Chapter Thirteen –

Enterprise --

Her eyes slammed shut, Hoshi continued retching and clutching the sides of the toilet. "A million people are dead," the Captain's voice kept repeating in her head.

Was this why he had been sent back? Was she the reason all those people died?

The questions froze in his mind, a revelation exploding in a torrent of anger. He knew! That bastard knew about the attack!

There were no warnings! From what she had heard, the weapon had been swift, leaving nothing but a swath of charred devastation – a scar of death kilometers long.

She felt tainted – loving a man who could so callously allow all those people to die. How could he do it?

Two years! It had been two years since he had destroyed her life -- telling her he was there to save her. Did her presence on board Enterprise lead to this? It had been over a year since they had last argued -- a year of her longing for an absentee lover, convinced she was in love with him.

There was nothing left in her stomach to vomit, so she stood up and walked to the sink. With a shaky hand, she scooped some water and rinsed her mouth out.

The door to her quarters opened and she jumped as Phlox walked in.

"You didn't answer," he explained suddenly and started to relax as he realized she was fine. "Are you okay?"

Hoshi shook her head, buried her face in her hands and started to cry.

Putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, the doctor guided her to her bunk.

Between sniffles, she sobbed, "My fault…I just don't see…how I did this."

"What do you mean?" Phlox questioned softly.

"His mission. It failed. He was supposed to prevent me from coming here," she muttered between sobs. "I'm the catalyst. Did I say or do something wrong? Was the translation incorrect?" Her thoughts fractured as she contemplated her life over the last two years.

"You're speculating, Ensign," Phlox chastised, hearing the despair in her voice. "We don't know if this is the event."

"I –" she whispered.

"We may never know," he stated firmly.

--

Although familiar with death firsthand, he had never seen such desolation on such a scale. The trench was devoid of life, the twisted remnants of a town distinguishable here and there.

The guilt Malcolm felt over the attack caused him to pause.

Why he should feel guilty for dreaming of this was beyond him. It was strange…the nightmare that woke him for a mere second several nights ago…becoming a reality.

He felt as though he were split, his dreams taking on a separate and identifiable life of their own, most of them centering on Hoshi.

The Risa dream still repeated through his nightly sleep cycles, much to his frustration. The pattern was set – dream, cold shower, puttering in the armory until it was time for his duty shift.

It was torture, dreaming of her and waking with the memory of it. It was bloody ridiculous. He had to work with Hoshi. She was his friend.

--

In the Expanse –

Malcolm's hand shook as he set the autopilot of the Tellerite scout ship, his time in the past monitoring Hoshi's safety from afar, taking its toll on him. He had managed to rig his PADD to the main computer to find them.

All the computer had to go on were the Xindi logs – sensor ghosts of another Starfleet vessel in the Expanse. The distress beacon was set – his entire mission riding on fickle fate now.

Collapsing on a makeshift bunk, Malcolm shuddered and pulled his blanket around himself. The air in the cabin was livable, yet cold to conserve the power reserves on the stolen ship. He stared at the stars, knowing it was futile to fight the exhaustion that would eventually claim him.

He was entering the schism phase of temporal displacement disorder. If he survived it...well, he had to. He should welcome the dreams – the fractured bits and pieces of his life on Enterprise. At least he was near Hoshi in them.

His eyes drifted shut and he sighed, "Please forgive me."

There were too many unknown variables in the Expanse and it made him nervous. The addition of the MACO's made him even more nervous. This mission had him on edge.

His stomach growled, reminding him he had missed yet another meal so he made his way to the mess hall. Stepping through the doors, he stopped. Hoshi sat in a corner, tapping on a PADD, the look of concentration on her face bordering on frustrated.

"What's wrong, Hoshi?" Malcolm asked, the concern in his voice obvious.

She paid no attention to the use of her first name and continued concentrating on the PADD before her. "I can't do it," she mumbled. "There's not enough here."

Her inflection was frantic and desperate. He hadn't seen her like this since her first year on board Enterprise. "Hoshi?"

"I can't do it," she repeated, her voice hoarse. She set the PADD down on the table and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Do what, Hoshi?" he questioned softly, worried about her.

"There isn't enough here for an accurate translation!" she exclaimed. "I can't build a language on so few symbols. It's impossible."

Malcolm pulled the PADD away. "You were able to communicate with the creature that took Captain Archer and Commander Tucker hostage."

She glanced at him then, a look of disbelief on her face.

"When was the last time you got any sleep?"

Hoshi shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I can't remember."

Putting his hand on her arm, Malcolm suggested, "Why don't you go try to get some sleep?"

She shook her head again. "I can't. Captain Archer needs the base sequences for the UT as soon as possible."

"I'm sure six hours of sleep isn't going to delay your work, Hoshi."

"I still need to –"

"Get some sleep, Ensign," Malcolm interrupted. "That's an order."

Actuality clouded over as apparitions flitted through his mind, the madness making inroads into Malcolm's soul.