"Lieutenant Reed," Phlox called out cheerfully, "you've been on your feet enough, it's time to get back to bed." Malcolm rose dutifully and slid onto the next biobed. Phlox's smile widened a little; it wasn't often that Reed obeyed him without the slightest protest. "And Mrs. Welles," Phlox turned to her, "You need to get some rest. I will be sure to call you at once if there's any change, but I think I can safely say that Lieutenant Welles is out of the woods, to use a human phrase."
It was another day before Andrew awoke, and the first thing he saw were two emerald-green eyes floating above him, and the sweet smile he'd fallen in love with so many years ago. "Ma...riah?" he whispered, his voice scratchy from disuse. "Shhh," she touched his lips lightly with a finger, "you just rest, my darling. You're going to be fine." "Boys?" he asked, a slight tremor of fear in his eyes. But she smiled even deeper, "they're fine–Hoodu started a game of hide-n-seek in the messhall and scared a group of female ensigns when they found him hiding under their table, RJ is busy drawing pictures of the two of you blowing up asteroids, and Dion has charmed Lieutenant Cutler into becoming both his full time babysitter and probably future wife, if I know my Welles men!" Andrew smiled at that. Her lips brushed lightly over his, and she whispered, "you rest now, and I'll go tell them their daddy loves them."
By the time Malcolm was done with his first day back on duty, it was evening. The armory was slowly returning to normal, and he had marveled more than once how bad it would have been if any of the weapons had accidentally fired. He had been released from sickbay that morning, but he hurried back there as soon as he could, after Phlox had notified him that Lieutenant Welles was awake and alert.
When he stepped inside, he could hear Welles and his wife talking, and Malcolm pulled up short. He didn't want to intrude on their private conversations, yet he didn't want to eavesdrop either. So after a moment, he started whistling to alert them to his presence as he walked to the biobed behind the curtain.
"Lieutenant!" he called, smiling at the couple, "I'm glad to see you're doing better." Mariah beamed at him, 'the woman had a beautiful smile,' he thought. "Mrs. Welles," he nodded at her. She squeezed her husband's hand, bent over and kissed him, and stood up. "I'll leave you two men alone to talk business," she said lightly. Andrew held on to her hand a moment, and replied, "Give the boys my love." "Of course," she smiled again, and stepped past Malcolm.
"Sir," Andrew gestured to the now-vacant chair with his good arm. He sported fewer bandages, Malcolm noted, and his color was much better. "You're a lucky man," Malcolm said, "she's been at your side constantly." Andrew returned the other man's smile. "I am indeed," he agreed, shifting a little in the biobed. "How are things going in the armory?" he asked, and Malcolm nodded, "we're getting back to normal, slowly but surely. Things would have been a lot worse if we hadn't taken care of the relays."
Malcolm sat on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them. He tried to decide how to ask the question that he had carried since the accident. "Lieutenant," he finally made up his mind, "Do you remember anything of our conversation after the ceiling fell in on us?"
Andrew tensed slightly, Malcolm noted, and saw that the injured man was staring past him, studying the curtain behind his head. Malcolm waited, he didn't want Welles to feel any more pressured than he must already feel. Andrew drew in a deep breath, then winced as his ribs reminded him that they were still sore. "I remember," he finally answered. Both men were silent for a moment, and Malcolm forced himself to be patient. Finally, "I told you that you had family on my Enterprise," Andrew admitted.
"That can't be true," Malcolm was fearful of the answer, "because I checked the records–we all checked them, for information about our descendants–and your data banks showed I died without any children or family." Andrew nodded slowly. "That's true," he agreed, "the records show that." Malcolm knew the Lieutenant was like a dam ready to burst, but it had to happen on his own time. Andrew finally turned to face him.
"Back when the Enterprise first got stuck in the past," Andrew began, "and people started pairing up and starting families, everyone knew there were more men than women in the crew. Some of them met and married other species, and brought their spouses onboard, and we were both a generational and inter-species ship. But some crew never got married, never had children." Malcolm nodded, "like me."
"Yes," Andrew said, "Like you. So Captain Archer requested, and those people agreed, to make DNA donations for Phlox to store, so that we would have a better chance of keeping our future crew healthy. Everything was done anonymously–not even the donors themselves would know if their donation was ever used." Malcolm's eyes widened, "so my DNA was used anonymously?"
He could see the pain in Andrew's eyes. "There was this one kid, whose mother, Dionne, was a MACO. She never met anyone on board that she was really interested in enough to commit to, but she did want a child. So 33 years ago she went to the doctor who had replaced Phlox, and he helped her get pregnant using one of the anonymous donations." Andrew allowed himself a small smile. "She was a great mother, and the boy loved her dearly. When he was 14, though, he started to wonder who his father was. So he started researching the original crew, and after he hacked into the main computer, it was easy to get a list of those men who never had children. Then he started a process of elimination, and narrowed it down to about 12 of the crew."
Malcolm frowned. "He hacked into secure files? Didn't anyone catch him? That should have been a flagrant security violation." "Yeah," Andrew agreed, "but this kid was pretty sharp, and knew how to cover his tracks. No one ever caught on."
"Anyway," he continued, "the next step was a little tricky, he had to look at the DNA sequencing for each of the 12. But he wasn't going to let anything stop him, so he hacked into sickbay records and checked every one of those crewmen, and again managed to cover his tracks. Nobody ever knew he'd done it–Phlox's replacement was not as sharp as Phlox had been. But there it was, staring the kid in the face; his DNA and yours was a 99% match. You were his father. It was logical, he decided, since his own affinity lay in the Armory, in weaponry, and in hand-to-hand combat. Even though he was still a teenager, he was already training for a regular rotation spot on the weapons crew, and was one of the best fighters on the ship, even against the MACOs."
Malcolm frowned. This crewman–
But Andrew plunged on, "You'd think the kid would have been happy just to know that his birth father was a hero of the Enterprise, a man who had saved the ship, it's crew, and the captain many times over, often risking his own life in the process. In fact, on the other Enterprise, Commander Reed had died a hero's death, and everyone who ever lived there revered him. But the boy wanted more, he wanted to really know his birth father, the private man behind the heroic facade. So he went back to the ship's computer, and hacked into the old personal log files, and uploaded every entry Malcolm Reed ever made."
"What?" Malcolm jumped up. "He pried into my personal files?" Andrew laughed softly. "Not really yours, sir, the other Malcolm Reed." Malcolm shook his head, "that's still highly irregular, and he should have respected the 'other Malcolm Reed's' privacy, not to mention starfleet regulations regarding security of personal files."
Andrew sighed. "He was a kid, he didn't care, he had a goal, and he was single-minded about achieving it. But you're right, he should have stopped while he was ahead and been content to know his father was a hero. But he was driven to know everything. So what did he find out about his father?" Andrew's voice took on a tinge of bitterness. "He found out that his father never wanted children, that he in fact disliked children wholeheartedly, and he thought Archer's request for DNA samples was the worst thing he'd ever heard of, although he made his contribution because he would never refuse an order from his Captain. But Reed did make a request, one that was honored, that his sample would never be used to create a child until he was dead. That way he wouldn't have to know about the child, or ever see the child, even if he didn't know the kid was his own flesh and blood. Every time a new baby was born on the ship, and Reed referenced it in his journal entry, he would be adamant about how happy he wasn't saddled with the brat." Andrew smirked, "He did say he understood that the ship needed future crew, of course, to be able to complete their mission of destroying the weapon in the future. But he disliked everything about them, and avoided the children on the ship as much as possible."
Malcolm sat back down heavily. He had known in his heart for a while where this was headed, but he kept quiet, studying Andrew's face. Andrew was looking away from him as he continued.
"So this kid had to face the fact that, if it hadn't been for Archer's decision to collect and store DNA, he would have never been born. His birth father didn't want him, had never wanted him, and had gone out of his way to never have to look at him or ever have even the remotest contact with him. The kid decided that Reed was a selfish bastard who didn't deserve another second of his time. But he determined he would be better than Reed had ever been, at anything and everything Reed had ever done. He studied every word Reed had ever written about the armory, security, tactical, combat training, official reports, memorized it all, and practiced it continuously.
The kid's world was crushed a few years later, when his mother was killed in a fight with the Romulans. He was surrounded by friends on the ship, but felt totally alone. But the McKenzies, James and Lorina, made sure the lonely teen was never left out. Their eldest child was 7 years younger than the kid, and he became like an older brother to all three Mackenzie children. He didn't realize it at the time, but their 12 year old daughter had fallen in love with him and was determined to win his heart. It took 6 years, but when she turned 18, and he was 25, they were married, and he had the family he'd always craved. Their own babies started coming, and he swore that his sons would know their father wanted them, loved them, and cherished them. Whatever Malcolm Reed had been in his private life, this kid would be the exact opposite."
Malcolm listened to the story, with the growing confirmation that he not only had a son, but a daughter-in-law and three small grandsons. By the time Andrew finished, Malcolm was on his feet again, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes wide, every muscle taut.
Andrew was silent, and stared at the ceiling, the curtains, anywhere but at Malcolm. As the words had poured out of him like a raging waterfall, his anger had surged then ebbed, and he felt his hatred of Lieutenant Reed finally dissolve away. No matter how much Reed had not wanted children, Andrew was here, alive, and with his family, and it was because of Reed–at least, the Reed on his own ship, who had been revered yet forever alone, and had died in the course of duty over 80 years ago. Then he felt a hand close over his, and he jerked his head around to look into the face of his biological father, who stood silently next to his bed.