Chapter 7

Malcolm stood in line in the mess hall, waiting to get his evening meal. All around him he could hear the buzz of the other crewmembers talking, and they all seemed to be talking about the same thing.

"Did you see that article Michael wrote?" one of the young crewmen asked his friend excitedly. "He even mentioned me by name, and spelled my name right! Can't wait for Mom to see that!"

A tall, buxom redhead to Malcolm's left had her hand pressed against her chest as she talked to her companion. "And then he poured the champagne and toasted me with a poem." She sighed. "I'm telling you, Linda, Michael is just so romantic. I hope he never leaves the ship!"

Linda, a rail-thin brunette with closed-cropped hair, didn't bother to lower her voice when she replied. "Maybe he can just switch places with Lieutenant Reed. It certainly would be an improvement."

"Good point, Linda."

"Don't you love it when he forgets to shave? It's so masculine!" the redhead said just before she caught sight of Malcolm. She quickly pulled her friend away back into the dining area, where they continued their conversation in quietier tones.

"Pot roast," Malcolm said stiffly, when he finally got his turn.

"Ah, good choice," Chef remarked, spearing a few slices of the beef with a large fork. "Your brother said it was just like his Aunt Louise used to make." He paused for a moment. "Or was that his Cousin Beatrice? I can't recall." He shook his head and resumed his task of stabbing the meat.

Malcolm held up a hand. "On second thought, I'll have the chicken."

"The chicken? Are you sure? At the suggestion of Mr. Leighton--or is it Mr. Reed?-- I added a bit of rosemary to the pot roast. Everyone loves it!"

"I'm sure. I'll have the chicken."

"With or without the mushroom sauce."

"Your recipe?" Malcolm inquired warily.

"Well mostly, but Michael...er...Mr. Leighton did recommend that I include a healthy dash of Worcestershire sauce."

Other voices drifted in Malcolm's direction. He couldn't concentrate on any one conversation, but did hear words like "Michael," "accent," "movies," and "kisses like a dream." It was enough, he thought, to make you sick.

"I'll skip the sauce, Chef. Just the chicken and the steamed vegetables, and a hard roll. Can you put it in the carry-out container? I've decided to eat in my cabin."

Chef nodded, and placed the requested items in a plastic container. He secured the lid and passed it, along with eating utensils and a couple of napkins, to the Armory Officer.

Without so much as a backwards glance, Malcolm exited the mess hall.

Malcolm was walking toward his cabin when the Captain came up beside him and clasped him on the shoulder. "Haven't seen you around lately, Lieutenant," he said sounding terribly cheerful.

"I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and perform a complete system quality control inspection. Needless to say, it's kept me busy."

"But we just left Jupiter Station, Malcolm. Enterprise passed with flying colors. You even received a commendation on your maintenance of the ship's ordnance systems, and special citations for your tactical alert procedure and force field modifications," Archer said.

Malcolm snorted. "If they did such a good job at Jupiter Station, how come I found a discrepancy in the phase emitters yesterday?"

"You did?" Archer sounded shocked. "Was it critical?"

"That's not the point, Captain. The point is--"

"How much was it off, Malcolm?"

"Captain..."

"How much?"

"Zero point zero three five percent," Malcolm mumbled.

Archer paused before replying. "Does this have anything to do with your brother?"

"It's a variance which I feel could be lowered," Malcolm said, ignoring the question."

"Malcolm?" Archer asked, a note of warning in his voice.

The younger man dropped his gaze.

"I know sometimes people have problems with their siblings, Malcolm. Even I didn't always get along with my sister Ruth. We'd fight over the silliest of things." Archer kept his hand on Malcolm's shoulder as they continued walking. "Whether her piece of pie was bigger than mine, or whether she got to be first in line. As we grew up, we realized how silly it all was. We're now the best of friends."

"Actually, I think that might be the problem, Captain," Malcolm said as he stopped in front of his cabin. Deftly he keyed it open.

"Lieutenant?"

Malcolm looked over his shoulder at his commanding officer. "Michael never grew up," he said evenly. "And I, ah..." He shook his head and stepped through the doorway and reached for the mechanism which would close the door. "It's nothing, Captain. Please forget--."

Archer threw up a hand to stop Malcolm from shutting the door. "Tell me, Malcolm. I really want to know."

Malcolm looked down for several moments, and then brought his head up abruptly, his gaze focused intently on the Captain. "I decided years ago that I'm very tired of waiting for my brother to mature. From what I've seen during his stay on Enterprise, nothing has changed since I last saw Michael. To be perfectly honest, sir, while I love him and we certainly will always share a connection, I don't like him. And I'm sure he'd say the same about me. Be careful what you say around him, Captain -- he can't be trusted."

Malcolm's eyes never left the Captain, but the same couldn't be said about Archer.

"If you don't mind, sir," Malcolm continued, "I would like to eat my meal and perhaps turn into bed early. It's been a long day."

Archer bobbed his head. "Of course, Malcolm. But please, if you find you need to talk to someone, remember my door is always open. You also have my word that anything you'd like to share with me will be held in confidence."

"I appreciate that, Captain. In a month or so though we'll be back on Earth and things on Enterprise will return to normal -- or as normal as it ever gets."

"Good night."

"Good night, sir."

End Chapter 7