Disclaimer: I do not own many of these characters… the setting is not mine… the story is, however, and is for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Note: In response to a very astute criticism – the reason I use italics to spell out inner thoughts is that it is a North American literary convention, and being North American, I default to those conventions. As for it breaking up paragraphs… inner thoughts often come out as asides – in my experience – and fit within as such. I hope it's not too distracting… I do appreciate your views – even if I don't always agree with them.
Chapter 3: Partnership
"Yeah, I heard." Crewman Kim didn't seem too upset at his roommate's demise. "We going to thank the son-of-a-bitch?"
"I take it you didn't get along with Crewman George all that well." Torey's tone was surprisingly light and conversational.
Well, she did say there was an art to this. Part of that art must be in determining not only which questions, but which inflections were most likely to make the questionee more forthcoming.
"Henry? Henry was a bastard from word Go. I am not sorry he's dead… I'm sorry he was so messy about it."
"You believe he committed suicide, then?" The sentence came out blandly and matter-of-factly. I don't care if you said 'don't say anything,' we agreed that I was your commanding officer. He took care in the delivery, making sure that he sounded as though he hadn't formed an opinion yet.
"Apparently they found him with his head smashed into the deck. I wouldn't have picked him for it – personally – but they say you never can tell."
No you can't, can you? Malcolm focussed his attention on Kim, letting the man's features impress themselves in his mind and keep the other ones at bay.
"So you didn't get along." Again, Torey fell into the pattern of confirmational statements.
"No. I didn't care for his opinions… I didn't care for his habits… and I certainly didn't care for his mood swings." Kim turned away from them and peered down into a microscope. "You could definitely say we didn't get along."
"Well enough to get into a fight?" Now Torey stepped in with a question… a heavily loaded one.
"What makes you…" Kim turned around again. "I thought medical records…"
"The records… yes. The fact that you turned up in sickbay last week… no." Torey's face was unreadable. "It doesn't take a genius to match up those bruises of yours with a fight."
How had she seen… Malcolm looked a little more closely, and picked up the yellowing edge of a healing bruise. Coupled with Kim's attitude, he could see where that led her to the conclusion of a fight.
"Yeah, we had a fight. Or rather, the bastard jumped me. Said I stole his socks. The guy was a friggin' looney. Total section-eight."
"Did you?" Torey's eyebrow arched upwards. "Steal his socks?"
"Of course not. Why would I go stealing another guy's socks?" Kim shook his head. " 'specially not from a bastard like him."
I can think of several reasons. So much for not speaking ill of the dead. Malcolm didn't speak aloud however… Kim was enough on the defensive already. I can't accuse you of torturing the guy… not yet, anyway.
Torey had a few more questions, then seemed satisfied. "Thank you, Mr. Kim." She made a couple of notes on her pad, and then pocketing her stylus, turned to leave. Malcolm followed.
"I wonder whose those were." Torey looked at Malcolm sideways, as though to see how much he'd noticed.
"I wouldn't know. Can you tell people's socks apart by looking?"
The look turned to one of contempt. "You didn't even see them, did you?"
"See what?" Malcolm didn't even try to keep the irritation out of his voice. "I think you can assume that, no, I did not. I was observing Crewman Kim."
"Which is why you're an armoury officer… not a cop. The surroundings are just as important, evidentiary wise, as the person. You, on the other hand, just didn't see any weapons, so didn't bother looking any more."
"Ensign…" He infused the word with warning. "If you would be so kind as to tell me…"
"The plants," she said, simply.
"Yes, I saw plants." His voice grew even colder. "It was a botany lab… I was expecting to see plants. I would have been more disturbed if there hadn't been any plants."
"Cannabis Sativa and Cannabis Indica. Somebody's got a nicely set up little grow-op in there."
He didn't bother asking how she'd recognised a couple of plants out of thousands. "Perhaps there's nothing sinister about it. It's a botany lab, Ensign… they study plants. Both the items you named do happen to be plants. Despite their other uses… and yes, Ensign, I do know what several of those might be… they are still plants. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."
"And sometimes it belongs to the President of the United States, and he ain't the one smoking it," she retorted. "I'd rather be suspicious than naïve."
Malcolm sighed. Wasn't he usually the one on that end of the argument? He caught himself about to say something, then stopped. No evidence of a drug problem on Enterprise? You're a walking argument against that. Idly he caught himself wondering if there was any Nicotiana tabacum in there, and his chances of laying his hands on some. Because if anything is going to tempt me back into that, it's you, Ensign.
"Where now?" If he didn't say something, he'd only make it worse.
"Crewman Nichols. His other roommate. Let's see if he confirms Kim's story about how much of a bastard George was." Apparently Kim wasn't the only one lacking in sympathy for George… Torey didn't seem to care too much, either.
Sometimes it helps to look at it as a case… not a person. Was that her trick? If so, it wasn't one Malcolm felt he could use. Not after the Expanse, and everybody they'd lost in there. I can't even believe in 'acceptable casualties' anymore.
And Nichols… why did it have to be Nichols? "We will maintain the fact that I am authority with Nichols, Ensign." It was one thing to play second fiddle when questioning a scientist… quite another when it was another of your subordinates.
He expected another argument, but was surprised when she nodded. "I wouldn't have considered anything else, sir."
Well, that's a relief.
"Your rank is far more intimidating to Nichols than mine… he has to know that these questions are official, so would be more forthcoming to you than me." So it was a strategic move, nothing more.
If you would have thought he'd talk to you, you'd walk right over me, wouldn't you, Ensign? A nastier inner voice answered that question. And you'd let her, too, wouldn't you?
"However… I suggest we take some time to go over the questions I'd like you to ask."
He nodded. Yes, Malcolm… you are certainly in control here.
Nichols seemed to have the same opinion as Kim, but was a little more reluctant to express it.
"He wasn't exactly someone I would call a friend, sir." Nichols stood stiffly, at attention.
"I believe I said 'at ease' Crewman."
"Yes, sir." Nichols moved his feet and placed his arms behind his back, but his posture didn't relax in the slightest.
"What, precisely, did you not like about Crewman George?" Malcolm studied Nichols' face closely, if only to convince the crewman that it wouldn't be intelligent to lie to a superior officer.
"He… he had odd temperaments, sir. Strange opinions… and he was nosy, sir."
"Nosy?" Malcolm's eyebrows rose.
"Yes, sir. He was always going into other people's things, sir. I caught him digging through my footlocker a couple of times, sir." Well that was more than Kim would admit.
"Did you have any other difficulties with him? Altercations that you saw fit not to mention?" Kim might not take things like that seriously, but any armoury officer who didn't report an altercation with another crewmember knew they'd land hard on Lieutenant Reed's shit list… and find themselves buried head downward.
"No, sir. I never had any difficulties of that nature with Crewman George, sir."
"With someone else then?" Malcolm had spent enough time around Trip and Hess to spot double-talk when he heard it.
Crewman Nichols seemed to be having trouble holding his lieutenant's gaze. "Sir… no, sir." His voice shook slightly, along with the rest of him.
A thought occurred to Malcolm. It wasn't one of the questions on Torey's list, but he stepped in with it anyway. "And how do you feel about Crewman Kim, Mr. Nichols?"
"Greg? He's fine, sir. I've never had any problems with Greg, sir." The words came out fast – almost too fast.
"None?"
"No, sir. Never problems." Nichols' arms twisted behind his back, like he was wiping sweaty palms on his sleeves.
"Very well, then, Mr. Nichols. That will be all." He made Nichols wait, still jumpy and nervous. "Dismissed."
Nichols moved quickly to escape, stumbling in his hurry to make it to the corridor.
"Well that was…" Torey shook her head. "Sir… there was more…"
Malcolm held up a hand to silence her and crossed over to the nearest console. "Let's just see where he's going, shall we?" He typed in a code, gaining access to the security cameras.
Nichols moved quickly, heading straight down to Botany.
"Nice, sir. Very nice." Contempt turned to approval as Torey leaned in over Malcolm's shoulder.
I wish you wouldn't do that. "I'm hardly as stupid as I look, Ensign. I'm surprised you didn't spot it." He couldn't help but sound smug. "Crewman George? But when it comes to Kim, it's all of a sudden Greg? Tell me, Ensign… if you lived with someone for over three years… even if you didn't like them… would you still be calling them by their last name?"
"Probably not, sir." They watched as Nichols burst into Botany. A short argument between him and Kim followed, before Kim physically pushed Nichols out of the room. "Too bad we can't get audio."
"Nichols said that I know they've got something… Kim said I knew nothing… that Nichols was overreacting. Then he told him that everything would be fine." He knew he had Torey's full attention now.
"How the hell do you… You can read lips, sir?" She stared at his face, looking almost humbled.
He allowed himself a smile. "Yes, actually, I can. I've found it to be a useful skill over the years. It only works if people are speaking English… but we got lucky this time. I don't tell many people, because then they tend to think I'm spying on their private conversations." But it may come in handy… if I keep standing too close to explosions. People thought he was a good listener, because he watched their faces when they spoke. But it was both habit – he could keep track of two conversations at once – and a way of keeping in practice for that inevitable time when his hearing faded, or disappeared entirely. It's a risk you take, being an armoury officer. It was a discussion he'd had with Trip once over beers… the engineer opining that he'd rather lose his sight than his hearing – because he could still work by feel and sound – and Malcolm stating that vision took priority over auditory capability. I can't shoot them, if I can't see them.
"That's definitely something to keep in mind." Her tone turned speculative. "There's more to you than meets the eye."
"So, I wonder what it is they've apparently got? Clearly not something that will look good on their official records. I wonder what Crewman George was looking for? Care for a surprise inspection?"
"Sir. We can't just break in… the evidence will be tainted." And there was her blind spot.
"You're forgetting, Ensign, that we are not dealing with civilians here. This is a Starfleet vessel, and in my role as Chief of Security I am entitled to conduct inspections whenever I damn well please. There is no expectation of privacy on a starship, even Lieutenant Hess would back me on that."
"Yes, sir. I hear you've pulled a few inspections on her, as well."
Malcolm exploded. "There is not, and never was anything between myself and that squirrel. We're merely friends, and sometimes not even that."
"Yes, sir. Merely reporting what I heard, sir." He could hear the amusement in her voice at his sudden discomfiture.
It's just that even the thought chills me. Lieutenant Hess was fine – in small doses.
"Just… squirrel? Do you think she's that unbalanced?"
"Ask Commander Tucker… he's the one who started it. He said she has the temperament of a squirrel on amphetamines. It stuck."
"I can see why." Torey shook her head. "She is a little out of the ordinary… I'm surprised she gets away with it."
"She has talents." In response to Torey's amused look, Malcolm elaborated. "Once she ended up in sickbay and Commander Tucker took over the paperwork for two weeks. By the end of it… let's just say Captain Archer's willing to cut her a lot more slack now.
Torey raised an eyebrow.
"It has been noted that Commander Tucker's skills do not involve paperwork, or for that matter, general management. He's a brilliant engineer, and a great inspirational leader… but you never want to try reading his handwriting. He seems to have trouble with basic maths as well."
"He's an engineer…"
"Oh, he does the complicated stuff just fine… he just seems to have difficulty adding up."
Torey's face twisted, oddly. "So what you're telling me is that he's fine with calculus, but can't put together two and two."
"Twenty-two, if you hammer it right."
How does he do that? Malcolm jumped and spun to find Trip right behind him.
"Get lost?" Trip grinned, cockily.
Malcolm looked at the clock and groaned. "I'm sorry, Commander. I lost track of time." Had it really been over four hours? They'd only talked to two people… he hadn't thought the conversations had gone on that long.
"How hard did you hit your head?" Trip looked at Malcolm, then over at the clock. "I hope you haven't been using that for accurate timekeeping."
Thank you, God. "It's broken?"
"Like your skull." Trip confirmed. "What are you trying to do? Challenge me for supremacy in the head-injury championships?"
"I think I can concede that to you, right now." Even with the throbbing… at least he didn't need to have his brains replaced. Trust Trip to have heard, though. I swear, you could be alone at the bottom of the sea… and you'd still be up to date on the latest gossip. Anyone who thought women were the worst rumourmongers had yet to meet Trip Tucker. Malcolm's dream was to reveal a piece of scuttlebutt that the commander didn't already know about. More than three years in, and he still hadn't managed it.
"It's been on the repair list for a couple of weeks, now. Since I figured it would prove to be a good excuse to look you up…" Trip pulled back suddenly in response to Torey's cold look. "I hope I haven't interrupted anything." He looked worried, but interested at the same time.
"This is a confidential investigation, Commander. As such, you have no authorization to be here." She stared him down more effectively than Captain Archer seemed able to do.
"Well… I wouldn't want to interrupt anything confidential." He spat the words out, sounding insulted. "Ensign."
"Stand down. Both of you." Malcolm stepped between them. "For one thing, Trip… she could probably take you apart. Even with Hayes' training… you're still a lousy fighter. And I'm afraid she's right. However," he turned to Torey, "you might remember that you are now a member of Starfleet. You aren't a copper anymore. You cannot give orders to senior officers… no matter what your investigative standing." He couldn't help feeling like he was standing between two dogs fighting over a bone. Which is not a brilliant place to be standing. "So stop being so goddamned tetchy and try to get along." If they wanted to find out who was alpha…
Amazingly, both of them did back down, even if their hackles remained raised. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Ensign…" He herded Trip off to the side.
"Now…" He knew it wouldn't take much prompting for the Southerner to spill his guts.
"I heard you got hurt. You're my friend, Mal. I don't appreciate being treated like a goddamn spy by some overparanoid control-freak who I happen to outrank by a couple of grades."
"Didn't I just say something about being tetchy? I appreciate your concern… and I even understand the fact that you're stressed… but aren't you usually the last one who worries about things like seniority? Frankly, I'm a little worried about you. You're snappish, which usually only happens when you don't sleep. So what the bloody hell is your problem?"
Suddenly Trip wouldn't meet Malcolm's eyes. "Nothin'. Just like I said, I was worried about you getting hurt and all."
And I'm second cousin to the Queen. Despite his poker skill, Trip Tucker was a lousy liar. Something clearly had him bothered enough to lose sleep over. The captain? They were certainly close enough friends for Trip to be concerned about Archer's aberrant behaviour of late. But he didn't dare call Trip on it… not the way things stood right now.
"All right… I'm sorry. Just try to remember that this is alien territory for all of us except Ensign Holley. If she oversteps her bounds… well, she is the person who knows what she's doing."
"Yeah, I remember her giving you hell back in the Cargo bay. Well, don't lose track of any more time, y'hear? I think I've got that technique figured out, so prepare to get your ass kicked."
"Now why am I not frightened? Given that the last time, you nearly impaled yourself, I doubt you've improved that much in the interim." At least Trip seemed to be giving up his impending grudge.
"I'll get you yet, Mal. Unless you're just too scared to show."
"Right." Need I remind you that I've been playing for years? That I actually have ranking back home? The day you beat me… "I'm beginning to wonder which one of us hit his head, Commander."
Trip laughed, and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Don't forget. And I'm stealing your clock… so you better use another one." He dropped his voice… "And don't let Attila the Hunette over there walk all over you. Show her who's boss."
"This from the man who lets Lieutenant Hess…"
"Hey. Hess is funny. There's a big difference." Trip turned to go remove the clock.
"Yes, I will agree with funny…" Malcolm murmured.
"Don't you go picking on my Hess." Trip turned back and fixed Malcolm with a mock glare. "Or I'll tell her about it… and I'll bet she could kick your ass."
"Grow up." Malcolm couldn't help laughing. "Besides… Hess and I are getting along right now."
"You are? Damn. You know, you guys really ought to pick a side. Or at least post a scorecard so the rest of us know where we stand."
"What? And spoil all the fun?" Malcolm grinned evilly, then sobered. "Unfortunately, Ensign Holley and I do have an investigation to return to. The captain is expecting an update…"
"Which I'll give him," Torey stated. "I think I have a better idea of what he does and doesn't need to know."
"Um…" Trip stepped sideways, putting more space between him and Torey. "You are not intending to stonewall Archer on this, are you? That's not exactly a smart…"
"Career move? Frankly, Commander, I don't give a damn about Starfleet politics in this instance. This is a criminal investigation. One of your people is dead… the Lieutenant and I are trying to determine who put him in that state. However, details are confidential, and I don't care what your rank is, because as far as I am concerned, when it comes to an investigation, not one of you guys could find your asses with both hands, a map, and detailed verbal instructions."
"That's enough!" Malcolm spun around. "Now I appreciate your expertise, Ensign, but you will not take that tone with a senior officer… is that clear?" He could see an answer brewing in her eyes and stared it down. "Now there will be repercussions from this – I guarantee it. You may be the expert here, but you will respect the chain of command."
"Yes, sir." She turned on her heel and left, without waiting for a dismissal.
"Whoa." Trip shook his fingers like he'd just been burned. "That is one scary lady, Mal. She oughta come with a warning… and maybe some tags to prove she's had a rabies shot. If she pulls that shit on the captain…"
"She won't," Malcolm promised. "I'll deal with it… it's my responsibility for letting it get out of hand in the first place. Unfortunately she is the only person here who knows what she's doing so I have to give her some leeway."
"Yeah, well, watch how much rope you give her. Someone like that's liable to hang you along with herself."
Malcolm felt the room spin again, and forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. I wish you hadn't said that, Commander.
"Jesus Christ, Mal! I think the Doc let you outta sickbay too soon. You look like you just saw a ghost."
"I'm fine. Really." He smiled, even though he knew it wasn't convincing.
"Okay, but… I don't like the idea of you having fainting spells, Mal. If there's something wrong with you, you really should have Phlox check it out."
"Trust me, Commander, there's nothing the doctor can do about it. However, I do have a brewing problem to take care of, so if I can leave you to dismantling my armoury…"
"It'll be better than new when you get back. Engineer's promise." Trip raised his hand in the traditional boy-scout salute.
"I've got enough stress as it is. I know what you engineers do to things in the name of 'improvement.' Just make sure I have an armoury to come back to." He left Trip laughing and headed off in search of Torey.
He found her in the movie theatre – alone. She was watching something he couldn't identify… a cartoon about a scruffy, floppy eared dog and a long-legged blue and purple bird. "Ensign?"
"Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner. You know, just once I wish they'd have let him succeed in getting that damned bird."
"Cartoons, Ensign?" He tried to keep his voice impassive, but she seemed so… vulnerable, all alone in the dark, watching children's programming.
"Remember I told you about Craig? My friend with the Horsemen? It was five years ago, today, that he dropped himself twenty stories to the sidewalk."
Oh, damn. No wonder she was so edgy. "I'm sorry." He came down the aisle and sat beside her.
"You had nothing to do with it, sir. Most cops don't go that way. Shooting, hanging… that's more typical. We usually do it in private, not public."
"It's still hard to deal with. Especially with…"
"Do you mind if we just watch, sir? I'm not really in a mood for conversation."
"All right." He settled back in his seat, allowing himself to be caught up in the Sisyphean struggles of an anthropomorphic coyote trying to catch an anthropomorphic, mis-coloured roadrunner. He wondered if Torey saw herself in that coyote, forever chasing down something she couldn't catch. But no matter how much he failed… the coyote never gave up. Just never gave up.