The hues of red and orange broke over the horizon, but went unnoticed by the man on the verandah. The treetops still held the morning dew and branches rattled as various animals stirred from their slumber. Malcolm had gotten little sleep. What sleep he had managed to get was riddled with the snapshots of past events of his life overlaid with visions of his knotted rope.
The knotted rope, the shrink had said, was a representation of the way Malcolm viewed the overwhelming and incomprehensible temporal lines.
Lines don't really exist in time-travel theory. They are humanity's attempt to categorize the present, past, and future.
In his dream he was a little boy – his father taunting him. The man's caustic tone showed the five-year-old his disappointment and disdain.
"Now is as good as time as any to learn how to swim," his father called out, grabbing the young boy by his shirt collar and throwing him overboard.
The water had been freezing and he had struggled for the surface, listening to his father yell, "Just grab the rope, boy!"
The rope was in front of him, frayed and flowing, like a white beacon in the murky water. It was beyond his reach and it was as though it were alive and waving at him. He could see the small fibers of twine separate and merge with the fluidic braid. Loops and holes merged with the water…
Malcolm never got past that part of his dream. His father had finally realized his son was in danger of drowning and pulled him out of the water, cursing the child's inadequacies.
To Malcolm, the rope was time and the frayed parts were alternate timelines. He was here to find a favorable alternative to the present reality – the one where Hoshi was dead.
The clearing of a throat ended Malcolm's reverie.
"My apologies, sir," a nervous voice stated. "Had I known you were awake –"
"Don't worry about it, Miguel." Malcolm stifled a yawn. "I guess I'm still adjusting to the time zone."
The groundskeeper shifted uneasily. "Is there anything I can get you?"
Looking at him as if he was an unknown alien, Malcolm shook his head. He'd never had anybody wait on him before. It was unnerving – just like the grounds and the mansion. To the neighborhood, the mansion was home to an absentee owner, rarely occupied but beautifully kept. It was a base – a base Daniels' faction had arranged for their missions. So much for being inconspicuous, but at least he didn't have to sleep in the park.
"No thank you, Miguel."
Malcolm watched the other man withdraw before he read the news report displayed on the PADD –March 3, 2151. He had a little over a week to convince Hoshi to leave Starfleet and plant the UT where it would do the most good.
Looking over his shoulder to make sure Miguel was out of earshot, Malcolm started running calculations. "What are the temporal probabilities of the following variables?" he murmured to the PADD.
The PADD chirped in response, "Please enter the variables."
"The Universal Translator…placing it where it can be found by Starfleet. Non-interference with catalyst, Hoshi Sato."
"Target event?"
"Destruction of Earth by Xindi weapon."
Setting the PADD down to wait for the results, he picked up the UT. It was designed specifically for Enterprise and contained several thousand languages even Hoshi hadn't heard. It could easily take her place and Hoshi would be able to continue teaching, never realizing the destruction her talent would reap.
"Search parameters complete," the computer announced. "There are seven thousand eight hundred thirty-three permutations. Assuming you are trying to prevent the destruction of Earth, one hundred twenty-three solutions are favorable. That would lead to a one point five percent –"
"End stat search," Malcolm barked, feeling defeated. The odds weren't in his favor and he'd be a fool to gamble on them. Just leaving the updated UT to be found would be a catastrophic mission. But Hoshi's thread would remain intact and intertwining with his, he reasoned silently.
The ability to change the course of known events was staggering – an almost god-like power. He knew what he had to do, but the selfish side of him just wanted to ensure Hoshi's happiness.
Tapping the PADD, Malcolm brought up the network of threads that represented the events that so tenuously form someone's life – this one was Hoshi's. He entered more instructions and pulled up another fibrous network -- his. The overlay of his contributions and actions on top of hers was vastly different – the only part of it touching representing the time they had served together on Enterprise. Theirs was a mere intersection of time, representing only three short years of linear experiences. He longed for the fibers to intertwine and stretch, but that had not happened.
He loved her. He didn't realize it until it was too late. If he had acted on the attraction he had felt… Maybe things would have turned out differently.
Malcolm had argued with Archer, telling him to choose someone else for the mission. He had had nothing to hide and had readily admitted how he had always felt about Hoshi. He was too personally involved to be objective. Add his lack of objectivity to the potential to damage his own thread, Malcolm had almost convinced the Commodore he had made the wrong decision. If it hadn't been for the threat on her life, Malcolm never would have taken this assignment.
His plan of not interfering in Hoshi's life was blown to hell the moment he stepped into the bar last night. If he was reading the threads correctly, a new line was forming. New alternates formed all the time. It really wasn't anything to get excited about. It was probably a mistake that it coincided with their chance meeting last night.
The temporal PADD chirped again, breaking Malcolm's concentration. "Unauthorized temporal displacement detected."
"Location?" Malcolm asked the machine.
"Macapa, Brazil."
That bloody bastard better run the next time Malcolm caught up to him. Archer was right not to trust the weasel, Daniels. He tapped on the newly formed thread – Hoshi's new alternate. "List all events associated with the following thread."
The PADD chirped a moment later, "Professor Hoshi Sato, exo-linguist at Amazon University in Macapa, Brazil. Personal residence located at 0401 Rua Do Angel. Date of Death March 3, 2151 due to unknown circumstances."
Malcolm grabbed his equipment and ran through the tropical garden past Miguel, not responding when the groundskeeper called after him.
--
Stepping out of the shower, Hoshi began to towel herself dry. Even with the day off and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't sleep late. Wiping the fog off the mirror, she combed her hair and smiled.
Last night hadn't been a total loss. She had actually had a good time. Some of the celebration was a bit fuzzy, but she did remember a pair of ice-blue eyes and a British accent. It really was too bad she hadn't had the time to give him her number…not that she was in the habit of picking up strange men.
She pulled on her clothes – a baggy jogging suit. Today was a lazy, stay-at-home, disconnect all com devices, and veg-out day. Hoshi straightened, a sudden shift of subtle pitches alarming her. "Juana?"
Puzzled by the lack of an answer, Hoshi went to greet her roommate who wasn't due back for another three weeks. "Did the dig end early?"
She rounded a corner and frowned. No one was there.
An arm clamped around her waist and a hand over her mouth, pulling her off balance and into a warm wall of muscle. She managed a muffled scream before her assailant pulled her into the den and kicked the door shut.
"If you want to live, don't make any noise," a male voice whispered harshly into her ear.
Fear coursed through her and reason ceased, so she struggled against him.
"They are down the hall and they've come to kill you," Malcolm bit out sharply. "Please calm down and quit struggling."
Reason slowly asserted itself and she recognized his voice. The man from the bar…he had followed her!
He shifted the hand over her mouth, giving her the opportunity she needed. She Bit down on his thumb as hard as she could.
He released her instantly, shoving her roughly to the floor and pulling some sort of weapon out. "Don't move!"
"What do you want?" she asked softly, looking at the weapon.
"To save you," he answered swiftly, nursing his hand, looking out the door, and keeping an eye on her.
Hoshi looked around the room frantically and she cursed today's plan. She had already unplugged the com units.
Through the crack in the door, Malcolm saw a shadow near the entry door. The crack under the door turned black and a gelatinous form started to emerge – a Suliban!
"I'm sorry about this," he whispered as she tried to get away from him.
She had no time to scream as a flash of light struck her in the stomach.
Gathering her in his arms, he pressed a panel on his PADD. "Computer, temporal shift for one hour from now, execute on my mark."
The PADD beeped in compliance.
"Mark."
The door swung open and Malcolm watched the shocked face of the Suliban soldier fade from his view. He just hoped he had bought them enough time.