Jonathan Archer wanted nothing more to slink to his quarters and not leave for a week. Truthfully, he didn't think that a week would be enough time to grasp the situation he'd just been informed of, but it was better than having another four long hours on duty.

T'Pol had the bridge, and he intended to hide away under the guise of paperwork for the rest of his shift; quite possibly he would use the same excuse again soon. Hoshi was pregnant. Okay, that was unexpected enough, since he didn't think she was with anyone. Either Malcolm or Trip was the father. That was a shocker indeed, although Phlox confirmed this. He believed the three of them when they said mind-altering drugs were used. Fractured memories and Phlox's scans together, he was convinced.

What he really failed to understand was Hoshi's refusal to learn who the father was. Phlox knew, but wouldn't tell anyone without her express permission. Both Trip and Malcolm wanted to know. As their captain and friend, he wanted to know. It didn't seem right somehow, but that wasn't the kind of thing he could order Hoshi to do just because he disagreed.

It was going to be a long nine months.

Travis was shocked. Actually, he was beyond shocked, but lacked the mental cohesion to come up with a better word. It was just too much to believe- sensible, sweet Hoshi putting Trip and Malcolm through the torture of not knowing who the father was? It defied reason. Beyond that, it defied everything he knew about her. Was this some sort of post-traumatic stress thing? Or was it something deeper that he couldn't begin to comprehend? Unbelievable.

Even T'Pol had been stunned, or whatever the Vulcan equivalent was. She had lobbed several arguments Hoshi's way before realizing that Hoshi was beyond the usual emotional extremes for humans and also quite beyond the point of any reason.

He couldn't believe it. It was beyond his comprehension.

Hoshi Sato was reading in her quarters. Litwo! Ojczyzno moja! ty jesteś jak zdrowie... More accurately, she was trying to read. So far she hadn't gotten past the first paragraph. This was the latest in a string of failed attempts to forget her current situation. She had even tried being honest with herself, calling herself a coward. As long as she didn't know whether Trip or Malcolm was the father, she didn't have to face what the repercussions were. That only cemented her resolve. Escapism through truth wasn't any more effective than reading, or listening to Mozart's German Dances, or anything else she'd tried. Usually she read Shakespeare, involving herself in the complexity of the plot, but Shakespeare would never be the same again.

When the chime signaled a visitor, she sounded weary even to herself. "Come in."

It was Malcolm. "Hoshi?"

"I'm here."

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been better."

He mentally kicked himself. What a stupid question! "I have to apologize. I should never have…"

"Malcolm, it's not your fault. We were under the influence of alien drugs. If I could go back and change things, I'd have taken the birth control even though I didn't think I'd need it. But it's too late for that, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't keep the baby."

"I think I understand."

"Do you? It's hard to explain. I'm not going to give this baby up, Malcolm, but I never wanted to…" her words after this were muted by sobs. He sat on the bed next to her and let her fall against him to cry.

"It's going to be alright, Hoshi."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Tucker to Sato."

She sniffed and took a deep breath. "Sato here."

"I'm savin' the last chocolate cupcake for ya, but the Doc says ya hafta have a meal too. Whatcha want?"

"Just some soup, I guess."

"French onion or tomato?"

"French onion."

"I'll bring it right by. Tucker out."

She sighed. "Malcolm, we're going to have to change my training sessions."

"I've already done it."

The opening words of Pan Tadeusz, a Polish book by Adam Mickiewicz.