As he entered his quarters, Jonathan heard a soft bark. A brown and white beagle trotted up to greet him. "Hello, Porthos," he said, bending to scratch his ears. "Feeding time, huh?"
As he went to get Porthos's food, he reflected on the last two weeks. In that short time, Dr. Mallory had managed to make quite an impression. She was producing an amazing amount of work, but at the same time had managed to irritate every officer on the ship. Diplomacy, he reflected, was definitely not her strong suit.
He set Porthos's bowl on the floor, and Porthos waddled up to it to begin eating. "You're putting on a little weight, boy. Phlox will have something to say about that."
Porthos ignored him.
Archer changed into his pajama bottoms and settled on the bed, grabbing his water polo ball. "Computer, activate personal log." He began tossing the ball against the bulkhead as he spoke.
"It's been two weeks since Capt. Mallory has joined my crew, and I admit I still haven't figured her out. She's been very helpful, and has had many useful suggestions. But she has this way about her. It almost as if she thinks she's the only one with the right answer. I thought for sure Trip was going to strangle her the other day when she suggested fine tuning of the warp field.
"Yet, she surely must be very gifted, or she never could have achieved all she has in what must be a very short time. There's so much I don't know about her." He paused, holding onto the ball for awhile. "And yet, I feel like I should trust her. If only she wasn't so disruptive to the ship's routine." Archer grimaced, thinking of the conversation he'd had with Trip. He hadn't realized how territorial Trip was about his engines. That had been quite a scene, and only Mallory's rank, Archer suspected, kept Trip from losing control. Still, engine efficiency had increased…
"Computer, end recording." He placed the ball back the on shelf and settled into bed. Perhaps this would sort itself out in its own time.
But two hours later Archer was still tossing in his bunk. He looked at the clock and groaned. 0030. Well, no use fighting it. He got up, pulled on a t-shirt, and headed for the mess hall.
Jordan had found sleep elusive as well. She sat in the empty mess hall sipping hot chocolate and studying her handheld computer. Damn file ought to be there somewhere, she thought. Something was definitely not right. She looked up as the door opened and Archer entered the mess hall.
"Good evening, Captain," she said. "If you're looking for a midnight snack, I think Chef left some cobbler."
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked as he served himself a piece of cobbler.
"No. I thought hot chocolate would help."
"Sounds good. Like a refill?"
"Please."
He collected the cobbler and the chocolate and joined her at the table. He took a bite of the cobbler, and was surprised by the intense sweetness.
"Mmm. What kind of cobbler is this?" he asked.
"Chef said it was a 'mystery cobbler'. I guess that means that you might not want to know."
"Fair enough." He gestured at her computer. "What's keeping you up so late? Reconfiguring the sensor array?"
"No," she replied calmly, refusing the rise to his bait. "I was working on the results from the scan of the ion storm we went through two weeks ago. But for some reason I can't find the file."
"Misnamed?"
"Probably," she sighed, tossing the unit onto the table.
"Computers haven't changed in two hundred years. They still lose things," he said.
"Yeah, but Enterprise's computer system is much too sophisticated to simply lose a file I had just been working on. Something is very odd about this." A frown line appeared between her brows. "It just doesn't feel right."
He softened. She did seem very worried about such a small thing. "You've been working pretty hard since you joined Enterprise. Maybe you're just tired."
She gave him a small smile. "That's probably it. So, what's keeping you up?"
He smiled in return. "Being the captain."
She chuckled. "Well, I think I know the cure for that."
"Really?"
"Chef's mystery cobbler."
………………………………………………………………..
At 0142 the collision alarm sounded, jolting Archer out of bed where he had just managed to fall asleep. He grabbed a blue t-shirt and threw it on as he stormed out of his quarters and headed for the bridge. "Report!" he exclaimed as the turbolift door opened.
"Sensors are clear, Captain," Lt. Reed replied. "Maybe it's a cloaked vessel."
"Damage report."
"Negative, Captain," Hoshi responded. "I am receiving no reports of damage. Commander Tucker is signaling you, sir."
"Trip, what's going on with the ship?"
"You tell me, Cap'n. We're reading nothin' here. What'd we hit?"
"We don't know yet. Stand by. And would someone kill that alarm!"
The alarm was immediately silenced.
"Captain, our sensors show no sign of damage," T'Pol said. "All scans are clear."
Just then the turbolift door opened and Mallory entered the bridge. "The alarm is a mistake," she exclaimed. "It's a computer glitch!"
"A glitch?"
"Yes. Computer logs show that the main computer system triggered the alarm. However, this was done independently of sensor input. Crewman Harrison is running a comprehensive diagnostic now. I should have more information for you shortly."
"Thank you," Archer said, relaxing a little. "Stand down from emergency stations. Pass the word, Hoshi, all senior staff to the situation room."
"Aye, aye, sir."
……………………………………………………………..
"We can't explain it, Captain," Mallory was saying. The bridge crew was grouped around the display table in the situation room. "It's almost as if the computer decided on its own to sound the alarm."
"T'Pol, what do the latest sensor readings show?"
"Routine amounts of space particles. No anomalies, Captain," T'Pol replied.
"Then is it possible that our collision sensors are too sensitive?"
"I have checked them myself. They are in full working order."
Archer stared at the display on the situation board for a moment. "Very well," he said finally. "T'Pol, you and Mallory continue looking into the computer system. If something is malfunctioning, I want to know about it before it becomes critical. Malcolm, I want you to do a thorough weapons check. I don't want any surprises there. Trip, diagnostics in engineering, if you please. And Hoshi, I want you to update Star Fleet Command. Maybe their experts back home have some thoughts on this."
They all murmured acknowledgement of their orders and left to begin their tasks. Mallory stepped to Archer's side. "If I may make a suggestion, Captain?" she murmured.
He looked down at her. "Yes?"
"Since you have decided to contact Star Fleet Command, might I suggest that you speak to Dr. Adam Schoenhaur? He is my assistant at the base lab and has a great deal of expertise in this area."
"Gee, Doctor, is there anyone back on Earth you don't know?" Archer asked sarcastically.
"Not really, Captain. At least, not anyone important."
"Very well," he sighed. "Hoshi, ask for Dr. Schoenhaur when you contact Star Fleet."
"Aye, Captain," Hoshi responded.
Archer turned back to Mallory. "Will that be all?"
"For now. I'll let you know when we find something." With that, she turned and left.
Archer sighed and checked the ship's chronometer. 0216. Oh well, he thought as he went back to his quarters, sleep is overrated anyway.
………………………………………………………………………………..
After three hours sleep, Archer was up and preparing for the day. He was singing lustily in the shower when his doorbell chimed. He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. "Yes?" he called toward the door.
"It's Dr. Mallory, sir. Do you have a minute?"
"Doctor, do you know what time it is?"
"Uh, no. But it's rather important."
He sighed. "Just a minute," he called, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He grabbed a second towel and began rubbing his hair as he strode to the door. "Come in," he called.
"I think I've discovered something," Jordan said as she stepped into the room. She stopped in surprise and immediately turned her back as she saw Archer in his dripping, nearly naked state. "Oh! I've caught you at a bad time, haven't I?"
"No, I always receive visitors while I'm in the shower."
"I'm sorry. I'll come back," she said, heading back out the door.
"No, wait," Archer said, regretting his hostile tone. "What's on your mind?"
"I think I've discovered what's been causing all our computer problems," she said, still facing the door.
Jonathan stopped toweling his hair to stare at her in surprise. "What have you found?"
"I think there is a saboteur on board, sir."
"What!?" Archer exclaimed.
"I think someone is trying to sabotage the mission."
"Do you understand what you're saying? And look at me when I'm talking to you, this is ridiculous."
Jordan turned. "Well, sir, there is a pattern to the system failures we've been experiencing. Last week our subspace communications went down. Before that there was the problem with the alignment of the plasma injectors. And for the last two weeks we've had numerous inexplicable computer glitches resulting lost files, all from a system that just doesn't lose files. Finally, the false collision alarm in the wee hours of the morning. It feels like someone is messing with the major ship functions. I think someone was testing their control over the main computer, but underestimated the complexity of the system. The false collision alarm was the system's reaction to the interference"
"Those could all be coincidences."
"How many major malfunctions have you suffered since this ship was commissioned, Captain?"
"None, other that battle damage," he replied slowly, the pieces fitting together in his mind. "After the initial shake down two years ago, major ship functions have run very smoothly."
"So don't you think it's a little odd to have so many system failures all at the same time? Granted, we haven't completed our analysis of the data log, but the preliminary results just don't feel right. You'd need to really know the system to see it, it's very cleverly done. But I laid the underlying structure of this system, so I know when something's changed."
He considered for a moment. "You're right. This is a little odd. But who would want to sabotage the ship? And why this way? Wouldn't it be easier to simply gain access to engineering and overload the engines?"
"No, too many chances for us to stop it. You'd have to subdue a great deal of the crew. Now if your motive was solely to stop the mission, and not destroy the ship," her voice trailed off as she considered the possibilities. She looked up as a new thought occurred to her. "What if they were specifically ordered not to destroy the ship?"
He looked at her for a long moment, the pieces fitting together. "Round three in the temporal cold war," he stated softly.
"Exactly."
"But this is doing it the hard way-"
"They've tried overtly destroying the ship before, but your Crewman Daniels, whoever he is, has always interfered. But if instead you had to turn back because of massive system failure, perhaps-"
"It would be chalked up to damage from the anomalies, subtle enough not to rouse the suspicion of the other factions," Archer concluded. "Then you believe in the temporal cold war."
"I've read all your log entries on your encounters with Daniels, and it's the only explanation that fits all of the facts. I believe it was Sherlock Holmes who said that after you have ruled out all other possibilities, the remaining one, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."
He snorted. "You're obviously not a Vulcan."
"No, sir."
Archer thought about it for a moment. "How certain are you about sabotage?"
"I'd stake my reputation on it."
"Good, cause you're about to." He strode to the communit. "This is Archer. All senior staff to the situation room in five minutes." He turned back to Mallory. "That should give me a chance to get dressed, don't you think?" he hinted.
"Of course, sir," Jordan said, blushing. "Thank you for seeing me immediately." With that, she left his quarters.
"Well, Porthos."
Porthos looked up at the sound of his name. "Who do you think is the saboteur?"
As Porthos did not have an answer, Archer got dressed and headed for the situation room.