A/N: Sorry for the delay in the posting of this section. I will try to post every four or five days. Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate them. I hope this next section is enjoyable reading :) (I apologize for it being so short, but I thought it would be better to post something now, rather then wait until I had time to write a long chapter.

Archer made a detour on the way back to the bridge to the armory. To his surprise, the room was empty.

"Lieutenant Reed? Anyone?" he called, but there was only silence. Detecting the faint sound of weapons fire, he realized that someone, perhaps most of the armory crew, were on the adjoining firing range. Glancing up, he noted the red light over the door, indicating that live fire was taking place inside the range. He walked over to the entrance and range the bell, to notify whoever was inside that someone was in the armory. While he waited, he reflected on Chef's situation. Poor guy. He hoped Phlox could help the cook.

The light above the firing range door turned green, indicating that it was safe to enter, and the door slid open. Malcolm stepped out, and stared blankly at the captain. He looked stunned.

"Lieutenant?"

"We can't shoot."

"Pardon?" Archer wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

"We can't shoot. Not any of us. I just had the entire armory crew run a weapons qualification series, and none of us qualified with our weapons-- except Crewman Brer, and she's on temporary loan from Engineering."

"None of you qualified?" Archer asked, now understanding Reed's shock.

Reed shook his head. "Some people came close. I only missed by two points. But Captain, last week my crew had a ninety-four percent hit rate. Everyone qualified easily." Reed looked over his shoulder at his crew exiting the firing range; some were staring at their weapons as though their own firearms had betrayed them, while others simply appeared dazed.

Archer took Reed by the elbow and pulled him aside. "Other than the firing, have you noticed anything else unusual going on?"

Reed looked down at the floor, not wanting to meet the captain's eyes. "I had a bit of trouble installing the security routine upgrades. Couldn't seem to get them to function correctly. I couldn't adjust the firing trajectory protocols properly. I don't know why... it should have been a very simple process. I've done it a hundred times before." Reed threw up his hands in surrender. "I don't know what's going on, Captain!"

Pieces were starting to come together in Archer's mind. "Malcolm, are you having problems doing anything else? Memory issues, remembering names, people, anything like that?"

"No! Nothing but this--no, wait. I did have trouble interpreting some sensor readings earlier."

"Are you absolutely certain that the firing range computer is working properly?" Archer suddenly suggested. "Maybe the problem isn't your crew, but the computer."

Malcolm brightened at the possibility. "That could be, sir. Let me try someone else." Malcolm thought for a moment. "Hoshi normally practices down here. I could ask her to check it out."

"Ninety-three percent," Malcolm said glumly.

"Don't sound so pleased for me, Lieutenant," Hoshi replied tartly.

He looked up. "Sorry, Ensign. I'm pleased that you're so proficient. It might interest you to know that currently you can shoot more accurately than any of the armory crew."

Hoshi felt badly for him. It had to be a blow to his ego that suddenly neither he, nor any of his crew, could seem to hit the broad side of a barn. "I'm sorry," she offered softly.

"Not your fault," he replied crisply, suddenly standing straight. "But if we need any security I'm calling you. I don't suppose you know how to load torpedoes?"

"No," she replied, unsure if he was joking.

"Pity. Neither does any of my crew. At least, not with any efficiency. I was rather hoping that we might have someone capable of doing it." His words were crisp, taut, but Hoshi could see the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth.

Archer had remained silent through this. "So we know the problem isn't the computer. For some reason, the armory crew doesn't seem able to fire today. Thank you, Hoshi. You can go back to your regular duties."

Hoshi nodded. She glanced at Malcolm, who was standing still and silent, examining the phase pistol she had just returned to him. With a flash of insight, she realized that he wasn't sure what to do with it. She took it from him and checked to make sure the safety was engaged. "I'll put this away, Lieutenant."

He nodded and gave her a small smile before turning his attention back to the captain.

"Lieutenant, I want you and your entire crew to report to Dr. Phlox. We seem to have an epidemic on our hands."

"Ensign." T'Pol spoke quietly from her station. "Please check your heading."

"Yes, ma'am," Mayweather replied. He glanced down and read the heading. T'Pol saw him tense, and then make an adjustment at the helm. T'Pol looked at her own console, and spoke again.

"Check your attitude, Mr. Mayweather."

Travis didn't respond this time. She saw him try again to straighten Enterprise's course, but her panel confirmed that Enterprise was still not on the desired heading. T'Pol wondered why Mayweather had taken the ship off of automatic pilot. She was going to ask him, but didn't need to. The conversation had drawn Trip's attention. He left the tactical station where he had been working, and came to Travis's side to study the helm controls.

"You're over controlling, Ensign," he said quietly, not wanting to embarrass the young man. "Enter the course correction in small increments. Or just set the autopilot with the correct heading. Why'd ya take it off auto anyway?"

Travis flushed. "I wanted to see if I could do it manually..." he looked up in consternation. He didn't need to add that he was having great trouble controlling the big ship.

'Over controlling is a new pilot's mistake' Trip thought. 'Curious. He doesn't seem to lack the knowledge of how to fly the ship-- he just seems like he's new at it. Like he hasn't had any practice.' Trip made a note of this. He looked up and his eyes caught Hoshi's. She had been watching and listening to the conversation. So far, neither of them had discovered any changes in their abilities-- but Hoshi had not had anything new to try to translate, and Trip had not yet been down to engineering. He knew he would have to soon, but even thinking about it made him uncomfortable, afraid of what he might discover.

Hoshi entered her quarters and turned to engage the lock, a habit she had acquired years ago. She wasn't sure why she did it-- certainly she didn't fear someone barging in on her-- but somehow it made her tiny quarters feel more private, more secure, and right now she needed that comfort.

She selected a padd from the top of her workstation, and took it to her bunk where she settled herself. She activated the padd, and pulled up a file written in Japanese. She sighed with relief. It made sense. Japanese was the first language, other than English, that she had learned. Actually, she had learned the two simultaneously. Her grandmother, who had lived with them from the time Hoshi was three, had only spoken Japanese. Hoshi had picked the language up easily, within a few weeks becoming fluent, and her career as a linguist had been launched.

Feeling a bit of confidence, she opened another file, and then another file, and confirmed that she could still read and speak all the languages of Earth, although she had struggled with a few of the more esoteric ones that she had not had much practice in. She was about to put the padd away, when a thought occurred to her. She opened another file.

Hoshi glanced at the file, and a chill ran through her. She stared at the padd for another long minute, before thumbing to another file, and then another. She put the padd on the bunk beside her and stared at the wall. After a short while she picked it up again, and once again began attempting to read it. With a great deal of effort, she began to read the Vulcan novel. She was able to make out words and phrases, but she was far from fluent. She realized she was shivering, and pulled the blanket on her bunk up around her shoulders, before opening the next file, this one in Klingon. She quickly realized her skill level was even lower in this language.

Hoshi decided to change tactics. Rather than pull up another file in a language she could barely understand, she activated a file that was part training device, part game. She could set the program to generate a new language, based on the rules of known languages, or to create a language with it's own rules. She tentatively set it on the easiest level, and then waited while the program finished creating the new language. With no small amount of trepidation she began attempting to translate.

It was hard. Although the program was set on a level that she normally used only for recreation, she struggled with it at first. Gradually she began to gain confidence as she saw the logic, began to detect the patterns and the rules. When she was finally able to decode the passage and saw the computer generate the congratulatory message that came with "winning" the game, she felt a surge of relief and exhilaration. She might no longer be able to speak the languages she had known only hours before, but at least she still had the skills to relearn them. Determined to begin relearning the lost languages, she set the program for the next level.

TBC