"Sir?"

Malcolm blinked his eyes open and stared up into the face of Travis Mayweather. He groaned slightly as the crick in his neck protested the movement. He had fallen asleep on the floor, leaning against the bars. The young ensign gave him a pale shadow of his usual grin.

"The Captain said I could bring you this," Travis continued as he slipped a book through the bars.

Mayweather had brought the latest book Malcolm was reading. It was a copy of Kafka's "The Metamorphosis". Malcolm nearly broke down into hysterical laughter. He could certainly sympathize with the changed and bizarre reality that swirled around Gregor Samsa. Truth be told, the loathing he was feeling emanating from his friends and co-workers made him feel something like a cockroach.

"Thank you Mr. Mayweather," Malcolm replied as he took the slim volume. He eyed the other man closely. "So, does everyone on the ship think I did it?"

Travis shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He then crouched down to where he would be eye-level with Malcolm who had remained seated on the floor. He stared at the older man with his large, kind eyes, his smile gone.

"Sir," he began. "You know Captain Archer wouldn't be doing this unless he was absolutely certain."

And that was it. No matter how many times he combed through the evidence, Malcolm knew the Captain must have done the same thing. Jonathan Archer would have gone the extra length just to be certain he had reached the right conclusion: that one of his crew was guilty of murder. He would have gone beyond what was fair until confronted with no other possibility, Malcolm's guilt.

Malcolm sighed. He leaned against the bars and stared at one of the cell's walls.

"How could this have happened, Travis?" Malcolm asked quietly. "How could I have done something like that?"

Mayweather shrugged. "You did like Hoshi, right?"

"Of course I did. She's sweet and kind." Malcolm smiled at a memory. "Tenacious as hell and really rather charming when she blushes."

"Was," Mayweather said crisply.

Malcolm glanced sharply at Travis who simply returned the stare.

"Was," Malcolm amended. Images of Hoshi flashed through his mind. She was so vibrant and alive in his memories, that he could not imagine her dead. And at his own hands no less.

"You're meeting the Vulcan ship tomorrow," Travis continued. "What are you going to do?"

Malcolm laughed bitterly. "I think there's damn precious little I can do, Travis." He paused to take a deep breath. "I never imagined it would end like this, in a court martial."

"Starfleet doesn't have capital punishment."

"It would be better if they did," Malcolm replied darkly. "Spending the rest of my life in some prison, knowing that everyone, my family, my friends believing I killed Hoshi. I'd rather just end it all."

"Are you serious?" Travis asked in a startled tone.

Malcolm turned to look into the young man's face. Was he serious? Deadly. He once told Trip that everyone he cared about was on the Enterprise and it was true. But now, all those people, the people whose opinion mattered the most, they all believed he was a cold-hearted killer. His family would abandon him just as his friends have. What was left for him?

"Yes," Malcolm replied. "If I had the choice, I would end my life."

Travis hesitated. "If-, if you're serious, maybe I can say something to the Captain."

Malcolm looked at Mayweather in surprise. "What, tell him to let me commit suicide? I hardly believe he would allow that."

Mayweather stood up abruptly. "Just give me a chance to talk to him." He smiled more broadly at Malcolm than when he had first walked in. "You saved me back on that asteroid. I think I owe you a favor." He turned and walked out of the brig.