Hoshi Sato didn't like the way the battle was going one bit. She also didn't like the fact that once words fail, a communications officer has little to do that feels useful. Currently she was trying to listen in on some of the conversation between Reptilian ships.

Suddenly Travis yelled from the helm, "Hoshi, move!" He said it with such conviction that she didn't think to question him, but moved as fast as she could get her bulky stomach away. As she scurried towards the center of the bridge, a direct hit caused her console to overload –or so she guessed- and a spectacular display of short-lived fireworks shot up form it.

Captain Archer, who'd kept her from falling when they were hit, kindly gave her his chair. Malcolm was trying not to worry about her and failing miserably. Ever time he got a shot out it was followed by a glance her way. For once she didn't blame him. The console incident had been far too close for comfort.

How had Travis known that? When the battle was over she'd have to ask him. Right now he was too busy trying to give Malcolm good shots.

"Captain, if we modify the torpedoes, we can double their effectiveness."

"Do it, Malcolm."

He looked at her again. "Sir, they have to be modified and fired manually."

"Is there any other way?"

Speaking to the captain but never taking his eyes off Hoshi, Malcolm replied. "This is our best shot."

"If we put the Menson regulators on a higher frequency that could decrease the resonance in the inner casing, which would allow us to build more tension. Impact would spread out in a greater radius."

"Exactly," agreed Malcolm.

"Travis? How do you know all this?" Captain Archer apparently knew no more about Travis's sudden armory knowledge than Hoshi did.

"It's a long story."

"Captain, long-range sensors detect four more Reptilian ships, heavily armed. They will be within firing range in twelve minutes," reported T'Pol from the science station. She seemed just a fraction less calm than usual.

"I'm going to adjust those torpedoes," Malcolm said, still looking at Hoshi like she was the last woman in the universe. That, she reasoned, meant it had to be dangerous.

"No sir. I can do it."

"Travis?" Archer almost fell over as the pilot dropped Enterprise down. Malcolm managed to get off three successive shots without looking at his console.

"If we turn the ignition chamber..." Travis trailed off into technical language beyond Hoshi's direct knowledge. She understood what was happening, though: it was a suicide mission, and Travis wanted to spare Malcolm. For her, and for Anne. "...then we can get two hits out of one torpedo, one on top of the other," he finished.

"It's my responsibility as-" Malcolm began.

Travis cut him off sharply. "It's your responsibility as a father to let me do this. Please, Malcolm."

Both men had apparently forgotten their captain. "Travis, how do you know all this?"

"I don't have time to explain, sir. It's vital that I go down there."

"You're certain?"

"More certain than I've ever been," he answered without hesitation.

"Permission to leave the bridge granted." He had the weight of Earth on his shoulders, and this couldn't be helping. Hoshi would never want to be a captain.

"But sir," protested Malcolm, clearly not pleased that he'd been cut out of this.

"Permission to leave the bridge denied, Lieutenant." He turned to Travis before the 'lift shut. "Good luck."

Ensign MacLeon took over for Travis at the helm, and Malcolm strategically fired the phase cannons with an unreadable expression on his face.

Hoshi was grateful for the chair. Knowing what Travis was willing to do made her soul ache. Don't take him, she silently begged an unfair universe, he's got to live.

The hardest part was that she knew, deep down, that her pleading was futile.