Disclaimer: see Chapter 1.

Chapter 18

"Good Luck." Archer's words filtered out through the closing gap as the door into Baby's interior noiselessly shut.

I'll need it, too, thought Malcolm, stepping out into Enterprise's deserted cargo bay. Trent was clever and dangerous. If he were the traitor, this would be no easy task.

Malcolm's leg had stiffened while they had been holed up in Baby, producing an unsteady gait. He limped across the bay, checking around. Baby took up most of the cargo area but there were some handily-placed containers to one side. Malcolm stationed himself next to the comm panel, one eye on the door. With his injured leg, pacing was out of the question, and it made the waiting ten times harder.

He rubbed a finger over the phase pistol held loosely in his right hand. His left hand carried a communicator. The weight of what he was attempting was starting to make itself felt. All he could think about was the ways in which it might go awry - they could tip their hand and get absolutely nowhere. Again, he wished Archer could be the one to deal with this, but he was the logical choice. There was no getting around the matter.

He shook his head. This was no good at all. He had to think positively. The communicator chirruped. Malcolm flipped it open. "Yes?"

"Bailey. He's alone - Captain's dining room."

"Understood."

Malcolm pocketed the communicator. This was it. Taking a deep breath, he stepped over to the comm panel by the door and pressed the button. "Cargo Bay Two to Commodore Trent."

"Trent." The clipped, cold voice was unnerving. It still held the harsh quality that Malcolm had noted before.

"Are you alone, Commodore?"

"Who is this?" Trent was immediately on the alert.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes. Who is this!"

"I've been speaking to some friends of yours. We should talk. It's Reed."

Malcolm waited what seemed like an age. Then Trent responded, carefully, "How did you get on board?"

"That doesn't matter. Come to Cargo Bay Two - alone - and we'll discuss matters of mutual interest."

Another pause. "Very well." The comm channel clicked shut.

Malcolm let out a huff of breath. Trent had given nothing away, but that was to be expected.

Malcolm started towards the containers stacked to one side of the room - the best available cover. Before he had taken two steps, he was startled by the sound of the door opening. Spinning around, he brought his weapon to bear on the figure stepping over the threshold, his concentration on a PADD. It was Waters. Malcolm swore. That man made a habit of being a hindrance.

"Waters," said Malcolm, noting that he was unarmed.

Waters head snapped up. He stood stock still, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Before he could recover, Malcolm moved between Waters and the closing door, motioning him away from it with his pistol.

"Stand over there, Waters." Malcolm nodded to the centre of the cargo bay.

"How…?" Waters stood motionless, and then understanding hit him. "The alien craft! You hid in that."

"How clever!" said Malcolm sarcastically. "You-" He bit off the rest of his scornful comment. He couldn't afford to antagonise this man, not at this critical moment. Instead he said urgently, "I haven't much time to explain-"

"You do realise you won't get away with it? You fire that weapon and the sensors in here will detect it at once. There'll be a full security team here in seconds."

"Be quiet and listen!" Malcolm knew Waters was correct. The minute he opened fire, the game was up. This weapon he had on Waters meant nothing at all - he had to get him on his side.

"You should've run when you had the chance!" Waters said.

"Forget that. I told Trent I was waiting here for him. Did he tell you I had turned up?"

Waters pursed his mouth in stubborn silence, his expression one of frank hatred.

"No… He didn't, did he?" Malcolm said, thinking out loud. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here alone, and you certainly would have armed yourself. I know this will sound crazy, but I have reason to believe Trent is a traitor. That's why I'm here - to find out for sure." Of course, thought Malcolm, if Waters was the bad apple, then he'd blown all chances with him, but he had to take a risk.

Waters gave a disbelieving choked laugh. He jabbed a finger at his temple. "Yep - crazy! I read your logs and always suspected, and now I know for sure."

Malcolm ignored the jibe. "Give me a chance to prove what I said. That's all I ask. Trent's on his way here, right now. Hide over there and listen. What have you got to lose? If I'm crazy, then you've still got me, but if I'm right - if there is the smallest chance I'm right - then it is imperative we know, that you know."

Waters sniffed. "I don't buy it. You just want to find a way out of here."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, think about what I said. Why didn't Trent tell you I had contacted him? He had time - only just, I grant you. And I came back to Enterprise. Would I be standing here if I wasn't telling the truth? As you say, I'd have made a run for it!"

"I knew it! You gave your word - guess I know how much that means, now, huh?"

"Dammit!" Malcolm said in exasperation. "I know we are never going to see eye-to-eye, but look at this in security terms. Please." Malcolm was getting desperate. Trent would be coming through that door any minute. If he couldn't get Waters to go along with him, all their efforts would have been an utter waste of time. As he waited for Waters' response, Malcolm imagined he heard a heavy tread outside in the corridor, but that could only be his imagination. The soundproofing was too good to hear anything.

Waters' eyes glittered. "What did you do to the Captain?"

"Nothing, believe me! He's okay."

"Where is he?"

"Safe, but… Look, there isn't time! Hide over there, and soon we will know the truth." At least, Malcolm hoped they would.

Waters' lip curled and he remained where he was. "You stun me - you lose. You kill me - well, even you wouldn't do that, but if you do, you still lose - only big time. I'm offering you a way out here, Reed. You turn yourself in, and it'll go a lot easier for you."

Malcolm heaved a big sigh. It put him at an even greater disadvantage but he couldn't see any alternative. Reluctantly, he said, "I'll give you my phase pistol - a sign of my good faith - but you have to let me do this." He lowered the muzzle, but kept hold of the weapon.

"That's right, that's sensible," Waters said, encouraging approval in his tone. "Are you giving yourself up?"

"No. Not yet. But if I'm wrong, then yes - I won't resist. All I ask is that you give me a chance to talk to Trent, alone. You watch from behind those containers. I need your word on that."

Waters gave a decisive nod. "Okay - I can live with that. And I can tell you, it'll be good to have you back where you belong, under lock and key."

There was nothing else for it. Malcolm tossed over the weapon. Waters caught it deftly, and swung it up to point the muzzle briefly at Malcolm. Then he gave an amused snort and backed away behind the containers. Squatting down, he faded into the shadows. Scarcely had he taken position than the door opened.

Trent stood squarely, framed by the opening and holding a phase pistol in front of him - and he was on his own.

No security! Malcolm's pulse raced. They must be right. Surely this meant Trent was concerned about what he knew, what he might say? What other interpretation could there be?

Trent moved a few steps towards Malcolm, the phase pistol pointed unwaveringly at his body. He paused for effect and then said, "Reed. I didn't think I would see you again. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you."

Malcolm swallowed as he saw the weapon was set on 'kill'. He wondered if Waters could see that, too, from his vantage point. Probably not. Malcolm raised his gaze and met Trent's hard eyes. Taking comfort that Trent would have killed him already if he didn't want to hear what he had to say, Malcolm managed a cool response. "You won't kill me because I have sent word to others about what I know. If I don't contact them by a set time, they'll go to the proper authorities."

Trent said flatly, "There's nothing to know. And I don't believe a word of your safety precautions."

"I'm not stupid. Would I confront you, unarmed, if I wasn't sure of my safety?"

"I think we must agree to disagree on your stupidity, Reed. You've amply demonstrated that you excel in that department, all the way along."

Malcolm shrugged. "Can you afford to take a chance? I've been talking to the Klingons."

Trent's face tightened but he showed no other reaction. Then he said, "What have Klingons to do with it? Were you selling them your technology?"

"No, but you did, didn't you? And Archer."

Trent studied Malcolm. "Archer?"

"You sold them Archer, my forcefield technology, and me, and you got money for it. And a promise to withdraw Klingon troops from a disputed area."

Malcolm waited, hoping he appeared confident. This was what he needed - unequivocal confirmation. Now it would come. But Trent switched tack.

"Where is Archer? The others?"

"Archer's dead. Killed fighting the Klingons. The others… dead, when the Klingon ship blew. I sneaked a lift back on the alien ship. Scans can't penetrate it. Bailey had no idea I survived or what I know. He stayed out of the fighting. He didn't see what happened."

Trent said, "So - there's just you to deal with." His voice became even colder, implacable. "No one would be surprised if I, sadly, had to kill you to defend myself. You should have come armed."

"Remember my precautions," said Malcolm, all too aware of Trent's finger on the trigger. "What I don't understand is why you are working with the Klingons. I thought you were against alien contact."

Trent studied him, as if considering his reply. Then he said, "One must be flexible. I have only Earth's best interests at heart."

Malcolm felt a surge of triumph at this admission. But was it enough? He had to make sure. "Really? I don't believe that. You've just handed over my forcefield technology to them on a plate."

Malcolm hoped the recording system they had cobbled together was working, and that Waters was drinking everything in. Perhaps he would prove useful after all, as another witness.

Trent sneered, utter contempt flooding his words. "My, my. You do have a high opinion of your work, don't you? Don't delude yourself. Yes - it would be better if we could keep that technology for Earth alone. That was my first intention. However, letting the Klingons get their filthy hands on it doesn't matter, not in the long term. In case you haven't noticed, they're not the brightest species around. Oh, no doubt eventually they will make something from what I've given to them, but by then Earth's researchers will have moved on. Without you. As you have so often - and rightly - observed, you are not an essential component of that program."

"What are you going to do with all that money? Buy some luxury planet somewhere?" Malcolm tried to goad Trent into further admissions.

"Don't be ridiculous. You have such a mundane outlook - no wonder you became a miner. Money brings influence. That is - it is one way to gain influence. And with influence, I, and others who share my goals and values, can do what is best for Earth."

"And that is what, exactly?" prompted Malcolm. The more information he could get, the better.

Trent's coolness was replaced by fervour Malcolm didn't suspect he possessed. "We want an Earth that is strong enough to stand on its own feet, without the crutches of alien races, that cut and run at the first sign of trouble," he declared, his face animated. "How can you argue with that objective?"

Marvelling at the change in Trent, Malcolm said, "What about what other people think? Those who believe we should forge alliances instead. Don't they count?"

"No," Trent spat out. "They haven't thought things through. There is no other safe route. Everything else is a risk." Trent's intensity lessened a little, but his sincerity was unabated.

Malcolm nodded. "So, you imagine I share your views, that I might want to join you?"

Trent laughed out loud. Then he said seriously, "I can almost guarantee you don't. I know a lot about you. You made plenty of noise squealing around Starfleet before you quit. However, even if you had seen the light, why would I want you?" He smiled, the bruising on his face and throat almost completely faded. "You hurt me - now I hurt you. I had hoped the Klingons would handle the payback, but this is better. This way, I get direct satisfaction."

"If you kill me, it will all come out, I warn you." Malcolm was conscious of the lethal weapon trained on him. He had Trent's confession. Now he had to extract himself from this scenario without getting killed.

Trent shook his head in mock sorrow. "You warn me! You have no idea of my power or influence. Do you really imagine that anyone you may - and I emphasise 'may' - communicate this information to stands a chance? Do you think they will survive long enough to get anywhere, to prove any of these allegations? My trail is well hidden. We have supporters everywhere. If you have told someone, you have already condemned them. Who did you choose to place in jeopardy? Family? Friends? You have a sister, don't you?"

Malcolm stifled a gasp, trying to hide his surprise at Trent's knowledge of him. He replied steadily, "It's no one you would know about or can intimidate. I told them to transmit the data to interested parties - they don't know what is in it. They will carry out my request if I don't contact them to stop it. But if we can come to some agreement, then I won't inform the authorities. I won't interfere with your plans."

Malcolm knew he had to show he wasn't a threat to Trent, that he was not someone who had to be eliminated immediately. And he had to be believable. Otherwise he was dead. He couldn't stop himself glancing again at Trent's phase pistol.

"You imagine I want to negotiate with you?" Trent raised a questioning eyebrow.

"That's why I'm here. I want the charges against me dropped, a way out of Starfleet and money. I'm not greedy - just enough to give me a start. Then I won't tell anyone about all this. Why should I? It's no skin off my nose, and I'll destroy my evidence. You can do whatever you want to do and I'll get the hell out of here."

Trent stared at him for long minutes. Then he said musingly, "Originally, when I was told about your forcefield work, I was going to make sure you returned to Earth and participated in further research. And then I discovered where you were located, out here in this forsaken nothingness. What superb timing and location! I could also get rid of Archer, who was a thorn in our side, constantly countering AAP policies and trying to drag in every sad alien race he came across. I knew the Klingons would give a lot to get hold of Archer.

"So, I get Enterprise out here, set it all up, and then you go and make things personal. You shouldn't have done that." Trent's eyes narrowed and his tone was full of malice. "Now Archer is gone. I had hoped the Klingons would get rid of you, too, but as they haven't, I'll deal with you. I could kill you now, but then I would have to answer questions. It might cause problems for us and I'm not going to let someone like you derail our progress."

Malcolm felt a lift at Trent's declaration he wouldn't kill him. Now, if he could just bring this to a close...

Trent's mouth lifted into a smile of genuine pleasure. Even his eyes were included. "I have thought of a much more satisfying approach, Reed. You are more useful to me alive - you'll bring in more currency from the Klingons. I'll make sure you end up in prison - and you know what? I think we'll add in another charge - the presumed murder of Captain Archer! How do you think that will go down with your fellow inmates? Murdering Earth's saviour! Not a very pleasant prospect, is it? I'm sure I will be able to find some 'evidence' to aid a conviction. But what you should think about - what I hope you'll think about - is that I will make sure the Klingons get their hands on you. Sooner or later. Each day, you will wonder, 'is this the day they come?' One, long nightmare.

"You will be incarcerated somewhere where the Klingons can snatch you, just like that." Trent snapped his fingers. He grinned. "Let them extract whatever they need from you in whatever way they can devise. Let's see what permanent injuries they can inflict on you! That will give me great pleasure. Seeing you at their tender mercies."

Malcolm responded to Trent's long rant of hatred with a tilt of his head. He said, "I don't care." He was defiant. He could afford to be. If he got out of this predicament in one piece, Waters had seen enough to save him from Trent's malicious scheme.

"You will care, believe me. That is why I am letting you know exactly what I plan. You can squeal as much as you like, and no one will believe anything you say. You have zero credibility. You assaulted me, Archer is missing - only you returned, with that fool of a miner. They will assume you are trying any desperate measure you can to avoid your just desserts. And the Klingons will come. They know you helped Archer escape from that prison planet of theirs. I told them. You will be pleased to learn that was worth some more in funds for the cause."

"Rura Penthe," said Malcolm bleakly. So, the Klingons knew about that now, did they? Malcolm's mouth dried as he remembered the hostile ice-world.

"Yes. Rura Penthe. And they want you to experience its delights! Now…" Trent moved cautiously over to the comm panel next to the door. "I'm calling security, and we'll put you in your natural habitat behind bars."

Malcolm breathed a little easier. Once he was in the brig, he would - should - be safe from Trent, and Archer and Waters could sort it out. He wiped his palms on his legs. It had been like duelling with a tiger - holding it by its tail. Any misstep and… boom! But tigers didn't go boom, did they? He gave a quiet snort.

Trent pressed the button. "Trent to Waters."

An answering chirrup came from behind the containers. Trent frowned. Malcolm's eyes widened as he realised the implications - and Trent's lethal weapon was still directed at him. There was a repeat chirrup from the wall panel in the container area as the call remained unanswered.

Waters' voice came from the shadows. "Lower your weapon, Commodore."

Understanding dawned on Trent's features. Then fury. His eyes met Malcolm's. Malcolm saw his fingers move on the trigger.

Malcolm dropped to the floor. Trent whipped about, his pistol spitting deadly energy in a blazing arc from Malcolm's position and continuing around to the containers. The beam passed Malcolm by mere centimetres, gouging a furrow across the wall behind him. Waters returned Trent's fire from his hiding place, narrowly missing as Trent leapt back. Malcolm scrambled half-up, looking for cover.

"Reed!" Waters bellowed a warning.

Malcolm flung himself to one side. Again his luck held as the searing beam barely missed. The door to the cargo bay opened and a trio of security men rushed in, weapons drawn.

Trent yelled, "Lethal fire at Reed and over there." He waved his free hand in encouragement towards Waters' position.

"Lethal?" queried one of the men, while at the same time, Waters shouted out, "No! Arrest Trent!"

Trent snarled, "Do it, Crewman! Weapons on 'kill'!"

Sprawled on the floor, Malcolm flung his arms over his head in a desperate and wholly futile attempt to protect himself as the entire space lit with angry gouts of pure energy. He thought he heard Archer's voice before the inevitable happened, and an intense, biting pain was followed by darkness.

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Malcolm's consciousness returned slowly, blearily. Through instinct, he kept his eyes closed as he evaluated his position. He remembered the firefight, getting caught by an energy weapon. So… was he in the brig, and all had failed… or was he elsewhere? The smell tugged at some memory, but it didn't quite tie up. There was something missing.

He sensed a presence close to him, and then a warm breath grazed his cheek. A low rich female voice said, "You can stop shamming, Mister Reed. The biobed never lies!"

Ah! Sick bay. He should have recognised that smell, but the absence of any squawks and rustlings had fooled him. Phlox wasn't here any more, though, was he? Malcolm opened his eyes and found he was looking straight into those of an amused dark-skinned woman.

"Hello," he said weakly.

Her smile broadened. "Hello."

Malcolm moved his limbs, noting a numbness in his injured leg and also, with a rush of relief, the lack of any restraints. That had to be good news! "So…"

"Yes?"

"So… What happened?"

"You were stunned by several hits. I expect you'll be sore for some time, but I've administered an analgesic. I've also tidied up that leg wound. There shouldn't be any problem with it."

"Ahh. Good. Uhh, what about the others?"

"Commodore Trent and Lieutenant Waters were more fortunate - they regained consciousness quite quickly."

Malcolm pulled a face at that. Wasn't it just typical that those two had got off relatively lightly! But what about his friends? He strained to see if there were any other patients. There were none in sight but a curtain blocked his view of the end beds. The doctor appeared cheery enough - wasn't that a promising indicator?

"Have you seen Trip and Gomez?" Malcolm asked. "How are they?"

"Commander Tucker has a skull like iron!" The doctor chuckled. "He's in his quarters resting, but should recover without any lasting problem, although he still has a headache. I'm about to operate on Mister Gomez - he's being sedated now." She looked over to the curtained-off area.

"His shoulder was a mess," Malcolm said heavily. "We didn't know how to deal with it."

"You treated the shock and made him comfortable. There wasn't much else you could do for him without surgery. I've carried out an initial examination. Unless there are any nasty surprises lurking in there, I believe he should regain almost full function, although scarring is likely." The doctor produced another stunning smile. "I'm Doctor Masusa, by the way."

"Ah, Doctor. Pleased to meet you." Malcolm felt faintly ridiculous making introductions lying flat out on a biobed, but it didn't seem to worry the doctor. He supposed she was used to it.

"And I'm pleased to meet you!" the Doctor replied. "I've read so much about you."

"You have?" Malcolm didn't quite know what to make of that.

"Your medical records, that is. You gave Phlox some challenges in your time, I see! Now, I must prepare to operate. As soon as you feel up to it, you are free to leave sick bay. Let me know if you need further pain medication later." She gave a brisk nod and bustled off.

Malcolm closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. Free to leave sick bay! What wonderful words! He wanted to savour the moment. He heard the main doors swish open and approaching footsteps.

"Malcolm?" It was Archer. "Are you awake?"

"Uh, yes, Captain." Malcolm struggled to sit up.

"How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, sir," said Malcolm automatically, sick bay imposing its old ritual on him. He eased his legs over the edge of the biobed, realizing he was kitted out in an unflattering gown. Seeing his uniform folded on the next biobed, he reached out for it. "I take it I wasn't subjected to a weapon set on 'kill'!" He gave a wry half-smile.

Archer grinned back. "Nope. The security team just stunned everyone in view, uhh, except me! I think I came as quite a shock to them."

"Really? I'm impressed how security handled it. There was too much confusion to take an informed action, so they stunned everyone until they could work out what was happening, putting everything on hold. That was good work."

"I believe Mister Waters had practised that scenario with his people." Archer looked to see Malcolm's reaction to this information.

"Oh." Malcolm nodded and gave credit where credit was due. "As I said, I'm impressed. I might even tell Waters that!"

Archer laughed. "That will be a historic meeting!"

Malcolm began to get changed, his drive to escape from sick bay overriding any lingering embarrassment. Besides, he was still wearing his boxers. "So - did we get enough out of Trent, or do I need to go through that again!" he joked.

Archer said, "Yeah. We got everything recorded. It's all to be sent off to trusted hands at Starfleet Headquarters. Things are going to get very interesting around there. And Trent is in the brig."

"Excellent!" Malcolm said with gusto. "I hope Waters has put him in irons."

"He wanted to!" said Archer. "You know, at last, I think we've got something to fight back with. Some of Payne's supporters will be horrified to learn what Trent was up to because if it's Trent, the trail most definitely leads to Payne. Turning traitor and consorting with aliens? They won't know what to make of that! Others will be feeling the weight of law. Everything will be scrutinized. I mustn't get too carried away. There's still a long way to go, but I hope this is the beginning of a new era for Starfleet."

Malcolm liked the sound of that. "Yes, sir," he agreed, shrugging on the top half of his jumpsuit and pulling up the zip.

Archer leaned forward and squeezed him on his shoulder. "And Malcolm - there's no need to call me 'sir'."

"Sir?" Malcolm rolled his eyes in exasperation even as the word slipped from his mouth. It hadn't taken much to revive that ingrained response, had it!

Archer tried not to smile. "We - well, Hoshi - got the regulation from its source and double-checked with them. Trent had doctored it. That section he referred to had nothing to do with compelling ex-officers to return to Starfleet. There is nothing to that effect anywhere in any regulation. So - you were never conscripted after all."

Malcolm felt his spirits lift a little, but it wasn't quite the joyful release he might have anticipated. "I see. No court martial, then?"

"No. How could there be? You're a civilian."

"I assaulted Trent."

"I didn't hear you say that. But in any case, I don't think Earth has jurisdiction in this sector."

"Not even on a starship?"

"Malcolm! Whose side are you on! Look - forget about it. I ceded jurisdiction to the Facility's management, and they said far worse happens there without anyone worrying. They seemed kinda amused, actually, that I even thought it worth mentioning."

"But the permanent injury…"

"Might have been sustained in other ways. You can forget it. Trent will be too preoccupied trying to save his own skin to get back at you."

"Yes, Captain." Malcolm remembered, however, Trent's ice-cold eyes and relentless hatred. He shied away from those disturbing thoughts. He had a friend to help out. "Captain, about Hoshi… If she hadn't visited me against orders, this forgery would never have emerged. Surely that is in her favour?"

"You're worried about that reprimand, huh? I've had a serious talk with Hoshi. We've come to an understanding - I've rescinded it and given her an unofficial verbal warning instead. She's very fortunate that there was something to find out, and that she did an excellent job in finding it, otherwise it might be different. I think she realises that now."

"Good." Malcolm agreed with that approach. He finished dressing and slid cautiously off the biobed. "I think I'll go and find my kit - transform back into a civilian again!"

Archer said, "Wait here a few minutes and I'll send a steward over to show you where it's stowed. We'll get your gear assembled, too, so it's ready for you when we reach Deross Mining Facility. Then we're off to deliver Baby to the investigators and track down some leads on it. There're a couple of places nearby to see first - but after that we'll be far away from this sector. You'll soon be able to carry on without any further interference in your life by meddling Starfleet."

"Right," said Malcolm. That was a relief… wasn't it? It should be after everything he'd been through recently, but there was just something…

"Malcolm." Archer held out his hand. "It was good working with you again. I'm glad we sorted out our differences."

Malcolm took his hand and shook it. "Me, too, Captain. It was almost worth all of this!"

Archer clasped Malcolm's elbow, his face lighting up, and Malcolm responded with a broad answering smile.

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

The four men crowded around the airlock where Enterprise was docked, making their farewells at the boundary between the regulation of Starfleet and the disorder of the mining Facility.

"And if you come across any tasty Klingon recipes…" said Trip, with a significant look at Gomez.

"I'll be sure to send them your way," answered Gomez, his thin lips quirking in a slight smile.

"No - you'll be sure to vaporize them!" said Trip, in mock annoyance, which dissolved into an irrepressible grin.

"I'll try to remember, Commander."

Bailey laughed. "Don't worry, Trip! We're steering well clear of any Klingons from now on, if I have any say in the matter."

"Yeah. Good idea," said Trip. "Anyway, thanks for everything, Mot. It could have turned out bad, and it's down to you we got away."

"He did have some help!" protested Malcolm laughingly.

"Yeah. I did," agreed Bailey. "My grenade!"

Malcolm sighed in genial exasperation while the other two chuckled.

"We better go," said Gomez. He adjusted the sling supporting his right arm and then picked up the small case that contained medical supplies for his healing wound. "I want to get home. Make sure the Mariposa is okay. Bye, Commander. Coming, Mot?"

"Bye then, Trip!" said Bailey, lifting his kitbag and hurrying after Gomez.

"You've got a couple of good friends there, Malcolm," Trip commented, watching them leave.

"Yes. I know," agreed Malcolm.

"And you're safely home now, too. Or is that the Mariposa?"

"Here, I suppose, if anywhere. I work on other ships as well, of course. Not just the Mariposa." Malcolm looked about at the familiar decay of the Facility. The station didn't really feel much like home. Not yet.

"So, what now?"

"For me? Well, I did have a couple of contracts lined up, but with everything that went on, they were cancelled. I thought I'd give a hand with any repairs needed on those mining ships that helped fight off the Klingons. It's the least I can do. They didn't have to help us." Malcolm grinned. "Plenty to keep me busy anyway."

"Yeah. I can see that," said Trip.

"Uh huh. And then I thought I'd see if Gomez wants me on his next campaign. Until that shoulder heals, they'll be struggling. I won't even charge him!"

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out." Trip surveyed the remaining, and quite considerable, pile of gear around him. "Are you sure you don't want a hand with all this stuff, Malcolm?"

Malcolm laughed. "Nah! It's okay, Trip. I'm not in a hurry and I prefer to do it myself - then I know where everything is and that it's accounted for. Anyway, I think the Captain is anxious to get under way."

Trip smiled. "Time to say goodbye again, huh? I'll be sorry not to have you around… bugging me!"

"You've got Waters!"

"He's not in the same class as you, Malcolm!" said Trip, with a lift of his eyebrows.

Malcolm crossed his arms and grinned. "I'll miss you, too, Trip. And other things as well. I had forgotten the buzz I get on a mission."

"The door is always open," said Trip with a dramatic sweep of his arm towards the airlock.

Malcolm eyed Trip, and decided he might as well tell him what had been on his mind. "Mmm. I was thinking about that."

"Really!" Trip pounced on the tentative musing, his expression one of hopeful amazement. "You want to re-join Starfleet!"

"Thinking about it - only thinking - but that's a lot more than I imagined I would be doing, not that long ago. I want to see how the fallout of all this affects the Starfleet upper echelons, and then… Well, who knows? We shall see." Malcolm gave a quiet snort. "I'm not sure how I'd take to following orders again." Yeah - he had certainly discovered a strong independent streak since he had left Starfleet.

Trip beamed. "This..." He trailed off and waved his arm around at the Facility. "I can see why you get a kick out of some of this stuff, but you know… That'll always be waiting. If you wait too long to re-join Starfleet, you'll end up the oldest lieutenant in its history! And admit it - you're dying to know what that alien ship is all about, aren't you?"

Malcolm laughed and shook his head. "As I said, I'm thinking about it. I'll make up my own mind, thank you very much." He became more serious. "I don't suppose we'll see each other for some time, anyway. I'll try to write."

Trip said thoughtfully, "Hhmm. I have some leave owing. A lot of leave as it happens. Bailey said you were all set for a jaunt to some warm planet when the compensation comes through for that alien ship. I might just tag along."

"It's business, not pleasure, Trip," cautioned Malcolm.

"No reason why we couldn't mix both. C'mon, how long is it since you've had some real fun? You need me to show you where to sniff it out!"

Malcolm laughed. "Whatever you say, Trip. Now…" He held out his hand. "Goodbye."

Trip took it and then pulled him into an unexpected hug. "Bye, Malcolm. And good luck!"

They parted and then Trip gave a last wide grin and returned to Enterprise.

Malcolm watched as the airlock door cycled shut, wondering at the sense of loss he felt. Perhaps Starfleet was beckoning sooner rather than later, after all?

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

End

A/N: So, there we are. I hope the ending worked - I am just sorry that it's finished now!

I enjoyed writing this story and exploring another part of the Star Trek Universe. I was uncertain how many people would be interested in it, and so it was great to discover there were some enthusiastic readers out there to share it with me. :-)

I am very open to constructive criticism of any aspect.

Once more, I want to give a huge thank you to Rusty Armour. Without her encouragement (and beta reader skills) this would still be on my hard drive.

And also, great thanks to everyone who has taken some time to give a review, particularly those dedicated souls who managed several. I really did appreciate every one. So, thank you to (and hoping I haven't missed anyone out - let me know if I have!):

RoaringMice, JadziaKathryn, firebirdgirl, volley, Tata, spootycup, Salhawke, PJinNH, Estellio, Skye29, Queen of Fairyland, dottid, JennMel, HoVis, Rodianer, STC, The Libran Iniquity, Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain, The One Forgotten and Rusty Armour.