Kamea lifted the port nacelle above her head, hoping that the different angle would give her a better perspective on the problem. No such luck. She wished Trip were there to help, but he had more important things to do in the middle of the night than help Kamea rebuild her ship. He was probably sleeping, like all normal people. She sighed and set the part down.

Unable to sleep – again – she had aimlessly wandered around the ship until she'd arrived at the launch bay and decided to work on her pod. The lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her; she was constantly yawning and had dozed off more than once in engineering that day. But every time she tried to sleep, her nightmares would return full force. She was lucky if she got an hour of sleep – she usually got a half-hour at most. She considered going to Phlox but didn't think it was anyone's business but her own that she couldn't sleep.

But she'd told Trip. And Malcolm.

She groaned and grabbed the offending part. "Mom," she said, her eyes skyward, "I really wish you were here right now."

"Would you settle for a ship's captain?"

Kamea turned around. Archer was standing in the entrance to the launch bay, as he had been for several minutes, probably amused at the sight of seeing her struggle with a piece of machinery. She'd recognized the unmistakable odor of his dog as soon as he arrived, but she had discovered that most of the crew didn't appreciate her addressing them before she was supposed to know that they were there.

"Not unless you can tell me what's wrong with my port nacelle," she said, holding it out as evidence. It was only half the reason she so desperately wanted to talk to her mother again, but she didn't think the captain would like hearing about her inappropriate thoughts regarding his chief of security. "It'll be difficult for my ship to go anywhere without this."

Archer coughed. "Sorry. Can't help you there."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You're up late, Captain. And here I thought I was the ship's resident insomniac."

"I was looking for you, actually."

"You found me," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Something I can help you with?"

He straightened. "I thought maybe you'd like to join myself, T'Pol, and Commander Tucker at the captain's mess tomorrow for breakfast."

Kamea snorted and picked at some rust on the nacelle. "That'll be a fun meal – me and T'Pol."

"She's warming up to the idea of you on board," Archer said.

Kamea was less than convinced. Her only comparison of Vulcans came from her father, but even Lorian had been very stubborn. She supposed that she got her stubborn streak from him. But Lorian wasn't a typical Vulcan, and Kamea knew that. Still, she imagined that T'Pol was just as stubborn, if not more so. Kamea looked at the captain. "I find that hard to believe." She examined the captain's face and was frustrated when she could not determine his motives. But she knew he had to have an ulterior one. She sighed. "Very well. What time should I be there?"

"0700. Sharp. Come hungry."

After Archer had gone, Kamea kicked at a stray part and sent it flying across the launch bay. "Kuamuamu!"

It took her only a few minutes to realize that she needed the part she had just kicked, so she stuck out her arm and watched as it zoomed into her outstretched hand.

A/N: Kuamuamu - "damn"