether close enough for the Captain to grab it.

It took a while, but finally the Captain managed to grab the tether and strap to the harness on his suit. 'Got it!'

"Oxygen levels?" T'Pol asked, looking at her sensors. She was waiting for a life sign of Enterprise, of course, as the ship was the Captain's only chance of survival on the long run. If the ship hadn't made it, Malcolm and T'Pol would have to take course to the nearest alien outpost, with the corpse of a suffocated Captain Archer dangling behind them soon.

'Four hours and thirty-five minutes.'

The last word drowned in static. Irritated, T'Pol started to work on the channel, until suddenly, finally, a well-known voice broke through.

'Hello? Can any - hear me? … - is Enterpr-e. Is anyone there? Hell-'

T'Pol's answer was drowned out by the Captain's and Malcolm's whooping. There was a smile on her lips, as well, and Malcolm wanted to hug her in the heat of the moment. Thankfully, the feelings that crashed down on him were all too much and he found himself unable to move at all. Which was okay. They were okay.

Enterprise was okay.

"Hoshi, this is T'Pol. Can you read me?" Malcolm clearly noticed that she had dropped the ranks. "We have the Captain with us."

'-eat news. We're on our way to the ren—vous point, but we - -ing impulse only. Comma—ucker says - - -spare the w- - drive.'

"Understood, Ensign," T'Pol said and that smile was back. Malcolm felt a prickling behind his eyes again, but this time he wasn't laughing. He sniffled and turned his face away inconspicuously. "We're waiting for you."

Impatiently, Malcolm jumped from foot to foot in front of the shuttlepod's hatch. The heat of the explosion must have contorted the hull, which slowed down the process. At last, a green lamp came to life and the hatch opened with a lot of noise. Malcolm almost hit his head as he jumped out of the vehicle before it had opened fully.

He had never before appreciated putting his foot down on Enterprise's floors before. He'd never do that mistake again.

The Captain was lying only a few metres away in heap on the ground, with Doctor Phlox already kneeling next to him. Malcolm hurried towards them. Enterprise had appeared about an hour after initial contact, looking as if it had been put through a meat grinder, and they had begun a slow and difficult landing process. The hangar doors hadn't opened properly, leaving only a small opening for the shuttlepod and the attached Captain to fit through. Maybe the Captain had torn his suit on the way in, or he had hit the ramp when they landed –

But as he skidded closer, he saw the Captain's chest rise and fall and his arms moving as his hands felt the ground beneath him. Malcolm called his name, and Archer heaved himself up on his elbows. Phlox immediately put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down.

He quickly knelt next to the older man and began working on the Captain's helmet, gloved hands helping clumsily. Before he managed to get it off, Malcolm already heard the Captain laugh in relief.

"We're back on Enterprise, Malcolm," Archer beamed at him, hair plastered to his head, but looking happier and more at peace with himself than he had for weeks and months.

It was infectious. The reality of the situation sank in; they were, indeed, back. On their ship. Which was still in one piece. Malcolm grinned at Phlox and saw that the Doctor looked happy as well. He was okay. The Captain was okay. Trip was okay. No one had died.

Unceremoniously, Malcolm let himself fall on his behind and let go of a deep, heartfelt breath he had been holding far too long. Probably since his shuttlepod had left the ship yesterday. They were okay. They had beaten the odds once again.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in…" a Southern drawl suddenly reached his ears and Malcolm turned around towards the voice.

Trip, Hoshi and Travis strolled in, grinning from ear to ear. Malcolm's nerves, frayed and strained as they were, suddenly soothed. Trip was alright. He could finally see it for himself. The relief was overwhelming, and Malcolm's head felt dizzy for a second, the headache from earlier coming back.

As Travis spotted the Captain, his eyes went wide and he broke into a jog, calling him. That broke the spell.

Without thinking, Malcolm jumped up and dragged the Captain, still unsteady on his feet, with him. T'Pol was next to him, and they were all standing together, patting each other's shoulders, with everyone talking at once except for Phlox, who was desperately trying to scan the Captain, T'Pol and Malcolm without having his scanner swatted away by an excited gesture.

"That was awesome, Captain!" The young pilot breathed, staring at Archer in awe and admiration, while Archer tried to dismiss it generously, yet wasn't quite able to keep the grin off his face.

Malcolm tried to ignore the scanner the Doctor was holding into his face to look for Trip, when a light touch on his upper arm distracted him; the Engineer was already standing next to him, Malcolm wasn't sure for how long, and grinned from ear to ear.

"You made it," he said, in quiet voice Malcolm knew well. There was more between the lines. I'm so glad that you're back.

Malcolm fought the urge to grab the other man and hug him. Later. "Are you alright, Commander?" he asked instead. Thank God, you're okay.

Trip winced lightly and held up his hand with a shrug. It was wrapped in a makeshift bandage. "Just a few scrapes and bruises from being thrown around, but I think we're alright. Right, Doc?"

Only then did Malcolm register what was plainly visible – the four of them, Phlox included, were looking worse for the wear. Trip himself looked roughed-up, one hand bandaged and cradling his left arm, smears of oil and soot on his face and uniform. There was an ugly looking bruise on Travis cheek, and Hoshi had even been limping when they came in.

"A couple of broken bones are the worst injuries," Phlox shrugged good-naturedly. "The Pyrithian bat has cocooned itself in fear, though, so I suggest no poisoning accidents anytime soon, yes?"

For some reason, he was looking at Malcolm as he said it, who pointedly ignored it. As he noticed a slight smell of smoke coming off the Engineer, he remembered how the ship had been thrown around by the explosion's shockwave and wondered how the crew had faired over the last two hours. With one ear, he heard how T'Pol told the rest of the senior staff about the ship they saw. They were listening to her with wide eyes.

"How is that possible?" Travis asked.

Hoshi looked at Trip, pensively. "That must have been the second lurch we felt. After the engines shut down."

Trip nodded, thinking. "I think that ship saved us, actually. The cold start only worked the second time. The explosion must have catapulted us further away from the gravitational waves and bought us more time."

"We took damage, though," Archer joined in, trying to get information without asking. "The hull plating looked bad."

"The ship took heavy damage," Trip reported, sounding remorseful, "and damage reports are still coming in. But we have full control, again. Anna managed to get rid of the disk and is already reprogramming the systems."

The amount of work that lay ahead of Engineering had to be tremendous. When Hoshi started to go into detail about the damage reports, Trip seemed relieved to have the attention drawn to someone else, and stifled a yawn.

"You look tired," Malcolm said, putting a hand on Trip's arm. Just seconds ago, the man had basically vibrated with adrenaline; now that it ebbed off, he was probably about keel over any second. Malcolm knew that feeling – he was getting more and more light-headed himself.

Trip shot him a look and raised an eyebrow. "You're not looking so fresh yourself, Lieutenant."

"And you're hurt. Why aren't you in sickbay?"

Trip's lips twitched and he didn't say anything. Only now did Malcolm notice that the others had gone silent all of sudden. When he turned his head, all eyes were on them, watching. He also noticed for the time that the two of them were somehow standing closer together than necessary, definitely closer than the rest of the group. The doctor was grinning so broadly it hurt to look.

While his face heated up, Trip used the moment of silence to address T'Pol and Archer. "Yeah, one of you needs to take over command now. I don't even care who."

T'Pol and Archer exchanged a glance, until T'Pol nodded. "Understood."

Trip tried to say something, but it was drowned in another yawn, so he just lazily waved into the group. "That's it. I'm off."

"If you want to use a bed in sickbay again, Commander, please inform nurse Cutler," Phlox spoke up, but, for some reason, he looked straight at Malcolm. "We have a lot of patients that need to be treated, right now."

Well, if that wasn't a broad hint, then Malcolm didn't know what was. T'Pol, too, looked at him intently, and if she were a human woman, she would probably have kicked his shin by now. Instead, thus, Malcolm had to kick himself mentally and coughed slightly, as Trip already stepped away from the group.

"You can sleep in my quarters," Malcolm said aloud, and the words roared in his ears as if he had shouted them. "Most of your stuff is there anyway. I'll join you later."

Trip turned around with a surprised expression on his face. Whether or not he realised that no one except for Travis was looking shocked, Malcolm didn't know. But the Brit didn't try to spin some alibi around his words, and so Trip didn't, either.

"Sure, Mal. See you later."

To be continued with the epilogue.