Chapter 15

Malcolm groaned and stretched his arms and legs. It had been a long time since he'd slept so well. Since he'd felt so good. He looked over at Trip who was still sleeping soundly. His cheeks were flushed, though, and his damp hair fell over his sweaty forehead. Leaning forward, Malcolm stroked back one of the blond locks, frowning. It wasn't very warm in the room, and he found the temperature agreeable. The curtains were drawn, and only a dim glow came through the thick fabric. It seemed like somebody had been looking after them during the night.

Malcolm smiled, got up and went to the bathroom. He soon realized, however, that with his bandaged hands he'd have a hard time using the shower facilities, and decided to postpone the shower for now. As much as he was looking forward to being clean again, he knew it would have to wait until the bandages came off and he was allowed to wet his hands again.

Malcolm wondered whether the planet's water supplies were sufficient for so many people. Could you afford to use up that much water just for showering when most of your world consisted of a great hot desert? Maybe it would be better to ask first because he knew that when he got into the shower he wouldn't be leaving it for a long time. He tried to moisten a cloth without getting the bandages wet and went to Trip's bedside to wash his friend's face. Trip groaned and turned his head to one side, but he didn't wake up. Malcolm ran the cloth over Trip's forehead, wondering why his friend was sweating that much.

There was a knock at the door, and when Malcolm looked up Jeren came in, smiling. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby. Just wonderful."

"How do you feel?"

"Good. Rested."

"How's Trip doing?"

"I don't know. He's sweating."

Jeren pushed the covers aside to run his scanner over Trip. "The muscle relaxant I gave him is very strong and so is the sedative. The medication causes the strong transpiration but it won't harm him. It's essential for him to get enough rest so his body can recuperate."

Malcolm threw Trip a worried look. "But this relaxant doesn't have any dangerous side effects, does it? I mean, it won't affect his heart or lungs or something like that."

"No, of course not. I assured myself that the substances I injected him with are compatible with your physiology. There's no need to worry. This evening he'll be feeling a lot better."

"That's good." Malcolm wasn't entirely convinced, though, his eyes resting worriedly on his sleeping friend.

"Breakfast is ready," Jeren told him. "You must be hungry. And I'd like you to accompany me to the Health Center later. Your hands need another treatment."

"I don't want to leave Trip alone in this condition."

"Really, you don't need to worry. Erianna will take care of him. You can trust her."

"But if I take the UT with me they won't be able to understand each other."

"That doesn't matter. I don't think Trip's going to regain consciousness until evening. Believe me, it's best for now to let him sleep." Jeren released the content of a hypospray in Trip's jugular vein, then gestured at the door, smiling. "We're waiting for you."

Looking out the window of Jeren's flitter, Malcolm found himself noticing a lot more details than he had on the previous day. They were flying just above the roofs, and Malcolm thought by himself that the people on this planet didn't seem to be very inventive. One house looked like the other, same design and same white color. Malcolm was surprised to see that most of the buildings were detached houses; there were no apartment blocks or skyscrapers at all. All of the houses had large gardens, and there were a great number of parks as well. Given the limited possibilities they had on this planet, Malcolm had assumed that people would live in much more cramped conditions here. He could hardly imagine that the whole habitable area on this planet was only about 800 kilometers in diameter. And the rest of the planet consisted of a huge desert. Why would someone waste essential living space by filling it with parks and greenery?

Malcolm's thoughts returned to Trip. He still didn't feel entirely comfortable, leaving him behind. The Renelans had given them a warm welcome but he and Trip were still on a strange planet amongst strangers. He trusted Erianna to take good care of Trip but at the same time it was a strange feeling, leaving his barely conscious friend with a woman they'd gotten to know only a few hours before. Trip had looked so vulnerable this morning. So helpless, in a way. Malcolm felt something clench in his chest at the thought.

"You're worried about Trip?" Jeren interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes," he admitted with a sigh. "I'm Enterprise's security officer, and responsible for the crew's welfare. It doesn't feel right, leaving him behind."

Jeren smiled. "But that's not the only reason why you're worried about him, is it?" When Malcolm gave him a questioning look, he continued: "Do you blame yourself for what happened to Trip?"

Malcolm started slightly. "Why would you think so?"

"Something in your face betrayed your feelings when you told us about Trip's

capture yesterday. Do you think you could have done something to prevent it?"

Malcolm sighed deeply. "Not really. And I'm not blaming myself, either. Not anymore. But I can't stop thinking about it. I still find myself wondering if there was something I could have done to stop them from giving Trip this poison."

"And? Found something?"

"No, not really."

"Perhaps because there isn't anything to find. Perhaps you've done just the right thing and there was no way for you to prevent what happened. I'm sure Trip doesn't blame you."

"Hmm," Malcolm muttered vaguely.

"You're very good friends, aren't you?"

"We are now." Malcolm smiled. "It wasn't that easy at the beginning. We're very different. It's not easy to figure him out." Malcolm shrugged. "Okay, that's exactly what people say about me and I guess they're right. I'm not the man to socialize very easily with other people. I never thought we could become such good friends. Sometimes I wonder how two completely different people like us can get along so well. Well, but we do have something in common: we never get tired of teasing each other..."

Jeren licked his lips. "Sounds like there's a little rivalry going on between the two of you."

Malcolm looked at him, astonished. He had never thought about it this way. But Jeren could be right. He grinned. "Trip's the best engineer I've ever met. Give him a toy to tinker with and he'll build you a scanner to map the galaxy. I can't beat him there."

"But Trip said the same things about you. He said you're the best at your job."

"Well, I don't know. I guess I know a little more about fighting and shooting than Trip does."

"Shooting?" Jeren threw him an incredulous look.

"Of course. I'm not only security officer of Enterprise; I'm also in charge of the armory."

Jeren nodded slowly. "I can imagine a spaceship needs men who are good at shooting and hand-to-hand combat. On Renelan no one is allowed to carry a weapon except for the governor's guards."

"Really no one?"

"No. In fact there aren't any weapons available. They are manufactured only for the guards on the governor's express orders."

"I see." And Malcolm decided that this planet wasn't the ideal place for him, after all.

After spending too much time in the hot and sandy desert, Malcolm enjoyed the sight of trees and green parks on their flight to the Health Center. The lush, abundant greenery of the garden areas still surprised him. A distinct feeling told him that something was wrong but he couldn't put a finger on it. The parks below were beautiful, and very peaceful. He saw children at play, a young couple walking hand in hand, it looked just about perfect. Still, something was missing. But what?

Malcolm was distracted from his thoughts when he noticed Jeren looking at him with interest, almost staring at him. He gave the young doctor a questioning look, and Jeren lowered his eyes, obviously embarrassed.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to stare at you. But I've never seen someone with so many hairs on his face."

Surprised, Malcolm passed his hand over his five day old beard. "You don't grow beards?"

Jeren shook his head, smiling. Malcolm grinned as well. Now he knew why the man had such a 'babyface'.

"I would love to get rid of it again", he said. "Do you think we could drop by at our shuttle? I'd like to get a few things for Trip and me."

"Do you know where you left it?"

"No. Not exactly. To be precise, not at all. Things happened so fast that we forgot to take a scanner with us. Or any other pieces of equipment."

"It shouldn't be a problem to find out, though," Jeren told him. "There wasn't too much work on my schedule for today, anyway. I'd probably be spending most of the day in the laboratory to perform some examinations of your blood. In the afternoon we can take a little trip to your shuttle. I must admit I'm very curious to see it."

Jeren landed the flitter on the huge parking-lot behind the health center. He asked Malcolm to wait while he talked to the elderly secretary at the entrance. She smiled at Malcolm when they passed her desk. Jeren took him to the same room where he and Trip had been staying the day before, told him to sit down on one of the beds, and proceeded to unwrap the bandages. Although his hands didn't look quite back to normal yet, they were in a much better shape than the last time Malcolm had seen them with the bandages off. The burns had healed, leaving a delicate pink skin where the charred places had been. Jeren ran a scanner over them and nodded in contentment. He asked Malcolm to roll up his sleeves while he busied himself preparing a somewhat murky liquid. He poured it in a deep bowl which he put in front of the lieutenant. "Please put your hands in this."

Suspiciously, Malcolm peered down at the liquid which reminded him of chicken-broth. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing special. It will remove the flesh from your bones so we'll be able to reconstruct your hands from scratch."

"What?" Malcolm, who had been about to stick his hands into the murky liquid, pulled them back so abruptly that Jeren had to grab the bowl before it toppled off the bed.

Jeren burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. I couldn't resist. I was just teasing. Don't worry, you already had your hands in this stuff yesterday. It helps regenerate your skin and nerves. Your hands are healing very well. Another half an hour should be sufficient to make them as good as new.

Malcolm still wasn't convinced. Frowning suspiciously, he looked from the fluid to Jeren and back at the bowl. Laughing, the doctor dipped his finger into the liquid to show him that the contact wasn't going to have any unpleasant consequences. "Really, it was only a joke."

"You really had me going there." Malcolm smiled sourly. "You're almost as good as Trip."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Jeren looked at his assistant who entered the room at this moment. "Kenan. It's good you're here."

"Good morning. Sorry for being late." Kenan nodded at Malcolm. "How are your hands?"

"Much better, thank you."

Kenan threw a glance at Malcolm's hands, then gave Jeren an appreciative nod. "Good work."

"Thanks. I'd like to take a full scan when Malcolm is finished." Jeren looked at the lieutenant. "Is that okay with you? I've already taken a scan of Trip yesterday but I would like to have one of you as well."

When Malcolm nodded his agreement Jeren turned back to Kenan. "Would you mind taking care of that? And I'd appreciate if you dealt with the patients for today. I have a lot of work to do in the lab." He paused. "You can, of course, call me if we get any more interesting cases like yesterday."

"I doubt we'll be getting any aliens today." Kenan threw Malcolm an apologizing side-glance. "And if so, I'll tell you at once."

Jeren and Kenan both tended to their work, leaving Malcolm alone with his thoughts. Malcolm appreciated having some time to think. Everything had been happening so fast lately, and he hadn't really gotten used to the new circumstances yet. It felt good to just switch off once in a while, and simply relax. He wriggled his fingers in the murky liquid, thinking about the previous day. Things had turned out alright, after all. They were going to survive until Enterprise arrived. And they'd met a very friendly and hospitable people. It could have been much worse. However, Malcolm Reed, security chief of Enterprise was still worried, paranoia being a part of his job. He couldn't seem to get rid of this nagging feeling at the back of his head. The feeling that something on this planet was wrong. But he couldn't believe that Jeren or Erianna meant them any harm. Both of them had welcomed them with open arms and had been treating them like friends from the very first moment. And Jeren had even healed his hands which was nothing short of a miracle, given their former condition. Malcolm moved his fingers and noticed happily that the feeling was returning into the tops. To be quite honest, he hadn't really believed that the doctor could save his hands. Deep down, he had already accepted the idea of being forced to spend the rest of his live without them. If worse came to worse, Malcolm had secretly been afraid he was going to have to leave Enterprise and find a job back on Earth where artificial hands wouldn't be a problem. Jeren had, in a way, given him back his life, and therefore deserved to be trusted.

Malcolm looked up when Jeren entered the room. The doctor handed him a towel and scanned his hands, then nodded in satisfaction. "They're as good as new. How do they feel?"

Malcolm moved his fingers. "Wonderful." He couldn't suppress a silly grin as he looked at his hands. They had regained their normal color and looked healthy and strong. And they felt that way, too. "I don't know what to say. A simple thank you doesn't seem quite enough."

"But it is enough. You're welcome." Jeren answered his grin and put the fluid aside just when Kenan entered with another bowl. "Thank you, Kenan." Jeren took the bowl and handed it to Malcolm. Inside there was a slimy milk-like substance of a slightly yellowish color. Malcolm threw it a doubtful look.

"Your skin is still very dehydrated," Jeren explained. "This should help you regain enough moisture. You should apply it to your whole body.

Malcolm grimaced. "Nothing in there to tear my skin apart?"

Jeren chuckled. "No, don't worry. Of course not. We'll leave you alone for a while so you can take care of yourself. I'm nearly finished and I guess we can leave soon. I'll ask our secretary to contact the couple that brought you here. They were supposed to leave their address with her. She can ask them about the coordinates of your shuttle."

"I can do that," Kenan offered.

"Thank you Kenan, but that isn't necessary. Sista can handle this. It's her job." Jeren went over to the comm. system and asked the secretary to get the information he needed.

Throwing a brief glance at Kenan, Malcolm sensed a certain tension between the two men. When Kenan looked at Jeren, his expression was thoughtful, and somehow hurt. But then, Malcolm couldn't be sure of that.

Trip drifted in and out of consciousness, confused dreams torturing his sleep.

He was itching all over but wasn't able to scratch. He couldn't move at all. Jon was holding him, carrying him through an endless desert, and he lay in his arms like a lifeless doll, his arms and legs dangling uncontrollably.

"Don't worry," Jon said. "I'll take care of you."

The image changed. Trip found himself in Starfleet's Head Quarters. Perched in his wheelchair, he sat in front of Admiral Forrest who was looking at him with a worried frown. "I'm sorry, Commander," he told him. "But in this condition you're of no use to Starfleet. We don't need an officer who collapses every time he puts a little strain on his body. I hope you understand this. The risk is just too great. It would be best for you to resign your commission." The admiral stood and laid his hand on Trip's shoulder in a patronizing way. "Why don't you go to a nice sanatorium for the rest of your life? There're people there who can take care of you. You'll be in good hands."

Trip tried to answer when he suddenly found himself lying on a cold metal table. Phlox stood beside him and told him with a cheerful grin that he was going to amputate his arms and legs. "They're of no use to you, Commander," he said. "And that way we can at least put a stop to the trembling."

Trip tried to jump off the table but found himself unable to do so. He wasn't restrained but he still couldn't move, couldn't make sound. Eyes wide open with fear, he stared at the sharp scalpel that approached his skin. He couldn't allow this. Stop it! In wild panic he threw his head from side to side. He felt Phlox's hand on his forehead, trying to keep him calm.

But this hand was warm and soft. It wasn't Phlox's. A kind voice was talking to him but he wasn't able to understand a single word. But the touch broke through his nightmare. With great effort he opened his eyes and looked straight into Erianna's smiling face. She said something but the words had no meaning to him. They were a mix of various strange sounding syllables. Her actions didn't seem threatening, however. She slid a hand under his head and supported him while holding a glass to his lips. It contained the same milky substance Jeren had given them the day before. Trip swallowed obediently, his drained body seeming to fill with new energy with every sip he took.

"Thanks," he muttered sleepily when Erianna let his head slide back onto the pillow. He started to doze off again, but then noticed that Erianna had pulled back the sheets and was starting to wash his sweaty body with a soft sponge. It was an embarrassing situation, but he was too tired to feel that way. And besides, the sensation was a very pleasurable one. The wetness on his dehydrated skin and her soft hands running over his body allowed him to relax. Trip suddenly realized it wasn't only one pair of hands touching him, but two. He heard two voices as well, talking softly to each other so as not to disturb him. Trip felt a hand running over his stubbly cheek and heard a chuckle. He forced himself to open his eyes a little and behind a blurry haze he saw a young woman gently smiling down at him. She said something he couldn't understand and for a moment he didn't know whether he was awake or dreaming again. The two women carefully turned him on his stomach and proceeded to wash his back as well. After that they began spreading a substance on his body, some sort of lotion that felt both cool and pleasant. His skin absorbed the fluid like a sponge and the dry itching subsided. He was turned on his side very gently and someone pulled the sheet up to his shoulders. The last thing he felt was a soft kiss on his cheek but he wasn't sure whether it was real or whether he was hallucinating. In any case his dreams were a lot more pleasant afterwards.

Malcolm had been lying in the scan unit for at least half an hour, waiting for the doctors to finish their examination. Finally, Kenan seemed to be satisfied with the results. Jeren checked the scan data. "Okay," he said. "We're done here."

The comm. beeped. "Jeren, there's an incoming call," the secretary told him.

"We're about to leave, Sista. Kenan can handle this."

"It's the Governor, Jeren."

"Damn," Jeren cursed. He threw a questioning look at Kenan who only shrugged.

"Your governor?" Malcolm asked curiously. "What could he want from you?"

Jeren smirked sourly. He knew Malcolm was already guessing right about the governor's request.

Sighing heavily, he asked Sista to put the call through.

"Greetings, Governor Tasur. Is there something I can for you?"

"I've heard you've been treating two alien visitors yesterday. Why don't you inform me about such important events?" The governor's voice was friendly and in spite of the words didn't sound reproachful. Jeren, however, frowned slightly.

"I apologize, Governor. I haven't had the time to finish my report yet. Treating the aliens' injuries took all my time."

"Are they from Menaos or from Alkira?"

"Neither, Governor. They come from a planet named Earth."

"That sounds very interesting. We haven't had visitors from other systems yet. Are they responding well to your treatment?"

"One of them had rather bad burns on his hands, but I was able to restore the skin completely. The other one suffers from a rather serious leg injury. At the moment he's not able to walk. I guess it'll take about two or three more days until he's fully recovered."

Malcolm looked at Jeren with astonishment. He didn't like the dark look on the man's face. And Jeren was obviously telling lies about Trip.

"Where are they now?" the governor asked.

"They're staying at my house. My sister is taking care of them."

"I would like to meet them. It's my duty as the provincial leader to welcome new guests on our planet. I'd be happy to welcome them in my palace. I'll send my flitter to pick them up in about an hour."

"Sorry, Governor Tasur, but I must decline that offer. As I said one of them can't walk. I want to keep him under medical observation to make sure his injuries are healing well. The healing process takes more time than it would be the case with a Renelan person, and it's my duty as his doctor to take care of him. I wouldn't advise a transport before tomorrow afternoon."

"Very well, Jeren. Tomorrow afternoon it is. Please give my regards to our guests."

"I'll let them know. Thank you, Governor."

Sighing, Jeren ended the call and turned to Malcolm.

"So that was your Head of State?" the lieutenant asked curiously.

"There are eight of them," Jeren explained. "One for each province."

"So why did you lie to your superior?"

The corners of Jeren's mouth were twitching. "Did I?"

"Trip's legs are paralyzed, not injured. And I doubt his condition will improve so that he'll be able to walk in a few days. Why didn't you tell your governor the truth?"

"It was less complicated without the medical details."

"You said it wasn't going to be long until Trip's fully recovered. Why did you tell the governor we couldn't come until tomorrow afternoon?"

"Because I couldn't postpone it further without being rude. You told me there's a possibility that your ship will arrive today or tomorrow. Maybe you'll be already gone when the governor comes to pick you up."

"But leaving this planet without accepting his invitation would be rude. We have to at least introduce ourselves."

"I guess you're right. It's a simple act of courtesy." Jeren sighed. "But I'd be feeling better if your captain could accompany you and then take you back to your ship afterwards." Jeren took his disc out of the computer and looked around the room. "Are you ready, Malcolm? Time to go."

During the flight Malcolm's thoughts kept returning to Jeren's conversation with the governor. Perhaps it was just his paranoia again, but he couldn't get rid of the distinct feeling that something wasn't right. But what? Only because Jeren wasn't being quite honest about Trip's condition it didn't automatically mean that something was awry. Perhaps it was just that Jeren didn't like his governor very much. It had been clearly visible on his face when he had been talking to the man.

Malcolm looked out the window and saw that they had left the town and were now passing huge fields in various shades of yellow and green.

"How long will it take us to get there?" he asked.

"About forty minutes. I've got the coordinates where we should find your shuttle."

"Thanks for taking me there."

"Don't mention it. I'm very interested to see your shuttle. I hope you'll give me a tour."

Malcolm snorted. "Oh yeah. Just wait until you see it, you might have second thoughts about that tour." He hesitated. "Jeren?"

"Hm?"

"What you've said about these two or three days - it was a lie, wasn't it?"

Jeren sighed. "I embellished the facts a little bit."

"So Trip isn't going to be able to walk again in a few days?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Can't you help him?"

"The cure is already in his body. I can't speed up the healing process." Jeren threw a thoughtful glance at Malcolm. "You're very worried about him, aren't you?"

"Guess I am."

"Why? Is there a reason except that you're good friends?"

"The relapse he suffered aboard the shuttle was my fault," Malcolm admitted hesitantly. "This time it was so bad that he couldn't move at all for several hours."

"Why do you think it's your fault?"

"When I went to look for water - of course I didn't find any - I collapsed because of the heat only half a kilometer away from the shuttle. Trip came for me. He hauled me all the way through the desert with these paralyzed legs. I still don't know how he managed it, I guess he tied me to his back. Anyway, he overexerted himself so much that he suffered this relapse."

"And you blame yourself?"

"Of course I do. It happened because of my carelessness. It was already the second time since he was first infected that he wasn't able to move at all. Every time I see him like that it makes me feel so helpless. When it happened the first time, back on Enterprise, I was able to take care of him, help him so he didn't have to face it all on his own. But in the shuttle, with these hands, I couldn't do a thing to help him. And on top of everything else there were these horrible spasms torturing him. It was so awful." Malcolm wondered why he was telling Jeren about this. Usually it wasn't his way to talk to strangers about his personal feelings, but the young doctor had something trustworthy about him that made it easy to open up to him.

"Malcolm, you must not blame yourself for what happened," Jeren told him gently. "I'm sure Trip would tell you the same."

"Do you know what makes it even worse?" Malcolm looked in Jeren's face and had to blink when he felt a burning sensation behind his lids. Embarrassed, he drew a furtive hand across his eyes. "He knew about it. He knew precisely what was going to happen to him. The symptoms were unmistakable. But he took the risk without thinking of his health. Because of me. He couldn't hope for a recovery after only a few hours of sleep. He knew there were chances he would stay paralyzed for the rest of his life."

"I think you can be proud of this, Malcolm."

"Proud? Why should I be proud when my best friend sacrifices his health for me?"

"Because he thought you're worth it."

Malcolm Reed fell silent.

When they had arrived at the clearing, Jeren parked the flitter beside the shuttle, throwing an approving look at his surroundings. "It's a good place to hide your shuttle. Without the coordinates no one would be able to find it." He looked over the damaged shuttle with its still open hatch. Nothing had changed since they had left it the day before.

"How did you keep this wreck together?" he asked. "Spittle?"

"In the end we wouldn't have had any left," Malcolm smiled ironically. He was ashamed of the poor state the shuttle was in, but still proud of the fact that despite its bad condition they had been able to reach their destination. "Just wait until you see the inside."

Jeren examined the broken wing and the destroyed window. "Trip piloted this for more than seven hours without a break?"

"Yes, he had to, because I was in no condition to take the helm." Again, Malcolm felt a nagging feeling of guilt because he hadn't been able to help Trip. He could see on Jeren's face that the doctor knew very well what Trip had done.

"Now I know why he was so exhausted." Thoughtfully, Jeren regarded the shuttle, his thoughts seeming to be far away. "Can you tell me how long exactly Trip wasn't able to move at all?" he then asked. "I mean back on your ship."

Malcolm considered. "When the paralysis got worse it took about 50 hours until his respiratory system shut down completely. He was hooked up to life support for 26 hours and when his condition improved he still needed another two days until he was able to move his head again. Then, however, his recovery progressed rather quickly. Ten days later he was able to stand up again and do his exercises on the parallel bars."

Jeren smiled. "I'm sure he made great efforts to do so."

"You bet," Malcolm said. "Trip can be so stubborn. It's impossible to talk him out of an idea that he got into his head. I believe he would have been able to walk again within a few days if the relapse hadn't stopped him."

"I see." Jeren nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. "Well, let's not just stand around here. You promised me a tour."

Malcolm gestured at the shuttle hatch. "Come on. But be warned. We weren't expecting any visitors, and I'm afraid we've forgotten to clean up the mess."

"Don't worry." Jeren smiled again.

Malcolm ducked through the shuttle hatch and despite Jeren's words shrank back when he saw the mess. He hadn't thought it would be quite that bad.

Jeren looked around. "Now I can imagine what you went through during the last days." He crouched down next to a bulkhead and examined the patched up conduits Trip had jury-rigged to repair the shuttle.

In the meantime, Malcolm gathered up everything he thought would be of use. It took him a few minutes to find all the things he needed: the second UT and the remains of the communicator Trip had shattered on the bulkhead, the intact scanner and of course the phase pistols. Quickly, he checked Trip's toolbox to see if it contained all the necessary equipment and then started to look for some of their personal items.

"What's that?" Jeren asked, pointing at something Malcolm was stuffing into his bag.

"That? A razor." Malcolm smiled. Of course Jeren had never seen such a thing. "We use it to remove our beards." Malcolm ran a hand over his stubbly chin. "We need to do that every once in a while."

"So this is not your normal appearance?" Jeren threw an interested glance at Malcolm's stubble.

"Not necessarily. Normally every man can decide whether he wants to wear a beard or not, but aboard a starship there are more stringent rules about these things."

"The Enterprise." Jeren nodded. "Do you think they'll be here soon?"

"I know that the captain won't stop searching for us. I'm sure he's worrying a lot about Trip. He's his best friend."

"I thought you were Trip's best friend."

"Hm." Malcolm considered. "Perhaps he's got two best friends."

Jeren nodded. "He's a lucky man."

Malcolm looked at him. "I'm sure you have friends as well."

"Yes, of course. I know a lot of people, I even call some of them friends. But I don't know whether one of them would be willing to risk his life and health to save me. Like Trip did for you. Like you would do for Trip. And, if I got that right, already did when you burnt your hands."

"I only did my job. I told you, as security officer I'm responsible for the welfare of my crew."

"Oh come on, Malcolm."

Malcolm took a step back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm saying that even the best security officer isn't expected to sacrifice his life for his crew. Don't go using your job as an excuse. Why don't you admit that you have a friend who's willing to make such sacrifices for you? Trip considers you a friend who is worth such a sacrifice, and you'd do exactly the same thing for him. This kind of friendship is something to be proud of. I know that you don't like talking about your feelings, but I do think you can be proud, Malcolm."

Malcolm's jaw dropped. He stared at Jeren, startled into silence by the man's words. He didn't know what to say to this man he'd only known for two days and who could already look into his deepest soul like few people had done before.