Enterprise – The Maiden Voyage

by Soledad

For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction

Notes are at the end of the chapter.

Beta read by the wonderful and generous LoyaulteMeLie, whom I owe my gratitude. All remaining mistakes are exclusively mine.


Chapter 10 – Ghosts From the Distant Past

It was almost time for first watch when Lieutenant Reed got back to Cannon Port One. To his surprise, he found Commander Tucker already there. The chief engineer seemed about as exhausted as Reed felt.

"Have you still got those guns of yours hooked up to the impulse engines?" Tucker asked.

Reed suppressed a sigh. The bloody Yank just couldn't leave it alone, could he?

"I'm just about to start disconnecting them now," he answered resignedly.

"Hang on a minute." Tucker stared him right in the eyes and asked slowly, with emphasis on every single word, "You're sure this'll work?"

Reed held his stare without blinking. "Yes, Commander, I am."

Tucker took a deep breath, clearly bracing himself for what he was about to say. "Then based on the recommendation of the Armoury officer, the Chief Engineer finds the level of risk acceptable."

For a moment Reed was too gobsmacked to say anything. This was more than just an olive branch – this was Charles Tucker III acknowledging his superior expertise where weapons were concerned. He definitely hadn't expected that, considering the executive officer's open hostility towards him.

"You do?" he finally said. It wasn't the most intelligent reaction, he realised that, but he was simply too surprised to come up with anything better – something that didn't happen to him often.

Tucker nodded. "Let me be brutally honest with you, Lieutenant: I don't like you. I don't like what you are; or the way you got aboard Enterprise. But what little is not classified from your service record says that you're damn good at what you're doin', and so I'm willin' to give you the chance of showin' it."

This was probably the most back-handed compliment Reed had ever received (not that he'd had many of those), but still a compliment. And if Tucker could put aside his personal feelings for the good of the ship, then so could he.

"In that case, if the Chief Engineer wouldn't mind getting his hands dirty, I could use some help," he said.

Tucker looked down at his own hands and grinned. They could hardly get any dirtier; but then again, grime belonged to the usual routine of a dedicated engineer.

"Let's do it," was all he replied.


"And just who the hell are these Elachi?" Captain Archer demanded.

He was sitting in the Situation Room with the Viseeth, T'Pol and Dr Phlox, everyone else being too busy with the repairs.

"A race that was thought to have perished two hundred thousands of your years ago," Gerasen Gerasal answered. "They served as a warrior caste for the Iconians, operating out of bases hidden in subspace. Even then, they were rarely seen, preferring to use automated probes and drones, rather than sending living Elachi into battle. It is highly unusual for them to enter a target ship in person. They must have had a good reason for doing so."

"If they are truly Elachi," T'Pol added. "There is a fifty per cent possibility that we are dealing with a species of similar physiology."

"Assuming that they are Elachi, though, it raises the question of how did they manage to survive the Iconians by two hundred millennia," Dr Phlox said thoughtfully.

"It would be helpful to know who the Iconians were," Archer returned a little snappishly.

"An ancient, highly advanced civilization that had mastered the technique of dimensional transport across interstellar distances," Gerasen Gerasal explained. "They were all believed destroyed by orbital bombardment that devastated the surface of their planet. The destruction of the Iconian homeworld was one of the reasons why my people decided to take up the role of guardians, to support the balance of power in our part of the galaxy."

"It has been speculated that the Iconians did not all perish in the attacks, but rather used their advanced transporter technology to escape to other nearby planets," T'Pol added. "The similarity between the Iconian language and Dewan, Iccobar and Dinasian has been cited as evidence to support this belief."

"That may be true, but all those people died out at least a hundred thousand Earth years ago," Phlox pointed out. "They are barely more than a couple of footnotes in history books.

"Do we know anything in particular about these Elachi – assuming that's what our visitors are?" Archer asked.

Gerasen Gerasal tilted her head to the side with that semi-reptilian gesture again.

"I am afraid I cannot help you with any details, Captain. This is ancient history, even for our people. My field is contemporary politics. However, our historians certainly will be able to help you, once we have reached Berengaria VIII."

"For that we'll have to get there in one piece first, though," the captain commented sourly.

Gerasen Gerasal tilted her head back to vertical position.

"You humans are a resourceful people. I trust the ability of your crew to get us there safely."

Archer grinned mirthlessly. As much as he trusted Tucker and his ability to work miracles, a little help beyond moral support would have been nice. But it seemed they were in their own in this.


Captain's starlog, September 1, 2151. (*)

It's been two days now with no sign of the alien vessel that may or may not belong to a supposedly extinct race the Viseeth had once known as the Elachi. Whoever they might be, they are clearly a warp-capable species with a technology that is likely more advanced than our own.

Whether they are in any way connected to the subspace-dwelling aliens – to whom Commander Tucker refers as 'the fish monks' – that held our passenger captive, is still unknown. The only known facts are that we've been attacked three times since leaving Spacedock, twice by races not even the Vulcans had heard of before, and that all our attackers reportedly possess technology we can only dream about.

This has turned out one hell of a shakedown cruise – and it's far from over yet. But we're ready – as ready as we can be, given the circumstances. My crew has managed to do in forty-eight hours what would've taken the armoury team at Jupiter Station at least a week. To say that I'm proud of them would be an understatement.

We're currently preparing for our first test. Everybody has their fingers crossed, including me. I'll be suggesting both Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed for the Starfleet Order of Commendation for services that go well beyond the demands of duty.

Computer, stop recording and save log entry.

Jack rose from his chair and threw Porthos a piece of cheese (which he shouldn't have done, he knew, but this was a singularly important event and Porthos deserved to celebrate with the rest of the crew) before stepping out of his Ready Room onto the Bridge. The place, the brain of his ship (just as Engineering was its heart) was thrumming with excitement.

Reed wasn't present, of course. He was down in the Armoury to personally oversee the first test. Jack still didn't like him very much, but he had to admit that the man knew his job and took it seriously.

"Have you found a suitable target?" he asked T'Pol, who was sitting in her usual place at Science Station One.

"Yes." the Vulcan called up the image of a crater-pocked asteroid on viewscreen. "A Class-D asteroid with a passing likeness to Ceres, found in your own solar system, Captain. It has a silicate surface with considerable nickel-iron deposits but no atmosphere whatsoever."

Jack eyed the rocky surface of the asteroid doubtfully. To the naked eye it didn't look all that different from certain Earth regions – the Rocky Mountains, for example.

"You're sure there's nothing down there?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol replied, letting the readings run across the viewscreen over the visuals.

"Not even a microbe?" he insisted. "I don't want to blow up something that could evolve into a sentient species in a couple of billion years."

She didn't roll her eyes. That would have been vulgar – in Vulcan terms at least – and she didn't do Vulgar.

"There's nothing there," she replied with infinite patience.

Jack let it go. He activated the comm system instead. "Archer to Lieutenant Reed. Have you got a lock?"

"Yes, Captain," Reed's voice answered.

The captain eyed the picture again and spotted a ragged rock formation that looked like some sheer cliff would look on Earth. In the terms of an asteroid it counted as a big mountain.

"Let's start small," he said. "Shave a couple of metres off the top of that peak."

It sounded like blasphemy, really; the cliff was beautiful in its ragged, weatherworn way, as only a passionate climber like him would appreciate. Well… not exactly weatherworn, of course. Weather as such didn't exist on a Class-D asteroid. The rock formations of this nameless world had more likely been shaped by cosmic phenomena and meteorite impacts.

It was still a shame that they had to damage the work of countless millennia – but needs must, as his father would have said.

"Acquiring the target," Reed's voice said with military precision. "Full power to the primary coils."

"Split screen," Jack said to Hoshi. "Give me external sensors along the hull. This I want to see."

Hoshi nodded and threw a switch. Half the viewscreen was now showing the hatches opening on the underside of the saucer section and the cannons emerging, while the other half still showed the asteroid surface.

"Phase cannons one and two standing by," Reed reported.

"Mister Reed, the honour is all yours," the captain replied.

The Bridge crew watched with fascination the two cannon beams turn the mountain into a crater. At the same time the lights flickered briefly, sparks flew from several consoles and the unmistakable stench of burned-out circuitry filled the Bridge.

"Lieutenant," Jack said with forced calmness while Crewman Rostov at the Engineering console called for atmospheric filters, "I just asked for a little off the top."

But Reed was clearly too busy to listen to him just now.

"Ensign Soccorro, check the cannons." His tense voice could be heard clearly. "Be careful down there. The blast yield was ten times what we expected."

"What happened?" Jack asked impatiently.

"Something overloaded the phase modulators," Reed answered.

"The plasma recoil blew out relays across decks C and D," Charlie's voice added from Engineering. "Although I don't understand how it could happen. We checked everything twice."

"I believe I can at least partially answer that problem, Commander," T'Pol swivelled with her chair to face her CO. "Captain, I am getting an anomalous reading from Launch Bay Two."

Which wasn't really surprising – the captain's thoughts went instantly to the fact that it had been in the corridor leading to Launch Bay Two where the Shroomies had attacked Crewmen Jenkins and Naiman. Apparently, they'd done more than endangering human lives by aggressive scanning – as if that hadn't been bad enough.

Jack was getting seriously annoyed by these guys.

"Commander Tucker, Mr Reed, meet me in Launch Bay Two," he ordered. "Subcommander, you're with me. It's time for us to find some answers. Travis, you've got the Bridge."

And with that, he marched off the Bridge, leaving it in the capable hands of his chief helmsman.

"Ooh, power!" Mayweather joked, waiting for the door to close behind the captain. He did not leave his station, though. He could use the navigation sensors to keep an eye on their surroundings.

The others on the Bridge laughed, despite their concerns – which was exactly the result he had been aiming for. Luckily for him, the captain had already left by then. Somehow he had the feeling that Archer wouldn't have appreciated the joke.


At first sight Launch Bay Two didn't look any different than it did at any other time. Nonetheless, Reed, Jack and Charlie entered cautiously, phase pistols drawn. T'Pol followed with a scanner, seeking for the source of the unusual radiation.

It was Charlie who spotted a round object by the upper walkway. An engineer's eye was trained to see anything that might be out of order.

"There," he said. "What's that? 'Cause it sure as hell ain't part of the original design of this place."

T'Pol inched closer, scanning the… thing thoroughly.

"I am afraid I cannot answer your question, Commander," she then said. "I have never seen anything like this; and the technical database has nothing similar on file, either."

The mobile scanners were all hooked up to the board computer, making the databases easily accessible at all times.

"You think that's what's causing the power surge?" Jack asked.

"It is very likely," she replied. "It is putting out a tremendous amount of energy. Over six hundred megajoules."

He looked at the other two. "Opinions?"

"They're toying with us, sir." Reed was clearly angry but it didn't seem to influence the clear, analytical working of his mind; he was really almost Vulcan in his mindset. "They want us to know they can destroy us whenever they want, even with our own weapons."

"They want us to surrender G.G," Jack realised. "They will destroy us if we don't, but they'd prefer to take her alive."

"And then destroy us," Reed commented cynically.

"Undoubtedly," agreed the captain. "I wonder if they're watching us right now? Listening to us?"

"Most likely," Charlie replied, consulting T'Pol's readings. "Whatever this little gizmo is, it's tapped into most of our systems including internal sensors and communications on every deck."

"Is it, now? Well, what better way to give them a friendly little warning." Jack stepped to a wall panel. "Hoshi, activate visual sensor J-15."

"All yours, Captain," Hoshi's voice answered a moment later.

Jack looked up where he knew the visual sensor was nested.

"I assume you planted that device because you wanted to learn more about us," he said. "I'll be happy to give you a quick lesson. We're not here to make enemies, but just because we're not looking for a fight doesn't mean we'll run away from one. You may think you've left us defenceless, but let me tell you something about humans. We don't give up easily and we will not surrender our vessel. We'll protect Enterprise any way we can."

With that, he raised his phase pistol and destroyed the round object.

"Nice speech, Cap'n," Charlie commented, and Reed nodded in agreement. Only T'Pol remained unimpressed.

"Unfortunately, our adversaries still have the better arguments," she said dryly.


It took Commander Tucker and his engineers the rest of the day to repair the additional damage caused by the overload of the phase modulators, even though Lieutenant Reed's people had helped them, pulling double shifts voluntarily.

Captain Archer entrusted the Bridge to T'Pol – it wasn't as if they could have gone anywhere – and went to Engineering, to offer his help as well. He did not have the temperament to just sit idly in the command chair and wait, he explained.

In the current situation a Vulcan was much better suited to doing that, he argued.

T'Pol agreed with him about that, and accepted this repeated sign of trust from the captain's side with her usual calm indifference; at least on the surface. In the relatively short time she'd spent aboard Enterprise, in constant interaction with humans instead of in the 'splendid isolation' of the Vulcan compound in Sausalito, she had begun to see why her mentor would find these people so endlessly fascinating.

They were walking, breathing contradictions, every single one of them. Working with them this closely would be the challenge of a Vulcan's life – but challenges had always inspired and fascinated her, since early childhood, much to her mother's chagrin. She found her current assignment… most agreeable, and had begun considering requesting to make it a permanent one.

Assuming that they survived the current crisis, of course.

Admittedly, her unique heritage had played a role in her fascination with the unknown – a fascination that went well beyond the level of scientific curiosity accepted from and encouraged in the average Vulcan. But she was not an average Vulcan; a fact that often frightened her, despite T'Kahr Soval's encouragement to explore that side of her nature… within safety limits, of course.

Until now, she had always refused to do so. Tapping into the well-tamed fire of the Vulcan soul was dangerous enough; the times of pon farr were proof enough of that. Releasing the tight control she kept over her emotions, even marginally, would be magnitudes worse; and no matter how inspiring the challenge, she could not be certain that the results – the new knowledge gained – would be worth the risks.

Perhaps another visit to P'Jem would hep her clear her mind. After all, had not P'Jem been the place where her forefather had found peace in the last decades of his long life full of personal struggles?


A beeping sound interrupted her thoughts. She rose from the command chair to peek into her hooded scanner… and closed her eyes for a moment. Had she been human, she would have sighed. As a Vulcan, she refrained from such an emotional reaction; she simply activated the comm system and called the captain to the Bridge.

Only moments later the sliding doors opened and in walked Captain Archer, tense as a bow. "Report!"

"They have returned," T'Pol told him, putting the image of the sleek, arrow-shaped alien ship on the viewscreen.

As before, it glowed gently from the inside with a pale golden light. It would have been an aesthetically pleasing sight, had the ship not represented such a serious threat.

"Where are they?" the captain asked; the image didn't give them either distance or direction.

T'Pol consulted her instruments. "Closing from astern, twenty thousand metres… Fifteen..."

The tension on the Bridge became palpable. Everyone remembered what the alien ship was capable of doing; even with the temperamental new cannons installed, there was no guarantee that they could match its firepower.

Ensign Mayweather was the first to voice his concerns. "Should I try evasive manoeuvres, sir?"

"No." Captain Archer stepped up to the helm to take a closer look at the viewscreen. "Come about, and hold our position." He reached over the ensign's shoulder to press the comm button. "Bridge to the Armoury. Guess who's back."

"We see them," Lieutenant Reed's grim voice answered. "Both forward cannons are charged and ready, sir."

"Get a lock and stand by," Archer ordered, taking his place in the command chair; then he looked at T'Pol. "Any changes?"

"They've stopped," she told him. "Eleven thousand metres."

"We're being hailed," Ensign Sato added nervously.

"Now they want to talk?" The captain rolled his eyes. "Put it through."

Sato looked a little anxious – though there again, she always looked anxious, even without Lieutenant Reed in the same room – but carried out the captain's orders. To everyone's surprise, it was Archer's own, distorted image, as if seen through thick, discoloured glass, that filled the viewscreen, and parts of his message, sent to the alien ship a few hours previously, came through the speakers, recombined and repeated again and again.

" … defenceless. Prepare to surrender your vessel. You are defenceless. Prepare to surrender your vessel…"

"Shut it off!" Captain Archer turned away in disgust. "They can't even make their own threats!"

"They probably don't need to," Ensign Mayweather commented quietly, as the alien vessel moved closer, growing steadily on the viewscreen, ominous in its approach. "Ten thousand metres… nine..."

"Mister Reed," the captain said calmly – more calmly than he probably felt. Sometimes humans could hide their emotions surprisingly well. "Both cannons, fire."

T'Pol had a monitor screen linked to the Armoury. She watched Malcolm Reed, his uniform sleeves rolled up to his elbows, push a button, his hands looking almost too large for such a slender man.

On the control screen, the officers on the Bridge saw the forward phase cannons emit bright red twin beams that, however, sizzled harmlessly on the shields of the alien ship and were presumably absorbed by them.

Captain Archer looked at T'Pol questioningly. "Any results?"

"I'm reading a fluctuation in their shielding, but it's marginal," the Vulcan answered.

"Five thousand metres," Ensign Mayweather warned.

The captain jumped to his feet. He couldn't keep the frustrated accusation out of his voice as he demanded, "Is that the best we can do, Lieutenant?"

In the Armoury Lieutenant Reed was pushing buttons and throwing switches on his control panels like a concert pianist playing a particularly demanding piece.

"Even if these cannons had been installed at Jupiter Station, they wouldn't be any more effective than they are now," he answered, a little defensively.

"What about yesterday?" the captain asked. "I saw you blow something up the size of Mount McKinley!"

"Yes sir, but that was due to an overload," Lieutenant Reed reminded him unhappily. Doubtless the memory of that still rankled with him, since he had been the one to assure the chief engineer that the modification would work without risk to the ship.

"Can you overload them again?" Captain Archer asked.

T'Pol's reaction to the idea was one of mild scandalisation – for a Vulcan. She doubted that the humans had noticed anything.

Lieutenant Reed, on the other hand, sounded positively shocked. "Sir, after the damage from the first time the plasma recoil would probably knock out two decks!"

The captain knew that, of course. But desperate times required desperate measures, as the humans liked to say, and T'Pol knew him well enough already to know that he was not one to back off easily.

"Can you overload them again?" he repeated the question with emphasis.

She saw Lieutenant Reed exchange a look with Crewman Fuller who was standing at the control screen opposite him; Fuller nodded.

"I believe so," the armoury officer said. "But, sir…"

"I'd rather knock out two decks than surrender this ship," the captain interrupted. "Trip, is there a way to handle the recoil?"

"Hold on a minute." Commander Tucker, currently also in the Armoury, checked something on another control screen. "I think there actually might be…"

"How?" Lieutenant Reed asked doubtfully.

Commander Tucker shrugged. "All that excess energy's got to go somewhere. Why not put it to use?"

"Three thousand metres," Ensign Mayweather warned.

Commander Tucker was working on his control panel with a concentration that would have made a Vulcan engineer proud. "If we repolarize the gravity plating to absorb the recoil, then we can shunt the energy to structural integrity."

"Sounds good to me," Captain Archer said.

It could work; T'Pol knew it; even though there was no guarantee that it actually would.

Lieutenant Reed, however, was a lot less optimistic. "The grav-plating wasn't designed to withstand that much force," he protested.

"We all understand the risks, Lieutenant." The captain returned to his chair. "Get started."

"Aye, sir." The armoury officer obeyed unhappily.

"One thousand metres," Ensign Mayweather announced ominously.

The captain gripped the armrests of his chair hard enough to leave finger-shaped dents in the padding. Permanently. "Lieutenant?"

"Stand by." Lieutenant Reed looked at the chief engineer. "Commander?" His senior officer nodded and the lieutenant released a breath he had clearly been holding for a while. "We're ready, sir," he reported.

"Then fire!" the captain snapped impatiently.

Once again, Enterprise emitted twin red beams. This time, however, the beams burrowed themselves into the shields of the alien ship, which rippled briefly – and then collapsed, leaving the vessel unprotected.

There were explosions all over the Bridge, too, though. Evidently Commander Tucker's ingenious solution had not been entirely successful.

"Their shields are failing," T'Pol reported calmly, holding onto the edge of her station.

"Torpedoes!" Captain Archer ordered. He was clearly not taking any risks. The Shroomies wanted a fight? He would give them one they weren't going to forget so soon.

T'Pol hurriedly slammed down her mental shields to remain untouched by the human's volatile emotions. She could not afford a mistake right now.

On her monitor Lieutenant Reed looked at Crewman Fuller, whose expertise in the ship's torpedo systems surpassed even his own, and nodded. Fuller pushed some buttons and the sleek, gleaming silvery torpedoes went sliding into their launch tubes with deadly, soundless elegance.

Crewman Fuller pushed a sequence of other buttons. The torpedoes launched, hitting the alien ship directly, and causing a series of explosions all over it. The ship turned around and fled, leaking bright green plasma. Ensign Sato would later compare it to breaking up some Earth child's toy to see what was inside – but it was much more significant than that, of course.

Captain Archer stared at the viewscreen with grim satisfaction. He even got up to walk closer, watching the enemy run, with their proverbial tail between their legs.

"Bridge to Armoury," he then said. "Everything okay down there?"

"We blew out the plasma relays on B deck but it's nothing we can't take care of," Commander Tucker replied, his voice almost jaunty in spite of the damage. "What about our friends?"

"I have a feeling their repairs are going to be a little more extensive," the captain said, darkly amused. "How'd the cannons hold up?"

"Fairly well," Lieutenant Reed answered with justifiable pride. "I'll have them back online within the hour. The aft cannon should be working by the end of tomorrow."

The captain shook his head. "Give your people the chance to show their skills. Once you've got the front cannons back online, take a break. Trip, you too. All senior officers are required to meet in the captain's dining room at 18:00 hours, sharp."

"Aye, sir," the two men answered in unison, not really sounding happy. He closed the comm link, however, not apparently regarding their dissatisfaction as a serious matter.

"Captain," Ensign Sato interjected, "I could try to reach Vulcan now. Whatever might have blocked our communications, it's gone now."

"Presumably some kind of jamming field," T'Pol suggested.

The captain walked over to her station. "Well, I see no reason for us to contact the Vulcan High Command now. Do you?"

No," she replied simply.

"Glad we agree." He turned to Ensign Sato. "What do you think, Hoshi, should we start dropping those subspace amplifiers you mentioned the other day? People would appreciate the chance to speak with their loved ones... especially after what's just happened."

Ensign Sato fairly beamed at him. "I'll get on it at once, sir."

"No, you won't," the captain corrected. "You're supposed to be at that dinner party too. Take a break. Second watch has deserved a chance to shine as well."

Unlike the other officers, Ensign Sato seemed to know why this particular dinner was so significant – and she did not seem at all eager to participate. "Sir, I'm not sure about it…"

"But I am," the captain interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument. "You can't hide from him all the time. You have the same right to be on this ship as he does; actually, more so. I may have hand-picked you both; but I picked you for who you are. I picked him for what I thought he was – and I proved to be wrong about that. So no; no chickening out. That's an order, Ensign."

"Aye, captain," the communications officer replied dismally.

"Travis, resume our previous course." The captain turned to their helmsman.

"Gladly, sir," Ensign Mayweather replied, his smile wide and very white in his dark face.


As ordered, the senior officers gathered in the captain's ready room at 18:00 hours, sharp.

At first, the atmosphere was tense, almost uncomfortable. Reed and Mayweather were invited to the captain's table only for the second time, both of them, and they were fiddling with their eating utensils nervously. Hoshi had taken the seat between Charlie Tucker and Mayweather and tried not too look at anyone around the table. T'Pol, on Archer's right, observed the situation with detached scientific interest.

Charlie himself was completely relaxed, used to the company of the captain; and, of course, so was Phlox, who watched the situation with the curiosity of an anthropologist who'd just been given the chance to study some primitive tribe close up.

The tension didn't even begin to ease until Petty Officer Daniels showed up with a bottle of champagne and a tray full of champagne flutes. To everyone's surprise, he wasn't wearing his uniform but a tuxedo and a bow tie, of all things. God only knew how he'd hidden the things so far – they certainly weren't part of a quartermaster's regular equipment. But again, neither was a coffee maker.

Daniels made a great show of popping the cork and pouring the champagne. The officers laughed and applauded – with the exception of T'Pol, of course; and Jack began to hope that the evening could be saved, after all.

When everyone had a flute in hand – again, with the exception of T'Pol, who never touched alcohol – Charlie Tucker stood and raised his.

"To our mysterious friends," he announced. "I wish I could've seen the looks on their faces."

"Hear, hear." Reed lifted his arm and clinked his flute to Charlie's in newfound camaraderie.

To be honest, Jack seriously doubted that anyone could have seen any kind of expression on the Shroomies' faces – they barely had any faces, after all. But he wasn't about to ruin his friend's joke.

"Don't get too used to drinking on duty," he said instead, and the others laughed dutifully. Well; T'Pol raised an eyebrow at the very least. "But you all did your jobs pretty damn well today. I'd say that deserves a little celebration."

"Aside from the actual reason, sir?" Petty Officer Daniels interjected with a somewhat smug smile.

Jack gave him a stern look, but he ignored it in favour of distributing his magic coffee… well, tea in T'Pol's and Hoshi's case.

Charlie grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "If you really want to thank us, how about lettin' us sleep in tomorrow?" he asked his friend and captain. "I sure could use twelve straight hours of sleep. Or a little more."

Jack laughed. "Permission granted." Then he looked at Daniels. "Mr Daniels, have you managed to acquire that component that I've asked for?"

"Certainly, sir," Daniels smiled politely. "Chef insisted on carrying it in all by himself, though."

He pushed the button to open the door and allow Chef Williams to come in. The big, good-natured Welshman came, carrying a large plate with the most amazing cake on it most of them had seen in a very long time. It was rectangular, covered in blue, red and white frosting in the likeness of the Union Jack, the old British flag.

Across it was written in white frosting, with elegantly swung letters:

Happy Birthday, Malcolm!

All eyes turned to the dumbfounded armoury officer, whose mouth was literally hanging open in shock.

"Well, I think the writing says it all," Jack said, grinning broadly. "But since we've gone all the way, we may as well do it properly."

He nodded to Charlie and the two of them broke into the traditional birthday song Happy Birthday to you. After a moment, Hoshi and Travis joined in; even Phlox tried to do so, even though he could not really carry the tune.

T'Pol remained icily silent. Never had she felt so out of place among humans since she had first sat foot on Earth. Her previous hopes to be able to live and work among them permanently now appeared inappropriately optimistic.

It took Reed several attempts to overcome his shocked surprise. Jack was both startled and faintly amused to see that the man appeared almost overcome with embarrassment at anyone knowing, much less caring, about his birthday.

"You really shouldn't have gone to any trouble," he began, but Chef Williams interrupted him.

"Oh, no trouble at all," he beamed. "Stop with the stiff upper lip, Lieutenant, it was my pleasure. How often do I get the chance to bake an honest, down-to-Earth birthday cake?"

He carefully placed the heavy plate on the table and offered the cake slicer to Reed. "Would you like to do the honours?"

"Certainly." Suddenly seeming incongruously eager, like a little boy on his birthday party, Reed took the slicer, cut out a segment of the cake – and looked at the filling in delight.

"Pineapple!" he exclaimed. "That's my favourite. How on Earth did you know?"

Chef and Daniels exchanged extremely smug smiles.

"We have our sources," Daniels finally said.

"Good work," Jack praised them; then he looked at Reed expectantly. "Well, Mr Reed – you willing to share?"

Looking oddly touched, the armoury officer could only nod as he began to distribute generous chunks of the delicious pineapple cake among his fellow officers.

~TBC~


(*) Yes, I kept the canon date for "Silent Enemy" because I don't buy the idea that they'd get to the Berengaria system (and even less to the Klingon homeworld) within the week. Not with 22nd century technology. I'm a somewhat technically challenged person, but common sense speaks against such a thing. Sorry, Bermaga.

Also, I thought that Reed deserved a proper birthday party, rather than just a bottle of beer down in the Armoury. Besides, that way I could bring back Daniels and Chef, so there. ;))