Chapter 3

"You don't want me here, do you?" Michael asked as he followed a very quiet Malcolm through the corridors of the ship from the launch bay.

Malcolm cleared his throat and ignored the question. "How are Mum and Father?" he asked instead.

"Still haven't got out of the habit, have you?" Michael asked wryly with a tilt of his head. "When was it you stopped calling him Dad?"

"You know," Malcolm said but he didn't slow his pace.

"Yeah, I do, but I thought you might have been able to finally put that behind you."

"Not hardly," Malcolm scoffed.

"You're as stubborn as he is," Michael commented. "Neither of you will give an inch."

Malcolm shot him a look of disgust. "If you aren't going to tell me about our parents, can you at least tell me how Madeline is doing?"

"Last I heard, Madeline was doing fine. Still at the university studying to be some sort of doctor, I believe."

"A pediatric neurosurgeon," Malcolm said.

Michael waved a hand as if to dismiss his brother's words as unimportant. "Whatever. Of course, if she had married Huntington, she wouldn't have had to go to all this trouble. She could have been ensconced in the Huntington Estate, attending charitable functions, and lounging around that incredible pool." He shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever understand her."

"No," Malcolm frowned. "I don't suppose you will."

"But you always did. You two have always been close. Both of you with your noses in books to the neglect of everything else," Michael spat. "So dedicated! So boring!"

"I won't dignify that with a reply, but I will say that Madeline will make a wonderful physician," Malcolm said. "She'll undoubtedly affect a lot of lives--and for the better. I don't think she ever would have been happy with Duncan. I only think she went out with him to appease Father. Huntington, in addition to being wealthy, did have a small but ceremonial stint in the Royal Navy, so he was deemed acceptable."

Malcolm stopped in front of one of the cabin doors and keyed it open. With a wave of his arm he indicated that his twin could enter.

Michael stuck his head into the guest quarters and, with a sniff of indignation, tossed his bag onto the neatly made bed. "It still comes down to that, doesn't it?" he asked. He flopped on the bed next to his bag, and pulled off his shoes. Without a care, he tossed his footwear across the room where they impacted with the control for the waste receptacle. The impact sent it toppling from its secure location and onto the deck. "It's always about the Navy. You know it would have been so much easier for you if you had just capitulated and served on the HMS Nelson like I did. Instead you went through the basic training, and even advanced training, and at the last minute high-tailed it over to Starfleet!"

"Which was condoned by the Navy," Malcolm reminded his brother, emphasizing each word slowly. "They were looking for members of the British armed forces to be included in Starfleet. It wasn't like I committed treason."

"Well, not according to British law," Michael snorted. He stood up and unzipped his bag. "But according to Reed law? Well, that's different." When Malcolm didn't rise to the bait, he continued. "But in answer to your first question, Mum and Dad are doing fine last time I spoke to them, but Dad's a bit restless. He's actually thinking of taking an extended holiday in the States. They have friends in the Virgin Islands, west coast I think. Someone Dad served with and hasn't seen in ages. Of course, you'd probably know all this yourself, if you would take the time to contact them."

Pulling his clothing from the bag, he flung them haphazardly across the bed, finally he found what he was looking for, and pulled out a leather covered flask. Unscrewing the cap he offered it first to his brother, who declined with a single shake of his head. With a shrug he brought the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

"For your information, brother," Malcolm said. "I've written a few times, but I'm told, by the Captain no less, they never received them."

Michael looked puzzled.

"The Captain contacted them because he was trying to do something for my birthday a couple of years ago," Malcolm said by way of explanation. "But, the last time I actually spoke to them was when I called them from San Francisco to let them know I was assigned to Enterprise. To be honest, if Archer hadn't told them I was the ship's armory officer, I doubt they'd know. I doubt if Father would care what I was doing, and Mum, well, you know how she can be -- if it doesn't concern her bridge group or her garden..." Malcolm's voice trailed off and he moved toward the door. "I'll leave you to settle in. I have my duties to attend to. By the way, you may want to shave, you are expected to dine with the Captain this evening."

With one hand, Michael rubbed at the stubble which covered his face and walked closer to Malcolm. "You don't think he'd like seeing a disheveled Reed sitting at his table? To see what you look like when you're not all spit and polish?"

"It wouldn't be appropriate," his brother said. "Not for the Captain's table."

"Will you be there?"

"If the Captain invites me, I'll attend, but there are many things that have to be done before we break orbit tonight. I'm confident you two will have enough to talk about without me being present. I'm also sure I'll be seeing you around the ship." The Armory Officer tapped the button which opened the cabin door and exited out into the hallway.

"You could try and act a little happier to see me, Malcolm," Michael called out at his brother's retreating back. "Of course, I do know the real reason you don't want me on board -- you're afraid I'll steal all your girlfriends again!"

Malcolm whipped around, but found that his brother had performed one of his classic hit and runs and was already safely in his cabin behind a closed door.

End Chapter 3