A/N: Okay, folks, here it is! The showdown between Jon and Trena'l, with Malcolm there as well, to give his Captain some much needed moral support. Jon is certainly going to need it!

Enjoy!

Violations

Chapter Eighteen - Said The Spider To The Fly

Malcolm had been right. The Xyrillian cruiser that had docked with them was the size of a planet. To his approval, and Jon's, she was a pretty impressive fortress too. Made Alcatraz look like a 1960's holiday camp. Her brig alone, hastily improvised out of one of her storage decks, was the size of Engineering. Both decks combined. And, probably, Trip's quarters too.

Inevitably from that last thought, Jon's smile faded now, as he stared down the corridor ahead of them. For much the same reason, Malcolm's did the same. In silent understanding, they traded glances. They were here because of Trip. Because of what at least one person in these cells had done to him.

Trena'l. Ah'Len. The rest of his crew. For everyone involved in their capture, for Jon, Malcolm, and for Trip the most of all, it had been a massive relief. Against the extent of learning how completely they'd deceived him, though, Jon couldn't enjoy it. He wouldn't enjoy it, until he could look Trip in the eye, and tell him it was finally over. And that moment, he knew, was still a long way off yet.

More immediately, he and Malcolm had to face that ordeal's leading perpetrator. United by anger, disgust, and the simple need for retribution, they'd come here to face him. To try and avenge the friend who'd suffered such anguish and torment at his hands.

Not surprisingly, Jon knew the tension he could see on his tactical officer's face was mirrored, even more times over, across his own. It was as his friend, though, rather than his commanding officer, that he now tried to relieve it.

"Remember, Malcolm, that whatever he says, or does, Trip's safe. He's safe, they can't hurt him."

Releasing a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, Malcolm took another, then finally nodded – staying shoulder to shoulder with his Captain as Jon took those last few steps to the cell at the end of the block. It housed just one prisoner. The one they'd come specifically to see. And, if their Xyrillian escorts gave them any chance at all, the one who they'd freely smear around its walls.

Despite his capture and imprisonment, Trena'l greeted Jon with the same, leeringly arrogant smile. And, again, Jon had to fight the urge to disable those forcefields between them, and punch it right back through his ass.

"So, Captain Archer… and Lieutenant Reed too, I believe! We meet again," he said at last, the shock he'd shown at his capture gone now, as he made another show of staring hopefully past them. "But, again, no Commander Tucker? I must say, Captain, you've again disappointed me."

God alone knew how he managed it, but Jon, again, refused to rise to this sickening, mocking bait. Instead, making sure this smug SOB couldn't see it, he placed a calming hand on Malcolm's back – recalling his own advice, and forcing himself to take it, as he glared straight into the Xyrillian's eyes.

"Well, I'll make sure to pass that on. I'm sure he'll be as crushed as I am."

As it had done before, the sneer faded a little. Not as much as Jon had wanted, but… no. It would do. Before he could take further advantage of it, though, Trena'l saw his chance instead, and seized it.

"No matter. The opinions of our subjects have never held any importance."

Between horror, rage, and pure revulsion, Jon struggled through all three of them to find a response. He was still trying to do so when, despite all his attempts at restraint, Malcolm furiously did it for him.

"Commander Tucker is not a subject! He's a human being. One of the bravest people I've ever met, whose courage puts you to shame!"

Realizing he'd given Trena'l exactly what he'd wanted, he then stepped back, forcing himself back into control – the fury on his face speaking volumes for him instead, as he allowed his CO to take on the attack.

To his astonishment, that attack started with calm, quiet regret for what had befallen the real victims of Trena'l and his 'research.' His own people.

"I'm sorry for what's happened to your world. To all the people who have suffered, because of it."

That's as far as it went. Heartfelt sympathy, for Xyrillia's real and innocent victims. But not for him. Not for one of their own, who'd turned all their hopes into the worst imaginable nightmares.

And he really wasn't surprised at all, just sickened, by Trena'l's indifference. His complete lack of remorse for what he'd done, to his own people. To all those others. To the Denizian trader, who'd died in agonizing, unnaturally enforced childbirth.

To Trip who, thank God, had managed to survive.

That last thought alone swept all possibility of empathy out of Jon's head. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was born out of pure contempt.

"But what you did to Commander Tucker, to all those others, in the name of once justified research, is beyond excuse. Any excuse."

Still nothing. No reaction, except for that smug, mocking leer. But Jon refused to back down. For Malcolm, for himself, for all those victims and, most of all, for Trip, he wasn't going to let this smirking bastard win. If anything, that thought gave him all the more incentive to fight even harder, for the answers that his outraged humanity still demanded.

"What I can't understand is why. With your people being relocated, why you'd… do this."

There'd been the tiniest pause through that final part. Again, Trena'l made the gloating most of it. And, to Malcolm's barely restrained disgust, his own words were now hurled mockingly back against him.

"Because we can, Captain Archer. Because we have the ability, and the… courage of our convictions, to do so."

Glancing beyond them, to the Xyrillian guards who'd been assigned to protect them, Trena'l then smiled. A cold, humourless smile, that perfectly matched the contempt in his voice.

"They still have their blind, ignorant followers, but the leaders on our world are weak. Cowards. They refuse to see the importance of our… research."

God, if he heard that damn word one more time, Jon was going to ram it right back down his throat. Instead, channelling that anger through his voice and his eyes, he threw another word back through those barriers. A word that summed this SOB to a perfect T.

"I define 'coward' as those who stalk their victims, without having the guts to show their faces. I define 'coward' as those who resort to drugs… physical and mental control… to make them submit. I define 'coward' as those who need to rely on that enforcement to subdue people who, given the chance, would resist and fight back, with everything they have."

A pause then, just to let all that sink in. As he'd expected, Trena'l remained completely unmoved. Still, Jon wasn't done yet. Hell, he wasn't even halfway close.

"I'm sure the victims you terrorised on your own world will define you the same way. See you, and the rest of your crew, as the cowards you truly are. For all the crimes you've committed against them, you'll never see daylight again. And by your homeworld's orders, and Starfleet's, your research, as you call it, is terminated."

To his surprise, and Malcolm's, just one word in that last, furiously delivered sentence got a reaction.

"This is no business of Starfleet!"

Like hell it wasn't. And Jon wasted neither time nor mercy in making that point brutally clear.

"You subjected one of its officers to an assault that we see as rape. That makes it our business."

After everything he'd said, that was it. This was the moment that finally made the Xyrillian snap. Lunging towards the bars that separated them, he then staggered. Cried out, and fell back again, before he could get anywhere near them.

At first, Jon thought it was the effect of the forcefield. But then he and Malcolm stared, with a strange lack of sympathy, as Trena'l jerked again, then fell to his knees. Both of them had wondered what that small disc in the centre of his throat was for. Well, now they knew.

He wasn't surprised either, to see that Malcolm smiling too. Ever so slightly, with the same satisfaction. Neither of them believed in the use of pain as a means of punishment, but when they thought about Trip, and what he'd been put through – well, if such painful restraint meant bringing this bastard into line, and keeping him there, they'd make an exception.

Finally making it back to his feet, Trena'l glared back at him. For several moments, their eyes locked. For the life of him, Jon couldn't understand why he was smiling. But then, with breathtaking arrogance, he was made to understand.

"As I said, Captain… the opinions of our subjects, including you and the hapless Lieutenant Reed, mean nothing to us. Absolutely nothing."

Just as Malcolm had done, just moments earlier, Jon was left lost for words. Unable to believe what had just happened. One minute. he'd had his opponent on the ropes, yet he was the one who'd just been slammed into the canvas, with nothing left to offer.

Game over. And the bastard had won.

The only comfort he could give himself, and Malcolm too, as they walked away, felt unjustly hollow. At least it had been them this time, not Trip, who'd fallen victim to his smug, sickening arrogance. He was still back on Enterprise, safely out of this sick bastard's reach. And, Jon vowed, he'd make sure he stayed that way.