A/N: Ok, first I must crawl and beg apology. I am SO sorry this has taken so long! I blame Channel 4 for taking so long in getting Season 3 onto terrestrial!Anyway, here we have chapter six, the first part of it written quite a while ago, so apologies for any discrepancies in the storyline and style… this is set just about after the start of Season Three, this is sort of a 'fill-in' chapter before I get to grips with the story again… I have a vague idea where I'm going and I'll tell you this; if you don't like angst, then you really won't like what I've got planned…
Disclaimer: If I did own Enterprise, it would certainly NOT be getting cancelled…
Chapter Six
"No." The single word resonated throughout the room like a death knell. Major Hayes crumpled visibly.
"But, sir!" He began to protest, but was cut off by a sharp glare by Jonathon Archer.
"I said, no. I will not have a MACO in charge of security." He stated firmly, and Hayes pouted childishly.
"You're making a mistake." He said, and Archer raised a cynically amused eyebrow.
"Maybe. But I'm allowed to – I'm the captain. And don't you forget that." Hayes scowled.
"You are allowing your feelings to command your decisions." He said quietly, but Archer was immovable.
"I am making Lieutenant Marcus Chez head of security. If you have a problem with that…?" Hayes shook his head.
"No. Sir." And with that, he turned on his heel, and left the room.
"The cheek of some people…" Archer muttered furiously as soon as the MACO leader was out of earshot. "Didn't even wait for me to dismiss him." Archer sighed, leaning back in his chair. He was in his ready room, taking a brief "rest" from the tension which filled the bridge nowadays, day and night.
"What I wouldn't do to have you back, Malcolm." He murmured, rubbing his tired eyes. Malcolm had been a pain with his scrupulous insistence for "extra yet necessary security measures", but at least he'd got the job done without arguing about it. And he could figure the way out of any situation in the blink of an eye.
"I never left, captain." A sad voice, unheard, murmured. Malcolm shook his head in frustration as he watched Archer sigh and mutter over the MACO's, security, and the Xindi weapons. If only he could find some way to communicate with them... Malcolm paused. Perhaps he could – after all, Captain Archer may not be quite so… closed minded, if he did try to communicate with him the way he had Commander Tucker. Gritting his teeth, he stepped closer to Archer, closed his eyes, and gently eased his way into his once-CO's consciousness.
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Archer jerked up in his seat, suddenly tense as a whip. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, and he felt as though he had just been struck by lightning – the air about him was electric, and full of… life. It was as though the force of life itself had suddenly decided to make a visitation to Jonathan Archer, captain of the Enterprise. What's going on? He thought, mystified. He had, of course, encountered strange situations during his life as a Starfleet officer, but nothing quite this… unique. Yes, that was definitely it. Unique – it felt as though an entirely new form of consciousness was only just letting itself be known to him.
Captain… Archer shuddered suddenly, involuntarily. The voice, it seemed… familiar, somehow. Captain, you must listen to me…
Archer shuddered suddenly, involuntarily. The voice, it seemed… familiar, somehow."Malcolm?" Archer spoke the word aloud, unable to stop himself.
Yes. The voice sounded pleased, but it was full of relief, which Archer did not quite understand.
Malcolm? But… you died? How can you be here now? Archer asked silently. Not in a million years did he expect the voice to respond.
I am not here, not truly. The voice replied, and Archer wondered at how the voice seemed so real – as though Malcolm really was right next to him – and yet was, in truth, only a thought, unbidden, within his mind. It stretched the boundaries of all imagination. I am but a shade of what I once was. I have found, you see, that death is not the void I once held it to be. Archer frowned, unsure of what to think. Was this voice the product of an overworked and grief-wearied mind? Or was it something… more? In a futile effort to clear his mind, Archer closed his eyes. And then, the world went white.
8
"Malcolm?" Archer breathed, his voice filled with disbelief. He was standing on – well, he wasn't sure if he was standing on anything. All he could see was white, all around him, save for a tiny black speck on the horizon – or at least, what he thought was the horizon.
"No." The voice seemed to come from all around. "Not… not your officer." The voice was cold, harsh, and cynical. It held none of Malcolm's warmth.
"Then who are you?" Archer's voice echoed around him eerily. "…who are you, are you, you, you, you…"
"I am… the Being." The voice answered, and it sounded so tired, so pathetic, that Archer almost felt sorry for it. Almost being the operative word.
"That doesn't answer my question!" Archer shouted into the void. The white was bright, awfully so, and it was getting brighter…
"Stop it!" Archer screamed, and all of a sudden the light dimmed. Archer let out a breath of relief.
"Now," he started shakily, "Tell me who you are."
"I am… the Being. I am the… controller of your feeble universe. I am god to you, human." The voice was scathing, harsh. Archer bristled angrily, and he knew the voice could sense it.
"I bow to no-one." Archer stated firmly, coldly. "No-one."
"Really, Jon?" The voice sounded delighted, albeit maliciously so. In the corner of his eye, Archer could see that the black speck was getting steadily larger. "And yet you bow to the void of space, every time an officer of yours is lost to it. And soon, you will bow to the Xindi, if but to save your precious Planet Earth." The voice emphasised those last two words, and Archer shivered."What – what do you mean?" He asked, slowly. "And what has this to do with Malcolm?"
"He… he is still bound to this world, by his mission, his duty… and his kinship to all aboard Enterprise." Archer nodded warily. Whatever had caused this strange hallucination, he didn't know, but he might as well keep calm…
"This is no hallucination, Jon." The voice stated seriously, and he started.
"How – how - ?"
"One problem you have, Jon, is that you cannot accept that there is more to something than meets the eye. It has got you into serious problems on several occasions… and got your officer killed." Archer scowled. He was liking this 'Being' less each minute.
"What do you mean?" He asked angrily, and the voice tutted, as though rebuking a naughty child.
"Think, man, think; three or fourhundred yearsago your people would have thought the idea of aliens incredulous; they did not even think of it. But… just because you cannot see something, does not mean it is not there." Archer was becoming exasperated.
"I don't understand what you mean!"
"What I mean is; why can you not think on the idea that the dead do not truly leave you? You have seen New Worlds, Jon; there could also be another world… where those you have lost go… where they can still watch you… touch you… speak to you…"
8
The next moment, he was back in his ready room, and the voice, and the presence he had sensed before, were both gone. He sighed, and ran a weary hand through his hair. What he had just seen, heard… he could not say without any doubt that it had not been real… and a part of him, though he would never admit to it, very deep down agreed with what the voice had said.8
Malcolm stalked the corridors of Enterprise, his teeth gritted in frustration. Hayes… the man could still infuriate him, even in death. Well, he thought, he got in there quick… but at least Archer had put a stop to his ambitions, it wouldn't do to have someone like Hayes in charge of the security…
Why had Archer resisted him? Why couldn't he communicate with anyone on Enterprise? Was he cursed to spend the rest of eternity as a shade, a phantom stalking the corridors of a life he could no longer inhabit?
And as for Cathy… he shook his head. He had been so… different, when he had been with her. But when she had died, a part of him had too, and he had gradually begun to build up walls against the world… would she still wait for him? Would she still want him?
Malcolm smiled wryly at this thought, for a part of him found it morbidly ironic that the dead plagued themselves with the same questions as when they had been alive. It was just the same… yet so much different. He had never imagined any sort of afterlife – he had been far to busy concentration on the present, thank you – let alone one like this. It seemed that the Universe had a somewhat strange sense of humour… and he'd just have to deal with it... any way he could.
8
A/N: Rubbish, I know. It will get better. Please review anyway, and if there is anyone still willing to beta...?