Chapter One --
Stepping into the past was disorienting, and Malcolm chose not to study the dynamics too closely lest he become mired in the complexities of time travel and forget why he was here.
Hoshi. He had to stop her. Humanity would not survive another junctural incursion. The first Xindi attack had wiped out seven million people. When multiplied exponentially in terms of potential and parentage, the effects of the grandfather paradox were devastating.
It was unnerving, whole families disappearing with only a cold record and the vague memories of their loved ones insisting they were gone. It had been too late to avoid the paradox that trickled through the temporal threads like a plague. That trickle had turned into a flood, and by the time Daniels and his temporal faction had realized the damage their complacency had caused, it had been beyond measure.
It took a few years for history to rewrite itself. That's why the effects of the first Xindi attack weren't felt for well over several linear years. It was doubtful the future…his future…could survive another temporal event. The destruction of the entire planet would devastate all existing threads and wipe humanity clean from the universal history books.
Their resources were thin and accuracy was "a thing of the past." The temporal cold war had become hot and Daniels' faction had finally seen fit to take an active roll in changing the events and guiding the catalysts of said events now that the damage to Federation history was irreparable.
Daniels had done more harm than good, keeping things hidden and telling only half-truths. Why the Captain had chosen to believe the temporal agent this time was beyond Malcolm's comprehension, but even T'Pol could see the logic behind the argument, even if she did protest to sending Malcolm back in time.
Malcolm hadn't been there for the initial meeting, but he had gone over the mission details with a calculated precision – not that there was much detail to the mission. When working with temporal mechanics, there was no strategy.
Although the Captain is and will be the medium who will determine Earth's entrance into the Federation, Hoshi Sato was the catalyst whose linguistic ability destroyed the Earth and the Lunar colonies.
At first, Daniels had opted for a surgical assassination of Enterprise's communications officer – an attempt that would take place in the past, but the Captain had refused the plan, telling Daniels to get the hell out of his office and never return.
Daniels had countered with a compromise – stop Hoshi Sato from accepting Jonathan Archer's offer of a posting to Enterprise, therefore negating her role in the current temporal thread.
Even though Captain Archer had taken a strong disliking to mucking around in the timeline, he had agreed, but with one condition.
He would choose the person to travel back into Hoshi's past. Someone Archer trusted.
Malcolm had smiled as he had witnessed Daniels squirm. The Captain had the temporal agent by the balls as long as there was a snowball's chance in hell Earth would still be a founding member of the Federation. Archer had chosen Malcolm for the mission.
The sound of laughter brought him back to his current reality, and he ducked behind a recycling bin as the hushed voices of a drunken couple came to him. Palming the UT and the PADD, Malcolm righted himself and started walking down the alley in Macapa, Brazil.
He needed to find Hoshi.
"You two are the most ungrateful, horny grad students on the planet. Professor Sato is getting ready to blow out the candles and you two bail on us!" a voice shouted down the alley as the lovers ambled toward Malcolm.
Apparently accuracy hadn't become a thing of the past. Daniels' team had placed him spot on – right geographic location and the right time. Her birthday. He had a little over a month to convince her to resign from Starfleet and make sure Archer didn't approach her. There was no going back now.
The drunken lovers passed him, oblivious to the party and him.
Malcolm made his way to the bar. The bartender was tending to a large drink order and he went unnoticed.
He heard her before he saw her, Hoshi's laughter having always been infectious. Looking into the mirrored wall behind the bar, Malcolm scanned the room.
As he watched her serve cake to her friends, he smiled. She was in her element, teasing her students in an alien language and using the event to further their studies. She spoke in various languages to them, making them guess as to the hodgepodge of dialects she was using and what she was saying.
A young man with dark skin and a thick accent groused, "I'm off duty, Professor. We brought you here to relax and enjoy yourself. Why don't you give the Pig Latin a rest?"
Clutching her chest in mock horror, the guest of honor gasped, "But language is my life. It's my passion. I get giddy over the texture and rhymes of Orion poetry and the melodious monotony of Vulcan meditative chants. Try saying that three times fast."
Some of the people at the table chortled.
"Most of all…I love the sound of your staccato pronunciation of Latin, Pun Jab." Hoshi raised her glass in mock salutation. "Thank God, the language is truly dead."
The entire table broke out in laughter and Malcolm couldn't help but laugh.
"What'll you have?" the bartender asked, breaking Malcolm's concentration.
Looking down at the UT, Malcolm could hardly believe the man had spoken Portuguese to him. Daniels' technology was much faster than Enterprise's. "I'll have a beer," he replied, unaware Hoshi had walked up behind him.
"We'll have another round, Paulo," she stated in flawless Portuguese.
Watching from across the room was surreal, but feeling her curious stare was unnerving.
She was alive and this wasn't a dream. In his reality, she was dead. Even among the wreckage of the Xindi weapon, they hadn't found any traces of her DNA.
"Where are you from?" she questioned knowingly.
He looked down and tried to ignore her.
Pulling up the stool next to him, Hoshi sat down and glanced at him in the mirror. "So, where are you from?" she repeated, thinking he may not have heard her.
Her eyes caught his, yet he still made no reply. He couldn't. His throat was dry and the beer Paulo set down in front of him wasn't going to help. How was he going to approach her?
She nudged him, smiling. "I heard you order and noticed your accent."
Malcolm nodded.
"I'm a linguist, by the way," she explained, not in the least perturbed by the stranger's lack of response.
"So where am I from?" he asked softly, taking a sip of his beer.
"Originally…" she started, but paused, drumming her fingers on the table. "Leicestershire, but your family migrated…possibly Southeast Asia. I'm quite fond of British accents."
Malcolm blinked, not believing what he was hearing. She was flirting with him!
"I'm Hoshi…" her voiced softened, hoping the man would volunteer some information.
He nodded his reply, starting to gulp his beer. This was just great. Just who the hell was he supposed to be? He couldn't be Malcolm Reed, newly appointed armory officer onboard Earth's first warp five flagship. At least he wouldn't run into himself here. Always the workaholic, he was already onboard Enterprise, sleeping and eating in the armory.
He had no cover – no in as to how to meet her. He was being handed a golden opportunity and he was blowing it. She started to get up, obviously discouraged.
"You were right. I was born in Leicestershire."
Sitting back down, Hoshi turned and didn't say anything, quirking her eyebrow.
Malcolm laughed. She hadn't even met T'Pol yet, and Hoshi had gotten the Vulcan's eyebrow movement down pat.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
Tapping the bar and motioning for another beer, Malcolm shrugged. "You reminded me of someone just now."
Hoshi leaned closer to him. "Oh, really? A good someone or a bad someone?"
"Good," he replied with a smirk.
"Are we going to have to play twenty questions so I can get to know you better?"
She was aggressive. Normally he found aggressive women off-putting, but an aggressive Hoshi was refreshing. "You're already down by five questions," he retorted. "I'm only down by one."
"Well, then. I guess I'd better make them good ones."
Malcolm smiled, not willing to give anything away. He definitely had the advantage.
"Let's start with a name," she prodded, hoping to get the information out of him without asking a question.
Malcolm laughed. "You'll have to ask me."
Hoshi chewed her lip in contemplation, a characteristic he knew all too well. "I hate wasting a question on this, but I don't want to continue this conversation by calling you 'Bub' or 'Hey You.'" Sighing heavily, she asked, "What's your name?"
"M— Actually it's my turn to ask a question. In fact, I've got four more questions before we're even."
"Here you go, Hoshi," Paulo interrupted, pushing a tray full of drinks in her direction.
Hoshi scooted off the stool, bumping into Malcolm and grabbing the tray. "I'll be right back, okay?"
"You just wasted another question," he stated with a smirk.
Rolling her eyes heavenward, she took her friends their drinks and made an excuse to return to the bar. She returned to Malcolm's side amidst hoots and whistles. "Ask away."
"Where are you from?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Earth," she retorted. "Next question."
"That's a pretty vague answer."
"You need to be more specific, then."
"That was a boring question anyway."
"Do you always approach strange men in bars?
"That depends. Are you strange?"
"I can be if the need arises. That was question number seven, by the way."
"How often does the need arise?" she baited him.
He felt a blush crawl up his neck and reach his ears.
"And he blushes," she called out triumphantly.
"Eight," he muttered.
"That was a statement, not a question."
Feeling the need to steer the conversation onto safer ground, Malcolm asked, "Are you a teacher?" As soon as the words passed his lips, he could see her demeanor change.
"That's a rather closed-ended question," she observed. "Yes."
"How many languages do you know?"
Hoshi feigned a yawn. "Thirty-eight. Boring. Two more to go before I get to go."
"How old are you today?"
Hoshi smiled, pleased he had paid enough attention to know it was her birthday. "Twenty-five."
"What's your favorite language?"
She cringed. "Please don't make me pick one. I love them all. Do you know any languages other than English?" she countered.
Clearing his throat, Malcolm confessed, "I know enough French and Spanish to get into trouble."
"I'm sure you know more than that," Hoshi stated in French, which was quickly translated by the UT in his pocket.
"If I do, you'll be the last to know," he teased.
"Hey, Professor! You coming?" a tall red-haired woman called out.
Hoshi pushed her glass away and hopped off the stool.
"Malcolm," he blurted out.
She grinned and held out her hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Malcolm. I look forward to finishing our game some day."
Her birthday celebration had ended and her friends were leaving.
"Maybe someday," Malcolm said in French, under his breath.