§ 12 §

"As I said, Admiral, it was a surprise attack. We never expected the Ferendellians to come and get what they wanted right on board."

Archer heard the defensive tone of his words and winced inwardly. He didn't like to find excuses, but it was the plain truth. He knew Malcolm had done all he could to prevent what had happened. But even he was only human after all.

Gardner looked thoroughly unhappy. The admiral still had no clue as to who the Starfleet traitor was, and now he had this other problem on his hands.

"I still have to receive that first report, Jon," he said irritably. "I trust Lieutenant Reed has filed his by now?"

Archer tried not to let his feelings through. "Yes, Sir. I apologise, but with the attack and all that followed it's been an… eventful couple of days." He winced. He was starting to sound like T'Pol. He squared his shoulders, knowing he could not delay writing the fateful report much longer. "I'll get down to it, I promise."

"You do that." Gardner gave him a last long and meaningful look and a nod, and cut the transmission off.

Hoshi reached out and put a hand on Malcolm's arm. "Shifting it around on the plate isn't going to make your food more appetising, you know?"

The reply she got was a grunt. She narrowed her eyes, putting on the most Klingon-like expression of her repertoire; she was getting tired of having a monolith sitting at her table. "Would you mind finding a more eloquent reply, Malcolm? After all, I'm a linguist."

That got her some attention. Malcolm's eyes shot up from his plate, startled. Then a soft blush crept up his cheeks. "Sorry… I apologise… I…"

He looked away, flustered, and Hoshi was brought back to three years before, when she had tried to find out what mysterious Lieutenant Reed's favourite food was and got them into a thoroughly embarrassing situation. She couldn't deny, though, that she found a floundering Malcolm so much more endearing than the unfaltering Armoury Officer he was most of the times. Her face softened into a smile.

"Apology accepted, provided you tell me what's bothering you."

Malcolm shot back a glance before averting his eyes again, fixing them to a spot on the deckplating. "It ought to be obvious," he muttered.

Hoshi huffed. "You can't be serious, Malcolm. It was a surprise attack. There was nothing more you could have done. And you weren't even officially on duty when it happened," she said, funnelling as much conviction as she could into her words.

Malcolm smirked unhappily. "There is something else bothering me, actually. It's something to do with our mission on the planet. But I don't know what it is. I just can't put my finger on it. I've been trying so hard. It's there, in the back of my mind, and it's so bloody annoying not to be able to bring it to the forefront…"

Tentatively reaching out to touch his arm again, Hoshi waited till the grey eyes turned to her. "Don't torture yourself," she said softly. "You both came back alive."

"Thank God for that," Malcolm breathed out.

Hoshi's mouth twitched. "I know T'Pol is beautiful," she commented, letting humour gleam in her eyes, "Didn't know she was divine, though."

Malcolm frowned. "What?"

"If I'm not wrong it was she who read that little footnote about the Ferendellians' alleged blindness in poor light." She shook her head. "Small print that made all the difference," she commented thoughtfully. "You've got to thank her, as much as God, if you came back alive."

"Small print…" Malcolm repeated absently. Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Hoshi, you're brilliant!" he said, shooting up from his chair. "A bloody genius!"

"What have I said?" Hoshi enquired. But Malcolm squeezed her shoulder lightly and took off, shouting over his shoulder, "I'll tell you later…"

Malcolm stopped in front of Archer's quarters. It was early evening; the Captain wouldn't be asleep yet. He straightened his shoulders and raised a hand to the chime, pressing.

"Come," a tired voice called.

Taking a deep breath, Malcolm opened the door and went in.

"Malcolm," Archer said in ill-disguised surprise.

Archer was out of uniform, but looked far from relaxed. There were dark circles under his eyes and the water polo ball was on his bed, probably still warm from having bounced off the wall.

"Captain. I hope I am not disturbing."

"No… of course not."

Malcolm bit his lip. "Could I have a word with you?"

"Of course," Archer repeated. "Come in."

He tried to sound welcoming, but there was exhaustion in his voice.

"What can I do for you?"

"Sir, if I may ask…" Malcolm's eyes shifted briefly away. "Have you sent your report on our away mission to Starfleet Command yet?"

There was a puzzled pause. "I'm just about to do it," Archer eventually replied with a glance towards a padd. lying on his desk. He narrowed his eyes. "If you are here to try and convince me again that I shouldn't take responsibility for what happened, you might as well turn on your heels, Lieutenant," he added firmly.

Malcolm felt a knot in his gut tighten. But he had come here with a purpose and would not leave without having said what he had to say.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

Archer's brow creased, but he nodded.

Malcolm steadied himself. "Captain," he said, forcing himself to relax his rigid posture and use a less official tone of voice, "That man, the one who robbed Trip, was telepathic. He sensed Trip's troubles, and took advantage of them."

"How do you know that?"

"I went to re-read the small print in the file on Troxia, in the Vulcan database," Malcolm said, lowering his eyes self-consciously.

"Go on," Archer said quietly.

"There was a small foot-note that referred to another section of the database. I had meant to look that up too, but something in the Armoury required my immediate personal attention; and later there was no time."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Malcolm darted a quick glance at his Captain. Archer was looking at him, obviously waiting for him to continue.

"It appears a few Troxians have retained the gift of telepathy and hypnosis," he went on, "Something which all of them once had but, for some unexplained reason, most individuals have lost over the centuries. By law every child at a certain age is checked, and those with the gift are marked with a black dot in the middle of their forehead." Malcolm raised his eyebrows emphatically. "Apparently some of these special people like to use their gift for illicit businesses."

"And that man had the dot?" Archer enquired.

Malcolm sighed. "He did indeed; although I only saw it when I gave the bloke a good shake and his funny hat went flying off his head." With a mirthless huff he added darkly, "At the time it didn't mean anything to me; or I would have probably strangled the man."

Archer turned and took a few steps to the porthole. He stood there looking out thoughtfully. "This doesn't change things, Malcolm," he said eventually. "I still sent a troubled man on a difficult mission."

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but this changes everything," Malcolm countered firmly. "You didn't know about these telepathic Troxians, Captain; and I believe Commander Tucker would have carried out his mission just fine if it hadn't been for that man. I was there. I saw how he played with the Commander's mind. All Trip can be charged with, really, was to get lost in his thoughts when he took that walk before dawn; and I wouldn't dismiss the fact that his distraction might have been a consequence of that character's fiddling with his brain. And Trip would have been back in time, in any case, if it hadn't been for that stranger."

Malcolm impulsively took a step towards Archer, and Archer turned to face him. "Captain, if anyone is responsible for anything that person is me. I didn't look that information up. I'm prepared to face any disciplinary measure you may see fit."

Archer narrowed his eyes. "You said it yourself, Malcolm: there was no time, you had to get down to the planet. I'm not going to punish you for having no time to read a small foot-note."

Malcolm took another step towards Archer. "Sir, Trip may have his demons, but that doesn't mean he is psychologically unsound and unfit for duty; and I doubt he would want to see you suffer for what happened on that planet," he said with feeling. "Bloody hell," he added, for once not caring if his Captain heard him curse, "After the Expanse don't we all have some demons to fight?"

TBC