T'Pol slid into the ready room chair, ignoring the ever present twinge in her legs. It had been most of a year now, since Treleishkah, perhaps time enough that she should accept that the pain had improved as much as her biology allowed. The permanence of the change snagged in her chest, but her breath hitched just the once, she had a job to do.

To distract herself, she studied her captain instead. He also showed signs of wear. Yet more lines were permanently adorned his face, and they were not lines which suggested much time spent happily. Also, grey hairs had begun periodically appearing and disappearing on his head. Presumably, he was adding some sort of pigment to his hair to disguise the grey. Hoshi quietly tittered every time he appeared on the bridge after doing so, suggested this was not in T'Pol's imagination.

"You have seen this report on the situation on Denobula," T'Pol began abruptly, after Archer caught her perusing his hair roots.

Archer nodded. "Yes, I've seen them. Although, why we have to go charging over there... I mean, this is a starship, not an ambulance. Denobula is crawling with doctors. What difference are our two going to make? Denobula is also crawling with scientists. What difference is...?"

"Denobula has no military fleet," T'Pol interrupted. "This is a 'good will' mission. It is diplomacy, not humanitarian aid."

"Diplomacy, huh?" Archer chuckled dryly. "I suppose I must take the word of the diplomat."

Confused, T'Pol narrowed her eyes. "I do not understand your reluctance. I find it difficult to believe you would PREFER to go to Kreetassa."

"Kreetassa is strategic, T'Pol! It's near Romulan space. And our alliance with them is sketchy at best. Denobula is no threat to us..."

"Captain! Denobula is experiencing a highly destabilising event. Civil unrest is not out of the question. Conceivably such a situation might even devolve into civil war..."

"Then, they would be ESPECIALLY not a threat!" Archer's snapped words hung in the air, for a moment, before the man's face softened a little, slight remorse lining his eyes.

T'Pol cleared her throat. "Captain, there are people who believe that this medical situation might somehow be the result of Romulan activity."

"And are any of these people NOT our increasingly deranged tactical officer?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I, myself, for one."

Archer stared at her through his furrowed brows. "You, T'Pol?"

"Indeed. While I suppose this could be a natural event, the timing is...suspicious."

"And what is 'this' exactly?" Archer replied tensely. "Half the reports are in medical gibberish and the other half are in scientific gibberish. I can't make head or tail of them."

"Some sort of catastrophic disorder of placentation. It is manifesting in two ways. In late pregnancy it creates dysfunctional connections between the maternal and feral circulation making it very difficult for either the mother to survive any delivery except a hysterectomy and the affected fetuses are rarely surviving at all. There are even some reports of the placenta infiltrating pelvic structures beyond the uterus and causing sudden fatal internal exsanguination."

"T'Pol..."

"Women are bleeding to death and losing their offspring. And the number of affected pregnancies is still rising."

"T'Pol..."

"And this may not be the most worrying part. The early pregnancy rate is falling drastically. This is not yet known by the Denobulan populace but in the city of Endyalax there have been fewer than two hundred new pregnancies confirmed in the past three months. Endyalax has a population of 700 million people."

"T'Pol..."

"If these trends continue unameliorated, Denobula will be at risk of a severe population bottleneck and potentially..."

"It was a year ago, wasn't it? A year ago today? I'm sorry I forgot. Are you okay?"

T'Pol inhaled and exhaled slowly before replying. "I am sufficiently composed for duty, Captain."

Archer nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. "So, Denobula?"

"Denobula."

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't complain," Malcolm grumbled reluctantly. "At least it will give me a chance to reinstall these new couplers..."

He was are fair way down the access tube, far enough that Alice's reply was tinny and faint.

"Those are the DX317 couplers you're installing, then?"

Out of sight as he was, Malcolm made no effort to suppress his eye-roll. "Becoming an expert on couplers, are we?"

There was a slight pause before the reply drifted down, and when it did, it was accompanied by an insipid, beefy aroma. She'd apparently brought food with her.

"Not an expert, no. I don't know a D'Braissian coupler fitted inflow assembly from a double-reflected flow manifold, but I DO recall Trip saying that DX317 couplers would only improve hull plating polarisation by 0.2%...so I was wondering why..."

Malcolm threw down the hypo-spanner he was working with. It was a petulant gesture, as he immediately acknowledged to himself, resulting only in an unpleasant clunk which had far more affect on him, than on the distant cause of his irritation.

"Because, Alice, eventually there will be a fire fight. And, we will be hit by things in this fire fight. And those things will be of a particular strength. And somewhere on the spectrum of strengths is a value which will kill you, and me, and every other bloody person on this ship, and 0.2% below that strength, at least some of us AREN'T splattered all over the cosmos. I mean hopefully YOU still are, but..."

"And do you really think that's an efficient use of your time?", came the inappropriately chirpy reply.

"I'm off duty," Malcolm snapped in reply, picking up the hypo-spanner again. "And I will spend my off duty time doing whatever I bloody-well please. They are OUT THERE, don't you get that? Watching us... waiting for us to lapse into complacency again. And THAT's when they will strike."

There pause was just long enough for Malcolm to feel hopeful that she'd gotten bored and wandered off. But then, alas. Alice's voice drifted down to him again. "And you don't think that sounds a little paranoid?"

"Yes." Malcolm replied, suddenly wishing he could see the expression on her face when he said it. "And before you react to that, I suggest you strip away any baggage you are carrying about paranoia. Paranoia has advantages and disadvantages, just like anything else. And, with a command structure to keep me in check, the only disadvantages of paranoia fall on me personally, and that is my own concern and no business of yours, whatsoever. I absolve you of all responsibility for my well-being. All you need to do is sit back and parasitically reap the benefits. No down side, you see?"

"I see you've spent a lot of time rationalising your paranoia," came the slightly chilly reply. "Time you could have spent making pointlessly minor system improvements."

"Just GO AWAY, Alice."

"I'll go away if you eat something. I brought you stew. It's pretty good...well, it's alright...well, it's food. And unless you have rationalised away the laws of physics, performing pointless upgrades requires fuel."

Malcolm rolled his eyes again and a quick cost benefit analysis of eating the stew, but then rejected the result in irritation. "What's behind your obsession with feeding me, anyway? Wouldn't my collapse from hunger better serve your agenda of dangerously underprepared weapon systems?"

"Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. EVERYONE is trying to help you actually, but I'm more stubborn than most people, and so..."

"Oh please," he interrupted. "You fucked up by ignoring Travis's thing for too long, and now you are channeling your guilt into bugging the hell out of me."

"You really get a lot of rationalisation done down there, don't you?"

"Just fuck off, Alice! And take the bowl of carrion you brought with you. I do not have time for your nonsense."

He was slightly surprised when she did. Slightly remorseful, but not for long.