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Trip cut the connection with Admiral Gardner and sat in Archer's chair with his eyes closed, letting silence roll over him.

Teron had claimed he had found nothing wrong with the data that had been sent to Enterprise; apparently the explosive used had indeed been Starfleet. Trip had no way of knowing if this was the truth, of course, but instinctively he trusted the Prime Minister. There was always the risk that Teron could have been lied to; as far as Trip could understand of the situation on Raan there were plenty of people who would want to get rid of the present government and wouldn't think twice before making Starfleet appear like an enemy. There were too many 'what-ifs'. What it all boiled down to was that they hadn't been able to come across a single piece of conclusive evidence. Not against Brown, nor anyone else; and what that left was the fact that everything seemed to incriminate Malcolm.

'As simple as that', Gardner had said. But Trip didn't see anything simple in having to obey the order to lock his friend in the brig. He briefly considered disobeying it; but he knew that wouldn't help anyone. Ending up behind bars too certainly wouldn't help Malcolm.

He moved his hand to the comm. link; it felt like lead. "Tucker to Reed," he paged.

"Reed here," a familiar voice answered a moment later.

"Where are you, Malcolm?" Trip asked, trying to keep the turmoil he felt out of his voice.

"On my way to sickbay; I forgot about my medication and the Doctor threatened to keep me there if I don't go right away," Reed replied irritably.

"I'll meet you there," Trip said. He cut the connection before Malcolm could ask anything. He commed the armoury. "Tucker to Ensign Müller."

"Go ahead, Sir," Müller replied instantly.

"Please meet me outside sickbay in fifteen minutes, Ensign," Trip ordered.

"Aye, Sir," Müller answered, after the briefest hesitation.

When Trip entered sickbay Phlox was busy treating Malcolm's arm. He walked up to the biobed stopping a short distance away. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He took time, enquiring after Archer and T'Pol.

"How are your patients, Doc?" he asked tensely.

"I'm happy to report that they are getting stronger by the hour," Phlox replied allowing himself one of his wide grins. "I'm quite optimistic. In fact, I feel confident that they will both come out of their coma and recover, given enough time."

"How much time is enough time?" Trip ground out, beginning to pace.

"I can't really say. I wish I could," Phlox replied in his seemingly ever cheerful voice. "It could be tomorrow, or next month. Patience, Commander, patience," he urged.

"Well, my patience is runnin' thin. I sure hope it's tomorrow, or even today, because I'm darned tired of bein' in command," Trip bit back, still pacing nervously.

He was aware that Malcolm was following him with a studying gaze. Shooting a glance in his direction he saw that his friend had sensed his unease. Not that it took a genius.

"There, Lieutenant," Phlox said after a few minutes, helping Reed back into his uniform sleeve. "Your wound is healing nicely. I think we can do without the sling, now."

"I wasn't aware you were wearing a sling, Doctor," Malcolm replied absentmindedly, without putting any humour in the joke, his eyes never leaving his pacing superior.

"Hm? Ah, of course," Phlox said with a chuckle, moving off to look after his menagerie. "Oh, and… Mr. Reed, don't forget to come by tomorrow morning," he called to him over his shoulder in a reproachful voice.

"Provided I'm free to," Malcolm murmured, causing Trip to stop in his tracks. Turning to him Trip saw him tilt his head and raise his eyebrows in a silent question. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but Reed anticipated him.

"Let me make this easy for you, Trip. You're here to throw me in the brig, aren't you?" he quietly asked.

Trip let out the air that filled his lungs and pulled his face in a lopsided smirk. "What makes you think that?" he replied.

"I've been expecting it," Malcolm said sourly. "And I am perceptive. But then, Müller waiting outside sickbay is a pretty blatant giveaway," he added, jerking his head towards the doors.

Trip sighed dejectedly. "I'm under orders, Malcolm. There is nothing I can do about it."

Reed clenched his jaw and nodded slowly, but didn't make any move to get off the biobed. "At least the first time I deserved it," he said bitterly after a moment. "But this time I've done nothing wrong." He looked pointedly at Trip, as if to gauge his feelings on the matter.

"Damn," Trip murmured, shaking his head. "What a screwed-up situation."

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Well, let's not keep Müller waiting," he said after a moment, sliding off the bed. "He has work to do in the armoury."

"Wait," Trip stopped him with a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I don't want this to be harder on you than it already is," he said. "I'll confine you to your quarters. I trust you will behave and not get me into trouble."

"No. You must do what you were ordered," Malcolm replied uncompromisingly. "I don't want you to risk your butt on my account. There is nothing to be sorry about, Trip. They are your orders. And there is nothing for me to be ashamed of. I've done nothing wrong. So let's go and get this over with."

Trip gave Malcolm's shoulder a squeeze. "All right, Lieutenant," he said after a pause. Looking straight into his eyes he added, "Somethin' is bound to come up, sooner or later."

"Forgive me if I can't share your optimism, right now," Malcolm replied grimly. Breaking free from Trip's grip, he preceded him towards the doors.

He debated with himself whether he should send word. It wasn't necessary, he knew; but it would be so good to share the euphoria he was feeling right now. Yes, they had outwitted them all.

Ensign Brown sat down in his quarters and began for formulate his message. It was a challenge, every time; or, better, a game. What should he chat about this time? Too bad the weather was no option, in space. After a few minutes of thought he began to type.

'Dear Louise, that piece of info you were asking for has finally come back to my mind. – Re that editor of art volumes, remember the store near Edward?'

After a few minutes he regarded his letter. Not bad. Could be better, with a bit of extra work, but he was suddenly very tired, after the tension of the past couple of days. Not that he had ever doubted they would succeed. He'd give the message to Ensign Sato right away. He'd tell her there was no rush, just in case she may become suspicious. There was no reason really; crewmembers were free to write home as many times as they wanted to, even encouraged to, now that they were no longer in the Expanse. Starfleet command seemed to think it was some sort of compensation for what they had gone through, the idiots.

After stretching contentedly to ease his tense muscles, Brown got up and left his quarters.

Trip leaned against the bulkhead near the porthole in Archer's ready room and looked at the planet they were orbiting. It was such a beautiful sight that for a moment he almost forgot it was also the origin of all his current problems. Its greens and blues and deep oranges had a soothing effect on his taut nerves.

Gardner had ordered him to try and patch things up with the Raans and then go straight back to Earth. Trip knew he could break orbit even now, since there was nothing to patch up, really: the Prime Minister had been very understanding and although no alliance could be formed at the moment between their two species, their relations would remain friendly. But he was reluctant to leave, because he knew some of the answers they were seeking were down there, and if they went away the chances to prove Malcolm's innocence would be close to zero. The problem – one of the many – was he had no idea what else he could do to find out the truth.

Malcolm had walked to the brig without another word and stepped into it with only a fleeting glance at him. Trip had watched him drop heavily onto the bunk and close his eyes to shut out the world, and the image had remained in the back of his mind leaving him torn and miserable. Müller, surprisingly – or perhaps not, Trip mulled, remembering he was Reed's second – had showed remarkable self-control. When told he had to escort his CO to the brig his face had let no emotion show, and Trip had wondered if Malcolm had prepared the man for such an eventuality. Whatever Müller had been told, he seemed to understand Trip's hands were tied, for as he was leaving the ensign had tried to make him feel better. 'This isn't your fault, Sir,' he had murmured.

A familiar voice suddenly shook Trip out of his reveries. "Phlox to Commander Tucker."

Trip felt his chest tighten. Would this be good news or bad? It was a 50/50 chance, and he didn't need any more bad news right now. The Doc's voice had sounded cheerful enough, but he knew that was no yardstick. Aw, come on! You're supposed to be the resident optimist, he scolded himself as he reached to press the comm. link open.

"Go ahead, Doc."

"Commander, I am pleased to report that Commander T'Pol has come out of her coma," Phlox said.

Trip felt such relief wash over him that he was left speechless.

"Commander…?" Phlox called.

"Still here, Doc," Trip hurried to reply. "Just lost my tongue for a moment. I'm on my way." He closed the link and rushed out.

For once stepping into sickbay didn't make him feel like someone was twisting a knife in his guts. He spotted Phlox right away; the good doctor was waiting for him with a wide grin on his face.

"Commander, T'Pol has been awake for the past forty-five minutes," he informed him. "I wanted to give her a thorough check-up before calling you," he added, obviously feeling the need to explain why he had waited that long before telling him.

Trip dropped the predictable question. "Can I speak to her?"

Phlox sighed. "If you really must, Commander. But for no more than a few minutes. And I urge you not to get her tired or agitated. She is finding it difficult to suppress her emotions in her weakened condition."

"Understood," Trip said. As Phlox was turning to leave, Trip stopped him with a hand on his arm. "How about the Capt'n, Doc, any changes?"

"He'll come out of it too, Mr. Tucker, don't worry," he answered soothingly. "Just give him time."

Trip hesitated before drawing back the curtain that surrounded T'Pol's bed. He had visited her only once since the accident and the memory of her delicate face bruised and swollen was still vivid in his mind. He heaved a calming breath and entered the enclosed space.

T'Pol's bed had been raised slightly and she turned to him as her Vulcan hearing immediately alerted her to his presence. Her fine features were still marred where she had banged them against the ground after falling under the guards' fire, but her eyes were open now, which made it so much easier for Trip to look at her.

"Up for a visit?" he asked softly with a warm smile.

"It is good to see you," she said, and Trip's smile widened; a couple of years ago she would've said 'agreeable' and tagged 'Commander' at the end. Despite her denials, she had changed. And not only with him. After living with humans for four years she was a very different person from the rigid Vulcan officer he had watched with suspicion the day she had first reported to Archer.

Taking care to keep his own emotions under control, Trip got T'Pol up to date with recent events, watching her dark eyes closely for any signs of distress. In the end he just fell silent, waiting for her to speak.

She took a moment to think and said, "Although it would appear logical to suspect Lieutenant Reed, in fact it is not, for he would have undoubtedly been clever enough to avoid putting the explosive in a place where only he had access."

"That's what I told the Admiral," Trip commented heatedly, before remembering that he wasn't supposed to get T'Pol agitated. He reined in his anger and added, "But with no conclusive evidence against anyone, Malcolm must stand trial as the only suspect."

"Commander," T'Pol said after another pause. "During the talks, I remember noticing that one of the Raan dignitaries seemed ill at ease." Her voice held a note of tightness, and Trip almost took one of her hands in his, stopping short at the last moment.

"What are you tryin' to say, T'Pol?" he asked gently. "Do you think he might have somethin' to do with it?"

"I am suggesting that we should mention this to the Prime Minister." There was urgency in her voice, which Trip wasn't used to. "You said he mentioned that the person who planted the explosive may have had help from someone on the planet," T'Pol added tiredly.

"Do you remember this dignitary's name?" Trip asked, noticing that T'Pol's eyelids were drooping.

"Chief Advisor Asek," she answered without having to think, as if she hadn't been unconscious for two days. A moment later her eyes had closed and she was fast asleep, and Trip finally allowed himself to touch her hand before rising to leave.

TBC