Chapter Eleven – Of Danger and Discipline

Sometime, during a rare moment of peace, Archer realized that he was a hundred times better at commanding a crew of eighty than he was at dealing with the two hard-headed females with whom he shared his quarters. It wasn't a good idea, he concluded, to remain a bachelor into your fifties. You never recovered from the shock of losing total control of your whole life at that advanced age.

This morning, although he had risen at oh-five hundred hours, three hours before the official start of his shift, he was rushing to get to the Bridge on time. It wasn't as if there was any punishment involved in being late, he thought ruefully; he was, after all, still the captain. It was just the principle of the thing.

The reason for his tardiness was sitting on the floor of the cabin, legs spread wide, busy examining the inside of a padd, its exposed circuitry still blinking. He glanced around the room with a sinking feeling. The bedside table was empty. Damn. He'd have to redo all of those calculations; well, that would serve him right for neglecting to transfer his data to the main computer before he went to bed last night. And for leaving it in the reach of a curious five year old.

"Lily," he prodded. Said five-year old looked up innocently. "How many times have I told you not to take apart my stuff?"

She cocked her head to consider a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know. Twelve?" That was her current favorite number. "I can put it back together, you know."

Archer hauled her up by her shoulders. "That's not the point. Come on, you're going to be late for school and I'm going to be late for work." He hustled her out the door, pausing only to toss the remains of his padd onto the bed. The scary part was, she'd probably have it reassembled and in perfect working order before she went to bed tonight.

He knew they made an odd picture, strolling down the corridors, side by side. Since she could toddle, Lily had insisted on accompanying him whenever she could, her tiny legs almost running to match his long stride. While Porthos had still been alive, the three of them could be seen, day and night, inching along, dog and child stopping every few yards to explore whatever caught their nose or eye. As she had gotten bigger and more steady on her feet, she would skip ahead, hiding around corners, giggling, until Archer caught up, and bursting out to "scare" him. Now, with her new found schoolgirl dignity, she walked sedately alongside him. Lily had memorized the names and ranks (although nowadays, they rarely used anyone's rank designation, except for Archer's, T'Pol's, and Reed's) of every crewmember on board, and greeted each one politely in her tiny voice, copying her father's acknowledging nod.

"When is Mommy coming back?" she asked now, as they stepped into the turbo lift, heading for the nursery/schoolroom. Her voice held little eagerness; for her, Esilia's return from this latest scouting trip meant the end of freedom. Esilia was the more strict parent, far less indulgent with the girl than her husband was. In fact, Archer was about as successful at following the bedtime/schoolwork/proper meal rules for Lily as he had been at following the no cheese rule for Porthos.

"Sometime today," Archer answered. "So we'll need to clean up the room a bit before she gets home, okay?"

"Sure thang," she drawled. Clearly, she'd been spending time lately with Lorian. Now, there was a chilling thought. He wondered what adventure his daughter and Trip and T'Pol's seven year old son were plotting now. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

He dropped her off at school with a kiss on her forehead (right above the eyebrows that she had – thank heaven – inherited from his side of the family, and the nose ridge she had gotten from her mother's), trying to pat down her flyaway silver hair, which was already escaping the awkward braid he had inflicted on it this morning. He licked his thumb and wiped away a smudge of jelly from her cheek, then, as he always did, crouched down to eye level. "No trouble today, Lily, okay?"

"I promise, Daddy." When she gave him her serious, earnest black-eyed expression, he could almost believe her. Smiling, he turned on his heel and headed for the Bridge.

When he stepped out of the lift, Reed greeted him with, "Good morning, sir, I was just about to comm you."

Archer slid into his chair, nodding to T'Pol and Hoshi, already at their posts. He didn't think he was that late. "What's the matter?"

"I've been monitoring conditions at the scout ship's coordinates. There have been some minor storms over the past several hours." Reed sent the data to the command chair's monitor. "They seem to be moving closer to Esilia's position."

A tingle of alarm worked its way up Archer's spine. His wife was in a low orbit around an uninhabited planet, scouting for trinium deposits. She had years of experience, and her one-person scout ship was specially equipped to scan for the mineral. He had put aside his misgivings and let her take on the mission, despite the fact that she was pregnant with their second child. He turned to T'Pol. "Is she in any danger?"

The Vulcan checked her viewer once again, and then answered, "The storms trajectories are erratic, and they are becoming stronger. It would be best if she returned to Enterprise now."

Archer nodded to Hoshi. "Hail her."

Esilia's voice was terse; either she was in the middle of a test, or she was worried about the storms herself.

"Seel, we're reading some bad weather from up here," Archer tried not to sound overly concerned, "and it looks like it's going to overtake you. Return to Enterprise."

"Captain, I just need another hour or so, and I'll have complete data. If I stop now, I'll have to redo a big chunk of it."

Archer studied the screen on his chair. T'Pol transmitted the likely path of the storms, three of them, which were converging with hurricane-like force. An hour from now, it might be difficult for Esilia's sturdy but small ship to break orbit. He shook his head. "No, it looks like it's gonna get bad. Return to Enterprise." The silence conveyed her disagreement. "That's an order, Seel."

His wife's voice was testy and tired when she finally replied. "One more hour."

"I said, that's an order."

"And I'm not a member of your crew."

"Seel," he repeated through gritted teeth. There was no response. "Seel." The shake of Hoshi's head told him that Esilia had closed the channel. Dammit. He drew a deep breath, barely holding on to his temper, and rose from his chair. His lips hardly moved as he turned to Reed. "Notify me when she ties down in the launch bay." Reed simply nodded, aware that Archer was this close to detonating, and not wanting to be the trigger. "I'll be in my Ready Room." The air on the Bridge shook as the captain passed by.

When the door slid shut behind him, Reed stared across at T'Pol. "For a moment there, I was afraid he was going to order me to charge weapons."

"Indeed," was all the Vulcan replied.

x x x

An hour and forty minutes later, Reed commented to T'Pol, "The scout is approaching the launch bay. Shall I inform the captain?"

She raised an eyebrow a millimeter. "The captain asked to be notified when she tied down. She has not done so yet. I believe the extra few minutes would be beneficial to us all." Reed couldn't argue with that.

The captain emerged from his Ready Room with a face like stone. He said nothing as he left the Bridge, only raised his eyebrows as Reed stepped into the lift with him. After a moment, he asked, eyes forward, "Are you an escort for me, or a bodyguard for her?"

Out of self-preservation, the lieutenant chose not to answer.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Archer assured him glacially, "I don't intend to kill my wife. Not today." He strode toward the launch bay without a backward glance.

Esilia was just climbing out of her ship, slightly awkward with the added weight of the baby, when they arrived. Her expression said that she knew the captain was displeased with her, but her face completely drained of color when she realized just how angry he was. For the first time since she had come aboard, she stood in the presence of the man the crew still referred to in secret as "Airlock Archer." There was no warmth in his eyes, no forgiveness in his demeanor, and no trace of her husband. He stopped about three feet away from her, hands clasped behind his back, mouth a straight, flat line.

"Get all the data you needed?" Open space was warmer than his voice.

For a moment, Esilia wished she were armed. Well, she didn't think Lieutenant Reed would allow the captain to commit homicide. "Yes."

"Worth sending a team down?"

She cleared her throat. He sounded way too reasonable. "Yes. There are substantial trinium deposits, fairly close to the surface. They should be easy to mine."

"Hmm," he nodded, "good." After a beat, she began to sidle past him, toward the door. He stopped her by raising his hand slightly, palm out. She froze. Bending his knees slightly to come down to her level, he leaned in closely, holding her black gaze with his icy green one. "One more thing. You may not be a member of my crew, Esilia, but you are my responsibility." She swallowed, but said nothing. "If you ever, ever, disobey a direct order from me again," he continued, every word deliberate, "our children will be visiting you in the brig. Understood?"

She nodded her head once and whispered, "Understood."

He clenched his teeth. "Dismissed."

Esilia was glad for Reed's supporting hand at her elbow as she made her way to her quarters. She knew the lieutenant could feel her shaking, but he was too polite to comment. Instead, he escorted her to her door, keyed in the code, and led her inside, depositing her gently on the small couch. He poured her a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully.

Pausing at the door before taking his leave and heading back to the Bridge, Reed observed, "If it's any consolation, every single one of the senior staff has been in that position at some time or another, even T'Pol. He'll get over it pretty quickly. He only reacts that way because he worries about us."

She offered a shaky smile. "Thank you, Lieutenant." He smiled back and let the door slide shut, leaving her alone.

x x x

Trip whistled as he passed the transporter pad, on his way back to Engineering. He didn't usually work this late, but that damned Ikaaran interface was still giving him fits. Besides, he and T'Pol were sniping at each other a lot lately, and he needed a break.

He knew exactly what it was about, even if she wouldn't admit it. Lorian was seven, her mating cycle was approaching, and he wanted another child. She didn't. She had concluded, logically, that the population on Enterprise had to be carefully controlled. He didn't disagree, but why did that mean they had to limit themselves to one child? It wasn't as if the crew were rabbits. Only Phlox and Amanda embraced a "more is better" philosophy; they were expecting their fourth child in five years.

A movement caught the corner of his eye as he passed the transporter alcove. He stopped short, and warily backed up. The transporter was off-limits, and he hadn't assigned anyone to work here.

What he found was not a dangerous intruder, but rather Lily Archer, sitting cross-legged in the corner, far away from the transporter controls. She was intent on the torn-apart padd in her hand, and didn't hear Trip approach.

"Hey, munchkin," the engineer said softly, crouching down next to her. "What are doing down here all by yourself?"

Lily looked up, her little mouth turned down in a frown. "I have to put this back together." She gestured with her microdriver at the blinking components.

"Where's your mom and dad?" It wasn't unusual to find the kid tucked away in odd places, but usually Jon was just around the corner.

She answered matter of factly. "Mommy's confined to quarters and Daddy's mad."

Well, there's something you don't hear every day, Trip thought, and said aloud, "Ah. Well, you wanna come hang with me? I've got some stuff you can take apart in Engineering, since you seem to be doing such a good job with that padd."

Black eyes met his, and she grinned Jon's grin. "Okay."

Hours later, after replacing the last in a series of conduit panels with Lily's "help," Trip checked the time and swore. It was long past dinnertime, but neither one of them had noticed. "Tucker to Archer."

"Archer." In those two snapped syllables, Trip could hear fear and worry, bordering on panic.

"Ah, sorry, Cap'n, I meant to call you earlier. Lily's with me, down in Engineering."

A few seconds of silence ticked by. "I'll come get her," Archer said, in a relieved voice.

"Actually, Cap'n, I was thinking we'd get something to eat and maybe she could spend the night with us. Lorian should be just about done with his nightly Vulcan lesson. I thought you might have some . . . things to work out." He left the "with your wife" part unspoken, aware of the tiny listening ears right next to him.

Another pause. "I'll get her first thing in the morning."

Trip smiled. "Take your time." He looked down at Lily, who gazed up at him with adoring eyes. "Let's go find some pie."

Archer snapped off the comm and shook his head. These women were going to be the death of him. He summoned the lift to D-Deck, where he had been systematically searching for his missing daughter. Two scares in one day; at this rate, he was a heart attack waiting to happen.

He headed toward his own quarters. He hoped his wife was game for a little making up. By the expression on her face when she saw him enter, he could tell that she was. Very game.