When Liz woke, the world was mostly dark.
She tried to call out, to ask if anyone was there, but only inarticulate moans came out. She was answered anyway.
"Liz, it's me," she heard Malcolm say from somewhere to her left. "Malcolm," he then clarified.
Lucky you clarified, she thought. Else I might have mistaken you for one of the other English men currently on Denobula. Sadly, her numb lips were clearly not up to expressing the thought aloud. Later, she promised herself. No doubt we'll be spending plenty of time together.
Unless I'm dying, that is.
"You've been poisoned," Malcolm was now explaining. "That Valakian assassin spat some sort of caustic liquid into your face. Enterprise has synthesised an antidote and you are getting it now. But you need absolute rest, especially until someone can make sure there's no ongoing damage."
Absolute rest, huh? Liz thought, As might be good, for example, if someone had a very recent severe head injury? This time she even muttered something aloud to that effect.
And, it must have come out more comprehensibly than she thought, because Malcolm laughed.
"Yes, well, I'm an officer, aren't I? Do as I say, and not as I do, Crewman Cutler. And oh yes, I'm fully aware this is a ridiculous thing to say, but try not to worry too much about your vision. An eye surgeon friend of Phlox did a flying visit in between surgeries and thinks that, with a corneal transplant your left eye should come out almost good as new..."
Conspicuous failure to mention my right eye, Lieutenant Reed, Liz thought with a ghost of a smile.
"And, Phlox is doing well. Lost a lung lobe, yes, but that stab wound missed all the major arteries. I realise he tried to kill you and everything... But I thought you'd want to know anyway. Professional interest, and all of that."
You're an ass, Malcolm Reed, Liz thought, not unaffectionately. But there was something else she needed to know. She gathered all her strength around the question. "Mettus?"
"No. He didn't make it Liz. Vax said he died within a few minutes of her finding you."
Liz felt like crying. She wondered if she still could. "How am I going to tell him, Malcolm?"
There was no way he could have understood her words, so he must have guessed. "You don't, Liz. I mean, we can't leave it to the likes of Vax or Messop, but I'll do it. I'll tell him. Now, try to rest."
T'Pol slouched in the ready room chair. For the mission itself she would be both expected and needed on the bridge, but while the Captain and Lieutenant Sato prepared to transport over, she had a few minutes to herself, in the darkness.
Or rather, she did not, for after a moment, the door chimed insistently.
"Come in," she said resignedly, but then pulled herself to attention.
It was Trip.
"Are you not needed in the transporter room?" she asked.
"Not for the 'over'," he said dully sitting down. "That's a straightforward transport. It's the 'back' that's going to be tricky, what with screening for this pathogen mid cycle and changing the destination if need be. That's going to be tricky. I have to say I wouldn't mind Malcolm's help with that."
"It is not available," T'Pol replied simply.
They stared at each other for a long time.
"So," Trip said at length. "You grew this fetus in a test tube..."
"Embryo," T'Pol clarified.
"...whatever. You grew the embryo in a test tube..."
"Petri dish."
"Are you going to let me talk or what?" Trip scowled.
"Sorry. Continue."
"Embryo, Petri Dish. Happy?" Trip sighed. "Anyway. That means you did tests and stuff, right? You know it's healthy? The embryo I mean..."
"It's reached the fetal stage of development now," T'Pol said, feeling a small temptation to a smile.
"You're killing me here T'Pol."
"I apologise. And yes. Tests were done at the blastocyst stage and biochemical viability was confirmed prior to implantation."
Trip lowered his eyes then, sighing. "You had me completely snowed, you know? Completely. I was totally convinced this was just some kind of miracle."
T'Pol took an enormous risk and reached for his hand. "Formation of a blastocyst which was spontaneously viable was extraordinarily unlikely. Successful implantation without any preparation was as well. This WAS a miracle, Trip. Just not quite the one you thought. That said, I should never have done this without talking to you about it. I just, I couldn't bear to raise your hope and then break your heart again. I wanted to bear the loss of hope alone, and I acted as I did to make bearing that loss as easy as I could. For myself. To know I'd done all I could. I'm sorry."
Trip did nothing for a long time. But then he took her offered hand. "Just one more question. And then we never speak of this again."
"Any question you wish."
"Do you know if it is a girl or a boy?"
T'Pol raised an eyebrow, confused. "To a given statistical probability, yes, I do. Do you wish for me to tell you?"
"No. I wish for you NOT to tell me. I want to be surprised."
"Are you ready?"
The words made Archer's helmet fog up slightly. He clicked his tongue in irritation as a junior engineer corrected the suits environmental controls. Within seconds the fog was gone.
"As I'll ever be, sir." Hoshi replied, and the faint scratchy echo of these words answered the question about whether her radio was working.
She'd packed a box of her favourite personal possessions, and left it tidily on her bed. For someone to later transport down to Denobula. In case.
Archer nodded sharply, and turned to T'Pol. "Enterprise is yours, Commander. Although, I hope you'll forgive me for wishing that it's not for too long."
T'Pol smiled faintly. "I have been wondering if it is perhaps a conflict of interest for me to be working on the cure."
"I'm sure you'll do the right thing," Archer replied, in kind.
"Indeed I will," T'Pol assured him. "Whatever the right thing turns out to be, in any case."
He laughed at this. "Let's get going, Hoshi, before she gets any ideas."
"Yes, sir," Hoshi answered with more joviality than she truly felt, and followed him onto the transporter pad.
And a moment later, they stood in a new place, a darkened utilitarian corridor.
"Looks a little bit labyrinthine for a mining barge, don't you think?" Archer observed after a few minutes when one corridor twisted into the next.
His voice was tinny and high pitched, and Hoshi took a moment to curse whatever Starfleet penny-pincher had installed such poor quality speakers into the bio-suits. What if she were trying to decipher a complex tonal language? She made a note to complain. When she got back.
Archer, meanwhile, was checking on the AV link to Enterprise. "What do you think, Trip?" he was saying. "Look familiar."
"Well, it looks a little like the other drone ship and a little like the building on Epsilon Legato. But not exactly like either. Then again, if we are right and the drone ships are built from preexisting vessels, there's no reason they'd all look alike."
Archer shrugged. "True. Only so many ways to build a corridor, though. What we really need is a nice computer interface that Hoshi can identify as Romulan. Good thing we brought you, actually, Hoshi."
"It's feeling like less and less of a good idea to me, sir," Hoshi joked back, and then wondered if she was joking. "I'm not detecting any life signs, but I am detecting traces of Valakian DNA."
"I suppose we know how our assassins got here, then," Archer replied. "That's something. Whosever technology this turns out to be, it sure isn't Valakian. So someone helped them. Any other DNA?"
Hoshi examined the scanner readings uncertainly. "I'm not sure, sir. There's some much older DNA but it's pretty degraded. It's reading as possibly Vulcan, but there is a low degree of confidence with the identification."
Archer shook his head. "I'd say we can probably rule the Vulcans out as Valakian co-conspirators for now. I doubt they'd use biological weapons to break the will of Denobulans. Not when a series of their formal dinners could accomplish the same job."
"We had a bit of static on that last sentence, Jon," Trip's voice called over the comm. "Commander T'Pol couldn't make out a word of it. She asked if you'd care to repeat."
"That would be a negatory, Trip. I was only singing the virtues of our closest allies. No reason to embarrass the Commander by repeating it."
They moved through the ship in silence for a while, in search of some sort of language or terminal. "The technology running through the bulkheads scans as similar, but not identical," Hoshi exclaimed, frustrated.
"We'll look for the bridge," Archer said in acknowledgement. "If there's anything to find, it will probably be there."
They moved slowly, impeded by the bio-suits. Hoshi kept on eye on her scanner and the other on the shadows. However deserted the mining barge might be, it had a presence to it. She could swear the walls were listening.
"T'Pol to Archer"
The hail made Hoshi jump.
Archer started as well, although not as dramatically. He offered her an easy shrug of fellow feeling as he answered. "Archer here."
"Captain, in consultation with the Denobulan Health ministry and the T'Kenara's science division, I believe I have identified the Denobulan pathogen. It is an artificial bioengineered retrovirus, capable of modifying its host's DNA."
"I take it this would be beyond the technology of the Valakians," Archer replied glancing at Hoshi as he did so.
"Indeed Captain. We are running negative controls, but should have confirmation shortly. In the meantime, we have already begun work on the diagnostic test, and will examine the readings you have taken on the Drone ship so far for any signs."
"Thank you T'Pol," Archer acknowledged, before turning to Hoshi. "That's good news isn't it? Well not GOOD I suppose. Good would have been if this was all just a freak of nature, I guess."
Hoshi nodded, although she wondered if it really made a difference.
They wove onward through the vessel, which appeared not to have discrete decks but instead, an ever-rising spiral.
"This could be it," Archer said when they reached an unresponsive door.
After a few minutes of joint effort, the door was hot-wired open and Archer was proved right. A rudimentary bridge stood before them. Hoshi approached a dimly lit terminal. Within seconds she had her answer.
"Sir, I am prepared to state that within my professional opinion, this computer terminal displays a Romulan dialect."
She'd not really intended the oddly formal phrasing, but it felt retrospectively fitting.
"That's it, then," Archer replied pensively. "Casus belli."
The moment rested on them heavily.
"Attention, humans," Jonathan Archer's voice boomed from all around them.
"That wasn't me!" Archer exclaimed unnecessarily.
"This vessel is the sovereign property of the Romulan Star Empire."
"Why does it have my voice?" Archer demanded, sounding perturbed.
"It has no natural cadence," Hoshi replied quickly. "It's likely a program stitched together from voice recordings, logs..."
Archer nodded briskly. "Do you have authority to speak on behalf of your Empire?" he tried. "We have cause to suspect Romulan involvement in the deplorable recent events on Denobula. The Coalition of Planets strongly requests immediate negotiations for the cessation of hostilities and that restitution..."
"There is no negotiation with the Romulan Star Empire," Archer's own butchered voice interrupted. "There is only obedience or death. We instruct you to immediately disband your Coalition and embargo all communication between former member planets. Additionally, all starships must return to their systems of origin and not venture beyond the termination shock of their native star. Finally, such tribute as is sought by the Romulan Star Empire will be supplied promptly."
"When did I even say the word 'tribute' in a log?" Archer muttered. "I very much doubt those terms will be acceptable to our member planets," he continued more loudly. "Perhaps we could arrange delegations to a summit? In the meantime, a ceasefire while we provide humanitarian assistance to Denobula..."
"Obedience or death," his own voice answered implacably. "You have heard our orders."
"That's a really terrible voice render," Hoshi observed. She felt lightheaded. "Good speakers though."
The panel next to her changed. "Some sort of count down," she said alarmed.
"It is a self-destruct sequence," T'Pol informed them over the comm.
Archer grimaced. "Great. How is that transport-out protocol coming along?"
"We will proceed as quickly as possible. Stand by."
Hoshi's chest began to tighten. Her eyes were fixed to the glowing count down.
"Hoshi, don't look at that, look at me," Archer said sharply. "They'll beam us out in a few minutes and we'll be In Enterprise's decon if we are free of the virus, or on Denobula if we are infected. But either way, that countdown isn't our problem, okay?"
"Yes, sir," Hoshi agreed, but the numbers were still somehow hypnotic. Undeniable.
"It's easy for me, I suppose," Archer mused lightly. "I can't read them. Ignorance is bliss as they say."
"Yes, sir."
"What are you hoping for, by the way?" Archer asked, his tone still light. "Enterprise or Denobula?"
And now, watching the numbers spiral down Hoshi allowed herself to think. A war was coming, a war for the very future of the human race. And she'd always wanted children. Someday. And she'd want them to grow up free. And to know she'd done her part to make that happen. She didn't want to stand vigil to Denobula's end. She wanted to save Earth.
"I want to go home," she whispered. Just as the transporter beam grabbed her and took her to her future.