Forgot to mention that I'm going to try to post more than one chapter a day, as this is a rather lengthy story. And fififolle, thank you for your kind comments!

CHAPTER 5

"I don't like this," Archer said as he strode after Reed on the way to the launch bay.

"You don't have to like it," Reed retorted, tired of Archer constantly offering his opinion. "It's the best lead we've got right now. The warbird's warp trail led to that planet, but we can't show up with Starfleet's biggest ship and start demanding answers. That will only drive the pirates away."

Archer huffed as they entered the bay. "You're going to be by yourself, and we won't be able to get there in time if something goes wrong."

Reed turned to give the captain a sarcastic smile. "I didn't know you cared, sir. I thought you'd be pleased to have me out of your hair -- perhaps permanently, if things don't go well."

"Damn it, Reed!" Archer glared dangerously at the shorter man. "You know what I mean. I don't care if you go off and get yourself killed. In fact, I'd probably be rather pleased if that happened. But we both want to stop these pirates, and that's what we should be focusing on."

Reed had the grace to look chagrined. "Sorry, sir. My remarks were totally uncalled for."

When Archer backed down and gave him a curt nod to accept his apology, Reed was reminded of why this man made such a good leader. He was beginning to think Jonathan Archer could work with the devil himself if the cause was worth it.

Reed turned back to his scout ship and opened the hatch. Climbing in, he took one step and was at the pilot's station. Smaller than a standard Starfleet shuttlepod, the scout ship could, in a pinch, carry three or four people, provided those other than the pilot didn't mind becoming well acquainted. Yet it contained all the amenities one person could need -- a bunk, a food storage and preparation area, and a tiny lavatory hidden away behind a sliding panel.

Archer stuck his head in the hatch and looked around with interest. "This is Starfleet?" he asked. "I don't see any markings, inside or out."

"Starfleet designed it, yes," Reed answered absently, occupied with his preflight checklist, "but any identifying marks were deliberately left off. It was designed with covert operations in mind."

"What's its top speed?"

Reed glanced at the captain before answering. "Warp 5.5. And that's classified."

"Not among certain members of my engineering staff it isn't," Archer said with a smug smile.

Reed opened his mouth to ask what that crack was about when he heard the launch bay door open, followed by the cheerful voice of the ship's chief engineer. "Hey, Cap'n! I'm ready to go."

"What the bloody hell?" Reed said, getting up from the pilot's chair to look out the open hatch, Archer stepping out of his way.

Commander Tucker was standing by the scout ship holding a tool box and a small duffle bag. He was dressed in civilian clothing, just as Reed was.

Reed shot a glare at Archer. "No way. This is a one-person operation."

"Just how much experience have you had with warp engines, Mr. Reed?" Archer asked mildly.

"Enough."

"That's what I thought," the captain said and turned to his chief engineer. "Get on board, Trip. He's going to need your help."

"No, I'm not," Reed interjected.

"Yes, you are," Archer said. "I'm willing to bet you're a good pilot, but if something goes wrong with this thing, Trip is the one who will know how to fix it."

"And what exactly do you know about this engine?" Reed asked Tucker in exasperation.

"I helped with the initial design phase of the 5.5 before Enterprise was launched," the tall blond said. "And I've been kept apprised of its progress ever since. I know that it's really still just experimental and probably shouldn't be out in space at all yet."

Reed eyed the man. If Tucker knew about the engine, then he knew how tempermental it could be. Considering the warp 5.5 engine was classified, no wonder no mention of Tucker's involvement with its development was listed in his service record.

Score one for Archer, he thought, and gestured for Tucker to enter the ship.

Just before Reed slammed that hatch shut, he paused to look out at Archer and said, "Thank you. I think."

Hoshi was bored and impatient. She'd been sitting on the bridge for two hours, watching the planet on the viewscreen. Her mood was only going to get worse, she knew.

Kleth had gone with the teams to the surface to collect the needed supplies and parts. Unfortunately, the planet they were orbiting wasn't known for its industrial production. Truth be told, it wasn't known for much of anything, but it was a safe haven for those who didn't want to answer questions. For those who practiced piracy as a way of life, it was a quiet place to stop for resupply.

"It will take thatPetaQthree days to fabricate the circuit for the transporter," Kleth reported when he returned from his initial visit to the planet's surface.

"Three days?" Hoshi cried in disbelief, then sighed. "I suppose we should be happy that he can make it and we don't have to go elsewhere."

Growling, she stood up to pace the bridge. Such was the esteem in which the crew held her that a few even flinched as she neared them. No matter how many times she got this reaction, however, Hoshi was still amused. If they only knew it was all part of an act, and that most times after she forced her anger to erupt into a violent display of Klingon temper she would have a splitting migraine, they might not think so highly of her.

"Come, Kleth!" she ordered. "We will be here for three days. Let us go to the planet and see what amusements it offers."

With a respectful nod, he acceded to her wishes, and followed her off the bridge. As they rode the turbolift to the transporter room, he ventured to speak. "Your manner of speech is becoming more and more Klingon, little one."

She grimaced, realizing the truth of his words. She was even beginning to think in Klingon. "Occupational hazard," she said, and was rewarded by his laugh, which could be heard a deck away.

The planet didn't have much to offer in the way of amusement, Hoshi found, but it did have a restaurant that catered to offworlders in its main city. As she and Kleth entered the dingy establishment, she sighed inwardly as she saw a number of the patrons look uneasily in their direction. Even here, with only Kleth, she would have to act the part of a Klingon captain. Glancing around, she wondered how many of the other customers were pirates.

Putting a sneer on her face, she stalked after Kleth to a table on one side of the room and allowed him to signal for service. A short being covered in fur and no taller than her shoulder scurried to their table. From a pocket on the grimy apron it wore it took out a flimsy paper menu and placed it on the table before scampering off again.

Kleth glanced at the printed menu and shoved it toward Hoshi with a muttered curse. "It's all English to me."

"Actually, it's Slivari," Hoshi said as she looked over the menu. "Meat?"

Her companion grunted in agreement. "And something to drink."

Hoshi nodded, her gaze running down the list of meals. The waiter scurried back over to the table and Hoshi told him, in his native tongue, what they wanted to eat and drink.

"You should stop that," Kleth grumbled after the waiter left. "We are all proud of your knowledge of others' tongues, but doing that in public will only draw attention."

Hoshi stared expressionlessly at him for a moment. "Kleth, you have no sense of fun."

He merely growled at her, but it was softened by a gleam in his eye.

When their food arrived, Hoshi breathed in its aroma thankfully. At last, something that didn't move on her plate and which smelled good.

For a few minutes she put everything else out of her mind as she concentrated on the meat prepared in a creamy sauce accompanied by something that resembled noodles. When her initial hunger had been sated, she noticed Kleth watching her as he gnawed on a roasted haunch of some kind of beast.

"What?" she asked, her mouth full of food.

"You are even eating like a Klingon now."

She reached over and slapped his arm, just as any self-respecting Klingon female would. He responded by lifting his head back and roaring with laughter, as would any Klingon male treated in such a manner by a younger female relative it was his duty to protect.

Reed watched from a booth in the corner as the Human woman hit the huge Klingon with her hand. He couldn't believe the Klingon didn't strike her down for such impertinence. He had to be the biggest Klingon that Reed had ever seen, and would be able to flatten the woman with a flick of his wrist.

But then again, everything about a Human female leading a band of Klingons seemed wrong. So why shouldn't that behemoth laugh when she showed her displeasure by hitting him? A niggling thought invaded his mind as he wondered what else they did together. Perhaps that explained the Klingon's lenience, although it wouldn't explain her captaincy.

Reed couldn't deny that she was beautiful. And even as she had shoved food into her mouth, there was a certain delicacy to her movements. Probably the first real food she's had in some time, he mused.

He saw her attention shift in his direction, and he hastily ducked his head, hoping to hide his face, but he was too slow. He'd been caught gawking like a schoolboy. At a word from her, the big Klingon was up and striding in his direction.

Reed didn't want to get into a fight but there was no way he could get away now. All it would take would be for either the woman or the Klingon to yell one word -- Starfleet -- and he'd be as good as dead. He estimated half the patrons in the establishment were pirates, and they would join in any such confrontation.

He only had time to stand up and brace himself before the Klingon was upon him.