To Lose Oneself

Summary: An incident with a Nausicaan crew leaves Reed to question his decisions.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters. This is all written for non-commercial enjoyment.

A/N: This story is for Volley. I think her 'Friend In Need' stories have been rubbing off on me. : ) And thanks for letting me borrow Ensign Müller!

Many wonderful thanks to my beta Kathy Rose!

Also, please forgive me for any technical inconsistencies with the weapons used in this story.

Lt. Malcolm Reed was pacing his quarters with resolute strides. Four steps to the door, turn, four steps to the desk, turn. He hardly seemed aware of his movements, as his eyes stared without seeing at the floor. One arm was gripping his side tightly as if to warm his body from a cold only he could feel. His right hand had moved to his face, rubbing the dark short stubble that he had not thought to shave.

As a tactician, he was unable to stop the flow of thoughts that made him relive the day's events. Strangely, it did not start at a critical point in time, but many hours before that…

888

"I don't understand why the captain finds it necessary to bring them on board." Malcolm kept his voice low as he spread a generous amount of peanut butter on his pancakes. Breakfast was in full swing on Enterprise, with the mess hall filled to capacity.

Hoshi Sato took a sip from her tea before replying. "I think he's just being a good host. Commander Tucker did say their main power systems were 'on the fritz', and their climate control was acting erratically as a result. He estimated he needed half a day before the repairs were complete."

"The only Nausicaans we've come across before were pirates or wayward prisoners. Not really a complimentary record," Malcolm responded before taking a bite.

"I agree with the lieutenant," Travis piped up. "They're not exactly a peaceful species." He flavoured his eggs with salt and pepper, and then leaned forward to say in a conspiring tone, "Or very pretty." This elicited a giggle from Hoshi and a snort from Malcolm.

After their merriment died down, Malcolm's face became serious again. "Still, I want a security detail following them every second while they're on this ship." He cut another portion from his pancake. He looked the others in the eye as he said, "I don't want any incidents. Not during my watch."

888

The door chimed, and Malcolm absently registered that it was probably not the first time that it had done so. A muffled sound came through the closed door. "Malcolm, it's me, Trip." A pause, then, "Can I come in?"

Malcolm reached for the panel, and the door to his quarters opened with a hiss, revealing Tucker who had been about to push the chime again. In his other hand, he was balancing a covered tray. Malcolm's stomach rumbled as he picked up the spicy smell of chicken curry. He had not gone to the mess hall for dinner, acutely aware of what had taken place there this afternoon, and not ready to face the dubious looks and hushed conversations his appearance would provoke. Of course, his friends would not let him wallow in self-pity. He felt a stab of anguish. He was not worthy of their friendship. He turned away from Trip.

As if Trip had heard the thoughts going through his mind, he said, "Hoshi mentioned you missed dinner tonight. She was worried about you." He placed the tray on Malcolm's empty desk.

Of course she would, the kind soul that she is, thought Malcolm. It saddened him that Hoshi had witnessed his offence. Then a low growl escaped his throat as he realized that half of the ship's crew, including the captain, had witnessed it too.

Trip continued, his voice sounding concerned. "Hey, you have me worried."

Silence stretched between them, save only for the rhythmic beating of his boots hitting the deck plating. It had an almost hypnotizing effect on him.

He was standing unobtrusively in a corner, observing the Nausicaans at the buffet table, and the crewmembers that were interacting with them. Sergeant Kemper was standing at attention near the door. A loud laugh from the Nausicaan captain, who was talking with Captain Archer and Hoshi made him shift his attention for a moment…

"Malcolm? Can you stop the pacing for a minute?"

Malcolm lifted his head in surprise to look at Trip. He had forgotten the man was standing only a few feet from him. Suddenly, he felt very tired. He let himself drop wearily on the bed.

Trip's voice sounded almost anxious. "Malcolm, talk to me! What happened?"

"Did you know that there were six Nausicaans on that transport? And only four of them came on board Enterprise?"

Trip narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, their engineer and a guard, I think, stayed on the ship to oversee the repairs," he said carefully as he pulled out the chair from the desk and settled himself into it. "They were a bit rough around the edges, but grateful anyhow." He blew out a huff of frustration. "I didn't know something had happened while I was gone, not even when T'Pol ordered me and Eddie to return to Enterprise."

Malcolm leaned back against the wall, bringing up one knee. "I don't think even T'Pol was fully aware of the situation." His voice was quiet and pensive as he recounted the events of that afternoon.

888

Something had been niggling in the back of his mind all morning in the armoury. Not sure what was bothering him, but unable to put it to rest, Malcolm had finally gone to the bridge. When he had asked the captain for a moment in private, Archer had grudgingly given him permission for the security measures, as long as the MACOs kept a low profile.

"We don't want to provoke them," the captain had said pointedly.

Malcolm had had to agree. They both knew how volatile Nausicaans could be. But he had silently fumed when Archer had instructed the MACOs to only carry their EM-33 pistols, and no phase rifles. Heeding the feeling of unease he was experiencing, Malcolm had argued his case in spite of Archer's wishes. He had tried keeping his tone of voice deferential, even though he felt otherwise. "Captain, are these Nausicaans to be trusted? Who's to say that they aren't marauders?"

"I don't think their ship is big enough to hide stolen cargo, or armed well enough to threaten a boomer." A patient smile had appeared on Archer's face. "Malcolm, I appreciate your caution, but this is a simple case of helping out our neighbours." He had clapped Reed on the shoulder, dismissing him.

After Malcolm had failed to instill the captain with a sense of wariness, he had asked Ensign Bernhard Müller, his second-in-command who was on bridge duty, to run a full sensor-sweep of the Nausicaan transport, making sure that no enhanced shielding or hidden weapons had been added to the standard light armour of the vessel. No such enhancements were found, but there were scorch marks on the sides and aft of the spacecraft. This had prompted Malcolm to instruct his SIC to keep a close eye on the sensors for any ships nearby. The tall ensign had read his commanding officer's expression of concern, and had complied with a nod.

Malcolm chose Sergeant Kemper and Coporal Romero to accompany the group, not only for their markmanship, but also their skills in hand-to-hand combat. Malcolm handed them their EM-33s, checked his own phase pistol, then led them to join Archer and Sato at the airlock.

TBC

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