Disclaimer: see Chapter 1.

A/N: Thank for the reviews. I appreciate every one!

I enjoyed writing this story, and I'm pleased that there are people out there who are still following it and (presumably!) enjoying it, too:-)

Chapter 14

Malcolm made straight for the pilot's position on Carlotta, only stopping to deposit his kit in one of the cabins. Bailey had grabbed the other cabin, which left the pull-down bunk in the corridor for Archer. Malcolm thought it would be an interesting exercise to see if Archer pulled rank on him.

As Malcolm worked through the pre-flight checks, Bailey appeared in the doorway of the flight deck with his scanner.

"Where do you want it, Pan?"

Malcolm looked about and stabbed a finger at a likely place. "It'll fit in that corner over there. Hook it up to Carlotta's main system. Can you see how it goes?"

"Yeah. No problem." Bailey gently set the scanner down and eased it into position under Malcolm's watchful eye.

Satisfied that Bailey was going to treat the scanner with proper respect, Malcolm got back to finalising the pre-flight checks. There were a couple of red lights on non-essential systems that had always been there, as far as he could tell, but any important systems were functioning within acceptable parameters.

Archer crowded onto the flight deck. "That's it - supplies, weapons, everything… all on board. We can go as soon as you like, Lieutenant."

"Just making the final checks," said Malcolm, peering at another red-liner. That one was okay, too - that was only a back-up nav that wasn't in use any more. The upgrade was better.

Archer saw it, though. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Lieutenant?"

"It should have been removed when the new system replaced it, but no one bothered. It really doesn't matter."

"Oh." Archer slid into the co-pilot's seat next to Malcolm and glanced around at the sorry state of the flight deck, frowning more than a little.

Ignoring Archer's reaction, Malcolm gave the instrumentation a final skim over. He flicked off some of the more distracting warning-lights and said, "Right. That's all okay. Now, we just need to connect my scanner up."

"Oh," said Bailey from behind, sitting back on his heels. "Something strange happened there. It says: 'Code invalid. Access denied'. I don't understand. I haven't even entered one in yet." He scratched at the back of his head in puzzlement.

Malcolm gave a smug smile over his shoulder. "That's okay. It's supposed to do that. Puts people off."

"Huh. It works," said Bailey. "What do I put in then?"

"Input the code as three series," instructed Malcolm. "First one: nineteen, four, fifteen eighty-seven. Second one: twenty-one, ten, eighteen oh five. Third: twenty-two, three, twenty-one, twenty-one."

Bailey tapped in the digits as Malcolm recited each sequence. A slow smile spread across Bailey's face when the last numbers were entered. He looked up and reported, "Done. All up and operational."

"Good. I'll access the main scanner menu from the pilot's position to tie it in to the sensor system." Malcolm verified the connection to Carlotta's systems, giving a satisfied nod as he confirmed it was established. It was time for his scanner to deviate from its comfort zone and try a new experience - warp trail residues.

Malcolm ran through the options, manipulating and tweaking the scanner settings. His first attempt didn't work properly, but he was pretty sure the next one would do the trick. After a few adjustments, he set the scanner running again and was pleased to see it was behaving as he had expected.

"Is it working?" asked Archer.

"I believe so," murmured Malcolm, absorbed in the readings coming in. "It'll take a some time to acquire the data. It's quite accurate but slower than Enterprise's scanners, obviously."

Archer nodded. After a few minutes' silence, he said, "Uh, your access codes sounded like dates."

"Yes. They are." Malcolm watched the data building up as they talked.

"Isn't that… insecure?" Archer sounded perplexed. "What are the dates? Battles?"

Malcolm couldn't help a small grin. It was no wonder Archer was confused, given the emphasis he'd put on the security of his codes during the planning of their rescue mission. Malcolm replied briskly, "They are battles, yes. The first date is Drake's attack on the Spanish fleet at Cadiz, then Nelson's brilliant victory at Trafalgar, and, well, the third one is the secure one. It's a date during the Polynesian Emergency."

Archer settled back and considered Malcolm. "Wouldn't someone who knows you - like Hoshi, say - be able to figure them out pretty quickly… the first two, anyway? I can't say the third means anything."

"Well, normally, Hoshi isn't around!" said Malcolm, with a wry lift of an eyebrow. "And to be honest, around here, only miners would want to get at my scanner, and I don't think they'd get very far trying to break the codes, so I indulge myself. I set the level to meet the conditions. Don't imagine I was so reckless serving on Enterprise! In any case, I do regularly change them. There's plenty of choice for auspicious dates. Victories… well… mostly." Malcolm sobered as he thought about his number three. He turned away from Archer to deter further conversation and concentrated on his work. Every minute could be vital and he didn't want any distractions.

Eventually, the accumulated data reached a level sufficient for the scanner to start producing useful results. Malcolm checked the various displays and said, "All set. We're ready to go." Without waiting for any order, he initiated the engine sequences, impatient to begin the chase.

Archer commed Enterprise to inform them they were about to leave.

"Good luck, Captain," said Trent. "Enterprise will be safe with me. We'll see you soon. Trent out."

Archer said, "Right then, Lieutenant. Let's get on our way."

Malcolm broke into a relieved smile as a clear well-defined track manifested itself on his display. His scanner was up to the job, not that he had any real doubt, but it was nice to have confirmation. He ramped up the engines, and made a final report back to the Facility Admin.

Young grumpily acknowledged him. "…And don't wreck the inertial dampers this time, Reed."

"I'll do my best," said Malcolm, setting the heading and watching the speed grow as Carlotta began her new role as hunter.

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Carlotta had been on her mission for several hours, and now Malcolm had the flight deck to himself. The readings fluctuated, but he found that he could compensate to keep the wake of the Klingon ship in their sights. He wasn't happy, though. The Klingons had been travelling at a higher warp speed than Carlotta could manage. They were beginning to draw away, which meant the track was becoming less distinct. The scent was fading.

Malcolm tried adding another subroutine to the analyser. That generated a satisfyingly distinct spike ahead of them. However, he wasn't sure for how long that trick would work. But they had no alternative. It would just have to work - that was all there was to it. He ran a weary hand over his face.

A clatter from behind caused him to glance over his shoulder. Archer.

Archer slipped down into the co-pilot's seat next to Malcolm and offered him a mug of coffee. "Thought you might want this. Bailey assures me that this is how you like it."

"Thanks." Malcolm took the mug and tried a cautious sip. "Seems fine," he said, putting it to one side to cool a little.

Archer sipped at his own drink and leaned over to look at the tracking display. "How are we getting on?"

"Okay. I've had to tweak a few things. But I'm worried that the Klingons will get too far ahead before Enterprise catches up with us."

"Not much we can do about that."

"No."

After a few moments silence, Archer said, "I can take over for a while if you want to get some rest."

"No. It's okay. I better keep an eye on the scanner. It needs adjusting from time to time. Why don't you turn in?" Malcolm willed Archer to agree. The less time he had to spend with him the better. It would help keep his anger in check so he could concentrate on what was important now - Trip and Gomez.

Archer said, dashing Malcolm's hopes, "I'm not tired. Besides, I'm not sure I can fit on that bunk!"

Malcolm gave him a sideways look.

Archer grinned. "I don't mind, Lieutenant. You can keep the cabin."

"Thanks," grunted Malcolm.

Malcolm let his mind wander, counting on silence to drive Archer away. He was worried about Trip and Gomez. The Klingons wanted Trip so he could explain how the forcefield equipment worked. Gomez… the wrong place and the wrong time, it would seem. Malcolm knew too much about possible methods of persuasion and was apprehensive about what his friends might be about to endure. But he couldn't do anything directly, not yet. Now all he could do was to make sure they didn't lose the trail. He made another tiny adjustment to the equipment.

Archer said, "I was talking to Bailey. He wanted to know if he would still get paid for the alien ship."

Malcolm shrugged. "It's a reasonable question. I want to know as well."

"Why does it all come back to money?"

"He has his reasons. So do I - or at least I did, before Starfleet wrecked my life." Malcolm couldn't keep the resentment from his voice.

Archer took a sip of his coffee. "I was surprised to learn you had gone into mining."

"Why?" Malcolm was wary. He didn't like where this conversation seemed to be heading. Far too personal for his taste, especially considering it was with Archer.

"I dunno. I expected you would want to try something that was more of a challenge, which used your talents." Archer's brow creased in bemusement.

"You don't know anything about mining, do you?" That was apparent. Malcolm snorted and shook his head. Archer had that typical Starfleet ignorance of the world beyond, swanning around thinking he was too good for anyone else.

"I guess not," said Archer, with a small shrug. "But I do know you isolated yourself out here when you could have been helping Earth's development programme. With the problems we've been having lately… and it's not only the Klingons… we need every advantage we can get."

Irritated at this transparent attempt to make him feel guilty, Malcolm said, "Enough, okay? It's not going to happen, especially not now. Apart from anything else, I'll be in jail, won't I?" He pinned Archer with a frosty stare - a look that said quite clearly to leave it alone.

Archer glanced down, running his hand over his mug. He raised his eyes to meet Malcolm's again and said, "I'm sorry about what happened to you. For what it's worth, I had no idea Trent was intending to bring you into Starfleet against your will. And I'm sorry I had to ask you to give your word to return after this is all over. It was the only way Trent would agree to you coming on this mission."

Malcolm said nothing. He turned back to the displays on the console. Aware of Archer staring at him, he studiously kept his attention focussed on the scanner. He maintained a still expression, not giving any encouragement. He wanted to leave, to escape from Archer, but he didn't want to rely on the automated changes for the scanner. He was trapped.

"I think we should talk - properly, I mean," said Archer, putting down his mug.

Not bloody likely, thought Malcolm sourly, directing a hostile glare at Archer.

That should have been sufficient warning, but it seemed Archer didn't want to acknowledge that. In the absence of a vocal response, Archer tried again. "We need to know where we both stand, given what we might be getting into."

"Oh, don't worry. You can rely on me to do my duty," said Malcolm tightly.

"I can?"

"Yes." As if Archer could doubt it, particularly with Trip and Gomez in peril. Malcolm couldn't believe he was hearing this.

"Do we have a problem?" Archer's tone was too calm, too soothing.

"What do you think?" Malcolm was scornful, but he stayed in control, not losing it.

"We did the last time we spoke properly. On Earth."

"Ah, yes, that had slipped my mind." That came laden with sarcasm and a curl of his lip.

"Cut it out, Malcolm!" said Archer sharply.

There was that damned 'Malcolm' again! "Or what? You'll court-martial me for insubordination? You're a little bit late for that, aren't you? Your pal Trent got in there first. I bet you wish you could haul me up on charges, too."

"No! Of course not!" protested Archer.

"Oh? I find that difficult to believe."

"Wait. Look, this isn't what I wanted to say. Just listen, will you?"

Malcolm scowled and turned back to the display. Infuriatingly, no input was required from him. He tapped in an unnecessary parameter change anyway, then deleted it, making a show of being busy. Archer wouldn't know any different.

Archer clasped his hands together in front of him and took a deep breath. "I was angry when we met on Earth to discuss the aliens and the warp coil that we took."

Malcolm supposed the self-knowledge of discovering you were a duplicitous bastard could make you angry. He grunted an affirmative.

Archer said stiffly, "Yeah - I was furious with you. What right did you have - do you have - to judge me, huh? You can live by your moral principles, but leave my own conscience to me. It's none of your business."

Spinning from the display, Malcolm crashed his hands against his thighs. "As I see it, there was no interpretation of conscience required," he snapped, jerking his head to one side. "It was quite clear. We attacked those aliens and made no effort to help them later. Black and white. No question."

"According to you."

"Me and most other right-thinking people, I would think, Captain. I stand by what I said then: it was inexcusably immoral. Absolutely despicable."

Archer flushed crimson, his jaws clenched tightly together and his nostrils flared. He didn't say anything for a minute or two as he regained control.

Malcolm was gleefully pleased that his barb had got home. He would be more than happy to take on Archer if he wanted to get into a physical fight. A subtle shift of his weight meant he was best placed to launch an attack if needed.

Archer said, struggling to keep his tone even, "You forget, Malcolm. You are looking at it from your point of view. From where I sit, things were - and still are - a little different."

"Yeah?" Malcolm was deliberately insolent. It was amazing how self-deceiving Archer was.

"For a start, we couldn't mount a meaningful rescue. It would've been a gesture - nothing more."

"Not necessarily," said Malcolm dismissively.

"Oh yeah, it would. You're deluding yourself. You said yourself it didn't matter as long as the attempt was made. So - what would I have achieved, if I had insisted on it, like you were pushing for? My position was already insecure then - yes, even me, the Captain of Enterprise after we'd averted the Xindi threat. Admiral Forrest was under pressure. As his protégé, I was in the firing line, too. The anti-alien faction was already growing, permeating through Starfleet."

Malcolm was scathing. "Oh, how very noble. So, you refused to help those aliens so you could save your own skin - so you could stay in Starfleet - a Starfleet that cares nothing for those it has plundered. Well, forgive me, but I don't want to serve in such an organization." Malcolm flung a disgusted hand at the uniform he was wearing. "What's happened since proves it. It's perverted."

"'It's 'perverted', you say? Starfleet isn't a single homogeneous entity. It's made up of men and women, people, all with their own aims and aspirations. You left - your choice. I didn't feel I had that choice. I decided to stay, to fight from within - to try to improve matters. I fought to keep our connections with aliens open… To use Enterprise to make first contacts, in between fighting off the Klingons and whoever else thought they might take a chunk out of us. You abandoned Starfleet to pursue your own goals."

"Are you saying I ran away?" hissed Malcolm, his voice dangerous.

"Did you?" Archer waved his hand at the window, showing deep space outside the vessel.

Malcolm's murderous anger grew. "I don't have to listen to this-"

"Well, you should!" bellowed Archer. "For once, notice that there may be more than one way that could be right. Just because Malcolm 'God Almighty' Reed decrees something it doesn't mean it's the only right thing to do. Think about it."

Malcolm's mouth was a tight, hard line, his face drained of colour. He was incandescent with rage. His body trembled as he sat crouched on his seat with his hands jammed down on his legs, clutching at them. He dared not move for fear of what he might do.

Archer stood up, towering over Malcolm. "We are on the same side, Malcolm. We always have been." His mouth opened again as if that wasn't all he wanted to say, but then he snapped it shut and turned on his heels to stride off the flight deck.

As soon as Archer was out of earshot, Malcolm slammed his fist down on the control panel, the shock of the impact jarring his entire body. Then he opened his hand and slid it along the surface, pressing down hard. Damn Archer! Who the hell did he think he was? Malcolm cursed - a long skein of invective.

Eventually, his temper lessened and his incoherent, raging thoughts became more measured.

This was no good. He had to concentrate on the mission - chasing Klingons. Archer wasn't important anymore. Malcolm distractedly checked over the scanner, finding it had drifted from optimum setting. Feeling guilty, he reset it.

Then he sat back with a sigh, exhausted. His coffee was cold now, but he knocked it back anyway, wanting the caffeine hit.

He looked out of the window at the stars moving slowly past.

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Malcolm had regained his equilibrium and was carefully avoiding any thoughts about the row with Archer. He had enough to occupy him. While he sat nursing the scanner, he was also taking the opportunity to carry out a little research into habitable worlds in this sector. There were some major populations not that far away. Places where one could lose oneself, if one had a mind to. Where people didn't ask questions.

Bailey appeared in the doorway. "How's it going, Pan? Ready for a break?"

Malcolm closed down his planetary analysis and stretched, groaning. He turned to Bailey. "We're still tracking them, but it's getting more difficult to acquire the warp trail. I suppose if it gives out all together, we can extrapolate forwards. They don't seem to be making many course changes. I better stay here - make sure we can get the best out of the equipment."

"You should get some rest now, while it's quiet. Who knows what will happen? What if we catch them, or what about when Enterprise reaches us? Show me what to do. If there's any big change, I'll come get you."

Malcolm wavered. It made sense to grab a couple of hours sleep. A catnap would revive him.

"Okay, Mot. Thanks." Malcolm sent off a brief compressed pulse, back to Enterprise's position. That would let them know what direction they were taking. Enterprise wouldn't respond. They didn't want to risk the transmission being intercepted by the Klingons, or anyone else who might be lurking around.

"Where's Archer?" asked Malcolm casually as he carried out a brief final check through the scanner readings.

"He was checking through the gear in the cargo hold."

Malcolm was relieved. He couldn't avoid him forever, but at least Archer was out of the way for now, although it was irritating that he was messing about with their equipment. That was something Malcolm still needed to do - make sure everything was as it should be. Of course, they didn't intend to fight with the Klingons, if they ever managed to catch up with them, but you had to be prepared… just in case.

"Pan - how did you put up with Archer for all that time when you were serving on Enterprise? You can't stand him, can you?"

Surprised at Bailey's perceptiveness, Malcolm shrugged. "We got on fine, on the whole. We've been through a hell of a lot together. It was only after the mission to the Expanse that we had a major falling-out."

"Why was that?"

Malcolm sighed. "A difference of opinion." He gave a wry smile. "As is often the case."

Scrambling to his feet, Malcolm vacated the pilot's seat in favour of Bailey. He gave him a quick run-down on what to look out for, and strict instructions to call him if there was even a remote chance there might be a problem.

As he left the flight deck, the weariness hit him. He hadn't realised how tired he was. That bunk was beginning to seem like a very good idea. He reached the small cabin and dropped down on top of the covers, not even bothering to remove his boots. Deciding on three hours, he set the alarm, turned onto one side and went out like a light.

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When the alarm went off, Malcolm rolled off his bunk and to his feet. He fumbled with his hair, then had a quick wash. That brief ritual done and more awake, he stumbled forward to the flight deck.

Bailey was still in place at the pilot's position.

"Any problems? Changes?" asked Malcolm, peering across at the displays and satisfied with what he could see.

"Nope. Feel better?"

"Uh huh. I'll go and get something to eat, if you're okay for a bit longer?"

"Sure. No problem. Take as long as you want. Bring me a coffee when you come back."

"Yeah."

Malcolm went to the galley and got himself a sandwich and coffee. As he ate, he considered his confrontation with Archer. The white rage that had consumed him then was gone, to be replaced by a more thoughtful mood.

It still rankled that Archer had essentially accused him of running away. But that had cut deep precisely because he himself suspected that that was what he had done… Well, in part anyway. Mostly he had been driven by a desire to cut loose from an organization he didn't want to be part of anymore and to strike out on his own, to prove he could do it and not be beholden to anyone. He didn't think he had been motivated entirely by negatives.

And Archer…? Archer's disclosure had been a revelation to him. Perhaps he had been too judgmental, too critical? Even if he personally didn't think Starfleet could be swayed from its course, it didn't mean that Archer had been wholly reckless and immoral in staying. Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to aid his thought processes. He was still tired, he realised. These types of mental gymnastics were difficult at the best of times and, at the moment, it was a losing battle as far as he was concerned.

As he finished his sandwich, he came to a decision. It was time to call a truce - if Archer would have it after all that had passed between them.

He poured two mugs of coffee and set off in search of his crewmates.

Bailey accepted his drink with enthusiasm, and assured Malcolm that he could quite happily stay on watch a little longer.

Malcolm made his way aft. Carlotta didn't have many places in which to hide and Malcolm found Archer almost immediately. He was in the cargo hold, seated on a container and slumped back against a wad of cushioning material, his eyes closed and his chest moving in a slow rhythm. He looked so peaceful, the worried expression that Malcolm had got used to recently no longer apparent.

Malcolm grinned. That set-up looked more comfortable than the drop-down bunk that Archer was supposed to have allocated to him. He cleared his throat.

Archer awoke with a start. "Uhh, Lieutenant?" He blinked blearily.

"Coffee?" Malcolm raised the mug.

Archer hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Thanks." He sat upright and accepted the mug. "That's good," he said with feeling as he took a draught, breathing in the aroma. "I didn't know how much I needed it."

There was an awkward silence. Malcolm couldn't work out how to offer his olive branch. Archer was trying to appear relaxed, but the tightness of his facial muscles was a giveaway. He took another sip.

"Sorry to wake you up," said Malcolm. It was a lie, but it got the conversation started.

"No. That's okay. I hadn't intended to drop off, actually. How's it going?"

"Still tracking the Klingons."

"Good." Archer was clearly not inclined to speak overmuch.

Still puzzling over how to progress matters, Malcolm saw with pleasure the stash of equipment that they had brought on board with them. He stepped over to examine it: phase pistols, rifles, stun grenades, some of his own explosives and a lot more - all neatly arranged in logical order. With a grin, he picked up a pulse rifle, automatically checking its status. Then he swung it easily up to his shoulder, and swept it around and up to follow an imaginary target. Archer might be grateful for his coffee, but Malcolm appreciated getting his hands on a rifle again. It had been far too long.

He completed his sweep, bringing the weapon down and tucking it under an arm. Noticing Archer's eyes on him, he smiled and patted the barrel. "I might need to get in some practice with this!"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Archer said, with a cautious laugh, as if unsure how Malcolm might react.

Malcolm replaced the rifle and squatted down to check over the phase pistols. "Why didn't you explain to me, when we argued on Earth, what you told me earlier today? About why you didn't try to persuade Starfleet to help the aliens?"

"Would it have changed your opinion?"

Malcolm put down the weapon he was examining and swivelled on his haunches to face Archer. "No. At least, I still think it was totally wrong not to have gone to their aid. My opinion about Starfleet hasn't changed. I still think I was right to resign."

Archer shrugged. "Well, there you are - what difference would it have made? In any case, we were both very angry when we spoke on Earth. I wasn't about to explain myself to you - to justify myself - after what you said, the attitude you took."

Malcolm stood up and folded his arms. "I don't agree with what you did - siding with Starfleet's assessment and decision. But perhaps I understand now why you did it. You were right - I shouldn't be so quick to condemn, especially knowing you as I do." Malcolm gave a mirthless smile. "I do not hold the patent on the 'one true way'. I should try to remember that."

Archer grunted. He sipped at his drink. "Uhh, I may have been a bit harsh. I wanted to talk to you, but it didn't come out quite how I had planned. And I had no justification to imply that you were… shirking any obligations, that you should have remained in Starfleet. I apologize for that, Mal… Lieutenant."

Malcolm gave him a measured look. "There may be more than a grain of truth in that, Captain," he admitted. "But it's not the whole story, not by any means. And I apologise for anything I said out of turn."

They both relaxed as the atmosphere lifted. It wasn't back to how they had been when they served together, but it was a start.

Malcolm said, with a jerk of his head in the direction of the flight deck, "I better get back to Bailey."

"I'll take helm duty when I've eaten."

"Right. I'll let him know."

Malcolm stepped out into the corridor, and then paused. He said quickly, through the doorway, "I won't object if you want to call me Malcolm, Captain."

He set off at a brisk walk before Archer could reply.

TBC