In actuality, Jonathan wasn't thinking about how uninteresting looking the planet below was at all. A report concerning the food stores of Enterprise had reached the Bridge. It contained the disturbing news that certain critical supplies were running low. When Jonathan had demanded answers from Chef as to why it hadn't been reported earlier, the reply was that nobody down there had realized how important the supplies were until now, and anyway they'd been hoping to program the resquencer to produce the item in question, but had so far been unable to get it to actually work.

All of that seemed fairly reasonable to Jonathan, but he was still irritated at the sudden crisis that had come from nowhere. But since he couldn't blame Chef for it, Jonathan had turned his frustration on the only available target. Malcolm was down on that planet with his team, wasting time doing who knew or even cared what. Normally it would have crossed Jonathan's mind that Malcolm had no knowledge of the crisis on board the ship, since Jonathan hadn't relayed that information to him… but today it didn't occur to him. In fact, he'd found himself more and more frequently irritated by Malcolm's inability or disinclination to fall in line. What line he was supposed to fall into exactly was no longer all that clear in Jonathan's mind. In fact, over the last week, a lot of things had become less clear.

Part of why he'd been badgering T'Pol every day was that he was looking for why they were even going here in the first place. He'd ordered the course change, and it had seemed to make sense at the time, but looking at it now, he couldn't figure out why. This planet didn't have any critical supplies for them to restock the ship, and it also didn't have any sentient species for them to meet.

What were they even stopped here for anyway?

Not being able to figure that out was frustrating too. And now Malcolm seemed to be forcing a delay. He tended to do that, Jonathan had noticed. It was a manipulation tactic of Malcolm's, to implement some new protocol on board without asking him or Trip about it first, and then when they became upset with him, he would delay uninstalling whatever it was for as long as he could get away with, in the hopes they'd change their minds. It was a habit Jonathan had tolerated before, but he'd just about had enough of it. It was time to put a stop to that behavior.

"Hoshi," Jonathan said, "Contact the landing party. Tell them to get back up here on the double."

Hoshi looked vaguely puzzled, since Jonathan had just contacted the landing party a short time ago, but she didn't ask any questions, and instead set about following her captain's orders.

Jonathan went immediately to T'Pol's station, "How long would it take us to reach the coordinates the Vixlettes gave us for the Dolizet at maximum warp?"

T'Pol was probably just as baffled as Hoshi, but she did a quick calculation, "A little over three days."

Staring at her intently, Jonathan said in a hushed tone, "We haven't got enough spice left for the crew for half that, even if we ration it."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, suddenly understanding his alarm.

Meanwhile, Hoshi had reached Malcolm, and he was being his usual reticent self.

"Enterprise, this is Lt. Reed. What's going on up there?"

Jonathan didn't wait for Hoshi to respond, cutting in on the comm so harshly that Hoshi jumped, "Don't argue with my orders, Lieutenant. Get your ass up here. Now!"

There was a moment of silence before a meek reply came back, "Acknowledged, Enterprise. Preparing for launch and return now. Landing party, out."

Jonathan glanced back at T'Pol, and she looked like she had something to say.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"Lt. Reed does not like being kept in the dark," T'Pol said, "Yet it seems unlikely he was speaking out in defiance. It is more logical to conclude that Lt. Reed was simply seeking tactical information."

Jonathan thought about that, but then shook his head, "Malcolm never has liked my command style. He wouldn't buck it openly, but he questions me at every turn."

"If you want to put a stop to his behavior, I suggest you do so directly," T'Pol said.

"I'll take that under advisement."

Once the landing party was back on board, Jonathan called together the command crew to bring them up to speed on the situation, but Malcolm's bad attitude was making that hard to do.

"It has come to my attention," Jonathan was saying, "That the ship's stocks in certain food items are dangerously low. It is essential that we find a way to replenish these stores."

"With respect, sir," Malcolm said, in that way he always did when he was about to argue with Jonathan, "That's impossible. During our last visit to a planetary market, Commander Tucker and I did extensive trading for supplies. We should have plenty of food to last for months, not counting the MREs. And that's aside from what the protein resequencer is capable of producing."

The resequencer wasn't powerful enough to feed the entire crew, it simply couldn't produce fast enough for one thing. But it certainly could stave off starvation. They could probably make it back to Earth whole and only a little undernourished using only the resequenced protein.

But that wasn't the point. Everyone knew Malcolm disagreed with Jonathan on just about everything, and the lieutenant was getting more aggressive about it with each passing day. He said he respected the chain of command, and in fact wished Jonathan would tie them all to it a little more securely. But then he came up with stuff like this, to try and make Jonathan look stupid, under the guise of respectful query or advice that he said it was his job to give.

"I'm not interested in how many potato equivalents you and Trip found when you were grocery shopping last month," Jonathan practically snarled at him, "Or in how many colors celery has evolved to have on different planets. I'm being serious."

"As am I, Captain," Malcolm said, sounding more offended than chastened by the Captain's attitude.

"Captain, what's this about?" Trip asked, "You called Malcolm off the surface, me away from working on the damned power relays," Malcolm gave Trip a sharp look, which Trip ignored, "T'Pol and Hoshi from… whatever they were doing… what's up?"

The casual, gently confrontational query of the chief engineer produced more favorable results than Malcolm's own approach, but for whatever reason, the tactical officer never tried it.

Trip rather enjoyed giving the impression that he was a walking, talking imbecile of the highest order, one who could hardly speak in sentences, let alone handle the task of being Chief Engineer and Second Officer of the most advanced ship in Star Fleet. The process of being treated like a bumbling idiot and then coming up with some astounding feat of engineering that no one else could have pulled off delighted him to no end. Of course, you had to be as brilliant and innovative as Trip to get away with it.

Anyway, he no longer had Jonathan fooled. There was nothing Trip couldn't (or wouldn't) pull off if Jonathan asked it of him… or even if he didn't.

Mollified, Jonathan turned to Trip and answered, "I'm talking about our spice supply."

T'Pol took up the briefing, "The Vixlettes gave us coordinates to a planet inhabited by a species known as the Dolizet. They said that the spice originated there. However, our spice supply will be gone long before we reach the planet, and the Dolizet may not be immediately willing to trade with us."

"How much time are we lookin' at?" Trip asked worriedly.

At least he understood the situation, even if Malcolm stubbornly refused to.

"Even at maximum warp, we would arrive at the planet two days after running out of the spice at its current rate of consumption."

"Chef thinks he can cut down on the spice without it having too much effect on the food," Jonathan said, "But even if he does, we'd only have twelve hours or so planet-side before we'd have to go without."

"And that's a problem?" Malcolm asked point blank.

Jonathan was outraged by his blasé attitude about this, but Trip got there first, saying, "Weren't you paying attention? We're gonna run outta that spice before we can find more of it, much less harvest it!"

"So? It's not as if we're dependent on it," Malcolm said, "Dr. Phlox said it contained no essential nutrients or addictive properties that he could detect."

"I don't care what Phlox said!" Jonathan erupted, "And I wish you'd stop arguing with me. Every chance you get, it's just disagree, argue. A 'respectfully, sir' here and 'frankly I'd rather' over there. I've had enough of it. Learn your place, Lieutenant, and stay there."

Malcolm glanced from one person to the other, but saw no support in any of their faces. Jonathan didn't know what else he'd expected. He was fighting Jonathan's authority, making light of a critical supply situation, and using someone else's name to justify it. Jonathan decided he'd have a talk with Malcolm later, see if he couldn't straighten this out in private, rather than in front of everyone. Malcolm was rather shy, and always defensive when he had an audience. Maybe he'd be more reasonable without one. Even if not, it was better dealt with later, once they were underway.

"Travis," Jonathan turned, his voice softening, "Lay in a course. T'Pol will provide the coordinates. We're going spice hunting."

After a split second of hesitation, Travis replied, "Aye sir."

Looking suddenly paler than usual, Malcolm said quietly, "If you don't mind, sir, I think perhaps I should see the doctor."

Jonathan was vaguely concerned, but mostly distracted, "Feeling sick, Malcolm?"

"Something like that," Malcolm replied.

Jonathan thought it over. It wasn't Malcolm's habit to ask to leave while he was on duty. Even though he'd been pulled off a shuttle mission, it was still his shift and normally he would have taken over his post. But there was no real need for a tactical officer at this moment.

"Okay… but don't be long," Jonathan said, "I want you where I can keep an eye on you."

"Understood sir," Malcolm answered.

Was the deck plating spinning, or was it only Reed's head, trying to come to terms with what felt to him like an insane new reality, one which everyone around him was treating as perfectly normal?

His headache had grown worse since he'd returned to Enterprise, but he could no longer tell if it was a physical reality or merely a side effect of his own deepening confusion and alarm.

It was surreal. Reed felt like he'd stepped so far out of line he was on the verge of getting detention in the Brig for it, but intellectually he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. He'd only asked questions, the very kinds of questions Archer said he welcomed and relied on from his senior staff.

Reed was virtually certain that something had to be wrong with the Captain and crew. Phlox would know what it was, and how to fix it. Yet even still, the Captain's complete lack of faith in him stung, and he couldn't help but feel that it was how Archer had secretly viewed him for the last year or so; feigning friendliness and tolerance, which concealed nothing but distrust and contempt. It wounded him that Archer would think so little of him, but it was easy to believe.

All too often, it felt like Archer could see right through him. Knew who he'd been, what he'd done, and was just waiting for the right time to strike him down for it. Every day, Reed tried to lay aside the fear, reminding himself that he'd been nothing but loyal and obedient to Archer since he'd come here. What he'd done before was in the past, and Archer would never know about it. It didn't matter now. Yet knowing and believing were two different things, and every time Archer wanted to speak to him personally, or asked him about his past, Reed felt certain that somehow, some way… Archer would think Reed had betrayed him.

It had taken months aboard Enterprise before his gut stopped tying itself in knots every time the comm system in his quarters chirped. He kept expecting the call to come, to find he hadn't escaped after all, that he was still caught in the nightmare of where he'd been before this.

No matter how far from Earth they got, it still didn't feel far enough.

Going down to Sick Bay, it struck Reed. Maybe Archer knew. If he knew, maybe he didn't trust Reed anymore. Maybe they weren't going hunting for spice at all. Maybe there was something about the spice Reed wasn't being told. Maybe he was losing his place here aboard Enterprise, as well as the tenuous sense of belonging that had begun to form. And he didn't even know it. Maybe.

And now he was going to Phlox with suspicions that something was wrong with the Captain. Convinced of his own rightness, sure of his place here, confident that he was doing his job. But what if that was all just a lie that he was letting himself believe, as he had believed before, in order to hide from a darker truth? He'd thought he was doing something good and worthwhile… but it had turned out to be something dishonest… at times bordering on evil. Until one day he couldn't cope with it anymore. He'd been willing to do almost anything to get out, including signing on for a mission he didn't like under the command of a captain he didn't believe in.

And the worst thought of all, which made the idea of his past being uncovered almost pleasant by comparison: what if he was vastly overreacting to nothing at all?

Doubt settled in, becoming a hard lump in his chest that started making it difficult to breathe. But he had to find out. He had to know. If he was wrong… well, so be it. But what if he was right? What if there was something wrong with the Captain and the rest of them?

Arriving in Sick Bay, he must have looked quite grim indeed, because Phlox took immediate notice.

"Ah, Lieutenant Reed," Phlox said with his usual cheery smile, "What can I do for you? Don't tell me that anti-nausea medication didn't do the job."

"What? No. It was fine," Reed had already practically forgotten the rotten egg smell of the planet, which still lingered in his nostrils even now after decon and a shower.

"Oh good," Phlox said, strolling over to drop some food pellets into a couple of the animal cages lying around Sick Bay, "So what is it you're here for?"

"Doctor," Reed began, hesitating as he gathered his nerve and then plunging on, "I think there may be something wrong with the Captain. Possibly the rest of the crew as well."

"Oh? And what might that be?" Phlox asked.

"Well… it seems… they have this obsession with the spice that the Vixlettes traded to us."

"The one you're allergic to," Phlox recalled, "Go on."

"Are you aware that we're leaving orbit and heading for the planet the spice comes from? At maximum warp, no less?"

"That's hardly a concern of mine, but I do remember the Captain saying something about that earlier," Phlox said, "I was having lunch at the time. A conversation between Chef and Captain Archer became… somewhat heated. I could hardly help overhearing it."

"Heated? In what way?"

"I'm afraid the Chef didn't like being asked to ration the spice," Phlox elaborated, "Especially not with priority being given to the command crew."

"Priority being-" Reed broke off rather than repeat the entire sentence in disbelief, "Doctor surely you can see that there's something strange about that. Rationing a temporary luxury item. Leaving a planet in the middle of exploring it. Heading off at maximum warp… it doesn't make sense."

"Of course I can," Phlox replied mildly, "But there's no use getting worked up over it. I'm sure it will all work out for the best in the end. Strange isn't necessarily bad, you know."

"Work out for the best? Doctor, I think that spice is affecting the Captain's mind!" Reed cried.

Phlox frowned, "Well, that doesn't seem likely. I ran all the proper tests when it was brought on board. It's not a mind altering substance," he paused thoughtfully before adding, "Well… not really."

"Not really?" Reed asked, "What, exactly, does that mean?"

"It means that the spice does have some very mild effects on certain chemical balances in the humanoid body. Hardly worth mentioning," Phlox said dismissively, starting across the room towards row of cages.

Reed stepped into his path, saying rather harshly, "Mention them anyway."

"Calm down, Lieutenant," Phlox insisted, "You're getting upset over nothing. The effect is quite minimal, not even as strong as… say… coffee."

"What effect?" Reed demanded, refusing to let Phlox get around him.

"It contains a mood elevator. Increases production of certain chemicals."

"What, like serotonin?" Reed's medical knowledge was sketchy at best, but it was the first thing he could think of, and he wasn't about to be done with this line of questioning.

"Among others," Phlox replied, getting a little impatient, "It is feeding time for my animals. You may continue your interrogation, but please… stand elsewhere."

Reluctantly, Reed moved out of Phlox's path. But he wasn't ready to back off just yet.

"Couldn't that affect judgment, behavior… that kind of thing?"

"Well of course," Phlox said, concentrating on measuring out food by hand and dropping it through cage bars, "But you'd get just as much or more effect from any number of other foods. Like, say, eating an ounce of chocolate every day."

"Then… I don't understand why such a priority is being placed on it," Reed said, beginning to falter as it was apparent that his assumption about the spice must have been in error.

"I've heard that on your planet, entire wars have been fought over spices."

Clearly Phlox had been talking to Tucker. Tucker loved to talk about spice wars. It was one of his favorite historical subjects. Because so much of the spice trade had been over oceans and thus tangentially related to Naval history, Reed had solid enough grounding in the subject to find it an unutterably dull aspect of Earth's past. Phlox probably loved it.

"Well that's true enough, but-"

"But nothing," Phlox said, setting the empty food tray on one of his counters before turning towards Reed, "This is a vessel of research and exploration, remember? It makes just as much sense to investigate the home planet of this spice as to take samples from sulfur pools."

Phlox had a point there. But Reed didn't feel at all reassured.

Sighing and looking sympathetic yet put upon, Phlox said, "Alright. If it will make you feel any better, I will conduct some additional tests on the spice, and on any crewmen who have been consuming it regularly or in significant quantity."

Feeling as if a great weight had just been lifted, Reed replied, "Thank you, Doctor."

"Anything to ensure the continued well being of this ship's crew," Phlox said, and smiled broadly.

Reed wished he found that smile reassuring… but he didn't.