A/N: I wrote most of this story before I had seen any of Season 4. I made a couple of minor tweaks subsequently to take account of Season 4, but mostly the story is unchanged. It is in British English and mixes drama and action, with some angst and humour along the way.
It is an AU and begins between 'Storm Front Part 2' and 'Home'. There are spoilers for 'Damage'.
Malcolm thinks he has left Starfleet behind, but Enterprise, Archer and Trip are still to play a significant part in his future, derailing the new life he has forged. (Those readers who found my 'Elemental' series of stories a little depressing might find a more satisfying resolution here… eventually!)
Many, many thanks to my beta reader, Rusty Armour, for the continuing encouragement that meant I got this story finished! Her insightful comments and suggestions have improved it immeasurably. I take full responsibility for any remaining errors as she hasn't seen the final amended version.
Disclaimer: the Universe and characters of Star Trek do not belong to me. I am making no financial gain from this story.
Damage Limitation
by
GallyGee
Chapter 1
The sun filtered through the large windows of the 602 Club, catching bright motes spinning in its light. The atmosphere was one of quiet restfulness.
Travis stepped inside and, not for the first time, marvelled at the complete reversal of character between the 602 Club by night and its daytime alter ego. Gone were the raucous groups of Starfleet officers letting off steam after a hard day at the Academy, research labs or pilot training, or whatever other arduous variant Starfleet could devise to test the mettle of its cohorts. Now it more closely resembled a sleepy small town coffee shop. A few cadets were dotted around the place, catching up on assignments or, in one case, some sleep. The frantic hustle was absent for a few hours until the club changed character for the night time revels.
Travis gave a soft snort. This place seemed so tame now, so safe. There wasn't much on Earth anymore that could shake him. He strolled over towards the counter, but then stopped in his tracks as he saw a friend and colleague squirreled away in the far corner, intent on a PADD.
"Lieutenant!" called Travis, pleased to see his shipmate. He knew that Malcolm could sometimes be found here at odd times but rarely coincided with him.
Malcolm snapped his head up, instantly alert. His initial suspicious and, indeed, almost hostile glare, was replaced by a broad genuine smile as he located the source of the hail. Travis smiled back, pleased that - at last - Malcolm seemed to be unwinding a little. The Expanse had taken its toll on the man. Admittedly, even before they had set out on their mission to destroy the Xindi weapon, Malcolm had rarely permitted himself to relax. However, that had virtually ceased altogether during their crucial mission to save Earth, and humankind.
Everyone had been stressed, but Malcolm had kept himself to himself. Travis doubted he had even confided much in Trip.
"Travis! Care to join me?" Malcolm pushed an adjacent chair away from his table in invitation, maintaining his open warm smile.
With a quick nod, Travis walked over and dropped down into the proffered seat. He said, "At last I've caught up with you. You know, you can be elusive at times!"
Malcolm gave a grunt of amusement. "The Scarlet Pimpernel, eh? Never mind…" He dismissed the reference at Travis' perplexed expression. "It's not through choice, I'm afraid, Travis. Every minute is scheduled for debriefings of one sort or another. D'you know they even had me timetabled to talk to a board on crew reports and, at the same time, to review weapons performance on the other side of the facility? I know I'm good, but even I had a problem accommodating them with that!"
Travis laughed, enjoying Malcolm's good humour. "I'm sure you could manage if you put your mind to it."
"Yeah," agreed Malcolm with a sly grin. "Coffee?"
Receiving Travis' approval, Malcolm called the waitress over and asked for a refill and an extra cup. "And a ham sandwich," added Travis, as his stomach rumbled appreciatively. Malcolm had already eaten, or at least ordered a few items, most of which were still present on the plate pushed to one side.
"You sure you want to be disturbed? You were pretty engrossed in that PADD."
"I know all this stuff backwards now," said Malcolm, running a finger along the PADD. "But if I look busy, I'm less likely to be bothered. " He sighed. "I know it's uncharitable of me, but I do get rather fed up with cadets declaiming that I am their hero for saving Earth. I thought it would've died down by now, but no… It's not even as though they know who I am. They see the shoulder patch and… well." He gave a theatrical shudder.
"Yeah. I know. I get the same thing," acknowledged Travis. "It doesn't bother me though." To tell the truth, he was enjoying the attention their success had garnered for Enterprise and her crew.
"Well, I guess it wouldn't bother me so much if any of them were… um… available. Some pretty civilians, now - that would be a different story altogether!" Malcolm gave a wry smile. "And there's no escape. I can't exactly turn up for a briefing out of uniform."
Travis laughed a little at his friend's discomfort, causing Malcolm to give a self-conscious shrug and grimace.
Observing Malcolm as he sipped at his coffee, Travis could make out the drawn lines in his face and a certain weariness in the cool grey eyes. Malcolm did look older. However, his colour was much improved since Travis had last seen him a couple of weeks ago and his whole demeanour was more laid-back. The tightly wound coil that had characterised the armoury officer during their mission had loosened up by several notches. It was good to see.
"How are you, Malcolm? You look well."
Casting a sidelong look at the wall, Malcolm made a wordless noise of assent but didn't commit himself to an immediate reply. Then he planted his elbows on the table and rubbed his thumb over his palm. "I'll be a lot better once all these debriefings are finished. I dunno, what with my own performance, my men's performance, officers' performance, weapons reviews, tactical reviews, shipwide security assessment, analysis of alien threats… Oh, and my absolute favourite…" Malcolm rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Joint MACO- Starfleet operations. Well, you get the idea. I'm going to be here for many months yet." He pulled a comically dismayed face.
"Months?" said Travis, considering the daunting list Malcolm had reeled out. "I thought I had it bad, but then I really only had myself to think about. I'm almost through and then I've got some leave owing." He couldn't suppress another smile at the thought. He'd been having a lot of fun making plans.
Malcolm gave a sniff. "Well, make the most of it because no doubt you will soon be a captain, and then you'll have all this to deal with, and more, when you get back from saving Earth next time!"
Travis blew his cheeks out. "I hope we don't have the need to do that again - save Earth, I mean." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "And I think it'll be some time, if ever, before I'm made captain!"
"No, Travis," said Malcolm, serious now. "You've seen a hell of a lot and shown you can thrive under the worst the universe can throw at you. Once the Warp 5 class ships roll off the production line in greater numbers, they'll be crying out for seasoned officers. You'll reach the top, fast track. I'm sure of it."
Travis started. "Do you really think so?" He really hadn't thought much beyond the immediate future. He had been glad just to survive in the end. However, he always paid great attention to Malcolm's opinions on such matters.
"Yes. Absolutely," said Malcolm sincerely.
The waitress brought their coffee and the food over but didn't interrupt. She was pleased to see the lieutenant with a friend for once.
Travis made inroads on his sandwich while Malcolm sat back in his chair, sipping his refreshed coffee. It was a companionable silence. They had been through so much together they felt no need to rush to fill it. They both knew this moment wouldn't last forever and that soon they would be going separate ways.
Travis paused a moment, his initial cravings satisfied. As he took a gulp of coffee, he asked, far too casually to deceive Malcolm, "Have you changed your mind?"
Malcolm's attitude changed in an instant. His mouth thinned to an alarming degree as he sat up straight. "No. I'm doing the right thing, Travis. My father was right after all. Starfleet isn't for me, not any more." He chuckled, but it had an edge to it, and the smile didn't reach his eyes. "He's going to just love it when I tell him that."
"When will you say something?"
"Oh. Nearer the time. When I can get up the nerve!" Malcolm was sheepish.
Travis shook his head. "I can't believe - after all you've been through - that telling him will be a problem."
Malcolm gave a genuine grin, relaxing back in his chair again. "Umm. You haven't met my father have you, Travis? Perhaps I should arrange for you two to get together, then you'll see what I've said about him is completely true. Less than the truth actually!"
Travis grinned back. "It might be interesting!" He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "Malcolm, given what you say about the need for experienced officers, don't you think you should stay? You must be in line for promotion and a command before too long."
Malcolm shook his head. His voice dropped so Travis had to strain to catch his next words. "After that business with the warp coil we took... stole… firing on an innocent ship… That made me sick to my stomach, even though we had to do it to save Earth. And... well..." Malcolm grasped his discarded fork and pulled it through the thick sauce on his plate, idly forming swirling patterns. "I don't suppose that will ever be made public. My father won't know his son was a pirate, because that's what I became, Travis, when I fired that cannon."
"We are all responsible for that." Travis shifted in his seat, imagining every eye in the bar was on them, but when he glanced around no one was paying them any special attention, of course.
Malcolm grunted as he continued to fiddle with his fork. He shot a quick look upwards at Travis. "You less so. Much less, in fact. I should have been able to come up with another plan - I was tactical officer after all. That was my job. But…" He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I couldn't offer any viable alternative. At least I made sure I was the one at the tactical station. I couldn't order one of my men to do that particular dirty deed." His self-loathing was evident in the twist of his mouth and in his narrowed eyes. "And then there were the deaths, the other compromises we had to make - that are still being made…"
Distressed at having brought this up again and destroying Malcolm's fragile good humour, Travis was at a loss how to proceed. To his surprise, Malcolm lifted the mood himself. He sat back and, in a lighter tone, said, "Anyway, Travis, I've dealt with it... as much as I am able to. I have the future to look forward to, one which doesn't involve Starfleet."
"Have you got any firm ideas yet?" Travis was most intrigued. Malcolm hadn't given him the barest hint about the options he was considering.
Malcolm smiled. "As a matter of fact, I have. I've not told anyone else, but you are a proper candidate to be the first to know."
"Oh. I'm honoured. What is it?" Travis leant forwards, his previous awkwardness forgotten.
Malcolm tapped on the PADD to activate it and shoved it across to Travis. "What do you make of this?"
Squinting at the animated display, Travis could see rotating irregular shapes, bouncing off each other at strange trajectories. "Umm," he said, not able to even attempt a guess. It meant nothing to him.
"Another clue?" Malcolm gave another sharp tap to bring up a screen of scrolling data.
Travis frowned as he turned the PADD to read the writing.
"Come on," taunted Malcolm. "For a hot shot pilot, this should be easy-peasy!"
"Uhh. Are you going to run cargo?" said Travis uncertainly, unable to make any sense of the apparently unrelated information presented on the screen. He looked at Malcolm to gauge his reaction. Not even close, apparently, judging by the pained expression that met him.
"Nah. Come on. You know this. Use that fine brain of yours." Malcolm jabbed a finger in the general direction of Travis' brain.
Travis contemplated the puzzle, feeling almost as if it were some proficiency test. He couldn't make anything of it. Perhaps he wasn't good enough to make Captain after all? He hazarded, "Well, those icons reminded me of debris…."
Malcolm's patience expired and he brought the game to an end. "Close enough. They represent asteroids." Malcolm crossed his arms and gazed smugly at Travis. "I'm going into mining," he declared, a challenge in his eyes.
"What? Asteroid mining!" Travis was flummoxed. Asteroid mining was dirty, dangerous, crude and tended to attract miners with similar characteristics. He really couldn't see Malcolm fitting into such an unregulated free-for-all. "I don't want to pour cold water on this but-"
"Then don't," interrupted Malcolm. "I've looked into it quite thoroughly. There is always the need for a competent munitions man. I'll be freelance; that way I'll be in charge of my own life, for once - not taking orders. There's always someone higher up than you in Starfleet. Even if I made Admiral - highly doubtful, I know - I'd have committees breathing down my neck. It'll be strange, not having the sanctuary of Starfleet, but I think I can make it on my own. I have to try."
"Yeah, but don't you think you'll get bored with it? It's not exactly what you are used to," said Travis doubtfully. He knew what it was like to be cooped up with a small group of people and limited diversions. It had often proved testing for him on his parents' cargo ship and he had been born to it. Malcolm, in contrast, had managed a surprisingly high degree of independence on Enterprise, offsetting his onerous responsibilities. Despite his occasional railing at the constrictions of Starfleet, he certainly knew how to work the system. And no one could call life on Enterprise dull, even on the most uneventful days.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow in mock indignation at Travis' suggestion. "Hah! I can never be bored where explosions are concerned. Besides, I've got some new ideas I think they could try. They do tend to stick to tried and tested techniques, which aren't always the most effective."
"Miners aren't exactly noted for their innovation," agreed Travis remembering the uniformly conservative examples he had come across on his travels.
"I think I can introduce a little finesse into their lives, explosion-wise."
"Yeah, but-"
"I know all the objections, believe me. I have no illusions. But I need some time by myself for a while." Malcolm gazed earnestly at his friend. "It's not a life sentence, Travis. If I stop enjoying it, I'll do something else. Don't worry. You know I can take care of myself."
Reluctantly, Travis caved in. "Keep in touch, won't you?"
"Yeah. Oh, don't be so glum. It's months away yet, and I'm happy I've discovered what I want to do."
Travis grinned. It was worth a try he supposed and, at last, Malcolm had some untainted enthusiasm for a project. Travis raised his coffee mug in salute. "To Explosions!" he toasted.
"To Explosions," replied Malcolm, hoisting his mug in return. "And many of them!"
TBC