Chapter Sixteen: Temptation

            They reached the armoury and Malcolm took him inside. He hadn't said a word since they left Sickbay, although Crewman Burke and several other security men were trailing behind them to make sure the erstwhile chief engineer didn't try anything funny. When they were inside, they made sure Trip's hands were securely bound and they sat him down on the floor.

            "Not taking me to the brig?" Trip said.

            Malcolm ignored this and turned to his men. "I believe," he said, "that I will get information out of him easier if you vacate the premises. Now."

            They left instantly, wordlessly.

            "They're not carrying audio recorders on them, are they, Lieutenant?" Trip drawled.

            "Quiet," Malcolm said. He lifted the recording device and played it back. He stood there, motionless and silent, and they listened to the entire conversation. The British man's face displayed no trace of emotion, no sign even that he understood what he was hearing. When the recording was over, he snapped the device off and tossed it aside.

            "You will be thrown in the brig," he said. "But first it is my duty as armoury officer to extract the names of your fellow conspirators. You are clearly planning a coup to eliminate order aboard this vessel."

            "I don't have any fellow conspirators," Trip said. "I'm working on my own."

            "How foolish do you think I am?" demanded Lieutenant Reed.

            "Pretty damn foolish."

            Malcolm Reed went dead silent and stared at Trip, who sat on the floor with his hands bound and stared defiantly back up at him.

            "Really," he said, his voice dangerously soft.

            "Really," Trip said. He smiled. "Don't you see, Lieutenant? The opportunity you're passing up?"

            "Opportunity!" Malcolm snorted, his voice and face full of contempt. "Absurd."

            "Opportunity of a lifetime," Trip said. He thought that his life might just depend on this.

            "I believe, Commander Tucker," Malcolm said slowly, delightedly, as if it were the strangest ploy he had ever come across in all his years of interrogating recalcitrant prisoners, "that you are actually trying to subvert me."

            Trip rolled his eyes. "Oh, Lieutenant Reed. Simple, obedient Lieutenant Reed,"  he said. "Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life?"

            "Simple Lieutenant Reed," Malcolm said thoughtfully. "Obedient Lieutenant Reed. Hmm, yes. Alive Lieutenant Reed. I like that last part."

            Trip gave him a pitying look. "Lieutenant," he said. "You want to stay Lieutenant for the rest of your life?"

            Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes," he said. "You're going to take over the ship and you'll grant me a post as your first officer if I'll help you? Is that what you're going to say? Commander Reed?"

            "No," Trip said.

            "Do enlighten me, Mr. Tucker, or the suspense will be the death of me," Malcolm said, sarcasm slicing into the words.

            "Captain," said Trip.

            Malcolm stared at him. The silence lengthened. Then, finally, he laughed bitterly and turned away, his hands clasped behind his back as he paced. "Planning to assassinate Admiral Forrest, are we? Admiral Tucker? Taking over Fleet Command and forcing us all to abolish slavery and uphold freedom on the Imperial flagship?" His voice was biting, angry. He didn't want to be having this conversation. And he would end it soon, because Trip probably had already said enough to warrant his own execution.

            "No," Trip said. And because honesty was all that he had left, he said, "Damn it, Malcolm. I just want to go home."

            "Home?" Lieutenant Reed glanced at his recording device. "Ah, the famous reality from which you sprang?" He rolled his eyes. "You've been gathering support among the men – my men, if you please! – for the past two months, by my reckoning … fomenting rebellion, Commander, for much longer than your story would suggest. If you thought I was really mad enough to buy such a tale. Why would you possibly want to offer me the captaincy?"

            "Because you'd be good at it and I wouldn't," Trip said earnestly. "I don't want the damn job! Leave me to my engines, I'm no captain, just get me back to that planet, beam me down, beam me back up again!"

            "And that's all you want …?" Malcolm was staring at him, the beginnings of confusion in his eyes. "Just … down there, and up again, and then I'm Captain? Captain of the Enterprise?"

            "No," Trip said, "you're Captain before. As soon as we get rid of Captain Archer."

            Malcolm was silent for a very long moment. Then he smiled and drew his phase pistol. "Ah," he said. It seemed as though a door had closed in his face. "As soon as we get rid of Captain Archer." He fired the pistol at the recording device, rendering it completely useless. "I see."

            That, plainly, was what Malcolm had been waiting for.

            "As soon as we get rid of Captain Archer," said Lieutenant Reed again. He shook his head and laughed hollowly. "Come along, Mr. Tucker. You're going to the brig now."

            "Why bother with the brig?" Trip asked tiredly. "Why don't you just shoot me?"

            Malcolm snorted. "Please. We are not barbarians," he said. The irony lay heavily in his voice.