Tucker

After all the excitement of the day I'm still a little worried that going into the house may wake someone up, and the last thing we need is the conversation to start up again.

So the natural thing to me is to climb up the tree beside the house. It's right beside my room, and I can see the window's open, so I can get in no problem. Naturally I'll call out to Mal before I do, because I don't want to get the crap kicked out of me in my own bedroom if he wakes up and thinks I'm an intruder. Knowing him, he'd be all too likely to hit first and ask questions later when he's in a strange place.

Hoshi worries a bit, but even though she makes a fair point that I'm not twelve any more, I'm not exactly out of condition either. I went up and down this tree so often when I was young I'm just surprised there aren't handholds worn in the thing. Sure enough as soon as I start to climb I find the exact same hand- and foot-holds, and before you know I'm up on the branch opposite my window. The ground looks farther away than it used to and the branch seems to bend a little more, but apart from that I'm as safe as houses. There won't be any problem at all getting through the window when I need to.

I've brought up a few pebbles, just to toss on to the bed to wake Malcolm. The bed's directly opposite me and getting the range is no problem at all. Keeping myself steady with my left hand on the branch above, with my right I send the pebbles towards the bed, and in the silence of the night I hear the sound of them hitting quite distinctly.

Now I know Mal's a light sleeper. He might not feel the first and just maybe if he's tired enough he might ignore the second, but the third and fourth, no way.

I mutter something uncomplimentary and make my move to the window. Maybe he's sitting in the chair listening to music through his headphones or something. I'll have to take the chance.

Once again my body just seems to remember how to do it. It's not as easy as I seem to recall, and the window's definitely gotten smaller, but I don't fall, and in a second I drop to the floor of my room just the way I used to.

"Mal?"

There's no reply. The room's empty. His bed hasn't even been slept in, by the look of things.

His suitcase is still here. His clothes are on the back of the chair (neatly folded, of course). His chronometer's on the night stand.

Maybe he's just slipped out to the bathroom. I go to the door, open it and look cautiously out along the landing. There's no light anywhere, though presumably he might leave the bathroom light off so as not to disturb anyone if all he wanted was a quick piss.

There's no sign of his shoes, though. Would he put his shoes on to go to the bathroom?

There's a small, slim cardboard box on the dressing table, open. It contains a small plastic receptacle, also open, and empty. Nothing else.

Hoshi's worry has crept into me, and now it redoubles.

I don't want to raise the house. Somehow I get myself back out into the tree and scramble my way down to the foot of it, where she's waiting anxiously.

"He's not there," I pant, scrubbing bits from the tree bark off my hands. "His suitcase is, and the clothes he was wearin'. But his shoes are gone."

"He couldn't be anywhere else in the house?"

I shake my head. "Whole place is shut up and dark. I suppose he could be sittin' downstairs or something, but I don't see it. He'd be too scared someone 'd come down and get the fright of their lives findin' him when they weren't expectin' it." Desperately I look around the dark garden. It's never seemed so huge, so full of places a man could hide in if he didn't want to be found; or where he could be lying, if something had happened to him…

In his state of mind, if Hoshi's right, I can't say what he would or wouldn't do. There's the lake. There's the boat house, with its dusty old coils of rope, and the trees around it…

"Let's check the doors." Maybe he is inside, just sitting in the lounge and thinking. He used to do that a lot on board ship, just chilling in the Observation Lounge, and sometimes he wouldn't bother turning the lights on. After all, what's the chance of someone coming down and finding him at this hour?

The dogs on the front porch greet me sleepily, but they know me; they don't bark, and settle down again obediently.

The front door's locked tight. Not that we'd ever expect trouble, not round here, but it's sort of the family routine, shutting out the night and the things that prowl in it.

As quietly and quickly as we can, Hoshi and I flit around the side of the house. If the back door's locked, I know where the spare key's hidden.

There's someone in the chair beside the back door, though, and I draw in breath, relieved. He was just catching a bit of fresh air; probably couldn't sleep, like either of us.

But as I get up close, I see the build's all wrong, and when the voice comes, its accent isn't English. "Best you and Miss Sato get yourselves back to your beds, son."

I stutter to a halt. "D-Dad?"

He stands up, taking his time about it. "Everything's okay, Trip. Nothing you need to be concerned about. Just taking care of something, that's all."

His voice sounds utterly weird. Lifeless. Like he's trying so hard to hide something that he's hiding everything. I have no idea why he's here, or what he's talking about, but the fear inside me ratchets up again, and now it's pushing at the bottom of my throat.

Beside me, Hoshi's head turns suddenly as if she's heard something, and she gives a little gasp and clutches at my arm. I haven't heard a thing, but she's staring towards the stable, and even at this distance now I'm looking I can see the rim of light where one of the shutters isn't hanging properly. "Is there something wrong with one of the horses?" It's the only reason I can think of for a light to be on down there at this hour.

"Yes. Dancer's having problems. Thought I'd best get the vet in, make sure the foal's okay."

"So why aren't you down there with him?" Dancer's a valuable animal, a Tennessee. She's near the end of her pregnancy and it's her first foal; he brings her in and checks her over every night, to make sure she doesn't go into labor out in the paddock where the other mares might bother her. If he thinks there's something wrong he wouldn't hesitate to call the vet, but I can't imagine him waiting up here for the news.

He can't think of an answer fast enough.

"Trip!" Hoshi's voice is a breath of horror.

I'm going down there. I've seen a horse give birth before, and I know enough not to get in the way.

As I turn, Dad steps forward and grabs my arm. "Trip, I said leave it. Go back to your bed!"

Even as the habit of obedience drags at me, my arm twists hard, breaking his hold. "It's just a horse, isn't it?"

"No! Trip, no!" He scrambles after me, catching at my sleeve, his voice a desperate whisper. "Leave it, just leave them alone – think of Lizzie!"

"Lizzie?" I don't even try to keep my voice down, but the name stops me in my tracks. "What the hell's going on? Is it Sunshine? Has something happened to her?"

"Yes – yes, she had an accident! That's why the vet's here – she'll probably have to be put down–"

"And you couldn't even stay with her for that?" I might as well have added Tell that to the marines, because Dad was raised on a farm; if he didn't feel able to put a suffering animal out of its misery himself, this is Lizzie's horse. No way would he ever have left that animal alone to be shot by a stranger.

I pull my arm away again. I have Hoshi's wrist in my other hand, because she's trying to run forward and if there really is a horse being put out of its pain in there it's not going to be a pretty sight.

But as I try to move Dad literally grabs me and starts wrestling with me, like he's trying to throw me to the ground. He's not young, but when a man gets mad enough he can find strength he didn't know he had, and Dad hangs on to me like he'll hold me here if he has to kill me or himself to do it. "Leave it!" he spits. "Carl knows what he's doing – that little sonofabitch could have shot them all and he didn't – he's a fucking little coward and he deserves what's coming to him!"

Hoshi gives a soft little cry: "Malcolm!"

"You leave them be, Missy!" Dad hisses at her. "Isn't nobody else gonna care enough 'bout our Lizzie to do something to somebody. He could have shot them damned Xindi fine and easy, he had them big weapons an' everything, and he just let them get away without a scratch. Seven million people died, seven million, and that little asshole never did a thing. Well he's got it comin' to him, and if my own son won't do it, his cousin will!"

I can't breathe, I can't talk. I can't get my brain around it. The only thing I know is that I've got to get to that stable, and as I finally break away from him and start running I pray, I pray like I've only ever prayed once before in my life.

The day we heard about the Xindi attack.

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