Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Warnings: I know I put warnings at the beginning, but this chapter needs more. Nothing too gory or explicit, but there's some pretty dark stuff - mentions of rape/sexual abuse/physical abuse/human trafficking. If that will be a problem for you, please don't read any further.

The Orion guards stripped their prisoners of clothes and possessions with ruthless efficiency. The green-skinned humanoids seemed utterly bored, and when Reed made a halfway effort to retain at least his underclothes he was thrown to the floor unceremoniously. One guard put a foot on his throat, just firm enough to make him struggle for breath, while the other cut off the clothing. The dull side of the blade slid sickeningly across his bare skin, leaving a trail of cold behind. The Orions cuffed his feet together with a short, heavy chain.

Reed was passed through hands that held whips and disruptor pistols. One Orion in a dark-hued coat forced his mouth open and slid a gloved finger around his teeth. Reed would have bitten him except that a guard stood by, casually holding a disruptor pistol against the small finger of Reed's left hand. The threat was clear. The technician gave a pleased nod and Reed was shuffled along to the next station, where the largest Orion he'd seen yet pinned him easily against a wall while another technician stuck a needle in his head, just beneath his ear. There was no point in resisting, although Reed found the thick needle a barbarically old-fashioned instrument. He understood the purpose within minutes, however; the Orions' unintelligible language became steadily more familiar until eventually Reed could understand as if it were English. Apparently he'd been injected with a subdermal translator.

He was at length herded into a modified cargo bay by the hulking guards, where he found himself among at least two dozen others similarly stripped to their skin. These were mostly of species that Reed had never seen, though he recognised an Andorian and two Denobulans. One of these was a female child about seven years old, naked like all the others. Reed turned his eyes away, torn between outrage at their captors and horror at the child's predicament. What would become of the child? At least she wasn't alone.

He looked for S'Trep, but the Romulan was nowhere to be seen. Reed wondered if he would ever see the medic again. He attempted conversation with one or two of the other prisoners, hoping to get an idea of where he was in space. He knew they understood his words, assuming they too had received subdermal translators, but none of them replied. Reed soon discovered why when a sharp sting cracked across the back of his legs. He turned to see an Orion guard holding up a whip, menacingly preparing to strike him again.

"No talking," the guard growled. Reed felt that, under the circumstances, there was little point in disobeying. He could do no good by getting his skin stripped off.

There was simply no way out.

Tucker stared at the board in front of him, determined to come up with some brilliant solution that had been inexplicably eluding him for the past ten minutes.

"When did you get so good at chess?" Sato asked Covan, who sat across from the increasingly-frustrated engineer.

"Starfleet Academy. I suppose I just picked it up."

"Just picked it up," Tucker muttered sullenly under his breath. Unlike the Andorian lieutenant, he had spent long hours perfecting his chess skills under the tutelage of T'Pol for the express purpose of defeating a nearly-unbeatable opponent. Unfortunately, it now seemed that the aforementioned skills were far less than perfect after all. However, Tucker excused himself, he was out of the habit. His usual practice partner was mysteriously absent.

Bad-temperedly, he flicked his black king over onto its face. Covan raised his eyebrows.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

Tucker resisted the urge to glare, and kept the sarcasm out of his voice with difficulty. "I guess I'm just not a match for you."

"It is still possible to force a draw," Covan informed him. "Would you like me to show you how?"

"No thanks. I think I've had enough chess fer the day."

"An excellent game, Commander." Covan rose and extended a hand, beaming. "You are a worthy opponent."

"Thanks," Tucker said grudgingly, shaking the tactical officer's hand. The Andorian offered Sato a graceful dip of the head before departing the mostly-empty mess hall. When he had gone, Tucker busied himself setting up the pieces again to avoid Sato's glare.

"What is wrong with you, Trip?"

"Nothin's wrong with me."

"He knows you don't like him."

Tucker shook his head in annoyance more than denial. He'd made almost every effort to be civil to the Andorian in the past few weeks, setting aside his initial misgivings in the interest of professionalism. He thought he'd been restraining himself quite well, on the whole. He'd even accepted Covan's offer of a game of chess, which, it now seemed, had been merely an excuse on the part of the Andorian to embarrass him.

"This is getting ridiculous," Sato said irritably. "He's on a ship full of aliens. It's hard enough for him to feel welcome without you at his throat all the time."

"I am not at his throat!"

"You know what I mean, Trip. This isn't easy for him either. Covan's not an idiot, he knows no one wanted him here."

"The poor man," Tucker said acidly. "He seems to be enjoyin' himself jes' fine. Forgive me if I'm not bendin' over backwards to make him feel welcome."

"No, you're not, and you're not the only one. You're a senior officer. The crew looks up to you, and they're not blind. A lot of them are taking their cue from you."

Tucker winced involuntarily at Sato's words. That hurt. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed the tension between the new tactical officer and many of the crewmen, especially those in engineering. It hadn't occurred to him that he might be the cause – or if it had, he'd opted not to dwell on it and chalked up the discontent to the Andorian's charming personality. Now, he realised that there was more than a little truth in Sato's words.

"I'm tryin', Hoshi, alright?"

"You need to try harder." The communications officer was unusually severe. "It's affecting good order and discipline."

"Goddammit, Hoshi. Don't do that."

"Why?" Sato leaned forward, forcing Tucker to meet her eyes. "Because it's something Malcolm would have said? Maybe it's something you need to hear. In case you haven't noticed, Malcolm is dead."

"Is that what yer tellin' yerself?" Tucker asked nastily. He knew he was crossing a line. "Is that why yer so buddy-buddy with Covan? I guess yer tryin' to replace Malcolm too."

He did not even see Sato's stinging slap coming. Tucker stared at her in disbelief.

"I could put yew on report fer that."

Sato's face was pink with anger. "You can try, sir."

Across the mess hall, Tucker saw two astonished crewmen whispering to each other. He lowered his voice.

"Get ahold of yerself, Ensign."

"I don't think I'm the one who needs to do that," Sato spat back at him. "Do you think I don't miss Malcolm every single day? Do you think there's anything I wouldn't do to have him back? I would give anything, Trip. But that's not a reason to flip off Covan every chance I get. He's doing his best and it's not his fault that he's not Malcolm. You've got to get it together, for the sake of the crew if not for Covan. Malcolm is gone, and he's not coming back."

"That's a lie," Tucker snarled in her face. His hands shook against the edge of the table. "He's not gone."

Sato stared at him with a mixture of anger and pity. If only you knew, Tucker thought furiously. The Captain's order prevented him speaking further. He had already said too much.

"Let me know when you're thinking clearly," Sato said. "We can talk then."

The lights came on with a snap and the day's motion began. In his few days aboard the slave ship, Reed had quickly learned what was expected of prisoners. The lights signalled the first of two meals in each day, judged by the ship's time. Any prisoner who did not get up for food was examined by a guard to discover the reason. If it were illness, the prisoner was quickly removed to prevent the spread of disease. Reed did not know where these were taken. He did not like to guess. Any other reason for refusing food resulted in the prisoner being force-fed the foulest scraps the guards could find. After the first day, Reed ate without protest.

There were at all times during the day at least two guards in the cargo bay. The Orions paid little attention to the prisoners, as long as they did not congregate, speak, or move around too much. These rules were enforced with whips. Few of the prisoners needed more than a single lash to get the message clearly.

This day was different. From the corner of the bay, a guard unrolled the hose used for drinking water and sprayed down the prisoners one at a time as two other guards herded the motley collection into a line. Afterwards, still dripping and shivering from the cold spray, the prisoners were given rough, shapeless brown garments. Reed and most of the others were loaded into a smaller cargo transport ship, where the air quickly grew warm and stale in the overcrowded hold. Reed understood where the transport was taking them when he saw the planet below through one of the tiny portholes: this must be the slave market.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, Commander?"

Tucker stood rigidly at attention in the Captain's ready room, enduring the storm of Archer's wrath in stoic silence. It was not unexpected, although he did wonder how the story had come to the Captain's attention. Perhaps one of the crewmen who had witnessed the argument in the mess hall had reported it. Maybe Sato herself had done so. Tucker scolded himself for having such a low opinion of her. Angry as she might be at him, he doubted she would intentionally try to incriminate him.

"A physical altercation with a junior officer? Have you lost your mind?"

"That's an exaggeration, sir," Tucker hazarded. "It was not a physical altercation."

"Perhaps you'd care to describe it to me, then."

Tucker wasn't about to tell a story that might drag Sato into the line of fire. He said nothing.

"I didn't think so," Archer said grimly. He sighed heavily. "I know you're not happy with being cooped up on the ship for so long. But I would never have expected this kind of blatant misbehaviour from you, of all people."

"It has nothing to do with being on the ship for so long," Trip gritted out at him. He wanted to vent his anger on Archer, but he restrained himself.

Archer leaned back against the desk. "I see." He gave Tucker a would-you-care-to-elaborate look. The engineer did not care to elaborate.

"You're angry with me," Archer observed. Tucker didn't see a reason to deny it. "Is it about Malcolm?" The engineer's continued silence answered the question clearly. "Still? We've been over this," Archer said aggravatedly. "There's nothing I can do. We don't have any way to locate him, and it was his choice to leave."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Archer rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "I don't have time to argue with you, Commander. I suggest you get yourself figured out, and do it soon. I'm taking you off duty for the rest of the day. I expect you to be prepared to act like an officer by the start of your next shift. I don't want to put you on report. Don't make me do it."

Reed sat with his back to the bars at one end of the cage, watching the movement of buyers and sellers around the open market square. He had resigned himself to the fact that there was no way to get his back satisfactorily up against something in a barred cage which stood nowhere near a wall, and as a result he was unable to relax even for a moment. Diagonally across the cage, the two Denobulans sat clumped into another corner. The male, a young adult by Reed's best guess, remained likewise alert. The girl-child slept tucked close to his side. Reed wondered if she was ill. She seemed to have been asleep most of the time in the Orion ship, too. Perhaps all Denobulan children slept a lot.

The older Denobulan certainly would not have dared to sleep regardless. He watched Reed almost ceaselessly, seeming to view the fellow prisoner as a greater threat than either Orion guards or slave buyers. Reed considered trying to reassure the man, but thought better of it. Better by far for the Denobulan to focus his fears where they need not be than for him to consider what was actually likely to become of his young companion – his daughter, Reed presumed. He suspected that the child would not go untouched for long, if the lingering glances of some of the more perverted slave traders were anything to go by. The thought filled him with reckless anger. Let them try, he thought grimly. He knew there was little he could do to prevent the child being separated from her father and sold, but he indulged himself with the temporary fantasy that he could protect her. He found himself watching the child sleep, shivering slightly in the thin clothing that did nothing to protect her from the chill, until he noticed her father glaring at him. He was careful to keep his gaze away from the Denobulans after that.

As the hours wore on, the busy trading in the market began to die down. Reed guessed that night was beginning to fall. Perhaps at night the market was closed. Rationally, he knew that escape was not even an option, but the situation seemed much more hopeful without dozens of guards and slave traders milling indiscriminately around. At least the Denobulan girl and her father would have a few more hours together.

The market did not empty as Reed had hoped, although the clientele changed. The newcomers were the lowlifes of the city, looking not for a purchase but a loan. The Orion traders were not scrupulous about what services they were paid for. Reed turned away from the sights in horror, but he could not block out the screams. The Denobulan girl woke at the sounds. Her father pressed her head into his chest and covered her ears, bending low over her to hide her as much as possible from the notice of both the guards and the customers.

Humanoids of species both familiar and unknown to Reed wandered by, most barely glancing into his cage. He was just beginning to hope that the child might go overlooked when an Orion guard approached the cage and began to unlock the door. Reed looked around to see the customer, but it appeared that the Orion was pursuing his own carnal pleasures. The Denobulan man scrambled toward the back of the cage, pulling his daughter with him. His fear of Reed had been overpowered by the more pressing danger.

Reed sat with his eyes slitted closed, feeling very calm, as the Orion stepped into the cage, ducking his head to fit inside. The Denobulan pushed his smaller companion back into the corner and interposed his body between her and the approaching menace. Reed rose to his feet and stepped directly in front of the Orion guard.

"Stop."

The guard did not even bother telling him to move. He reached out a hand to shove the human aside, but Reed moved first.

The Orion was taller than him by far, and Reed couldn't get a good angle at his face. Instead, he struck lower – much lower. It was a blow designed not only to drive the guard away for the moment, but also to dissuade him entirely from returning. He struck the guard in the groin with all the strength he had and was momentarily rewarded when the Orion doubled over with an agonized groan. Reed doubted the Orion would be interested in the Denobulan girl or any other female for some time to come.

Reed's satisfaction did not last. The Orion straightened long enough to seize him by the arm, quicker than Reed thought possible, and hurled him against the back of the cage. Reed's head struck the metal bars and he collapsed to the concrete floor, dazed, the wind knocked out of him. The guard backed out of the cage and locked it, swearing profusely amid the raucous laughter of his colleagues and the customers in the market.

Reed blinked the swirling haze of blackness out of his vision as he struggled for breath. When his sight cleared, the Denobulan was kneeling over him.

"Are you alright?"

Reed nodded, lacking the breath to answer aloud. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, relieved to see that the attention was already turning away from himself and the injured Orion and back to the grisly business at hand. The Denobulan backed away and returned to the girl, who pressed up against him with her face hidden once again.

"I am Fenzin," the Denobulan said. "This is Ayaila. I thank you for what you have done."

"I'm Malcolm."

Fenzin bowed his head. "Thank you, Malcolm."

"Is your daughter okay?" Reed asked. The girl was cowering against Fenzin with her face buried in his stomach. Her body trembled.

"She's not my daughter," the Denobulan explained. "She is my brother's first wife's daughter by her second husband."

Reed did not try to sort through this complicated tangle of family structure, and mentally assigned the word "niece" as the closest approximation to the relationship Fenzin had described. "Is she hurt?"

Fenzin patted the child's head gently. "No. She's afraid, but she will be fine."

Reed thought this an extremely optimistic view of the situation. In driving off the Orion, he had most likely only postponed the inevitable. The Denobulan girl might be uninjured for the moment, but that would only last until she was separated from Fenzin and sold. Possibly it would not even last that long.

"How did you come to be here?" Reed asked.

"I was taking Ayaila to visit her mother's family on Thespa," the Denobulan explained. Reed did not recognise the name of the planet. "I'm afraid the auto-navigation system on my shuttle must have malfunctioned. I plotted a course outside of Orion space, but I confess I was not particularly diligent about checking our course. I have made the journey before and thought the way was safe."

Reed watched the man with muted incredulity. Either Fenzin was a bit slow and did not understand the nature of the Orions' business, or he was incredibly naïve. Even frightened and caged in the middle of a slave market currently operating as a brothel, with nothing but his own frail body to place between his niece and the myriad of dangers threatening her, his attitude seemed to hold a gentle sort of optimism, as if he regretted his carelessness but was sure that, in the end, all would be well. Reed was under no such illusions.

"What of you?" Fenzin asked him. He had settled himself in the corner near Reed and placed his hands once more over Ayaila's ears. She seemed marginally calmer.

"I'm not sure," Reed admitted warily. He expected to be questioned, but Fenzin only nodded as if there was nothing strange about not knowing how one had come to be captured by slave traders.

"I am sorry I could not help you against the Orion," the Denobulan said. "I fear I do not have much understanding of fighting. I am not a violent man."

Reed could have laughed from sheer incomprehension. He could not grasp how anyone could fail to fight for their family, regardless of how inexperienced they were, should the need arise. Instead of laughing he shrugged and said nothing. His ribs and the back of his head where he had impacted the bars of the cage were beginning to throb quite badly as the adrenaline wore off, and he was not sorry to discontinue the unproductive conversation. He did not exactly dislike the Denobulan, but there was something unappealing about the man's naïve stupidity. Reed wondered how Ayaila had survived even as long as she had in the Orions' hands with Fenzin as her only guardian.

He turned away from the Denobulans and rested his forehead against the cool bar in the corner of the cage. The activity in the market had begun to die down slightly, as the earlier customers grew sated and began to file out. Many of the female prisoners lay on the flat concrete, sobbing. Others, more worryingly, were silent. Reed wondered if they were dead. He could smell blood in the air. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of it all, but that took away none of his other senses and did not dull his urge to scream curses at the Orion captors and tear their eyes out with his bare hands. Blinding himself to his surroundings was of no use, so Reed allowed his gaze to drift across the market until it was drawn to a particular captive.

On the floor of a cage some ten metres away lay one of these unfortunate prisoners, a middle-aged female of a species Reed could not instantly identify. Only after some scrutiny did he determine that she was the same species as S'Trep. Her brow ridge was not pronounced, which made her less easily recognisable as a Romulan.

As Reed watched, her eyes blinked open and she shifted, as if sensing his gaze upon her, until her stare met his. Her eyes were dark and almond-shaped, and something about their colour and shape seemed to Reed vaguely reminiscent of someone he had known somewhere, sometime. The Romulan woman did not cry. Her clothing was stained with blood, but she gave no outward signs of pain. Only her eyes, staring back at him, were haunted.

Reed found he could not meet her unblinking gaze without feeling responsible for what had been done to her; but since he had done nothing to stop the assault on her – there was nothing he could have done, caged as he was, but that very helplessness condemned him to a kind of guilt – he did not avert his eyes. The least apology he could give was not to turn away. They stared at each other across the metres of emptiness until she closed her eyes and turned her head aside.

Reed gritted his teeth in helpless rage. The resignation he'd succumbed to in the last few hours died, replaced by anger. What did it matter if he lived or died here? Why should he fear the Orions? There were worse fates than death that the Orions could deal out and he had just seen that fate be executed upon others. He could not save them all, Reed knew, but perhaps he could save one.

I will not let them hurt you, he swore silently. He did not know if he spoke to Ayaila or to the Romulan woman lying motionless in her cage.

Sato opened the door after the second knock. She was still in uniform from her shift, and looked surprised and wary upon seeing Tucker.

"I'm not here t' argue," he said quickly, forestalling her reservations. "Cap'n would probably throw me in th' brig. He chewed me out proper."

"Do you want me to feel sorry for you?"

She was still angry. That was hardly surprising. Tucker sighed unhappily.

"No, Hoshi, I don't. Matter of fact I'm here t' say sorry t' yew."

Sato didn't quite seem to believe him. Tucker resigned himself to throwing himself thoroughly on his own sword, and quite possibly grovelling a bit after that. It was certainly deserved. "I was way outta line, Hoshi. Yew were right, I haven't been fair to Covan."

Sato's hard expression softened slightly, but she offered no outlet of escape and waited in silence for him to continue.

"Malcolm is gone," Tucker admitted humbly. "An' I shouldn't have –"

Quite unexpectedly, he found himself too choked up to continue. It felt like giving up hope to say the words aloud. Malcolm might be out there somewhere, waiting for a rescue that would never come. He might be some place that he could finally let down the façade of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Starfleet Officer. He might be dead. Tucker would never know. Malcolm was gone, just as if he were dead; but without the closure.

"Come on." Sato stepped aside to let him into her quarters. She spoke gently. "Get in here."

"I'm sorry," Tucker said thickly, following her inside. Sato closed the door behind them.

"I know." She took his hand. "So am I. I wasn't fair to you. I know you miss him, and you were right too. Covan cheers me up, and I guess I do feel guilty about that. Sometimes it does feel like I'm replacing Malcolm. But Covan will never be Malcolm. Okay? I haven't forgotten about him, and I won't. But I don't think he'd want me to mope around. Well, maybe a little bit," she added, on reflection.

"Maybe a little bit," Tucker agreed with a shaky smile. "You know he would."

"But not forever," Sato said, meeting Tucker's eyes earnestly. "That's no way to live, Trip."

"I know."

"Hey. Come here." Sato tugged him closer by the hand and released it to put her arms around him. She felt small and warm against him. Tucker closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her shoulder. She was short enough that he had to lower his head to do so.

"'M sorry, Hosh."

"It's okay."

"'M just tired of this. You know?"

"Yeah. I know."

"It wasn't s'pposed t' be this way."

"No." Hoshi stroked a hand over the back of his head. "It wasn't. It really wasn't."

The tears came freely. Tucker had no immediate desire to stop them.

"Sorry."

"Stop. It's okay, Trip."

It wasn't, and it might never be. Tucker was desperately tired of watching the people he cared about disappearing before his eyes. First it had been his sister along with seven million others in the Xindi attack; then it had been the second Elizabeth, the daughter he'd never known. He'd watched Archer, his former best friend, slowly fade into little more than an aggressive and vindictive commander. Now Malcolm was gone too. Who was next? Hoshi, maybe? He didn't think he could stand to lose anyone else.

The auctions started early.

Scraps of dirty bread and a single bowl of water were distributed to each of the cages. Now that the sale of their prisoners was imminent, the Orions seemed to have lost all interest in preventing disease from shared water. Reed allowed himself a sparing sip of the liquid, but refused to eat anything. Fenzin ate only after Ayaila had filled her stomach enough to refuse any more of the grimy bread. Reed's estimation of the Denobulan man increased very slightly.

The Romulan woman in the nearby cage was sitting upright. She must have been in great pain, but she did not show it. She drank thirstily and even ate a bit, never once glancing Reed's way.

Shortly after the food distribution, an Orion guard limped over to the cage shared by Reed and the Denobulans. Reed recognised him by the limp and the glare as the same guard who had unsuccessfully tried to approach Ayaila the previous day. Full of his newfound recklessness, Reed stood boldly in front of the door of the cage, prepared for another confrontation. The guard opened the cage door just wide enough to get one arm in and seized Reed's wrist firmly. Reed allowed himself to be dragged out of the cage, waiting for any opportunity. He was afforded none. As soon as he was out of the enclosed space, the guard pulled a short rod from his belt and shoved it into Reed's stomach.

Reed had been electrocuted only once before, and that had been a fairly mild accident. This was neither an accident, nor mild. His entire body stiffened as the shock spasmed his muscles, and when he opened his eyes a few seconds or possibly minutes later he was lying on the floor. The Orion knelt beside him and casually pressed a thin piece of metal against his neck, just below his ear. Reed cringed in discomfort as he felt wires from the underside of the metal piece sinking into his skin. It attached itself to him like a parasite.

"Don't try anything unless you want more of that," the guard warned.

An electric implant, as if he were a dog. Reed struggled to walk when the guard hauled him to his feet and pulled him toward one of the platforms scattered around the room. At every movement, his muscles threatened to cramp again. The guard deposited him on the ground behind the platform, where an auctioneer was already beginning to warm up the crowd by lauding the quality of his stock.

An old Andorian man was the first to be sold, followed by an Orion female. Reed was somewhat startled by this, but on reflection it did not surprise him. The Orions did not seem particular about what they sold.

The limping guard appeared as soon as the third prisoner had been bargained off and half-led, half-dragged Reed up onto the wooden platform. It was rough beneath his bare feet and he felt a splinter or two snare in his skin before he managed to get his footing and keep up with the guard.

"A human!" the auctioneer was saying. "A fine specimen. Young male, in perfect health!"

Reed stood still, looking out at the crowd of alien faces staring appraisingly up at him. He felt like a zoo animal. The guard made him turn in a circle, walk back and forth across the platform, and remove his loose-fitting, ragged shirt. When the bidding started he stood motionless again. The market seemed to have faded into distant echoes. He did not even hear the winning bid – did not know what the final decision of his monetary value was. Some distance away, the two Denobulans were huddled together again in the back of the cage. Just beyond them the Romulan woman stood close to the bars of her cage. She was watching Reed with intent, expressionless interest. The vague recognition prompted by her dark, almond-shaped eyes returned. Before Reed could try to search out the cause for this recognition, he was seized roughly by the Orion guard and driven off the platform to be replaced by the next item of sale.

His buyer was a rough-looking humanoid of indeterminate species with a nose that was flattened either by nature or some violent confrontation. The guard seemed to know him, and addressed him as "Entek." Reed could not determine if that was the customer's name or his species.

The man carried a powerful disruptor pistol of a configuration that was new to Reed. Once he had handed over the agreed-upon sum, the Orion gave him the control for the electric implant. The buyer tested it at a low setting that was still enough to make Reed gasp and flinch violently at the shock. He immediately loathed Entek.

It was a good thing he didn't plan to remain long in the alien's company.

A/N: Because I am an evil and vindictive person, that's why.