A/N: I know I sound like a broken record, because I keep saying it, but I really do appreciate the reviews. Thank you, all of you, who take the time to do that. Now, on with the story.

CHAPTER 32

The steak was good. Archer was going to finish it, even though his hunger was sated by the time he'd eaten half of it. The mood Sato was in, he wouldn't put it past her to have Mayweather and Reed hold him down while she force-fed him the rest of it. He almost wished she'd try; she'd find out who was in charge then -- as if she didn't know. She was only acting this way because she thought he wouldn't do anything about it.

On that score, he reluctantly admitted, she was probably right. Despite sleeping most of the day, his eyelids felt increasingly heavy. He didn't want to expend any unnecessary energy arguing with her. He rarely was sick, and the few times he'd been injured, he'd hated the recuperation period. The time he spent lounging around waiting to heal felt wasted.

Still, he had to admit that she had taken good care of him, so he'd let her have her moment of self-righteous indignation. That didn't stop him, however, from slipping a few pieces of steak to Dart, who had his snout strategically positioned at the edge of his bed near the tray.

As he ate, he analyzed his reaction. Really, he ought to be angry with her. He probably would be, he realized, if he hadn't been so astounded at her outburst. In addition, since he had been seriously wounded and therefore was under the effects of antibiotic and painkiller, he definitely wasn't up to par.

Reed and Mayweather had seemed as amazed as he was by her attitude. Mayweather's eyes were still wide as he watched over everything, but it was hard to tell if the man was shocked or amused; the combat troops were conditioned to give little outward reaction to anything. And Reed, who was a law unto himself and whom he would have expected to have done something to put her in her place, had instead watched the whole proceedings with that irritating smirk of his. He had enjoyed seeing Sato tell him off.

As for Sato, she was calmly eating the soup and the gelatin that was to have been his meal. Not once did she look at him. He was still working on his steak when she finished.

"If you don't need anything, I'm going to get some sleep," she said, getting to her feet. She glanced meaningfully at his plate, then at him.

He stared at her in his most intimidating fashion, narrowing his eyes and scowling. She didn't flinch. In fact, she didn't do anything, other than to roll her eyes before she turned and walked away.

As she went into her cabin and closed the door, he found himself thinking that maybe he'd been wrong about her. Maybe she did have what it took to be a real captain's woman. As he fed a few more pieces of steak to Dart, he told himself that was for the future. Right now he had much more important matters upon which to concentrate.

"With your permission, sir?" Mayweather said from his post near the door.

Archer looked over at him and nodded, and the bodyguard left. He was a little puzzled why Mayweather had been here; he was supposed to be off duty when Sato was in their quarters. He sighed around a bite of baked potato as he thought. There was a lot going on that he didn't understand since he'd woken up after being injured.

For instance, why was Reed here? Since the man was still loitering, he might as well get some work done. "Have we received any directives from command about what is planned for the Andorians?" he asked.

"No, sir," Reed said with a curt shake of his head. He thought a moment, then qualified his answer with, "At least, not that I'm aware of."

"What do you mean by that?" Archer asked.

"Commander Tucker has become rather secretive since you've been injured," he answered. "More so since the attempt on your life has become common knowledge."

That could be more of Tucker just being Tucker, Archer thought, or it could be something else entirely. "Any luck finding out who had Phlox try to poison me?"

A look of chagrin passed over Reed's face. "No, sir. As much as I'd like to, I can't go around picking random crew members for interrogation sessions in the booth. It's not good for morale."

"Ah, the fine line between discipline and grounds for mutiny," Archer murmured.

"Exactly, sir." Reed paused. "Right now, while I'm waiting for Phlox to come out of hibernation, all I can do is wait and see if there is another attempt on your life. Then, hopfeully, we can catch the person in the act."

"Hopefully?" Archer raised an eyebrow. Not what he would have liked to hear, but Reed had a point. Unless the perpetrator made a move against him, and if Phlox couldn't be convinced to talk, they might never know who it was. He suddenly realized why Reed was here with him, and why Mayweather had been here earlier when he didn't need to be. "You and Mayweather, and her to some extent--" He jerked his head toward the door between the cabins. "--are taking turns guarding me, aren't you, hoping whoever it is tries again, aren't you?"

Reed merely smirked.

Archer carefully pushed himself up straighter in the bed. Soreness radiated out from the wound, making him wince, and reminding him of how he had been wounded. "I should have said something to Mayweather before he left. I need to give him a commendation for getting me off Shran's ship."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it, sir," Reed said, "but I doubt he will accept it unless the other person who was responsible for saving your life is also commended. You know how the combat troops are. 'All for one, and one for all,' or some such nonsense."

Archer looked sharply at Reed. His comments were matter-of-fact, not sarcastic or cynical. His features were carefully bland; he wasn't talking about himself. "Who else was responsible?"

Reed looked to the door connecting the two cabins. "She was, sir."

No way, Archer thought. His meek little translator? At his urging, Reed gave a succinct account of what Mayweather had told him had happened after the explosion on Shran's ship, including Sato's emergency treatment of his injuries. When Reed reached the part where Sato provided covering fire not only for Mayweather carrying him to the airlock, but for the other members of his escort and the two pinned-down soldiers as well, Archer held up his hand.

"You're telling me she single-handedly is responsible for all members of the boarding party stuck on Shran's ship getting back on Enterprise safely?" he asked incredulously.

"Pretty much, sir." At Archer's dubious look, Reed added, "I saw most of what happened in the crossfire area. She handled herself very well. She's no slouch with a phase pistol. Handled it like a pro." He paused. "But then, apparently she learned all that from an expert."

Archer stared at his tactical officer, who looked inordinately pleased with himself. "Your counterpart in her universe," he said as comprehension dawned.

Reed nodded. "My estimation of humans in her universe went up considerably when she told me that."

Archer stared at the man a moment longer, started to laugh, then stopped with a groan as the area around his wound complained at the movement caused by his laughter.

Whew! Hoshi thought as she shut the door behind her. She would have been willing to bet that Archer would have bitten her head off for reading him the riot act. To tell the truth, she'd been rather surprised herself by her outburst over his rudeness toward Cunningham, but the poor steward had only been doing his job. Cunningham was one of the few people who could be trusted with the captain's life. Didn't Archer realize that?

It was one of the few times she'd seen Archer speechless. Maybe she should have stood up to him when she first got here. Well, when she got her memory back, she amended. But ever since then, she'd been trying to figure out this universe, not to mention wanting to get out of this universe. So much was like her Enterprise that it was disconcerting in the extreme. Every day she'd find out something new that was different, which would throw her off balance. Or circumstances beyond her control would happen, like that whole mess with Shran, which she was still curious about.

It was all very confusing, what with someone trying to kill Archer on top of everything else. But there was one thing she was sure of: Nothing was going to keep her from getting back home. As soon as T'Pol gave her the information, she might just tell Archer that she knew there was a way to do it, and that she'd rather die than stay in his universe. Not that she'd reached that point yet, but he didn't need to know that. She'd have to put some of the skills at bluffing she'd developed during her poker games while in Starfleet training to use.

The knowledge that there was a way to go back where she belonged was beyond intoxicating. For the first time in days, she felt like she had some control over her life. Out of sheer happiness, she spun in a circle, her arms thrown open wide. Laughing, she stopped before she became dizzy. She really needed to calm down if she was to get any sleep.

Her gaze fell on the bed in her cabin. She'd never noticed before that the green comforter matched the shade of Archer's eyes. She wouldn't have put it past him to have picked it out himself for that very reason. Such an ego!

And yet, as she made her way to the bathroom to shower before going to bed, she realized that someone in his position in this universe had to have a big ego, and confidence in his abilities, in order to survive. She'd give him that, but he didn't have to be so rude.

As she stripped off the lavender jumpsuit, she felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that she thought so poorly of him. He'd given her this jumpsuit and the similar teal one as a reward for resolving the Balantian situation. He hadn't had to do that. It was a sign that he respected her abilities.

Now if she could just get him to respect her wishes, and send her home.

Muffled sounds came from a corner of engineering. He had to be careful, lest anyone be curious about what he was doing. By all rights, everyone should be happy if he could see this through. But if he was caught, he knew no one would stand with him. That's just the way things worked on an Imperial starship.

The latest incident with the Andorians only proved his point. No one, including himself, understood why Archer had insisted on talking to Shran. They should have destroyed that ship as soon as they were in range. But no, Archer had to go over there and about get himself blown up. Everything had fallen apart after that. The Andorian fleet had attacked the Imperial ships guarding Panmikar, and a lot of his friends serving on those ships had been killed or hurt. If Archer had ordered Enterprise to fight instead of trying to talk to Shran, that could have been avoided.

And now they were back to studying space anomalies in that asteroid field again, probably as punishment for Archer having screwed up. What good was that?

Archer had become weak. It was why he'd forced that disgusting Phlox to help him. No one would suspect a Denobulan, especially one who was a doctor. Despite being aliens, they had a reputation as being trustworthy. If it hadn't been for that woman from the other universe somehow figuring out what Phlox was going to do, all the senior officers would be enjoying the benefits of his plan.

He cursed as his hand slipped on the tool he was using.

Once he rid Enterprise of Archer, everything would change. He'd also make sure Phlox was taken care of before he came out of hibernation. But even if he didn't kill Phlox, if Archer was out of the way by then, everyone would be happy to move up in rank, and he seriously doubted he'd face any serious punishment. Incompetent captains had been removed before, and fleet command tended to look the other way because the admirals were saved the inconvenience of dealing with it themselves.

He put the finishing touches on the device he was making. He'd done a good job with it. No one would suspect the simple item to be other than what it looked like -- a common salt shaker, identical to those in the mess hall.

He smiled. There was an old saying about good things coming in small packages. In this case, it was going to be good for him.