Hayes had never felt so helpless. The irritating little British bastard was dying in his arms and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it…
One hour earlier
As the meal concluded, and the attendees were filing out of the Great Hall in small groups, some of the old dignitaries were hovering around and bouncing questions off Meara as to what it was like to be such a fine Warrior amongst humans. Meara was exercising all her talents in diplomacy and patience to keep them engaged and entertained with exaggerated tales of heroism and valour on Earth through the ages. She could see the light in their dimmed eyes rekindle, as if recalling times past when they lived and breathed the Warrior Code. Kolos glanced up to see a familiar face heading in his direction. He frowned. She had no reason to be here unless there was a situation that required his immediate attention.
He took his leave from Archer and Chancellor M'Rek as she approached. "This cannot be good," he said frowning. "No, Advocate Kolos. It is not."
"WHAT IS THIS TREACHERY?!" M'Rek all but spat the words in Archer's face. Having adjourned to a private chamber at the request of Kolos, he, Archer and the Kolos were, it seemed, on the verge of being back to square minus one with respect to Human/Klingon relations. Archer was looking at the decrypted transmission that had been intercepted by a Klingon monitoring post, outlining in great detail the plan to penetrate the Klingon Empire and bring it to its knees using Meara Shaw as a living, breathing bioweapon. Archer was faced with a choice: Deny the charge as a ruse to disrupt any hope of an accord between their worlds and hope they never uncovered the lie or, admit the truth now, in the face of certain anger, possible incarceration and trial for him and Meara Shaw and put all his chips on rolling the Kolos dice.
"Before I answer these charges, will you hear me again, as you heard me before?" Archer asked. "So you can blind us with yet more treachery, Human?" M'Rek growled the last word as though it were an insult. "In my limited experience, Chancellor, all species are capable of treachery. None more so that those who may feel the might of the Klingon Empire too great a force with which to be reckoned." "A propensity for deception combined with a magnificent way with words, Captain Archer," interjected Kolos. "I think we should be more worried about Humanity than they about Klingons." Kolos had a way of calming M'Rek, noticed Archer. Thank the stars for at least one rational Klingon. The Chancellor and the Advocate sat as Archer stood before them. "Speak. We will listen. Whether we are convinced remains to the seen." Archer took a breath and rolled the dice. "It's true," he stated plainly.
Archer did not mince his words. He explained the events during the journey to Qo'nos, how they uncovered the virus and their subsequent discovery of the involvement of Terra Prime, a small but dangerously influential faction on Earth with designs on preventing the forging of any off-world relationships with other alien nations. Archer knew he was trusting them with a lot of information, but right now, the benefits seemed to outweigh the risks to him and Enterprise.
M'Rek and Kolos were silent as they absorbed the information. "We admire your candour, Captain Archer," M'Rek began. Archer could barely contain his sigh of relief. M'Rek stood. "The only reason we are every beginning to indulge your… story… is because we also understand all too well the treachery that lies within and how it can tear down everything, to which a group of visionaries devote their lives, in the blink of an eye." He paused. "Klingon intelligence has been keeping a very close eye on the Romulans of late. There appears to be increased activity along our borders though no encroachment." "Yet," concluded Kolos. M'Rek stood up and walked up to Archer. "If we may make a suggestion, Captain, Earth would do well to keep a close eye on the Romulans as well." Archer looked momentarily puzzled. "The encryption code used on the message. We have seen it before. On Romulan intercepted transmissions." Archer filed that information away for future consideration. Right now, he was relieved that although an impasse, the possible fallout was not as dire as it could have been. M'Rek held out his arm which Archer gripped in a show of tentative solidarity. "It would seem neither of us are ready to move forward with an Alliance." Kolos spoke as he moved to stand beside his Chancellor. "That said, today we have identified a potentially common enemy." Archer gripped Kolos forearm firmly. "And on my world, we have a saying, Advocate. The enemy of my enemy, is my friend." Kolos couldn't help but chuckle. "Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, Captain…"
Reed, Hayes, Meara and the three MACOs were awaiting Archer in the outer entrance to the Hall. Their weapons retrieved, all looked considerably more at ease. Hayes leaned over to Malcolm, his eyes on the group of Klingons awaiting to escort the Chancellor and the Council from the Great Hall. "I think you've made a new friend." Reed gave him a sly look. "Jealous?" Hayes wasn't going to be outdone. "Maybe a little," he replied. "He's got much better arms than I have." Meara was watching their exchange with amusement. 'Today would have been a good day to die, if the last thing I'd seen was a smiling Malcolm Reed,' she thought.
Having taken their leave, the crew boarded the transport to return to Enterprise. As they took their seats, Meara was looking at Archer and the mixed expressions warring on his features. "Did your meeting with the Chancellor go well, Captain?" she asked. "As well as can be expected under the circumstances, Ensign," came the response. "Let's wait until we're safely on board our own stomping ground and I'll fill you all in." "Of course, Sir." He looked her up and down. "How are you feeling, Ensign?" "Quite weakened if I'm honest, Captain. Nothing a little shore leave in the company of your fine crew won't cure." He smiled and nodded. "On that we can agree."
Malcolm was watching them intently. "You alright, Lieutenant?" "I'll be fine, Major, once we're back on Enterprise. We are still in Klingon space, you know." "True, but—" The next 30 seconds were the longest of Matthew Hayes' life.
The three MACOs had no time to react when, with a cry, a Klingon surged from the back of the transport, eyes intently on his prize - the female who had humiliated his House with her display in combat. The ever alert tactical officer was the first one to react, lunging at his side and hurdling his body crashing against the side of the transport. Just as Hayes was firing his phaser weapon at his attacker, he heard a twisted cry from Reed. And saw the blade's hilt jutting out from the side of his falling body.
Meara's was the first to recover her senses. Instinctively, the MACOs had already their weapons trained on the transport pilots and their 3 escorts. "KEEP GOING!" she shouted at the pilot and co-pilot who grudgingly sat back down at the controls. Meara turned her attention to Malcolm. Hayes had turned him on his side to try and slow the bleeding. "Leave the knife where it is," ordered Meara, "we don't know what the internal damage is." Archer was by Malcolm's head, words of encouragement flowing from him, keeping him strong. Meara was finding it difficult to control her ebbing rage. But as she looked at Malcolm instead of the Klingons, she found she could channel it in the right direction. "Contact Enterprise," she ordered the co-pilot, "tell them the situation and have them meet us as soon as they can inside Klingon space." She looked to Archer. "I hope you agree, Sir, it's worth the risk." Archer didn't need to consider it, nodding once in the affirmative.
Malcolm Reed wasn't fairing very well. "I don't think I ever told you, Hayes," Malcolm rasped, "you are one hell of a soldier." "Don't speak, Malcolm. Save your breath." Reed coughed, a little blood makes its way to the corner of his mouth. His glazed expression the one of a man slipping into the oblivion of death.
Hayes had never felt so helpless. The irritating little British bastard was dying in his arms and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it…
But Meara wasn't giving up on her friend. Even if she had to die trying to save him.
Malcolm Reed was dying. He knew he was dying. He'd walked that path near death several times in his life, though never before had he known the experience to be so calm and complete in its clarity.
He's floating, in a vast empty space, except its water, dark, whole, tranquil. He fills his lungs but he's not afraid. He feels strangely at peace.
"Do it Phlox." "Ensign," he said patiently, "the chances of this working are marginal at best." "Good enough for me," she replied tersely, exposing her neck to give Phlox easy access to the carotenoid vein, pulsing strongly. "Transfusion with my blood is the only thing that will save him." "But it may kill you, Ensign," came the reply of the ever-moral ship's physician. She looked pleadingly at him. "We have to try."
As he continues to breathe in the water, he watches in the silence as his body comes apart cell by cell, merging perfectly with their surroundings. It's beautiful. Perfection.
"IT'S NOT YOUR TIME!", Meara screamed at the prone body of her friend. "It's not your t…." Trailing off as Phlox punched the hypospray - twice - into her neck.
Warmth pulses through him, out from him, around him. And suddenly Meara was there with him. He hears her voice, smooth as silk and light as air, inside his head. "Don't you die on me, Malcolm…"
Malcolm felt a surge of energy permeate every atom of his body that could have rivalled the energy fusion reaction in a warp core.
"Come back, Malcolm. Enterprise needs you. Your Captain needs you. I— I— need you." It wasn't Meara's voice. Muffled but strong and firm. He kicked forward, felt a hand wrap around his, and broke the surface.