A/N: Hello everybody! I thought I'd better hurry up and update or I might run the risk of being flamed to death by infuriated readers! I can't quite believe that you all like the fic so much. Anyway, a few responses to my lovely reviewers...

The Libran Iniquity: Thanks for the info! Hmm... will Trip get there in time? Read on and find out...

Scifi-warper: Argh! Calm down!

Tata: Alright! But you do realise you have just condemned Malcolm to a lot of pain by giving me permission to torture him, don't you?

JacobedRose: I hope you don't mind that I sort of nicked a quote from your review for use in this chapter...

Exploded Pen and elbcw: You two, my dears, are two clever for your own good. Hmph...

Thanks also to General Kunama and Buggles586 for their reviews. Apologies to anyone I missed out!

And now... on with the story! Enjoy!

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"If it were done when t'is done, then 'twere well it were done quickly." - William Shakespeare, "That Scottish Play'

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Chapter Eight

Trip rushed through the corridors like a man possessed. As he ran, a single thought beat a tattoo in his mind, not Malcolm, not Malcolm... he'd always been the strong one. It had been his strength – or pigheaded stubbornness – that had kept Trip from jumping out of an airlock when they'd been stranded in Shuttlepod One. But if Malcolm was dead... surely it was Trip's fault for not being strong for Malcolm when he needed him to?

No. Trip clenched his jaw and pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind. He won't be dead. He can't be.

Ah, said a cruel little voice in his mind, but if that phase pistol was set to kill... you can't raise the dead, Charles Tucker.

"I know!" Trip shouted out loud, drawing alarmed looks from those in the corridor. At last, he reached Malcolm's quarters.

He drew to a halt by the door, words failing him as he reached for the override panel. He hesitated. What if...?

"I'll do it, sir." It was Seyton looking pale but determined. Trip nodded gratefully. The man went to type in the override code, but the door opened at his first touch. He glanced up at Commander Tucker, indicating the open door with his hand.

"After you, sir." Trip snorted, and shook his head.

"An' they say there are perks to rank..." Sighing, he stepped into the room. Lying on the floor in front of his feet was a body, still and lifeless.

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An'Din stared at the controls in front of him. There was one readout that was warning him that they only had two hours worth of air left, but he wasn't paying any attention to that one. Instead, he was staring at the sensor display.

Suddenly, he let out a huge bark of laughter. Ishran, who had been staring moodily out into the starfield, looked up in annoyance.

"What on Betazed is so funny?" He snapped, but An'Din simply chuckled merrily.

"Look!" He said, pointing towards the controls. "Ah, the irony..." Ishran leaned over and glanced over the readout, his eyes widening as he did so.

"Enterprise..." He breathed. "So we are saved!" An'Din, still chuckling, shook his head.

"Ah, but there is the irony... they are two hours away... and we have but one hour of air left!" And with this, he doubled over, his laughter filling the small room.

Ishran stared at him for a long moment, certain that the Xindi had gone completely and utterly mad. But then he too, saw the ridiculous side of their predicament, and soon enough the pod was ringing with the laughter of not one, but two people.

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Trip stared at Malcolm's body, his heart in his throat. Lying beside him was a phase pistol and an empty bottle. Trip shook his head, sharp tears coming to his eyes.

"Oh, Malcolm, you fool..." he whispered, leaning over to pick up the bottle. But as he did so, the man on the floor groaned. Trip stared at him. Surely he couldn't have survived...

"Trip?" Malcolm said groggily, looking up at him through red eyes. "What are you doing here? Aren't I dead?" Trip gave a smile, feeling dizzy with relief.

"Apparantly not." He said.

"Oh, God." Malcolm groaned, sitting up and reaching for the phase pistol. Trip put a hand behind his back to keep him from falling back over as he examined the phase pistol. Malcolm shook his head and put it down in disgust. "Set to bloody stun." He muttered. "God, what a failure. I can't even kill myself properly."

Trip, upset to hear his friend talking in such a way, shook him, hard.

"Hey." He said roughly. "I don' wanna hear you talkin' like that, okay?" Malcolm made no reply. "Okay?" Trip repeated, forcefully. Malcolm closed his eyes and nodded.

"God..." he said, pressing a hand to his forehead, "what a hangover."

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At any other time, Archer would have chewed Malcolm out and busted him down to crewman for the 'stunt' he'd pulled that morning. But, somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to chastise the man for wanting a way out... goodness knew he'd had enough to deal with over the past few months.

And anyway, Archer had other things to deal with at that exact moment in time... such as the fast approaching Xindi shuttle.

"ETA, Hoshi?" He asked, frowning at the viewscreen, his body tense in his seat. The communications officer gave him a brief glance before replying;

"At current speed, ninety-one minutes, sir." Archer nodded, deep in thought. Some instinct – the instinct that had landed him captaincy of Enterprise – told him that it would be in all their best interests if they got to that Xindi shuttle a lot faster.

"Hoshi... what would the time be if we increased our speed to Warp Three?" Hoshi frowned and tapped at her controls.

"Twenty-seven minutes." She said eventually. Archer nodded, before speaking into his comm channel.

"Bridge to Engineering..."

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"Look, Trip, I do not need a baby-sitter, alright?" Malcolm glared at the chief engineer as they both re-entered his quarters. Phlox had given him a once-over and sent him back to his quarters for three days sick leave. Trip personally thought that this was the worst thing Phlox could do, but he wasn't about to argue with the doctor... especially not as he himself had a medical exam coming up in a few weeks.

"Look, Mal', I'm jus' hangin' around to make sure you don't do anything stupid..." Trip trailed away as they both surveyed the room. Malcolm shook his head and bent down to pick up the empty bottle on the floor.

"No wonder I had a hangover..." He muttered, looking quite depressed as he dropped the bottle into the waste bin. Trip gave a small grin.

"I should report you... secret stash in the cupboard, huh, Malcolm?" At first Malcolm looked alarmed, but when he caught sight of Trip's teasing expression he gave a small smile.

"Don't you have one?" He asked lightly, before straightening up. Trip pretended to look annoyed.

"Damn, you've got me there..." They both grinned, and Malcolm gave a small nod. He knew that Trip was trying to cheer him up, and he was grateful for that. It was time for some sort of order to return to his life... it was as though the night before had been a breaking point, and now he had past it he was ready to put the pieces back together.

The phase pistol was still on the floor, and Trip bent down and picked it up. He looked back at his friend, a serious expression in his eyes.

"I'm puttin' this back in the armoury where it belongs, alright?" He said. Malcolm nodded.

"You know," he said quietly, "I don't want you to think... it's not something I would do... I don't know what made me..." He trailed away, frowning faintly, as though he could not find the words. Trip met his gaze and for a long moment the two men just stood there, a single glance conveying more than any words ever could. Eventually, Trip grinned and turned back towards the door.

"C'mon, Mal, there's work to be done..." He moved away.

"But Phlox said - " Malcolm started to protest, but Trip just laughed.

"And since when did you pay any attention to what Phlox said?" Malcolm nodded, a wry smile beginning to form.

"Point taken - " But he was cut off by the metallic bleep of the comm system.

"Bridge to Commander Tucker." Trip tapped the panel, frowning slightly.

"Sir?"

"Trip, you'd better head down to the airlock..." Archer's voice filtered through, sounding harsh and tinny. "We've discovered a Xindi shuttle. There are two life signs aboard, and only one is Xindi. They've linked up – they were running out of air. I've sent a security team down to the airlock. I'd like you to wait for me down there."

"On my way, sir." Trip said, glancing at Malcolm, who was suddenly looking terrified.

"Bridge out."

Trip sighed. Wordlessly, they both turned and headed for the turbolift. A day that had started out badly suddenly seemed destined to get a whole lot worse...

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As they rounded the corner to the airlock Malcolm suddenly stopped, his face white.

"Mal?" Trip probed hesitantly, as the security crew – headed, Trip noted, by Major Hayes – shuffled uncomfortably. Perhaps it was the sight of them, but Malcolm immediately straightened up and continued towards the airlock door.

"Any signs of live weaponry on the other side?" He asked one MACO, who shook his head, a slight tinge appearing on his cheeks. Trip marvelled at how Malcolm could one minute seem so lost and vulnerable and the next be back as the cool and professional Lieutenant. "So apart from the Xindi, what have we got in there?"

"We were unable to identify the non-Xindi biosign, Lieutenant." Major Hayes said, oddly stiffly. Trip watched, fascinated, as Malcolm's eyes hardened like chips of ice as they passed over the MACO commander.

"Indeed." He said coldly, glancing at the door. "So, are we going to let them in?" He asked, a slightly dry smile crossing his face. But Trip, who had known the armoury officer for almost three years, could not mistake the fear in his eyes. His hand was hovering unconsciously over his hip, even though there was no phase pistol there. One of the MACO's, looking awkward, handed Trip a pistol before he moved to open the door. But the MACO left Malcolm completely unarmed. It seemed the news had spread of Malcolm's little 'episode' that morning.

The door slid open, to reveal standing on the other side a tall, reptilian Xindi and a small, weak-looking humanoid. But whilst the MACO's had their weapons trained on the Xindi, Malcolm was staring at the somewhat smaller man with unmasked fear – and disgust.

The Xindi stepped forward, and inclined its head slightly upon sighting Malcolm.

"Human." He said simply, his voice calm and easy. The MACO's looked on in awe. Malcolm returned the nod, the mask of detachment once more upon his face. "I am glad we meet again... though I would have hoped for slightly better circumstances." Malcolm's jaw clenched.

"Indeed." He muttered once more, throwing a glance at the figure standing in the airlock. "Though your choice of company can hardly be applauded." As he spoke, Archer and T'Pol arrived on the scene, though Trip signalled for them to stay quiet. He sensed that this was something Malcolm should deal with on his own. The figure stepped into the light, a faint sneer playing on his lips.

"Human." He said, scornfully mimicking An'Din's words. "So you are still afraid, then?"

Malcolm flinched. Trip stepped closer to his friend, his gaze ever upon the alien. He knew by the look on Malcolm's face that this was the man who had attacked his friend, telepathically, and his trigger hand itched for his gun. Trip had only ever experienced hatred – true hatred – once before, at the death of his sister, but in that moment he hated that little alien so much he wanted to kill him. How dare he do what he had done to Malcolm and stand there now, taunting him? What person had the right to destroy another?

Malcolm glanced at Trip, and his friend looked back. Malcolm nodded slightly, drawing from his friend's gaze all the strength he needed. He turned back to the alien.

"No." He said. "I'm not." Then he turned to the MACO's. "Put him in the brig." Trip glanced at Hayes, to see what he thought of Malcolm ordering his men around, but he made no complaint, simply moved behind the alien and locked his arms behind his back. Trip watched the MACO's lead the man away, whilst one remained behind to guard the Xindi. He turned back, just in time to see Malcolm fall.

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A/N: Okay... sorry if the ending is a bit, um, rubbish. I am also sorry if the Trip/Malcolm friendship fluff is beginning to choke you. Feel free to complain in your reviews... hint, hint!

By the way, I'm going to see 'The Producers' in London tomorrow... can't wait! Complete insanity awaits!