Archer and Tucker strode along the tidy walk toward the tidy little house at the end of it. It was the first dwelling they’d come upon since leaving what looked suspiciously like an oak forest. Bereft of communicators, they were hoping the occupants would be able to help them contact Enterprise, or at least give them shelter while they sorted out what was going on.

The door of the house flew open and a little boy, about eight or nine years-old, burst out. The child was sobbing hysterically as he pelted down the walk, and Tucker leaned down to intercept him.

“Hey, little buddy,” said Trip, catching the boy and holding him still, “what’s the rush?” Trip wasn’t certain if the Human-looking child had actually understood him, or was just responding to the kind tone of voice, because the boy simply wrapped his arms around Trip’s neck and cried into the fabric of his uniform. He stood, lifting the child in his arms, and exchanged a look with his captain and friend.

“Picking up strays already, Trip?” said Archer, amused.

“Who are you, and what are you doing with my son?” The new voice startled the two Starfleet officers into looking back toward the house, from whence the voice’s owner was emerging. “I asked you a question. Now answer me!” The man’s voice was a deep baritone and very, very English.

Archer sucked in a breath and hissed lowly to Trip, “That’s Stuart Reed.”

Stuart Reed? Trip blinked in confusion and then again as the confusion cleared. Oh, Stuart Reed, father of Malcolm Reed... He took a closer look at the boy in his arms. Tears trickled over impossibly high cheekbones, the red-rimmed eyes producing the tears were intensely blue and surrounded by thick black lashes, and the hair falling in errant locks over the boy’s forehead was a rich, chocolaty brown.

Oh. My. God.

“My friend was just trying to comfort your son. He has a nephew about that age himself, and is something of a softy.”

Stuart Reed eyed Archer suspiciously and asked again, “Who are you?”

“I’m Captain Jonathan A..nders. This is Commander Trip Charles.”

“Starfleet, I presume?”

“Yes.”

Reed was restraining a sneer, but he held out his hand anyway. “Captain Stuart Reed, Their Majesties’ Royal Navy. The mewling infant your friend is holding is my son, Malcolm.”

“Pleased to meet you, Captain. If you don’t mind my asking, what upset your son?”

“His mother and I have decided to send him to boarding school in England, not that it’s any of your business. We want him to have a proper education, one that doesn’t involve pulling him in and out of schools as the Navy moves me around. Besides, it’s not healthy for him here.”

“Not healthy? I don’t understand.”

“The brat has allergies. Scores of them. Seems he’s allergic to half the damn plant-life in Malaysia. Oak, tropical grass, pineapple... The food’s easy enough to deal with, but you’ll have noticed the oak forest next door. Medication is expensive and a trial to get him to take. At least in England he’ll only have to deal with dust allergies.”

“I see.”

“Now, what are you doing here? I don’t recall Starfleet having any bases in Kota Bharu.”

“Um, no. We just finished survival training in Australia and were doing some sight-seeing on our way home. We went out for an exploratory walk in the forest and, I’m afraid, we lost track of the time and where we were. Our transport’s long since gone, and we really hadn’t planned on staying the night. We were rather hoping you could help us out.”

“You’d best come in then, hadn’t you.” Reed turned smartly and walked back into the house, clearly expecting the other two to follow.

Trip and Jon exchanged another look and followed the elder Reed into the house. Malcolm still clung to Trip, so he carried the boy along, despite the fact that he was getting heavy. The house was as fussily neat inside as it was out, and they took care to knock the dirt off their boots before they stepped onto the carpeting.

A pretty woman in a floral dress stepped into the living room, a little girl toddling along behind her. “Stuart dear, who are these gentlemen?”

“Men from Starfleet. They got lost in the forest.” Reed was contemptuous, but polite enough that they couldn’t take offence. “They’ve missed their transport back to North America.”

“Oh, dear. You’ll have to stay the night with us. I always keep the spare bedroom ready. You don’t mind sharing, do you? I’m afraid we have only the one extra room.”

“That’s very kind of you, Ma’am. Trip and I don’t mind at all. We’re used to close quarters.”

“Trip? What an odd name. Is there a significance?”

“Well, Ma’am,” said Trip, “it’s somethin’ of a Southern tradition, me bein’ the third and all.” He didn’t specify the third of what, and Mrs. Reed seemed to assume it was the third child of the family.

“How clever. And you are?” she asked Archer.

“Jonathan, Ma’am, but most people just call me Jon.”

“Jon. Are the two of you hungry? I was just about to prepare dinner.”

“Starved, thank you.”

“I’ll go set two more places, then. Malcolm dear, let go of the gentleman and come help Mummy set the table.”

The boy reluctantly released his hold on Trip, and the engineer lowered him to the floor. With one backward glance at the two Starfleet officers he trotted obediently after his mother.

“Obviously, that anomaly we were investigating has something to do with this,” said Archer.

“Obviously. But how? All we detected were neutrinos and those things we couldn’t identify. I wonder...” Trip frowned, furrowing his forehead in thought.

“What? What is it, Trip? You look like you’ve thought of something.”

“I was j’st thinkin’. Could this have been some kinda variation on one of them wormhole things the Vulcans warned us about? Those exhibit high neutrino emissions, right?”

“Yeeess... You think that, whatever the other particles were, they’re responsible for the shift in time as well as space?”

“Somethin’’ like that.”

“But why here? Why now?”

“I dunno. Coincidence?”

“Maybe, but this doesn’t feel like a coincidence to me.”

A quiet knock at the door stopped their speculations, and Trip rose to answer it. Standing outside the door was the young Malcolm Reed.

“May I come in?”

Despite the fact that Trip knew perfectly well that Malcolm could speak, he was slightly startled by the boy’s question, as it was the first thing he’d said since they had arrived. “Sure thing, Malcolm. C’mon in.”

“Thank you. Please close the door.” Exchanging an amused glance with Jon, Trip did as he was told. “Now, I want to know who you really are, and what you’re doing here.”

Jon felt as though the floor had just dropped out from under him. He’d thought the tale he’d spun earlier for the Reeds had been pretty good. Certainly good enough to pass with people who knew and cared very little for Starfleet.

“What do you mean?” he asked, pleased to find that he didn’t stumble on the words in his shock.

“I don’t believe you are who you say you are. The patches on your uniforms say that you serve on the Enterprise. There is no Enterprise in Starfleet at the moment, not with that registry number. Henry Archer has plans for a ship called Enterprise, but they’re a long way from being realised yet. You,” the little boy said, pointing at Jon, “look a little bit like Henry Archer. You also knew who my daddy was before he introduced himself. You seemed surprised.”

“Better fess up, Cap’n,” said Trip.

“I guess so. You’re a very smart boy, Malcolm, observant, too. I take it you know a lot about Starfleet.”

“Yes, Sir. Daddy doesn’t approve, but I want to join Starfleet when I’m old enough. I read everything about current missions, ship manifests, plans for the future ... everything.”

“Well, since you’ve caught me in my lie, I guess I have to tell you that I am Captain Jonathan Archer of the starship Enterprise, and that this gentleman here is my Chief Engineer, Commander Charles Tucker the Third. We are from the year 2152.”

“Time travellers? The Vulcans say that time travel is impossible.”

“Do you believe everything the Vulcans say?”

“No. I prefer to make up my own mind when I can.”

“Good boy. We didn’t come here intentionally. We were investigating an anomaly on a planet we discovered and kind of ... fell in. When we ‘landed,’ we found ourselves here.”

“Hmmm... It fits the facts better than your other story, so I guess I’ll believe you. For now anyway.”

“Thanks,” said Trip with an ironic drawl.

“Do people really call you Trip?”

“Sure do.”

“Why?”

“I’m Charles Tucker the Third. There’s a triple slash at the end of my name, so I’m ‘Trip.’ Like I done told your mama: it’s a Southern tradition.”

“Oh. I wish I had something interesting like that for people to call me.”

“Why? What’s wrong with bein’ called Malcolm?”

“It’s too stuffy. I don’t like it.”

“What wouldja rather be called?”

“I don’t know. Anything other than Malcolm. Even ‘Stinky’ or something like that would be better.”

Trip’s eyes widened as he recognised the name from Reed’s sleeptalking when they’d been trapped together on Shuttlepod One, and he stifled a laugh. “How ‘bout we j’st call you ‘Mal?’ Not so stuffy, but still your name ... more or less.”

“Okay.”

“Mal,” said Archer, “what are you going to say to your father about us?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“No. Daddy won’t believe me if I tell him the truth anyway, so why bother? Besides, you’ve been nice to me. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Thank goodness for the constants of the universe, thought Jon. If one is kind to animals and small children one is assured of their loyalty for life. “We appreciate that, Mal.”

“You’re not really going to North America tomorrow, are you?”

“Well, I’d rather not. This is where we fell, so to speak. I suspect this is where we’ll find the other end of the anomaly to take us home. Though, without our scanners that is going to be difficult.”

“I have a hiding place in the forest you could stay in. I can bring you food and I’ve got a hand-held scanner kit I’ve been putting together that I can let you have. If ... if you think it’ll help.”

“It certainly can’t hurt. Thank you, Mal. Now, you had better get some sleep. Shall we meet you just inside the forest tomorrow? Say, half a mile down the road?”

“That’ll do. Good night, Captain, Commander.”

“Remind me,” said Trip when the door closed behind the little boy again, “when we get home, to never underestimate Malcolm’s intelligence. Ever. That boy j’st saw right through us.”

“I know, Trip. Believe me, I know. I just hope we don’t end up messing up the timeline too much while we’re here.” Jon sighed heavily. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow, I think.”

“Run away? Why wouldja wanna do that?” asked Trip.

“They don’t want me here. They’re going to send me to some awful school in England, make me stay with my aunts and uncles during breaks. I decided I’d rather run away.”

“They’re only tryin’ to do what’s best for you.”

Malcolm snorted derisively. “They just want to get rid of me. They don’t want me anymore. Daddy’s been looking for a way to send me away ever since my allergies started. I’m not a very good Reed.”

“What?”

“It’s true. I’m too small, too stupid, too much of a cry-baby, and I don’t want to join the Royal Navy. The Reeds have been Navy men for generations,” the little boy mimicked his father’s voice for the last.

Trip crouched down, taking the child by the shoulders to make him look at him. “Now you listen to me, Malcolm Reed. Firstly, you are not stupid. No way, no how is that true. You’re probably smarter’n I am. Secondly, you’re eight years-old. Little boys are allowed to cry. Thirdly, you’re not that small, and size doesn’t really count anyway. Not if you have skill, speed, an’ agility. Fourthly, tradition is all very well an’ good, but you gotta do what’s best for you. If the stars are in your heart, then that’s where you oughtta be. Start a new family tradition.”

“Why are you so nice to me? Nobody else is.”

“I’m nice to you, Mal, ‘cause I’m ... I’m your friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“Yes, you do. I’m your friend, and Jon here is your friend.”

“But you can’t stay here.”

“No, but...” Trip stopped himself from continuing, not wanting to divulge too much to the young Malcolm of his future.

Malcolm caught on anyway, narrowing his eyes at the two men. “You know me, don’t you? That’s how you knew who Daddy was. Am I on your ship?”

“Swift one, Trip. So much for protecting the timeline by not letting on too much,” said Jon with an irritated glare at his friend.

“Sorry! I was j’st tryin’ to make him feel better.”

“Your soft heart is going to get you into trouble one of these days, Trip. Couldn’t you have waited until we got home and then given the man a hug or something?”

“My soft heart?! Look who’s talking. Definitely a case of the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

“Trip,” said Archer warningly. “Not another word.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Malcolm, come here for a second.” Jon kneeled in front of the little boy, as Trip had earlier, and tried to explain the need for secrecy to him. “I would like nothing better than to tell you all about what your life is like where ... when we come from. But, if I do that, I risk changing everything. You won’t react the same way if you know what’s supposed to happen. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Just... Are you two really my friends?”

“Sure are. Trip, he’s probably your best friend. You boys get into all sorts of trouble together.”

“Hey!” said Trip, indignant. “Nothin’ we haven’t been able to get out of.”

“Yet.”

Trip pulled a face and bobbled his head in reluctant agreement. “Yet.”

“What kind of trouble?” the boy asked, eyes bright.

“Malcolm, what did I just say?” said Jon with a warning look.

The dark haired imp just grinned with what Jon was sure would later become Reed’s trademark half smile and said, “I had to try.”

“Say,” said Trip, “where’s that sensor kit you were talkin’ about last night?”

“Over there, in that box,” the boy pointed to an old ammunition box tucked neatly into a back corner of the tree house.

“Tools in there, too?”

The boy nodded in response.

“Great. Really appreciate this, Mal. Now, you prob’ly should be headin’ home. Don’t want your mama to worry ‘bout you, do we?”

Malcolm nodded again and grimaced. “Suppose not. I’ll be back later with something for you to eat. If you get hungry before then I’ve got a stash of acorns in a jar next to the box with the scanner kit.”

After receiving another nod of thanks from Trip, the boy scrambled down the ladder to the forest floor and scampered off toward home.

Trip watched him disappear before turning back to Jon, who was eyeing him speculatively.

“Sweet kid, real trustin’. Wonder what happened.” “I don’t know, Trip. He probably got lonely at boarding school, pulled in on himself. Little and smart as he is ... natural target for the bullies. I doubt he had anybody to protect him.” Jon shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about it, whatever happened.”

Trip wanted to protest, Jon could tell by his friend’s expression. He kept quiet, however, moving back to the ammo box and plopping down next to it with a resigned air. The box was opened, and the scanner parts lifted out. Trip examined each component carefully, assessing the suitability of the thing to their purpose.

“Well, it ain’t real sophisticated, but with a little tweakin’ it’ll do the trick, I think.”

“Good,” said Jon. “How soon can you have it done?”

“Mal’s done about half the work already, pretty well, too, for an eight year-old. I think I can have it workin’ by mornin’ ... tomorrow afternoon at the outside.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. I’m going to explore the forest a little. I’ve never been to Malaysia before.”

“Don’t get lost, Cap’n,” Trip said without looking up from the tools he was sorting out.

“No, Sir. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The massive oaks surrounding him as he walked were impressive, to say the least. He could understand why the young Malcolm would enjoy running wild in this place. The urge to be on the look-out for mysterious robed figures was strong in him, and if the forest could do such a thing to mature starship captains, what must it do to imaginative little boys?

A blur of motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he stopped, head snapping around to look for what he’d almost seen. Nothing was there to be seen, however, and he decided that it must have been a squirrel, or something similar, scampering into its home in a tree. With a shake of his head and a mutter about letting his imagination run away with him, Archer turned to make his way back to the tree house and Trip. Still, as he walked, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something lurking out there that most definitely did not belong.

“By anythin’ d’y mean anything that might be our anomaly?”

The little boy’s dark head bobbed in confirmation. His features were painted with excitement as he sat next to Trip on the forest floor, back propped against a massive oak.

“Naw. Not a blamed thing. I have a real bad feelin’ that that thing may have j’st up and disappeared after it dumped us here.”

“Or the scanner might not be able to detect it.” Malcolm’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, Mal. You’ve done your best by Jon and me, that’s what counts. You’re only eight. You can’t expect to work miracles.”

“Guess not,” said Malcolm morosely.

“Guess not,” Trip mimicked, drawing a smile from the boy. “So, Mal, whaddya wanna be when you grow up?”

“But you know what I’m going to be.”

“True, but I asked what you want to be, right now, not what you’re gonna be. Well?”

“I want to be a Starfleet officer!”

“What kind of Starfleet officer? A Captain? Science Officer? Security?”

“Well... Granddad was an Ordinance Officer in the Navy, and he’s got some pretty neat stories, but ... I really like building things. I think I’d like to be an engineer. Maybe even Chief Engineer someday.” Bright blue eyes narrowed on Trip. “I guess I’m not Chief Engineer on Enterprise, am I? That’s you. Am I your second?” he asked hopefully.

“Now, you know I can’t tell you that, Mal,” said Trip with the closest he could come to a stern look at the boy. “Cap’n Archer’ll have my hide if I let any more information slip.”

Malcolm stuck his tongue out at Trip, grinning widely when the engineer reached out to tousle his hair. The boy gave him a playful shove, and he shoved back gently, so as not to hurt the small Reed. When the little boy shoved him again, with a little more force this time, Trip allowed himself to be over-balanced. He sprawled across the ground with a melodramatic cry, and Malcolm pounced on him with a giggle.

Trip let the boy win the wrestling match for a while, then abruptly turned the tables. Scooping Malcolm up, he began to tickle the boy’s sides, reducing him to a giggling, squirming mass.

“I see you boys are having fun.” Jon’s voice cut through the giggling, and Trip looked up to see his captain returning from what was becoming his daily walk. In the last two days since the scanner had been completed, he had taken the device with him on his jaunt through the forest, hoping to find a trace of the anomaly as he wandered.

Engineer and little boy stilled and then scrambled to their feet to meet the captain. “Any luck?” asked Trip, hopeful but not expectant.

“No. There’s nothing out there beyond the ordinary, as far as I can find.” Frustration laced Jon’s voice, though he tried to contain it for his friend’s sake. As enamoured as Trip was of playing big brother to an eight year-old Malcolm Reed, Jon knew that he’d prefer to be back with his engines and back as Lieutenant Reed’s best friend. He hated the thought that he might have to tell his friend that they were stuck in this time. Lord only knew what they’d do with themselves if that were the case, but it wasn’t in him to give up just yet.

“Figured as much.” Trip frowned, absently playing with Malcolm’s hair. “I feel like there’s somethin’ we’re missin’, if only I knew what.”

“If you knew what it was,” piped up Malcolm logically, “you wouldn’t be missing it, now would you?”

Trip ruffled the boy’s hair. “Smart alec.”

“Shouldn’t you be heading home for dinner soon, Malcolm?” Jon asked the little boy, who was gazing up at Trip adoringly. He wanted to talk to his engineer alone, and he was finding the way the boy was almost imprinting on Trip somewhat disturbing. The last thing he needed was to find a way home only to discover that his Armoury Officer was fixated on his Chief Engineer.

“I suppose,” came the mumbled reply, “but I wanna stay to help you and Trip.”

“You’ve already helped us a great deal. There’s nothing more you can do, and we’re calling it quits for the night anyway. Go home. No sense in getting in trouble with your parents over this.”
Jon turned to face Trip again, deciding to simply bite the bullet and say what had to be said. “Trip, I’d like it if you’d stop spending so much time with Malcolm.”

“That an order?”

“If it has to be, but I’d prefer to keep it as a request.”

“Why? I’m not lettin’ on any more’n he’s already fig’r’d out. What’s the problem?”

“Don’t you think he’s getting a little too attached to you?”

“What?!” Trip hadn’t seen the question coming, and he screwed up his face in confusion. “What the hell’re you talkin’ ‘bout, Jon?”

Jon heaved a sigh and began carefully, “Trip, I know you and Lieutenant Reed are friends and I know you like kids, but... Can’t you see how he’s latched onto you? I don’t think it’s healthy and I know it’s not wise. We have to leave here, Trip! What’s going to happen to him if he keeps bonding with you like this and we up and disappear back to our own time? It’ll break his heart.”

“An’ pushin’ ‘im away won’t?!” Tucker was getting angry now, his accent thickening as his blood pressure rose. “Ah’ve learned more ‘bout Malc’m in the past three days th’n Ah did in three months on Enterprise! He trusts me, Jon. Ah can’t afford t’ throw that away.”

“You can’t afford not to, Trip. I don’t know why we’re here, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not so you can figure out what makes Malcolm Reed tick, or predispose him to becoming your adoring shadow.

“I realise that you want nothing more than to help turn your friend into an open, communicative member of society, but you have to do that in the future, not the past. Do you have any idea how much could change if you were to succeed in keeping Malcolm from becoming the man he was when he joined Enterprise? You could be condemning us all, Trip, did you think of that?”

Jon’s words hung in the air between them for a long minute. Emotions flitted in Trip’s eyes as he digested what his CO had said to him.

Condemn us all. Jon’s right. Without Malcolm as our ever-paranoid Tactical Officer ... how many times would we have been able to get out of the fixes we blundered into? The needs of the many... Poor Malcolm.

Trip bowed his head, eyes sliding shut briefly as he signalled his acquiescence to his captain. He would be more distant with the child version of his friend. It was far from what he wanted, but he knew it was what he needed to do. Maintaining the timeline, protecting the lives of Enterprise’s crew, took precedence over one man’s emotional well-being. Even if that man was his friend.

A soft sniffle brought his attention full on the boy. He didn’t seem to be crying. Another sniffle accompanied by a rubbing of his eyes gave Trip a clue.

“Mal, your allergies botherin’ you?”

“It’s spring; oak’s starting to release pollen.” The reply was matter of fact, though no true answer to Trip’s question.

“Don’t you think you should go home? Take some antihistamines, or whatever?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Trip muttered under his breath, “where’ve I heard that before?” He shook his head, setting down scanner and tools. “Look, Malcolm, go home. There’s nothin’ for you to do here. No sense in makin’ yourself sick.”

“But...”

“Can you j’st not argue with me, Malcolm?! Do what you’re told for once in your life!” Trip regretted the words as soon as they passed his lips, but he didn’t dare apologise for them.

Now the little boy really was upset. After staring, ashen faced, at Trip for a few seconds he stammered out, “Wh-what did I d-do?”

It was all Trip could do not to hug the child to him, to tell him that it was nothing he’d done and that he was sorry. Instead, he gathered his resolve and said in a neutral tone, “Just go home, Malcolm.”

Pain flickered in wide blue eyes, and the boy bolted into the forest. He was heading in the opposite direction from home, but Trip figured that he knew the area well enough for it not to be a problem. Feeling like a complete cad, Trip picked the scanner back up and began tinkering with it again.

Time was wearing on, and they were no closer to finding a way home. His daily walks became longer every day, as he considered the options left to them.

The forest felt different. More like it had that first time he’d gone trekking through it, less like the comfortably familiar place it had become. Jon stopped, listening intently. The sounds weren’t right. He couldn’t hear the chatter of the birds and small mammals, but there was something... His head snapped forward.

“Malcolm.”

“Malcolm!”

“Leave the kid alone, you sonovabitch!”

A grunt followed, and in another few strides Trip was in sight. He was rolling around on the ground, struggling with what Jon was sickeningly certain was a Suliban. Something flew from the alien’s hand, Jon couldn’t quite see what, and it distracted him long enough for Trip to get in a couple of solid punches.

Assured that his friend was holding his own, for the moment at least, Jon scanned the area for the little boy. He was at the base of a tree, trying to make himself invisible. Jon moved over to him carefully, not wanting to distract Trip from his struggle with the Suliban.

“Malcolm,” he whispered, “Malcolm, you okay?”

The boy nodded and attached himself to Jon, but his eyes never left Trip and his struggle with his attacker. Jon turned his attention back to his friend, trying to decide if it was better to stay out of the way with Malcolm, or dive into the fray to help him.

This Suliban didn’t seem to have many of the tricks Silik and the others Jon had encountered did, keeping the fight on even terms for the most part. He made a fatal mistake when he straightened up, whether as a precursor to making a break for it into the forest, or to attack Trip from a height, Jon would never know. Trip rocked back on his shoulders, kicking upwards. With a vicious snap, his booted feet impacted the underside of the Suliban’s chin. The alien collapsed in a heap, and Trip took a moment to catch his breath.

Jon detached himself from the boy, leaving him by the tree while he walked over to pick up the object he had seen fly from the Suliban’s hand during the fight. It shone a dull copper in the forest’s mottled light. Turning it over in his palm, he realised that it was a hypospray.

Trip was suddenly next to him, peering over at the hypospray. “Wonder what’s in it?”

“Something tells me that we don’t really want to know.” He looked up at Trip. “How’s our Suliban friend?”

“Dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah, looks like I hit a soft spot. Neck snapped like a dry twig.”

“Damn. We won’t get any answers now. And what are we going to do with the body?”

“I’ll take care of that.”

The new voice sounded behind them, and the two Starfleet officers whirled.

“Daniels!” said Jon. “I suppose I should have known you had something to do with this.”

“Nice to see you, too, Sir, Commander.” Daniels smiled at them both, his cherubic face making it hard to believe that he was truly a futuristic secret agent of sorts. “May I see that?” He pointed at the hypospray in Archer’s hand.

The captain tossed it to him after only a brief hesitation. Daniels had always played it straight with him, as much as he was allowed to anyway, even if his superiors seemed more questionable.

Catching the hypospray, Daniels quickly ran a scanner over it. “I suspected as much.”

“What?” asked Trip. “What is it?”

“Poison.”

“Poison?!”

“Not a nice one either. It creates massive congestive failure of the victim’s lungs. It’s difficult to trace in the bloodstream once it’s been administered. I suspect that it was intended to look natural ... like a severe allergy attack.”

“Malcolm.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m afraid so, Commander.”

“Why?”

“He is a vital Enterprise crewmember, and the most vulnerable. If you hadn’t been here, that Suliban would have had no trouble injecting this into him and leaving him to die in the forest.

“I created that anomaly so that you would end up here, betting on the fact that you would stick around to try to find the other end of it, and that young Mister Reed would trust you enough to help. That way you could keep an eye on him. I hope you don’t mind too much.”

“What about Malcolm?” asked Archer. “Won’t he remember us? Won’t this cause problems?”

“No. It’s a fairly simple thing to manipulate a child’s memory. As far as he’ll recall, two Starfleet men, who might be said to vaguely resemble you, got lost in the forest near his house, stayed the night, and went on their way the next morning. The intervening days he spent putting together that scanner and playing by himself in the forest. Nothing will change.”

“And us?”

“I’ll set up my equipment. It should only take and hour or so to open a new wormhole, and then you can go home. I’d appreciate it if you could let Mister Reed know that I can be trusted, before you go. It will make things much easier when I go to alter his memories of the past few days.”

“Sure. Malcolm?” Jon turned to where he’d left the boy, but the child was nowhere in sight. They had all forgotten about him, even while they were discussing his fate.

“Shit.” That was Trip. “Where the hell’d he get off to?”

Daniels had his scanner out, and said “He’s twenty metres in that direction.” He pointed into the forest beyond the tree Archer had left Malcolm at. “I’ll find him.”

“No.” Trip stopped Daniels with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get him.” His tone brooked no argument, and the other two men let him go without a word.

Malcolm wasn’t hard to find. In the end, Trip simply followed the sound of crying. Curled up at the base of another tree, the little boy cried his heart out, shaking like a leaf. Trip sunk to the ground next to him, reaching out one hand to stroke the dark head in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“I’m sorry, Mal. I was feelin’ tense and outta sorts, but I shouldna taken it out on you. You don’t deserve that. And that Suliban ... that alien, he’s dead. He can’t hurt you now. You’re safe.”

The only response he got was Malcolm crawling over and into his lap, but it was enough. Trip hugged the boy to him, letting him cry himself out on his chest. When Malcolm finished, Trip clambered to his feet, picking Malcolm up and carrying him back to where he’d left Jon and Daniels.

Trip kneeled in front of the eight year-old Malcolm. The boy had taken their assurances about Daniels’ memory alterations as being both safe and necessary with a surprising amount of grace. The procedure would be performed only once Trip and Jon were safely home and the wormhole had been collapsed. His memory of the past few days gone, Malcolm would once again be set on the path to becoming the reserved, slightly paranoid man Archer had ... would pick as his Chief Armoury Officer.

Having seen this earlier version of his friend, Trip was determined to help Malcolm rediscover at least a small portion of the trusting little boy he’d once been. He owed Malcolm a lot. It seemed the least he could do in return.

“Well, Mal buddy, I guess I’ll be seein’ you in a few minutes, though it’ll be more like decades for you. You take care of yourself now, you hear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Malcolm smiled at Trip’s mock stern look and rephrased it, “Yes, Trip. I will.”

Trip reached out to tousle dark locks. “Good boy.”

Malcolm stuck his tongue out and then threw his arms around the engineer’s neck, hugging him tightly. Trip returned the embrace before disentangling himself from the boy, standing to face his captain. The two men exchanged silent nods, and Archer lead the way into the wormhole.

A jolting wave of disorientation, and Trip stumbled on the rocky ground of the planet they had first discovered the anomaly on.

“Captain! Commander! Are you alright?”

Trip’s head snapped up. Malcolm. The Brit’s face was lined with concern, though relief at seeing his comrades showed in his eyes. Jon was saying something, Trip didn’t quite hear what, his attention was wholly focused on the Armoury Officer.

Malcolm’s undignified squawk of surprise when Trip suddenly engulfed him in a bear hug was music to the engineer’s ears. Pulling back from the Englishman, Trip smiled at the expression on the man’s face. He’d managed to startle the man from his reserve, and emotions he’d yet to learn how to decipher swirled in the expressive sapphire blue eyes.

Grasping Malcolm by the shoulders, he looked at him intently and said, “You will never have to be alone again, Mal. Never. You hear me?” “I hear you, Trip, but what’s this about? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’. I just needed t’ say that.” Trip let his hands fall away from his friend’s shoulders, taking a step back to give the man room. No sense in pushing him and frightening him back into his shell. Looking away, Trip discovered that Travis and T’Pol were both on the planet’s surface as well, and were watching him with perplexed expressions. Archer was watching as well, but he looked less confused and more amused.

“What y’all starin’ at? Ain’t ya ever seen a man glad to see a friend before? Let’s git back to Enterprise. Cap’n and I can regale y’all with the tale of our grand adventure.” He scratched at his scalp and plucked distastefully at his uniform. “But after a shower, okay?”

Archer laughed at him then. “I agree with Trip. Let’s go home.”

Like this story? Then send feedback.