Captain Archer seldom paid visits to the Armory, and Reed took his presence now as a bad sign. He took Archer immediately starting in talking about how the repurposing of the Cargo Bay as a mushroom farm was coming, and how much space all of the stations for the ongoing research, care and eventual refinement of the mushrooms into a powdered form would take as an even worse sign. But by far the most unfavorable sign came when Archer began to talk about parasites and other potential diseases that might wipe out the crops of mushrooms, and how he'd received recommendations that a secondary location on Enterprise also be converted for farming purposes.
He didn't need anyone to draw him a diagram explaining why Archer was down here in the Armory, talking to his tactical officer about the matter. In a way, it was almost a relief. It was no secret that Archer had never thought very highly of nor placed great import on the ship's weapons systems. Not when he'd pushed Enterprise for such an early launch that all her weapons hadn't even been installed yet which, regardless of the excuse, could be judged as nothing less than reckless.
Reed and Archer had been at odds over security and safety protocols since even before Enterprise had launched, a fight which had never been fair as the Chief Engineer was aligned with the Captain on the matter. A huge portion of Reed's work week was coming up with some variation or compromise on such protocols that Archer could be persuaded to think about, never mind accept, them. Nine times out of ten, Archer would dismiss a new protocol out of hand for one reason or another, and send Reed all the way back to the drawing board. Never was that more the case than when they discussed battle systems. Archer had made it perfectly obvious that he resented the need for weapons in the first place, though after a few months out in space he'd begun to admit that they were necessary, if only grudgingly and with the expressed hope each time they used those weapons that it would be the last.
It was nearly reassuring for Reed to finally find himself at odds with his captain for a comfortably familiar reason. Of course, he knew how it would inevitably have to end. Archer was the Captain at the beginning and end of every argument, and it meant things would be done his way. That was how chain of command worked. Reed might protest, but once Archer gave the word about something, regardless of how Reed felt about it, that word was Law, immutable and inarguable.
Even before Archer reached his declaration of intent, Reed was several steps ahead. He hoped there was enough left of his captain to be persuaded to abandon this course of destruction, but he wasn't counting on it. Nor was he counting on any member of the crew to back him up. Instead, even as he prepared to defend the Armory in the full awareness that it was already lost, he let a part of his mind latch onto and begin to ponder what Archer had mentioned about parasites.
Perhaps Reed was all wrong. Maybe it wasn't the spice, but a contaminant that had been in some of it. Certainly he'd heard of parasites that laid their eggs on some plant or animal. The larva either ate that when they hatched out or were consumed by whatever ate the plant or animal they'd been laid on and then lived as parasites within those animals until they were ready to birth a new generation. Countless parasites did this, or some variation of it. He was pretty sure animals like that had formed the basis for several of Tucker's horror movies. He'd even read about a few such parasites tangentially in the last couple of weeks, but it had never crossed his mind that the Dolizet mushrooms might have parasites (though in retrospect it would have been more surprising if they didn't).
Maybe he'd lose the Armory, but he had a new lead to follow. A thin one, but he was no longer at a dead end, and that's what counted. Any slightest possibility that there was a way out of this was enough to be worth the effort of trying. He had no intention of quitting until they forced him off the ship altogether, which he knew was coming, both by the attitude the crew had taken towards him, and the fact that he was working on a medical deadline. And that was assuming the crew didn't just up and die in the meantime or something, which he judged as an unpleasant but real possibility as well.
"Trip and T'Pol agree that this is the best place for our second mycology lab," Archer finally said, after laying out the full nature of the problem while Reed pretended to listen, "It's got enough space, is near to other science labs, and isn't essential to ship's operations."
Reed bristled at the mere suggestion.
Though it went against habit and nature, everything in Reed made him want to scream that that was a blatant untruth, and the Captain knew it as well as anyone. He wanted to storm and rage like a dog guarding a bone. But that was the instinct of the cornered animal. The Armory was the last piece of normalcy, the last bit of control, the only thing he had any charge over the running of anymore. And, at the same time, it was Enterprise's one defense against the many hostile species they had encountered, and might encounter in the future. To dismantle the Armory was to sentence the ship and crew to cold death at the hands of an unmerciful universe.
Even though Reed had known the threat was coming since Archer began talking, he still felt a sense of shocked disbelief that Archer could even suggest it. But he knew that letting that reaction out wouldn't get him anywhere, and he fought to stifle it, and to respond passively and sensibly, taking an approach that Archer might hopefully understand.
"Surely you're not serious," Reed protested in as level as tone as he could manage, meeting Archer's gaze forthrightly, "You know just as well as I do how many engagements the Enterprise has fought since she was launched, you were there for as many of them as I was; you have exactly the same knowledge about how well we fared and what would have happened if we'd lost those engagements as I do. You know we need the weapons we have. If anything, we need more than what we have."
Archer prowled closer, frowning in disapproval, "I don't think you understand the scope of what we're trying to accomplish here."
"And what is that, exactly?" Reed asked, "Because-" he caught himself before he said 'with all due respect' and continued, "-I didn't sign on with Star Fleet to farm mushrooms. And I certainly didn't join this crew to watch it dismantle itself, beginning with our only method of defense."
For a moment, Archer tensed and Reed had the unaccountable sense that the man intended to strike him. Reed braced himself, while his mind raced about how he would have to respond to that. But then the moment passed, Archer took a breath, and seemed to change his mind.
"You know what? You're right. You've been so busy with the Armory you haven't really had the opportunity to learn what we're doing, or meet the Dolizet," Archer said, backing off, "So how about this, while we refit the Armory, you go with a landing party to check in with the Dolizet and help look for one of the wild strains of the mushrooms we've been trying to find the last couple of weeks. And then, when you come back, maybe we can have this conversation again. How does that sound?"
It sounded bloody awful. But he was pretty sure Archer didn't actually want his opinion.
"Captain," Reed said somewhat warily, "I'm not certain that now is the best time for me to be leaving-"
Archer interrupted harshly, "Most of the crew would seem to disagree with you on that point."
That wasn't really a surprise, though the only person to have said he should leave the ship to his face was Phlox. Phlox was also the only one on board with any reason to want Reed off the ship that wasn't a personal one, so hearing that other people had expressed similar sentiments to Archer hurt, more than Reed would have liked to admit.
"And you, sir?" Reed asked quietly, "What do you think?"
Captain Archer or not, this was the man who cast the deciding vote on Reed's future with Enterprise. And since Reed seemed to be the only one interested in saving Enterprise, he was also her best hope of salvation. But only if Archer (or whatever it was that was looking at Reed now from behind his captain's eyes) didn't see fit to get rid of him.
"I think you were the right man for the job once," Archer replied, "But now… I don't know. Maybe it was the minefield… the repair station… but I guess it doesn't really matter. You've changed, Malcolm. And not for the better," he shook his head, "I'm not sure Enterprise is the best fit for you anymore."
"With respect, sir, I am not the one who's changed."
Archer's temper flared immediately at that, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The fact that you can even ask that is proof I cannot possibly explain it to you," Reed said.
"I don't know what that means."
Reed sighed heavily, "I know, sir."
Evidently at a loss for how to continue this conversation, Archer turned and headed for the lift, but tossed over his shoulder, "Shuttlepod One leaves in an hour. Be on it."
Sighing again, even more heavily, Reed said, "Yes sir."
What did Malcolm think he was talking about, saying he wasn't the one who'd changed?
Jonathan could go to any member of the crew and get more or less complete agreement out of them about Enterprise's mission and the importance thereof. Even Trip was contented enough to be setting up the mycology lab while leaving the ship's engine temporarily in the hands of Malcolm's team. Wasn't that proof enough of how important they all felt this mission was?
Malcolm was the odd man out, the only nonbeliever and malcontent among them. Malcontent. Malcolm. For a moment, Jonathan let himself be amused and distracted by the similarity between the word and Malcolm's name and how fitting it was that it should be so, given how dissatisfied Malcolm had perpetually been with Jonathan's running of the ship even right from the start. Not to mention how poorly he'd been getting on with the rest of the crew.
But Jonathan shoved those thoughts aside as he left the turbo lift.
It really wasn't anything to laugh about. In fact, Malcolm's sour attitude was more than just annoying. It was dangerous. And it seemed like he was only getting worse. The conversation in the Armory was just one of several examples of Malcolm's obstinance, contrariness and evasiveness. It all contributed to an atmosphere of tension and distrust among the crew. And Jonathan couldn't afford to keep tolerating it. Something had to give.
Whether he understood it or not, this was Malcolm's last chance to start turning his behavior around. Jonathan was sick of making excuses for him. If Malcolm couldn't pull his act together in the next couple of days, Jonathan was done.
Finding Trip working on one of the EPS relays, Jonathan said, "Malcolm's your problem for the next few days. You two have a good rapport, try and sort him out."
Trip didn't react for a moment, finishing what he was doing before looking up and saying, "What? Oh come on, Cap'n! You can't saddle me with Malcolm, I've got enough work to do as it is."
"Consider it a priority," Jonathan said, "You either get Malcolm to fall in line, or convince him that there are plenty of great career opportunities anywhere but on Enterprise."
"Aw… you can't be serious."
"Funny, Malcolm just said the same thing to me," Jonathan said, "And I was serious then too."
Trip sighed as if he were the most put upon man in the universe. But he finally nodded.
"Alright. Okay. Who else am I taking with me?" Trip asked.
"I thought Travis could use a little time off the ship," Jonathan replied, "He's been dying to see how the mushrooms get made into spice."
"Yeah, alright," Trip nodded a bit more agreeably, "Travis should be fine."
"Well I'm glad you agree, because I wasn't giving you a choice," Jonathan replied.
"If me, Travis and Malcolm are all gone, who's gonna be in charge of converting the Armory?"
Trip had lately grown as obsessively protective of any changes to the ship that might affect the production and processing of mushrooms as he had once been over his engine room.
"Who knows? Maybe we'll draw straws," Jonathan joked. When Trip looked alarmed, Jonathan gave the younger man's shoulder a slap and said, "I'm sure we can manage without you for a few days."
"Easy for you to say," Trip grumbled.
"I'm only giving this to you because you won't be on board the ship when it's time for your next dose," Phlox told Reed, holding up the hypospray, but not offering it to him yet, "I want to be very clear on this so there's no mistake: you are not to take this ahead of schedule, or in any dosage above the one prescribed. Now, to administer the medication-"
"I know how a hypospray works, Doctor," Reed interrupted.
Phlox looked momentarily miffed at the interruption, then his expression cleared and he held out the hypospray, saying, "Yes, I suppose you would."
Reed wasn't sure what that meant. Reed had been trained in first aid and emergency field medicine. It was an education primarily in using the tools and registering symptoms in sick or injured patients, and what to do for them if help wasn't quickly available. But those weren't lessons he'd learned in Star Fleet academy. They were from classes his father had signed him up for as preparation for becoming a Naval officer. He had wanted his son to have an advantage over other applicants, and also felt that there were things the Royal Navy didn't teach (or had stopped teaching) that were important to know. Of course, Reed had never joined the Navy. Reed's education had been somewhat furthered after he became an ensign, but he couldn't see why Phlox would know anything about that any more than he would know what classes Reed's father had forced him to take during his formative years.
He decided to just take the hypo Phlox was offering and not ask any questions. There were probably some things he was better off not knowing.