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§ 2 §

"A displacement field would have hit Captain Archer as well," T'Pol reasoned from Archer's chair in his ready room. "It would have cast him to the ground like Lieutenant Reed. But instruments did register a burst of energy of some sort."

Trip pursed his lips. He was standing in front of the desk, too up-tight to sit down. "Malcolm seemed pretty disoriented. We can't be sure that…" Taking his eyes off the Vulcan, he refocused on the deck-plating, hands going to his hips. "Nah, if he says it was a displacement field, we've got to believe him."

"I agree."

"I think it's time we went down to that planet again," Trip said firmly. Shifting his gaze back to T'Pol, he studied her closely for any signs of dissent, but of course no hint of emotion crossed her face. A worrisome doubt had been snaking its way into Trip's mind. "We're gettin' nowhere with sensor readings," he went on, voicing it. "How can we be sure that the Capt'n isn't actually there, injured, unconscious? Maybe it's just that we can't pick up his biosigns."

"It's an illogical assumption, Commander: despite the planet's atmosphere, we could read both the Captain's and the Lieutenant's biosigns fairly clearly, before the incident. And even afterwards the Lieutenant's were still there; indeed we had no problems transporting him out."

"Well, I say we go down and make sure, take a look around," Trip insisted, beginning to fear that their SIC's rational approach would get in the way of a proper rescue. Vulcans were always so fond of doing things from on board, of using ship's instruments rather than their senses. No wonder – he thought with an inward smirk – they tried their best to forget about their senses.

"An emotional response to the situation, while being typical of your species, might result in endangering more lives."

That she shouldn't have said. Especially not with that snotty Vulcan air. Trip felt his facial muscles clench. "You and your logic are the ones who might endanger a life, the Capt'n's life," he retorted in cold fury.

"Commander," T'Pol said, with a composed lift of her eyebrows. "I suggest–"

The comm. link cut her off, and for a moment they seemed frozen in time. Then T'Pol reached over the desk to open the channel.

"Go ahead."

"Subcommander," Hoshi's wary voice came back, "Admiral Blake demands to see the Captain."

The choice of verb was not lost on either of them. Trip silently cursed. That's all they needed. He had almost forgotten about the Admiral.

"Where is he, Ensign?"

"Right here on the Bridge, Ma'am."

Trip watched T'Pol's mouth twitch ever so slightly. "Tell him that he may come in," she said.

Hardly had she cut the communication off than the door swished open and an imposing figure stepped in.

T'Pol stood. "Admiral," she greeted.

"Subcommander, where is the Captain?" the tall, strong-featured man asked, with just a hint of surprise. His tone was polite but firm, the tone of someone who was used to giving orders. "I was hoping he would keep me informed: this unexpected detour has already delayed us enough."

He finally cast a glance in Trip's direction, and exchanged a nod with him.

"There has been an unforeseen development, Admiral," T'Pol said, latching her hands behind her back. "Captain Archer went down to the planet to investigate that signal and has…" She lifted her eyebrows, hesitating for a fraction of a second before concluding, "Disappeared."

A beat of silence later, the Admiral's very dark eyes, eyes which Trip could swear could never waver, narrowed. "How?" he enquired bluntly.

"According to Lieutenant Reed, our Security Officer who was on the planet with the Captain, there was a displacement field."

"And your Security Officer hasn't… disappeared?"

There was just enough innuendo in the words to make Trip's blood boil.

"Lieutenant Reed is in sickbay with a severe concussion, Admiral," he said, striving to keep a proper tone. "I can assure you he would have taken all the proper precautions to keep the Captain safe. The displacement field was sudden and unforeseeable, and hit them both with great force. The Captain, apparently, was closer, and since then our instruments haven't been able to pick up his biosigns."

The dark eyes bore into him, probably to gauge how much hostility hid behind his plainly-spoken words. Another, longer silence ensued. The Admiral passed a hand through his greying hair; then went to the porthole and looked down at the reddish planet below.

"Have you at least determined if the signal is indeed a distress call?" he enquired.

This was treacherous ground, for the nature of the signal they had picked up would make a subtle difference; if answering a distress call, in fact, was a duty that took precedence over other missions – no matter how urgent – investigating another type of signal was another matter altogether. Trip shot T'Pol a glance, but either she didn't see the warning in it, or didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Not yet, but at this point it seems unlikely," she candidly revealed, making Trip curse inwardly again.

Blake made an abrupt turn-about. "Then this detour might have been unnecessary. You do realise what that means, Subcommander."

For once Trip blessed the Vulcan's self-confidence and logical approach, as T'Pol replied, "Whether or not it was unnecessary still remains to be verified." To his relief, she went on to add, "As does, now, what has befallen Captain Archer."

The Admiral's only reaction to her firm words was a clenching of the jaw. Trip felt at a veritable disadvantage, being in the same room with not one but two impassive individuals. His own innards were in knots and he had little doubt that the effort he was putting into keeping his feelings under control showed in everything he did.

"A crew's loyalty to their Captain is a commendable sentiment," Blake commented. "I must remind you, however, that the Enterprise has been ordered to take Ambassador V'Sir and me to our destination without delay. You have twenty-four hours to try and find out what that signal is all about, and what happened to Captain Archer. Then we shall break orbit."

"Admiral," Trip burst out, his legs taking him a step closer to the man. "Twenty-four hours aren't much time. We're facin' two difficult problems here. Surely you must see that."

Blake calmly turned his head to him. "Starfleet never promised you an easy life, Commander. Deep space exploration involves taking risks and making difficult decisions. I believe you were well aware of that, when you decided to wear that uniform. I also believe you swore to obey your superior officers' orders." Turning back to T'Pol, he repeated, "Twenty-four hours, Subcommander." With that he left.

"T'Pol, you can't allow that!" Trip burst out as soon as the doors had swished closed.

"What course of action would you suggest, Commander?" the Vulcan asked. "I will not endorse a mutiny."

Trip bit his lip. She had a point, unfortunately. "At least let me transport down to the planet with a team," Trip urged. "We can't afford to use only the ship's damned sensors now."

T'Pol looked at him for a long moment. "Granted," she finally said, adding, as Trip was already crossing the threshold, "Do exercise caution, Commander. I do not wish to lose any more crew."

All he could see was a pair of eyes. Eyes he would recognise out of a million. They were fixing him unwaveringly. Narrow green eyes fixing him not unlike that day when he had stepped into a San Francisco Starfleet office, for the job interview that had changed his life. That time he had felt them penetrate his famous impenetrable exterior, seek out his well-protected core. They were doing this again, reaching into him. Or were they reaching out to him?

Malcolm's own eyes flew open and he gasped. He could feel his heart throb at the base of his neck.

"Easy, Lieutenant."

More than Phlox's soothing voice, it was his hands on his shoulders, anchoring him to the present, which did the trick. Malcolm relaxed into the pillow but fought the desire to close his eyes again, lest the image came back to haunt him. It was still too fresh in his mind.

"Sorry, bad dream," he muttered.

"Yes," the Doctor absent-mindedly replied. All his attention was on the monitor at the head of the bed, and on its readings. "Any headache?" he enquired once he was done, seeking Malcolm's gaze.

"No," Malcolm lied, shifting his away. He didn't want to be sedated. It was only a mild one, anyway; he was feeling better. He ought to be out of sickbay and helping out, whatever their current situation was. Phlox's silence forced him to look back. The Doctor had a 'who-do-you-think-you're-fooling' expression on his face.

"Very well, then," Phlox said, though, unperturbedly. "You do realise that – headache or not – you're staying right here, do you not, Mister Reed?"

Malcolm bit his lip. His pride would not allow him to admit to his lie, so he went on to enquire, "Any news of the Captain?"

"He's still missing." In a tranquil tone, Phlox added, "But I don't know the details. No doubt Commander Tucker will inform us of any significant progress."

Or lack thereof, Malcolm more pessimistically added in the secret of his battered mind. That soundless explosion, down on the planet, whatever its nature, had been quite powerful, and the Captain had taken the brunt of it. Damned the stubborn man – he cursed inwardly. He had warned him against going too close to that thing!

He realised he was wincing when it was too late.

"Lying to your Doctor, Lieutenant, is not a very wise thing to do," Phlox mildly scolded, producing a hypospray and putting it to Malcolm's neck. With a hiss, its contents were released into his bloodstream.

Almost instantly the band around Malcolm's head loosened. "Right," Malcolm mumbled self-consciously.

Despite his wish to return to duty, he felt drained and tired. His eyelids were heavy again. "How long have I slept?" he asked, partly to divert attention from the blush creeping up his neck.

"A couple of hours. And with what I just gave you, you ought to put at least another couple under your belt, so to speak," Phlox replied in open satisfaction.

And so it was that Malcolm inexorably slipped under once more. So long as he had better dreams than before…

TBC

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