When the door to the turbolift slid open, Trip stepped out onto the Bridge ready for battle. Malcolm's days of ducking and dodging were about to end. Trip was done putting up with it, and now Captain Archer and T'Pol were nowhere around to stop him or talk him out of it. He'd been talked out of it enough times already. Too many times, in fact.
Malcolm at least had the decency to look over, acknowledge the arrival of his superior and get out of the captain's chair, just in case Trip had come to claim it. Trip had little interest in the chair itself, but he sure as hell wanted Malcolm out of it. Malcolm had lately acquired all the brazen impudence of a cat slapping a 'gator, something Trip might have appreciated or found amusing at a different time, but just now he didn't need the harassment, and Malcolm had proven unwilling to cut it out. Or maybe he simply lacked the self control to stop. Trip didn't know or care anymore.
Seething, Trip nevertheless retained some sense of propriety, and he gestured sharply for Malcolm to join him at the other end of the room, where they wouldn't be overheard if they kept their voices low. Not that Trip expected to do that. But it wasn't generally good for morale for the crew to watch one senior officer lay into the other without at least making a show of trying to handle the matter quietly.
Trip had thought about actually putting some kind of deck plating between the captain's chair and the back of the room, making it a separate area that didn't act as an extension of the Bridge. He thought it would be good for conversations like the one he currently intended to have with Malcolm. But he'd been far too busy with other things to ever bring the matter up, much less implement it, and Captain Archer didn't tend to keep a lot of conversations private. The Captain didn't like keeping secrets and was frequently so into transparency, it was almost surprising he hadn't insisted on invisible deck plating so everyone could see everything that was happening everywhere.
And so this area remained a wide open invitation for eavesdropping, so wide open that even the people who didn't want to drop any eaves had to work very hard to avoid doing so.
"Is there a problem, sir?" Malcolm asked quietly, just as if he didn't know why Trip had come up here.
A cute attempt at nonchalance, especially for Malcolm, but the way he clipped his words and more importantly the way he'd assumed a formal 'my superior told me to stand here' attitude said he knew Trip had come in angry, knew why, and was as prepared for this as Trip was. The more official jargon Malcolm used, and the stiffer he stood, the more likely he was to be stubborn about something.
Trip was about done with that part of Malcolm's behavior too. Hiding behind formality and protocol in order to avoid being pegged for the unruly bastard he really was, acting high and posh when he was really just another passive aggressive sneak who'd do anything it took to get his own way. Trip was sick to death of it.
"You know damn well there is," Trip snapped, "And you're the cause of it."
"Am I?" Malcolm inquired with feigned innocence so transparent that it made Trip want to strangle him here and now, on the Bridge, in front of witnesses, and damn the consequences.
"Oh can it, Malcolm! You know good an' well what I'm talkin' about."
"I know you want to take the cannons offline while our captain is away, making First Contact with an alien race we know little about," Malcolm replied, "Which, in my opinion, this is neither the time or the place. It's too dangerous. We know far too little about this area, and the Dolizet in particular."
"You wouldn't think it was the time or place to take the weapons offline if we were back in space dock," Trip snapped impatiently.
Rather than argue that point, probably because he knew he'd lose, Malcolm brought in another, "At least leave the unaffected cannons online. Only the forward phase cannons are involved. You've no reason to take the rest of them offline."
So Malcolm did want to fight.
Trip would have loved to take him up on that, and wipe that smug look off the British bastard's face. But he didn't have the time or an excuse good enough to satisfy Captain Archer right now. Malcolm would get what was coming to him for sure. But for now, Trip had to make do with something milder.
"You're relieved of duty and confined to your quarters," Trip growled, "Captain Archer can decide how to deal with your insubordination when he gets back. In the meantime… get off this Bridge."
Malcolm looked stunned, disbelieving, and almost wounded. But Trip didn't care. Malcolm had abused their friendship and been a thorn in Trip's side for long enough. It was time they both recognized that they were not on the same side anymore, even if they served under the same captain.
"Yes sir," Malcolm said finally, and walked away.
"What the hell do you mean Malcolm's not on the Bridge?" Jonathan demanded, "Where is he?"
"In his quarters, sir," Travis' voice replied over the communicator.
"What? Why?"
"He's been relieved of duty and confined to his quarters, Captain."
Ordinarily, this might have called for another 'why?' on Jonathan's part, but he had more pressing issues to consider, "Who's on the Bridge?"
"Me, sir," Travis replied with obvious reluctance.
Travis was definitely scared of being shot as the messenger, but at the same time he didn't want to go around pointing fingers and assigning blame, since it wasn't his place to do so. But any idiot could read between the lines. Trip was the only one up there with the authority to relieve Malcolm on anything other than medical grounds unless Malcolm had taken up something like mutiny or murder. In either of those cases, he'd've been sent to the Brig or Sick Bay, not his quarters. Which meant Trip had seen fit to relieve Malcolm of duty, and then simply abandoned the Bridge to the care of an ensign.
Jonathan supposed maybe Trip could be forgiven for that. After all, the First Contact with the Dolizet was going extraordinarily well. The Dolizet were some of the most calm and relaxed people Jonathan could remember meeting out here, hardly a threat to anyone. At the same time, that technical issue on board had been driving Trip crazy for a couple of weeks now, so of course he'd leave the Bridge to keep working on it after… whatever had prompted him to remove Malcolm. However, Jonathan did have to wonder just what Malcolm had done to warrant such extreme action from the chief engineer.
Somehow he didn't think Travis was going to willingly tell him. The ensign's tone of voice suggested that he was quietly siding with Malcolm on this one, but was at least smart enough not to go up against a superior officer about it. Not today at any rate.
It occurred to Jonathan that Travis had actually been hesitating a lot more lately, not carrying out his duties anywhere near as smoothly as Jonathan would have liked. He'd also been spending a lot of time with Malcolm, who had lately become something of a troublemaker.
"Sir," Travis said uneasily, "I think you should probably know that Commander Tucker has taken all of the phase cannons offline for repairs."
Ah yes. That would do it, wouldn't it? Malcolm would never allow Enterprise to be so extensively disarmed under the current circumstances unless Jonathan himself ordered it. Even then, it would undoubtedly be under heavy protest. Paranoid bastard.
"Thank you, Mr. Mayweather. I'll bear that in mind," Jonathan replied, "Captain Archer out."
He closed his communicator and walked back to where he'd left T'Pol.
"Trouble, Captain?" T'Pol asked impassively.
"Only with Malcolm," Jonathan said.
T'Pol raised an eyebrow, "You have spoken with him about his behavior?"
"Yes," Jonathan replied irritably, "But I guess it didn't take."
In truth, he was getting very tired of Malcolm coming up over and over again as the Enterprise's problem child. First it was questioning Jonathan's orders, then it was sewing unrest among the rank and file, and now he'd finally harassed the chief engineer beyond endurance.
"Perhaps more extensive measures are required to make your point," T'Pol suggested.
"And perhaps I should consider getting a new tactical officer," Jonathan shot back, only half joking.
Looking fully serious, T'Pol said levelly, "Perhaps you should."
"That seems just a little drastic," Jonathan told her.
"Is it?" T'Pol queried, "Lt. Reed has become disruptive to ship's operations, disrespectful to superior officers, not to mention attempting to spread discontent through the ranks."
Shaking his head, Jonathan started to turn away and head back to where Hoshi was still conversing with the Dolizet. T'Pol touched his arm urgently, so he turned back.
"If you allow this to continue, the situation will only worsen. Captain, Lt. Reed is no longer serving as your tactical officer, but as a malignant and profoundly negative influence on the ship's crew, in particular their morale and faith in you as their captain," she searched his eyes for comprehension of what she was saying, and apparently found it, "It is your responsibility to put a stop to it, before it gets out of hand and causes irreparable damage to the ship or its crew."
Jonathan sighed unhappily.
Malcolm had done a lot for Enterprise in the last year. Malcolm did a lot more than just operate the weapon's console. He'd provided invaluable feedback and tactical advice, much of which Jonathan had ignored at the time and then lived to regret. Malcolm and Trip had worked together for untold hours to not only work out bugs in the ship's systems, but to design, build and implement new weapons, protocols and upgrades as well. Not only was Malcolm himself an expert in weapons, demolitions and close combat, but he'd been passing on those skills to what members of the crew were willing to learn to whatever degree they were able to learn it. Lacking much in the way of security personnel, Malcolm had learned to improvise, to serve as a teacher in addition to a tactician.
It would be a shame to lose him.
But T'Pol had a point. All that was his past performance, and it had little bearing on what he was doing now. In Jonathan's mind, there was every indication that T'Pol was right, that Malcolm would only get worse and more overtly opposed to their mission here with each passing day.
Perhaps, for the sake of the mission, it was time to rethink Malcolm's place aboard Enterprise.
Reed would have been astonished to learn that he was considered such a threat to Enterprise.
In fact, he felt pretty distinctly as if he'd been maneuvered out of the way on purpose. Each set of phase cannons had their own relays and systems. Not only was this no time to be taking all the cannons offline, the simple fact of the matter was that doing so was unnecessary to accomplish Commander Tucker's stated repair project. Reed had of course pointed this out to Tucker, despite the fact that the man undoubtedly already knew it. At no time had Tucker forbidden him from making an argument, nor directly ordered him to deactivate the cannons, which was a two-part procedure involving the Bridge station and the Armory under ordinary circumstances (though both Reed and Tucker could override the protocols in a pinch from the Armory), but had instead gone straight from mere disagreement to pulling Reed off active duty on the grounds of insubordination.
There was little doubt but that Tucker had acted with the specific intention of getting rid of Reed, though there seemed little enough reason for it. He'd been doing everything he could to avoid making any waves or causing any problems, just doing his job and going along with the madness he was surrounded by because he frankly didn't see any other choice.
But apparently it wasn't enough to stay out of the way, play his role, do his job and follow orders just as he always had. Based on the way Tucker had behaved, the only thing that would be enough would be absolute unquestioning cooperation and even approval. These were things Reed couldn't offer.
With just him and Travis, he couldn't hope to actually fight back. And it wasn't in him to abandon the ship and crew, as well as his duty to protect them inasmuch as he was able. But he also couldn't be one of them anymore. They were becoming something he couldn't recognize, never mind emulate.
Reed's door chimed, but he didn't feel like getting up and answering it, so he didn't, though he did at least sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed in case his visitor was someone who warranted standing up and coming to attention for before saying, "Come in."
He was mildly surprised when the door slid aside and Phlox stepped into his quarters.
"What can I do for you, Doctor?" Reed asked somewhat guardedly.
"It's more what I can do for you," Phlox said, elaborating only after Reed offered him a baffled look, "It's almost time for your next anti allergen booster," he held up the hypo.
Reed had been coming in after the end of his shift every couple of days. It had always confounded him that your typical vaccine for diseases would last for a year or more, yet even the most long lasting allergy solutions could only be expected to partially work for a month at the outside. He found it equally confusing that many allergy medications not only had a much shorter efficacy lifespan; they also seemed almost as if they treated only a single type of allergic reaction… or even a reaction to a specific thing. That was, if they worked for the patient at all, which many did not appear to.
"I've increased the dosage," Phlox said as Reed submitted to the injection in the side of his neck, "With more spice coming on board, along with several samples of the mushroom it's refined from, you'll need all the preventative help you can get."
Some thought or realization pinged in the back of Reed's mind when Phlox mentioned mushrooms, but not enough for him to grasp hold of it and find out what it was.
"Mushrooms?" Reed repeated, "I didn't realize the spice was made from mushrooms." In fact, Reed couldn't offhand think of any spice that was made from mushrooms.
"Of course," Phlox said as though this should have been obvious all along, "And quite an exotic looking one too. You'd best steer clear of Storage Bay 2 for the foreseeable future."
"What's Storage Bay 2 got to do with anything?" Reed asked.
"That's where the mushrooms will be," Phlox replied matter-of-factly, "As I understand it, Commander Tucker intends to convert it into a laboratory for the study and refinement of the spice, and hopefully the eventual growth of the mushrooms themselves."
"That's moving rather quickly, isn't it? Do we even know the mushrooms can be grown on board a ship?" Reed knew he was treading on dangerous ground by asking such questions, but he had to.
"It's hardly any of your concern," Phlox said, and Reed could have sworn there was a trace of annoyance in the doctor's normally buoyantly pleased voice, "In fact, I recommend that you transfer off this ship within the next few months."
The doctor's bluntness on that remark hit like ice water to the face and Reed asked, "What? Why?"
"This," Phlox said, holding up the now-empty hypo, though it was clear he was referring to the medication that it had formerly held, "Most allergy medications you're familiar with are merely histamine blockers. Rather than prevent the reaction to the allergen, they prevent the released histamine from taking effect. However, as you know, this one functions somewhat differently."
Phlox said that as if Reed had understood a word of what the doctor had told him about it previously, beyond that it would be damaging to his health in the long run. It was something to do with JAKs, but since Reed wasn't sure what those were, he couldn't follow the technical specifics of why suppressing them was a problem. They were some part of the human body's immune system, though what their function was within that system Reed wasn't sure.
Then again, he'd never figured out what the actual function of histamine was supposed to be either. It seemed like it must have one, otherwise the human body wouldn't produce it so readily. But he'd only ever been told about what happened when the histamine response was triggered inappropriately. An allergic reaction, which could be anything from a moderate nuisance to fatal.
"Particularly given your family's medical history," Phlox was continuing, "You'll be needing to seek reassignment sooner rather than later."
"I don't follow," Reed admitted.
"So long as you are exposed to the spice, you will continue to need medication to suppress your immune response to it. Captain Archer intends to not only find a way to farm the mushrooms on board the ship, but also to refine them into spice. The refinement process will no doubt involve sending a great deal of the spice into the air, probably more than the air purification systems can fully keep in check, since they were never designed for this particular process."
Now the reality began to sink in. The medication was doing little enough to keep Reed on his feet already. With more of the allergen coming on board and increasing his exposure, Reed would not only have to keep taking the medication… Phlox would probably have to up the dosage. And they were no longer looking at a couple of weeks until the spice stores ran out. They were looking at the permanent state that Enterprise would be operating in.
Whatever it was that JAKs did, suppressing their activity indefinitely was not going to end well for Reed. That's what Phlox was telling him. He had to leave Enterprise... or else die here.