Chapter Two

"I never forgave my father for that. What little there was between us was gone. He let me sit there for two hours, floundering in the sea. I spent the majority of the time convinced I was going to die. Can you imagine? Fourteen years old, sure my father was trying to kill me," Reed said, drifting out of the past. He shook his head, trying to laugh off his misery. The ensign stood, staring directly at the man on the floor.

My God, I had no idea. He didn't return her gaze and instead stared into obscurity as he continued.

"Sometimes I wish he would have. That would have been better than telling him I wasn't going to join the Navy. I expected him to yell and scream and lecture, but he just stood there looking at me. I'll never forget that look like I had stabbed him in the heart. He turned around and that was the last time I saw him. I tried to contact him, but he would never answer, or if he did, he simply hung up. As time went on, I grew to hate him. Isn't that horrible? I hated the old man. I hated him for not understanding. I hated him for not accepting me. But most of all I hated him for not loving me. I mean, how could he? Nothing he did for me was out of love or compassion; it was out of sheer determination to make me exactly like him. That's the funny part, I'm the exact opposite," Reed sighed.

He looked up at the ensign. Her soft brown eyes were mere slits, allowing a few unstoppable tears to roll down her cheeks. He wanted to stop, wanted to prevent her from crying, but he couldn't. He had to finish, had to make someone else know the truth.

"I suppose he hated me too, especially after I joined Starfleet. I had failed him, and he would hold that against me forever. Still, deep down, I always thought he would come around; accept me for who I am. He never did. Honor, rank respect, instead of love, compassion, sympathy. After my first year at the Academy, I stopped calling, stopped trying. I didn't care, he was dead to me." Reed paused, tilting his head back, reliving what he had most tried to forget.

He didn't look at the ensign for fear her face would prevent him from continuing.

"Two weeks ago, the Captain called me to his quarters. I thought it was to review security postings, but it wasn't about business. Malcolm, I have some news… about your father.' Right there I knew what he was going to say. My father had died. Ironically, he drowned. It was in the middle of a storm and my father went out to detach the sail. A wave crashed against the boat and carried him away. They never found his body. At least he was buried at sea; he would have wanted that. I didn't know what to do. I hated a dead man. I hated my own father. You can't imagine what it feels like to completely hate someone, and then you find out…"

The ensign winced as soon as Reed told her what the captain said. It seemed like the entire scenario was happening to her, and when she came to the realization it already happened to Malcolm, her soul shuddered.

"Of course I will never forgive myself. He did teach me about protocol and gave me the skills I needed to command men. But that's not what I wanted. I would gladly trade this job for scrubbing plasma converters if he had just once said 'good job' or 'I'm proud of you.' But he never did, and now he never will." Reed started to gain momentum as he talked, beginning to forget the ensign was present. "How could I hate him? He's my own father, and now he's dead. I'll never get the chance to talk to him or say 'I'm sorry.' I should have kept trying, should have tried harder. I just can't believe I let myself hate him. I let him die hating him," Reed stopped talking, staring blankly into space.

The ensign had not moved the entire time, horrified and dismayed by what met her ears. Her heart ached trying to imagine what Reed was describing-- his shattered life, his unfathomable pain.

"Lieutenant, I . . . I don't know what to say. I am so sorry, so sorry… But you can't really think that what happened was your fault. I mean, your father abandoned you. You shouldn't feel guilty about what happened. No one would blame you, how could they? After all your father put you through, it was only natural what you felt--"

"It's only natural to hate your father?" Reed said, looking at the ensign.

"After what he did to you, what he didn't do… You can't blame yourself for this."

"It's a little late for that, Ensign," Reed replied, putting his head in his hands. The ensign moved from her place and knelt down in front of the lieutenant. She took his hands in hers, making him look directly into her eyes.

"You tried to contact him, you did everything you could. He didn't want a relationship with you, and you can't blame yourself for the way someone else feels or thinks. None of this is your fault. You have to believe me, nothing, none of it is your fault," the woman whispered, trying to reach Reed's blocked heart. Reed just shook his head and turned it away. Letting out an exasperated sigh, the ensign fell back on the floor, releasing his hands and letting her mind wander. "So is that it? Is that why?" she softly asked. Looking into her eyes, Malcolm shook his head.

"No. That's only half of it."

***

"Ok, sir, the torpedo is ready," armory ensign Pola answered. He sealed what remained of the hydrated hydrochloric acid in a jar, saving the rest for the next test.

"Are you sure you filled it completely with the correct specifications? If this test works out, it could be the discovery of a whole new energy source," Reed said, double checking the ensign's work. Pola nodded and stepped back to allow Reed to inspect the torpedo. Waving in satisfaction, Reed snapped the lid of the torpedo shut.

"What effect do you think this would have on living things? We're not actually going to use it on people, are we?" Pola somewhat timidly asked. Reed shook his head.

"No, I would never dream of using something like this on actual people. According to my estimations, this thing could wipe out entire races, and their deaths would not be enjoyable. No, this is only intended for construction or fuel," Reed answered. "Get this in torpedo bay one, and the captain will signal us when it is time for the practice launch."

"What are we aiming at, sir?" Pola questioned.

"Trip's going to release some of the scrap from the ship and we're going to target that. The scrap would be similar to elements this could be used for mining," Reed matter-of-factly said. Pola nodded, pushing the large cylinder into the cramped bay. Sealing the door shut, the torpedo was ready to fire. Reed turned to look at his PADD wanting to log the information, but the lights went dim and his vision obscured.

"All hands prepare for battle. Lieutenant Reed, report to the bridge immediately," Hoshi calmly said over the ship intercom. Dropping his PADD on the nearest table, Reed rushed out of engineering and toward the ship's elevator. Archer briefed him upon his entry to the bridge.

"Apparently the Klingons don't like us orbiting this planet. Guess they think they have a dominion over it. They've told us to leave, but we can't contact our landing party. Just in case-"

"They're targeting our engines, Sir," Reed said, interrupting the captain and taking his post.

"Polarize the hull plating and take evasive maneuvers! Break out of orbit if you have to!" Archer shouted. Reed and Mayweather complied with the orders: the lieutenant by raising the shield, and the ensign by putting the Bird of Prey in between Enterprise and the planet. A blue force left the side cannon of the Klingon vessel. Before Reed could issue a warning, the ship was violently shaken and sparks flew carelessly in the air. The shock knocked several of the bridge crew from their seats. Reed's head hit the floor as he heard an agonizing scream come from a crumpled heap four feet away. Crawling from his station down the two-foot drop, Reed flipped Mayweather over and stared at the injured man. Blood gushed from a gash in his forehead and he lay eyes closed, unconscious.

"Somebody call Phlox up here now!" Reed shouted putting pressure on Mayweather's head. Hoshi lifted herself from the ground and called the physician over the intercom. Reed reluctantly left the ensign in the care of two other crewmen to retake his post. "That directly hit our impulse engines, Captain. Hull-plating is down eighty-two percent," Reed reported. Archer shook his head, cradling his broken arm.

"Fire phase-" Archer attempted to order his armory officer but the ship was shaken by yet another blast. Reed managed to stay at his station and assess further damage.

"Minimal damage, hull-plating down ninety percent."

"Fire phasers, now!" Archer ordered. Two continuous beams of red energy left the earth vessel and impaled themselves against the Klingon ship. A small, yet hopeful explosion showed itself on the view screen.

"The phasers hit the edge of their EPS manifold. They can no longer go to warp," Reed stated.

"Their weapons?" Archer asked.

"Still online… they're charging them again!" Reed nervously said.

"Fire torpedoes!" Archer screamed. Putting no thought behind his actions, Reed automatically did as he was told. No sooner had he entered the coordinates and fired the two torpedoes did he remember what was in the torpedo bay one. Holding tightly to his stomach, Reed watched in sick realization of what was occurring: the experimental torpedo that held more power than the whole arsenal put together, was pushing itself toward a populated vessel. Even though it was the Klingons, Reed prayed he would miss his target. The Klingons jerked their ship to their starboard port, trying to avoid the missiles. Reed couldn't tell which torpedo was which, but when one cleanly missed the right wing, he heart leapt. He didn't look ahead to watch its path, but instead followed the other's trail. With a grisly bang, the second torpedo slammed into the tail of the Bird of Prey. A small explosion shook the ship, but the already damaged manifold suddenly burst into flames, cremating the entire vessel. The initial explosions were minimal, and Reed decided it wasn't the experimental one. Forgetting about the Klingons, he turned his head to his console to determine the other torpedo's trajectory.

"Oh my God…" Reed whispered staring at his console, not wanting to see what he was reading. Archer looked quizzically at his lieutenant.

"What is it, Reed?" he asked. The armory officer didn't move, didn't appear to even hear the captain. His pale face simply sat staring at the flashing numbers and symbols. "Malcolm, what's wrong?" Archer demanded, racing to his side.

"The other torpedo… it's going to…" Reed tried to answer.

"It's going to what? What's it going to do?" Archer hollered. The lieutenant didn't move, his face becoming paler and paler, his stomach churning uncontrollably. Shoving Reed out of the way, Archer tried to decipher the readings appearing at his station. Reed heard the captain curse almost inaudibly, and nodded his head when the captain gave him a hopeless look. "How much time before it hits the planet? Won't it burn up in the atmosphere?" Archer calmly asked.

"That isn't a normal torpedo; it's the one with the hydrochloric acid. The acid will prevent it from blowing up because it has a high boiling point and the friction of the atmosphere will only get to about 4500 degrees centigrade," swallowing hard, Reed gave the report. "ETA two minutes."

"Where's it going to hit? What's the population?" Archer asked turning to T'Pol.

"It will hit almost directly in the capital of that planet. Population roughly three point two thousand, not including the four in the landing party," the Vulcan replied, voice completely void of any kind of desperation. Archer's fist slammed down on the console as the bridge fell deadly silent.

"Hoshi, contact the landing party. See if they respond," Archer ordered. Moving her hand to finger her earpiece, the ensign's pleas for the landing party to respond went unanswered.

"They aren't responding, Captain," she whispered.

"Keep trying!!" Archer screamed. Flinching, Hoshi resumed her hails.

"Can you hit that thing with another torpedo or with the phasers?" Archer asked, looking squarely at Reed. Without looking back, he slowly shook his head.

"Phasers wouldn't do it and there's no way the torpedo I shot would catch up with the other one."

"How much time do we have left?"

"Forty-five seconds," Reed barely managed to say.

"Is there anything we can do?" Archer shouted, looking at his crew. Each in turn, even T'Pol, bowed their heads. The seconds dragged on as the timer on Reed's console dwindled despairingly. Reed's eyes were fixed on the view screen, his body shaking with convulsions.

"Sir, I am sorry…"

"Shut up, Lieutenant!" Archer growled. Reed's breath started to come in short, desperate gasps as the torpedo got closer and closer to his target. Ten… nine… eight… seven… six…

"Sir! I've got the landing party!" Hoshi joyfully said smiling despite the other three thousand doomed to die.

"Send the coordinates to the transporter room now! Archer to Rostov! Beam up the landing party at the coordinates being sent to you, and hurry," the captain swiftly said. The entire bridge turned to stare at the screen as the ship was shaken with a slight tremor. Looking up, Reed saw a murky blue cloud mushroom up from the ground. Nothing could be clearly seen as the haze from the tremendous explosion covered the entire north-western quarter of the planet. Reed couldn't move. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. But he could feel.

As Reed watched the cloud explode upward into the sky, he watched his soul incinerate with it. His own vision became hazy as the view screen went out of focus. Swaying slightly in his chair, he felt someone grab onto him. The same person drew his face close to theirs, screaming, but the words were mute. Eyes fluttering to the back of his head, he passed out.

***

"You killed them. You killed them all. Three thousand. How many women? How many children? A totally defenseless people slaughtered like pigs. You murdered them. You murdered them while they slept, while they ate, while they played. All of them are dead. And it's all your fault." The strange gold-scaled man repeated the same chilling words slowly, each one stabbing Reed's very essence. "You killed me. You murdered my family-- my wife, my babies. They are all dead. There won't be a tomorrow; there won't be a next week or a next year. I will never get to see my babies grow up because they're dead. You murdered them. You stupid son of a bitch!"

The alien reached out and clubbed Reed, blood following his hand as it streaked across the lieutenant's face. Reed didn't try to avoid the punch, allowing the man to inflict whatever damage he wanted. Grasping his head with his hands, Reed stared at the blood and wished there was more. Slowly he began to notice the alien was pummeling his fists into his stomach. The pain he felt seemed dull and insignificant; he didn't care. Suddenly, Reed felt a keen slap on his face, hurtling him backwards. Lying on the ground, he looked up at the alien. What looked like tears streaked its face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I--" Reed stuttered.

"You're sorry for what? Forgetting what torpedo you had? Committing mass murder? Killing thousands of innocent people? Is that all?" the alien sarcastically replied. Reed tried to apologize, tried to remove the weight of guilt off his chest. Every word the alien had said, and everything he said to himself weighed down upon him like nothing he had ever felt before--suffocated, unable to breathe. Reed had never felt pure despair, relentless guilt, and such disgust in all his life. How could you forget? How could you not remember? Countless people are dead and it's all your fault. How many more are dying right now? Can't you hear them screaming, crying out in pain? You made them so. Their tortured bodies are littering the streets, disgusting corpses you put there. Children are crying, looking for their parents. But you killed them and they will never find them. How many lives did you destroy? How hard is it to remember what you have in the launch bay? Look at them! Look at them all writhing in pain, screaming in agony. That should be you. You deserve nothing better than to die just like them. How could you? Looking up, he saw the alien was gone, and he was surrounded by complete and utter darkness. He began to call out into the night, words sputtered, choked with tears and pain.

"I'm… sorry. Please forgive me… please don't hate me. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to kill you. I'm so sorry…"

"Lieutenant…" a raspy, familiar voice called. The lieutenant's eyes trembled open. Phlox, the captain, and Trip stared down at the sobbing man. When the observers perturbed and dismal faces came into focus, Reed wished he hadn't opened them. The last thing he wanted was his two superior officers and his friends to see him bawling like a baby. He wanted to be left alone in his sheer misery, to punish himself for what he had done. Closing his eyes, Reed hoped they would all leave, all be gone. But in his tortured heart he knew they would always be there, if not today then tomorrow or next week. He would have to face them eventually… just not now.

"Come on, Lieutenant. See if you can sit up," Phlox urged. Pulling his hands to his sides, Reed reluctantly lifted himself up. A short gasp escaped his lips as he looked around the crowded, yet fatally silent sickbay. Gold-scaled bodies littered the floor and the biobeds, and in the corner of the room, lay four cylindrical containers draped with white sheets. None of the beings were moving. "No, they're not dead, Lieutenant. Just asleep," Phlox reassured him, seeing the morbidly distressed look on his face.

"Then it wasn't a dream…" Reed whispered almost inaudibly.

"If you mean killing three thousand innocent, defenseless people, then no. It wasn't a dream," Archer breathed. Reed started to apologize but stopped when he beheld the captain's face. No apology he made would be sufficient enough to wipe the absolute rage and disappointment from his eyes. Reed looked to the doctor and then to Trip, but he could read neither of their faces. They blame you too. Because you are responsible. An uncomfortable silence sounded through the room, making just three of them squirm. "There will be a full inquiry into your actions in two weeks once we reach Jupiter station. Until then, you are relieved of duty," Archer icily said. He turned to leave but stopped. "You screwed up, Lieutenant." Reed cringed at his captain's last remark as he disappeared behind the door. A few silent minutes slid away before anyone spoke.

"Lieutenant, you appear to be fine. However, I would like to keep you under observation for the next few hours," Phlox said. Reed nodded but didn't turn his head. A moan escaped one of the aliens and Phlox rushed over to aid it. Trip stared at Reed who appeared to forget he was present.

"Malcolm, don't listen to what the cap'n says. We all make mistakes. It's not all yer fault. You jest did what you were told. He's jest upset 'cause he knows it's partly his fault… Malcolm? Malcolm can you even hear me?" Trip gently said. Reed tried to appear emotionless but a few stray tears betrayed him. He glanced again at the four sheet-draped cylinders.

"What are those?" he asked, voice slightly cracking. Trip followed Reed's gaze, but snapped his head back when he realized what he was looking at. Reed looked at him questioningly, but Trip just shook his head. His light chiseled face stared straight ahead, trying to hold back his emotion. Reed moved to get off the bed and see for himself, but Trip extended his arm, shaking his head once again.

"Don't," the engineer simply commanded. Reed shoved his hand out of the way and walked over to the forbidden objects. "Malcolm, you shouldn't," Trip warned. He moved between Reed and the large containers, wanting to spare his friend a second blow. Reed furiously shoved him again and lifted the white sheets. Grasping his mouth, he stumbled back in surprise. Mangled, bloody, soupy body parts filled the four large saucers. If it wasn't for the shredded uniforms and almost indistinguishable pips, Reed wouldn't have known it was the landing party. "We tried to beam them up, but they got caught in the explosion," Trip said, answering Reed's unspoken question. Wave after savage wave shook the lieutenant's body as his emptied his stomach onto the floor. Four more. That's four more people you destroyed. Cradling his head between his knees, Reed started to sway again. Trip reached out to steady his friend as Phlox rushed over.

"Get back into bed, Lieutenant," the physician ordered. Stumbling and tripping over his own feet, Reed climbed back into his bunk. A low hiss emitted from the instrument stuck his arm and his consciousness started to fade.

"No, please don't put me to sleep! I don't want… to talk to… him… again." Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Reed succumbed to a tormented sleep.

***

To Be Continued…