To Sail Through a Sea of Sharks

Mess hall's a bit more crowded these days.

Hoshi knew it was her imagination. From any logical standpoint, the mess hall of Enterprise wasn't hosting any more personnel than it usually did. Sure, the ship itself had additional personnel, but the duty roster had been changed to accommodate for that. Chow time, work time, bunk time…most of her life these days was spent working on the bridge, getting in the odd meal, and working further in her bunk before finally letting exhaustion take her. Bringing her into slumber's embrace, her mind as dark and empty as the entropy of the Delphic Expanse.

Minus the dreams. But then, that wasn't new for anyone on this ship.

No, what made the mess hall seem more crowded was the addition of non-Starfleet personnel. The MACOs. Men and women clad in greys and blacks, standing in contrast to the predominantly uniforms of what was, until recently, a civilian ship. MACOs sitting on their own tables, Starfleet personnel sitting at theirs. An unspeakable wall standing between them, with the unspoken mission statement of "you get us to the xindi, and let us do the rest."

Or she was projecting. Maybe. She'd bridged that divide only recently by sitting at one of their tables, but if she'd taken out some of the Great Wall, so far, neither side was rushing to exploit the breach. Case in point, Malcolm Reed. Not only sitting away from the MACOs, but sitting away from anyone else, period. Having a whole table to himself, and typing on a datapad with one hand, while using a fork in the other.

She bit her lip, before heading to the table. She hadn't forgotten certain…interactions with Lieutenant Reed, within this very hall in what felt like a lifetime ago, but truth was, his was the only table with space to spare. And if he remembered that awkward conversation…well, they'd worked professionally for the last two years. No reason to dredge up old awkwardness when humanity's future was on the line, right?

"Is it alright if I sit here?"

But on the other hand, sometimes it was better to ask permission than to seek forgiveness.

"Lieutenant?"

Reed grunted, and while part of her mind wanted to analyse that grunt, to examine everything from its volume to its duration, Hoshi just took a chair. Her feet were aching, her stomach was empty, and her ravioli was getting cold.

Cold, also being a description of Reed's demeanour, having so far not having taken his eyes up from the datapad, his pasta barely touched. Looking at it now, it reminded Hoshi of airline food. The type of food people didn't bother to eat, as they cruised around the globe. Travelling at speeds that their ancestors could only dream of, often even breaking orbit.

"Staying busy, huh?" She began poking at her ravioli, while also poking at Reed. "Makes sense."

Reed grunted.

"I mean, I-"

Reed pushed the datapad to her, and turned it around so that it was facing right-side up. "Does this make sense to you?"

She stared at the schematics of the ship's phaser array. It made sense to her to a point – Starfleet expected its personnel to have a certain level of proficiency across all of its ship operations – but weapons weren't her speciality. Best she could guess was that the equations by those schematics pertained to phaser output, cross-referenced with how much energy they would consume. Bang for one's buck, as the saying went. And from what she could tell, the bucks and bangs weren't cooperating.

"No?" Reed took the datapad back. "Didn't think so."

She frowned. "I just-"

"Don't fret, Ensign, better officers than you have tried."

She just sat there. Rooted to her chair. As if the a-grav had gone haywire, and a singularity had formed beneath her feet. Reed, for his part, was taking to his pasta. She, however, was holding her fork and knife. Her food forgotten, and the knife looking a bit appealing in other dimensions.

"Christ, this is terrible." Reed looked at Hoshi. "How's your ravioli?"

"Cold," she murmured.

"Cold?" He gave a small laugh. "Wish that's the worst I could say about this slime."

"And I wish I could say that you'd retained your old manners, but maybe that was too much to ask for."

What the hell?

She had no idea where those words came from. Reed's words had taken her aback, but that didn't mean escalating the situation. The proverbial singularity beneath her chair was fading, and she was ready to get up here and now, lest things deteriorate even further.

"If you have a way to increase the output of our phaser array without cutting into our reserves, I'm all for it," Reed murmured, turning the pad back around. "Otherwise, my manners are still on Earth."

Hoshi weighed her options. Leave, and kick the can down the road, or ride out the storm, and suffer the bruises now. She glanced around the mess hall, the wall between the MACOs and Starfleet personnel as strong and impregnable as ever. Maybe she couldn't tear that wall down. But at the least, she could try and stop another from going up.

"Preparing for the xindi?" she murmured, taking the pad again.

"Them, or anyone else out here."

She scrolled through the schematics and equations. Truth was, she was just stalling. It might have been dishonest, but giving the impression of effort was, right now, the better part of valour.

"Sorry, I can't help you." She handed the pad back to Reed. "Like you said, better officers than me have tried."

Something flickered in his eyes. Maybe it was her tone, maybe it was simple instinct.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Either way, he started rubbing his temples. Hiding the shadows under his eyes. The same shadows that lurked under the eyes of every crew member of Enterprise, none more so than the senior staff.

"It's fine," she murmured. "We're all on edge here."

"Yeah, well, the edge is closer to some of us than others, Ensign."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, if we found the xindi homeworld, today, what would happen?" Reed continued to rub his temples. "You'd get on the horn, say 'hello, we're just wondering why you killed seven million of our people, please take your time responding while you prepare to wipe us out?"

The singularity back, Hoshi lay her cutlery on her plate and folded her arms. "Something you want to say, Lieutenant?"

"Not really. Just…"

"Just?"

He sighed, and met her gaze. "All I'm saying is that in my experience, weapons win wars. Not words."

Hoshi stared at him.

"And I'm not sure what the xindi could possibly say to excuse what they did to Earth."

And there it was, Hoshi reflected. Anger. Despair. Healthy level of contempt. All normal emotions, coming from abnormal circumstances. Part of her wanted to deck Malcolm Reed where he sat right now. The other, larger part, however, got her to stay put. It wasn't just Earth that the xindi's energy beam had cut into. It was every man, woman, and child on the face of the planet.

And maybe he was right, she reflected. Maybe this could only end in a war. A war that, given the level of firepower the xindi had demonstrated, didn't look to be in humanity's favour. But-

"Words have ended wars," Hoshi murmured.

But that didn't mean she didn't have a part to play.

"Negotiations, treaties…there's over four-thousand languages in human history, somehow we found a way to communicate."

Reed snorted. "The people who started the Third World War could understand each other just fine. That didn't stop them from launching nuclear weapons."

She frowned. "I'm just saying-"

"Khan Singh, Adolf Hitler, Genghis Khan. Do you think lack of communication was the reason why they slaughtered millions?"

"Well, I-"

"Ensign, face it. Xindi only did to use what we've done to ourselves." Reed lay back in his chair, folding his arms. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not excusing them, but, well…"

She sat there. Listening. Waiting.

"All I'm saying is that if you used your words to negotiate a peace today, the dead won't hear them."

And that, Hoshi supposed, was that. The last word. A word coming from an officer of senior rank, with military experience well before Starfleet, who, she supposed, was speaking for more than himself. Certainly Commander Tucker. Certainly for most of Earth. Heck, probably for a good portion of this ship, which only a year ago, had been making first contact, not first strikes.

"So," Hoshi said. "War, then."

"Probably. Hell, you could say we're at war now."

"And that's where they come in?"

Reed stared at her.

"The MACOs." Hoshi nodded to one of the adjacent tables, and the grey-clad soldiers sitting around it. "Mobile Assault Command Operations."

"I know what MACO stands for, Ensign."

"Just saying, it must be nice to have some military personnel here."

Reed snorted. "Nice? Space marines named after extinct fish?"

"Makos are extinct?"

"Them, and most shark species. And the whales. And the…look, point is, no, it isn't a good thing."

"Oh? And why's that?"

The question was genuine. If Reed was right about war being inevitable (and chances were, he was), surely it made sense to have a military detachment onboard.

"The MACOs have their own command structure," Reed said. "So does Starfleet. Put us together on the same ship, with Captain Archer, Major Hayes, and me and my security teams between them…that won't end well."

Hoshi couldn't help but smirk. "Is this a Navy and Marines thing?"

"No, it's an officers and officers thing," Reed said. "The MACOs are…Starfleet is…"

"Is?"

"Fine, Navy and Marines. And I've had my fill of both." Reed glanced at the MACOs. "And men like Hays."

"Maybe you'd like them more if you got to know them better."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I don't know what's down between you and Hayes, but I've talked to the MACOs," Hoshi said. "And you know what? They're fine."

Reed stared at her. Like a father who'd just found out his daughter had gone out with a boy he didn't approve of.

"All I'm saying is…look, maybe words can't stop the xindi, but they could help us get along better? Break down barriers? Build trust?" She took a bite of her ravioli. "Eat together, drink together…take part in movie night together…"

Reed scoffed. "There's enough bloody sharks in the Expanse, Ensign. I don't need to go swimming with them inside the ship."

The ravioli was cold. And it tasted off.

"Just saying, you might want to watch yourself."

Hoshi stared at him. "Watch myself?"

He looked awkward, but nevertheless persisted. "I'm just saying, Marines and Navy don't always get along. Throw in civilians, and things can get…"

"Complicated?"

"Something like that."

"Right. Complicated." Hoshi pushed her plate aside. "Well, since we're looking for a species that killed millions, and since words aren't worth a damn according to you, and since you won't even try to work with the people who are risking their lives for us, maybe I'm not sure how much more complicated things can get." She got to her feet. "Bridge is calling me."

She walked off. Ignoring the glances of the crew around her. Ignoring Reed's protests that she'd left her ravioli behind.

It didn't matter. She was in a sea of sharks, and words couldn't win wars.

And after all that wasted talking, she wasn't hungry anyway.