Disclaimer: see Chapter 1.

A/N: Thanks for the amazing reviews for the last chapter. I only hope I can continue to hold your interest as the story progresses. We shall see!

Chapter 10

An insistent buzzing pierced through Malcolm's fitful sleep to rouse him.

"For goodness sake," he muttered, as the visitor kept his or her finger on the doorbell. He stumbled the few steps to the door, vigorously rubbing his hands over his face, and stabbed the video display button. Bloody Lieutenant Waters! What the hell did he want?

Malcolm opened the door. "Yes?"

"Mister Reed. Would you come with us, please?" Waters' expression was inscrutable.

Malcolm wondered why he was using the royal 'we', and then saw another man behind him, a big lad. He futilely rubbed at his eyes again, trying to get his brain into gear. What was all this about? He squinted at Waters. "Is there a problem with the alien ship?"

"The Captain requests that you come on board Enterprise."

Malcolm noted that the lieutenant was armed. How had he managed to persuade Archer to allow that? Even with all the 'excitement' they had endured in the Expanse, Archer had been adamant that weapons were not to be worn except in what he personally deemed to be 'at risk' situations, and Archer's judgement was woeful at times.

"Mister Reed?"

"Uh, okay. Give me a couple of minutes to get changed and visit the bathroom, will you? I've just woken up." Malcolm saw a hint of a smirk at that news. The git! Pleased to have bothered his illustrious predecessor, was he?

Waters replied, "Certainly. A couple of minutes it is. We'll wait in the corridor."

Malcolm collected his wash kit and sauntered down to the bathroom, conscious of two pairs of eyes on him. He took the minimum time but made sure he was neat and well-shaved. Whatever the reason for this unexpected turn of events, he was determined not to put himself at an unnecessary disadvantage.

Returning to his quarters, Malcolm pulled on a T-shirt and his light grey trousers. As he fastened his belt, that warning frisson danced up his spine, just like the day before.

An invitation to Enterprise, and from Archer? There was something odd about this early morning request. Enterprise was scheduled to leave later that day, after retrieving the alien ship and its passenger, downloading local data on the phenomenon, and taking a few readings of their own. Why had the Captain suddenly decided he wanted to meet with him?

Making a quick decision, Malcolm slid his remote into his right trouser pocket, regretting that his legal EM 33's were in the Admin Office and his highly illegal home-built phase pistols in his workroom. That had been a mistake. Sloppy, he rebuked himself. He should keep one here, too, in future. If he kept the power pack separate and shielded, it shouldn't show up on any sweeps. He consoled himself that he was only going to be visiting his old ship, and most likely seeing more old friends. It wasn't as if he were about to enter some disreputable alien marketplace or the like.

Satisfied that no one could find fault with his turn out, Malcolm opened the door, slipping on his loose-fitting jacket. "Gentlemen," he said. "After you."

"No, after you," said Waters, indicating the way.

Malcolm held his gaze for a moment, then smiled and briskly led the party towards the docking port, ignoring his stomach's impatient demands.

----------------------

Stepping onto Enterprise's deck for the first time in over a year was a strange experience. Malcolm hesitated, taking in the familiar corridors and control panels. It was as if his past and his present had collided - two distinct phases combining together in an unsettling mix. At first glance, nothing had changed. It was as if time had stopped here when he had left, waiting for him to return, and meanwhile his own life had continued with its many new experiences. And the once welcoming feeling of 'home' was absent, replaced by one of subtle disquiet. Perhaps that had something to do with this being Archer's domain?

But, of course, there had been changes. For a start, there was Waters standing next to him, and Malcolm didn't recognise the security man stationed at the port. Enterprise's crew complement had changed considerably since the mission to the Expanse and Malcolm hadn't been involved in the selection processes.

Malcolm nodded to the guard and automatically drew himself into a straighter bearing. "Where are we going?" he asked Waters, hoping he hadn't noticed his brief bout of introspection.

"The office next to the command centre. You remember the way?"

"Yes," said Malcolm, a touch disappointed that they weren't to be in the Captain's ready room. He wanted to see the bridge again. Perhaps he could have a visit there after the meeting, if it was a civilised one. No reason why it shouldn't be. Malcolm and Archer both knew how the land lay and were sensible people. No need to be other than polite to one another. The time for confrontation was long gone.

Shepherded along by Waters and his crewman, Malcolm set off to the meeting room. He was struck by the tidy and clean state of the ship, and by the smart appearance of the crew they passed. The last time he had been on board, Enterprise had been in the midst of repairs and re-fitting, and still showing signs of battle damage. Malcolm saw two people that he knew and exchanged quick greetings as they passed. He also managed to get a couple of glimpses through open doors at other areas of the ship. Everything seemed to be in good order.

As Malcolm got closer to his destination, an unaccountable apprehension rose in him. He really had not expected to be welcome on board and this invitation was a puzzle. Surely, Enterprise had all the information he could give them concerning that alien vessel?

When they arrived at the meeting room, Malcolm and Waters entered, while the security crewman remained outside. The room was simply furnished with a table and some chairs, and the wall display screens were inactive. A single chair was placed on the side of the table nearest Malcolm. Behind the table sat Archer and a grey-haired, medium-built man in a commodore's uniform, which carried a Headquarters logo on the sleeve. That must be Trent, thought Malcolm, remembering what Trip had said about him. Trent had an assured air, as if he were very confident in his position - not surprising if he was closely associated with the current Head of Ops. Malcolm could already see why Trip's unease about Trent might be merited. He decided to treat Trent with proper caution but was determined not to be intimidated. After all, he was not constrained by Starfleet anymore, was he? He was his own man.

Malcolm strode confidently into the centre of the room as Captain Archer and the commodore stood up.

"Mister Reed," said Archer. "Thank you for coming. May I introduce Commodore Trent?"

Malcolm shook hands with the commodore, noting his firm grip and intense blue eyes. Malcolm and Archer greeted each other by brief nods and they all took their seats, Malcolm observing that Waters remained standing behind him, near the door.

Maintaining, with an effort, an open and relaxed posture, Malcolm kept his expression neutral, wondering where this was going to lead. Trent smiled but it was not a genuine gesture. Malcolm could see lines on his face betraying an apparently customary hard facade. Archer kept his face blank, but Malcolm could read him - he'd had plenty of practice, after all. Archer's eyes had an unsettled, even haunted, air about them.

Trent took the initiative, his voice smooth and well-modulated. "Thank you for giving us the scan results you took of the alien craft. They're proving to be interesting." He exposed his teeth rather than smiling.

Malcolm gave a grunt of acknowledgement, not convinced. His scans showed nothing more than Enterprise would be able to achieve in less than half an hour. He knew they had not helped at all. He saw Archer's slight tensing. So, he knew that as well, did he?

Trent carried on, cocking his head towards Archer, "Terms have been agreed on the bounty payable, I understand."

Archer replied, "Yes. We were able to reach an acceptable figure." He didn't take his eyes off Malcolm.

The silence stretched. Trent remained impassive but Archer showed subtle signs of unease. Malcolm was content to let this carry on. It didn't worry him in the least.

Archer broke first. "I understand you've been doing research, Malcolm?"

Malcolm's hackles rose at this casual use of his first name by Archer, but he tried to keep his annoyance hidden. "Yes. That's right." Ahh. So that's what this was about, was it?

Trent steepled his fingers on the desk. "I've read your research paper," he said.

Malcolm gave a soft snort. "Really? What did you think about it?"

"Impressive. Or so I'm told. It's not my field." Trent neatly side-stepped the potential trap.

"What is your field, Commodore?" said Malcolm, curiously.

"Let us say... I'm a facilitator."

"That doesn't sound like a Starfleet career path."

Trent raised an eyebrow. "I guess not, but it should be. It's a useful profession. For example, it would be useful for Starfleet to have access to your work on forcefields. I would like to facilitate that."

Malcolm lifted a hand. "Starfleet can have access to it. I've already offered it to them."

"At a price," said Trent.

"Yes. A very fair price, too."

"That's not what I've been told." Trent fixed Malcolm with a piercing stare.

Stung, Malcolm looked away briefly to regain his poise, and then met Trent's gaze again. He said tightly, "Is this a negotiation? Is that why I've been asked here? Do you have authority to come to a settlement?"

"Yes. And no. There are certain conditions that must be met."

Malcolm said dryly, "Ahh. I wonder what they might be."

"As part of the deal, Starfleet requires that you join the project team."

Malcolm rolled his eyes in exasperation. "This is old stuff, Commodore. I've already responded to this. And the answer is no."

Archer said, "I've seen the terms, Malcolm. It's a good package, and you'll be able to return to Earth."

"Well, Jon," Malcolm rapped out, having the satisfaction of seeing Archer taken aback by this unaccustomed familiarity, "I'm able to return to Earth now, if I want to. However, I don't want to. I've made this abundantly clear to them. I've also pointed out that I am not essential to taking this project forward."

Malcolm began to rise. This was a complete waste of time. "If that's all, good day, gentlemen."

Trent gestured to him to retake his seat. "There is more, Mister Reed. Please sit down."

Malcolm paused then subsided. He wouldn't be tempted but he might as well hear what else they had on the table. "Go on."

"There are security issues involved," said Trent, drawing his brows together to emphasis the gravity of his statement.

"Possibly," acknowledged Malcolm. "But I've been careful, and there was nothing of a potentially confidential nature in my paper."

"I appreciate that you've been discreet. However, others haven't been."

"What do you mean?" said Malcolm.

Trent leaned toward him. "I'm sorry to tell you, but there's been a leak."

Malcolm frowned as he tried to make sense of these cryptic remarks.

Archer said urgently, "We believe you are in danger. The Klingons have obtained information that you are key to this work and that you are located in this region."

That put a new complexion on matters. On a Klingon wish list, was he? But who would have given away his location? Malcolm's mind raced through the implications. He remembered Trip's comment about Klingon activity in the next sector. It had perturbed him when he believed it to be of a general nature. To think that it might be activity directed personally against him was alarming. He should lie low... Set a false trail away from the Facility. He could return later. There was that jaunt with Bailey to come. He'd bring it forward...

"Mister Reed?" Trent's voice penetrated his rapid calculations and planning.

"Yes?"

"We can offer you immediate passage back to Earth."

"No," replied Malcolm, without hesitation. "That won't be necessary. I can look after myself."

"We beg to differ. You haven't had any experience with Klingons lately. They've become very dangerous."

"I'll be okay," insisted Malcolm. "Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it. Now I'd better go and prepare."

"I don't think you understand." Trent's voice was emphatic. "Starfleet cannot permit you to fall into Klingon hands. They cannot be allowed to get the benefit of your work. Especially since you won't give it to Starfleet."

Malcolm stared at him, wide-eyed. "What the hell does that mean?" he said heatedly. "I'm no traitor."

Archer said soothingly, "No one is suggesting that you are. But the Klingons could be very persuasive at extracting that information from you."

Trent added nastily, "And then spitting out the pieces. We simply can't permit it."

"So you said!" exploded Malcolm. "Look! I can stay clear of them. I know I can."

Trent shook his head. "It's decided, I'm afraid. You are returning to Earth."

Malcolm stared at the wall between and behind the two officers as he considered the commodore's comment. Then he returned to Archer, who squirmed and wouldn't meet his hard eyes. Trent, in contrast, was adamant and confident. He had no difficulty in maintaining his gaze.

Malcolm bowed his head and shifted in his seat. He dug his hands deep into his trouser pockets. "I don't know," he muttered, as if considering Trent's proposal. Then he gave a quick grin and looked up. "Nope. Sorry. I'm staying here."

"You don't have the choice," declared Trent. He smiled coldly. "While we've been talking, your clothing and other things have already been transferred from the Mining Facility to guest quarters on Enterprise. We will be bringing your equipment over in due course."

Malcolm's jaw dropped. This was unreal! Were they proposing to abduct him? "I beg your pardon?" he rasped, cold fury driving him. "Who the hell do you think you are? I know my rights."

Trent laughed quietly, sending a conspiratorial glance in Archer's direction. Archer had the grace to look embarrassed but didn't intervene or contradict Trent. So, they were in this together, were they?

Filled with rage, Malcolm glared at the two Starfleet officers. But there was something he could do, at least. He brought his left hand up to rub at his temple. Simultaneously, he surreptitiously activated the remote device in his right pocket, thankful he had had the foresight to bring it. Steal his equipment, would they? Let them try!

Malcolm kept a tight rein on his anger, using it to his advantage, or so he hoped. He said emphatically, his eyes narrowed to mere slits, "This is wholly illegal. I will sue for wrongful imprisonment. There is no law that can compel me to go with you. Even if I were on Earth, you couldn't do this, and out here Earth and Earth organisations have no jurisdiction." He leaned forwards, glowering at Trent and Archer. "I will sue both of you personally and Starfleet. Make an example of you. Show the public exactly what sort of perverted organisation Starfleet has become."

Archer froze, then faced Trent and shrugged. Malcolm snarled in satisfaction. He had won. They hadn't a leg to stand on.

Trent shook his head in mock sorrow. "I'm sorry you aren't being reasonable, Mister Reed. It would be much more pleasant for you, but you leave me no choice. There is another route I can take - one that I had hoped to avoid. I had hoped you would understand and co-operate when you had the facts, like any rational person would. However..."

Trent reached into his pocket. He deposited a PADD onto the desk. "I came prepared." He tapped at the PADD then held it up to show writing scrolling over the display. It was too far from Malcolm for him to read it.

Archer sat motionless with a strange expression on his face.

Trent gave a mirthless laugh. "You've already received this, Mister Reed. It's Starfleet Regulation 6083/54, short title 'Regulations Governing Status'. It was promulgated some time ago. Don't tell me you've not read it?"

Malcolm tried to place the reference - difficult in his agitated state – but it meant nothing to him.

Archer said, bewildered, "Doesn't that deal with officers and other ranks returning to active service from reserve status?"

"Yes, Captain. It does."

Malcolm said, "I don't understand. What's that got to do with me?"

"Have you read it?" asked Trent.

"I glanced at it, but it wasn't relevant, so I filed it." With all the other junk he got from Starfleet.

"Why isn't it relevant?" asked Trent, with a lift of one eyebrow.

"I don't intend to return to active service." Malcolm thought that was bloody obvious.

"Yes. I can see that most of this regulation would not be applicable in that event. But let us turn to the miscellaneous provisions of section 481. More specifically, paragraph 23.1(f) of that section." Trent sat back and cleared his throat. In a flat tone, he read out, "Starfleet may authorise transfer of any person from reserve status to active status in exceptional circumstances where necessary to preserve the security of Starfleet or Earth, such authority vesting in Head of Operations."

Malcolm froze. His insides twisted and did somersaults. Surely he couldn't mean...?

Archer said, "I don't understand. That sounds like-"

Trent interrupted him. "Yes, Captain. This provision grants authority to Admiral Payne to transfer anyone to active status in exceptional circumstances. These are exceptional circumstances."

Unable to move or speak, Malcolm could only watch as Trent pulled out another PADD.

Trent brandished the PADD and said, "This is the Admiral's order under that regulation. With immediate effect, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is transferred back onto the active list. Welcome back to Starfleet, Lieutenant." He laughed triumphantly.

Malcolm was galvanised by the sound. He shot forward from his seat and launched himself at Trent, burying his head in Trent's midriff. His momentum carried him onwards, taking Trent and his chair crashing to the ground. Malcolm put everything he could into his assault, working to inflict maximum harm.

A flash enveloped him and all went dark.

TBC