Title: All Gray Here 
Author: dilly 
Series: ENT
Pairings: R/M, R/A, T/A, R/T 
Codes: AU, slash, non-cons, bdsm 
Rating: NC-17
Parts: 1-4/?
Archive: Ask first. 
Feedback Address: dilandau666@aol.com 

Summary: Trip, Travis and Jon are sucked into a mirror universe
where Malcolm is the captain of the NCC-01 Enterprise on a
mission of destruction. Can they find their way back home before
it's too late? 

Disclaimer: Nobody here belongs to me except for a few of the 
red shirts. Neither does Enterprise or the surrounding universe. 
However, the ideas *are* mine. No takee.

==============


"Hail them."

Hoshi did so and listened intently to her ear piece. She shook
her head. "No response, sir."

"Any idea why they're sending out a distress signal?"

"I don't see anything wrong with them," said Trip.

T'Pol ignored him. "It appears that their main power is not
functioning."

"So, they *can't* answer us." Jonathan Archer turned his gaze
to the view screen. "I guess we'll have to pay them a visit."

"Sir, I am not certain that this endeavor--"

"Trip, Travis, you're with me. We're going to go over there and
give them a hand."

T'Pol raised her voice, "Are you sure that is--"

"T'Pol, you have the bridge." Archer left, giving her no time
to question him further. Trip shot her a smug smile as he
followed the captain.

Travis navigated the shuttle away from Enterprise and toward
the mysterious, hulking ship. He peered at it nervously.

"Think anyone's alive in there?"

"I hope so," Jon muttered gravely.

The three of them sat in silence, staring out at the ship as
they approached it. Without warning, the view screen flickered
and went blank. One by one, the buttons and monitors did the
same.

"What the hell's going on?" asked the captain.

"I don't know." Travis looked down at the dark console in front
of him frantically. Trip pushed him out of the way and looked
for himself. He pulled a panel out of place and stared down at
the conduits in utter confusion.

"This doesn't make sense," the engineer said, "It *should* be
working." He slammed his fist down in frustration.

The console lit up again as suddenly as it had gone out.

After a long moment of silence, Archer chuckled and slapped his
friend on the back. "Fixed it the old fashioned way, huh?"

"Sometimes you gotta," Trip said with a shrug.

"Wait a minute guys." Travis pointed at the view screen. "Look."

Their smiles turned to gaping holes.

"Ships that big don't just disappear," Trip finally muttered.

They were hailed and Travis answered.

Malcolm Reed's voice thundered out at them. "What do you think
you're *doing*? You're not escaping, you bloody idiots." The
ship shook, then began to move backwards toward Enterprise.

The three of them looked at each other for answers and found
none. It was no doubt Malcolm's voice, but it sounded...
different. There was no time to voice their confusion. The
shuttle was back in it's bay quickly and the hatch forced open
by a security officer. Two more followed him and each grabbed
one of them and dragged them out, oblivious to their protests.
They were roughly led to the situation room. Or, what should
have been the situation room. It was empty but for a large chair
against one of the walls with a red banner over it depicting
Earth under a sword.

"What happened in there? What's going on?" Jon asked. The
security officer forced him into a kneeling position on the
ground and kicked him roughly in the ribs. Trip tried to go to
his side, but the other officer held him back.

Malcolm strode in. His hair was longer and hung messily around
his unshaven face. He wore brown leather pants and vest over a
white shirt.

"Pray tell, Charlie. Why did you let our pet out?"

Trip opened his mouth but couldn't think clearly enough to
speak. Malcolm approached him slowly and took his chin in his
hand.

"You're really working at my patience, aren't you?" He turned
to the security officers. "Take the pet to his cage. If he
speaks, hit him. And get that ridiculous outfit off of him. I
don't want people to think my pet has no taste. Really, where
did you *get* those?" They picked Jon up by his shoulders and
shoved him hard towards the door. He shot a look at Trip,
speaking more than words could, and was dragged away. Trip
conveyed the silent message to Travis. Travis nodded. 

Play along.

"Now that he's gone, maybe we can speak more freely," Malcolm
said turning back to Trip, "If you wanted more time to play with
him, you could have asked for it. No need to hijack a shuttle."
He then directed his attention to Travis. "And you? Have I
fallen out of your favor now?"

Travis shook his head, his uncertainty apparent. Malcolm
sneered, his voice was saccharine. "Now, you're off-duty for the
rest of the day and under surveillance for a week. But I *know*
you won't be bad little boys again. Or, next time, I'll punish
you. My kindness only goes so far." He ran his hand across
Travis's cheek. "I'm such a softy sometimes I make myself sick.
Go to your quarters, my dears. You're grounded until supper."

----------------------------------------------------------------
---------------

Trip gave a nervous look around the mess hall as he sat close
to Travis. The room was unusually quiet. There were only five
others, all at separate tables. The large windows that had once
covered one of the walls were gone entirely.

"It's all wrong," Trip said.

Travis nodded. "Right down to the uniforms. If you could call
them that." He paused. "Does it feel like we're going faster
than warp five to you?"

"We are. I stopped by engineering. Everything's *weird*. The
warp core's totally different. The design and everything. I`d
say it looks more Vulcan than Human."

"And Malcolm..." Travis shook his head. "We need to find out
how to get things back to normal. I don't think I like this
place."

"Neither do I." Trip sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose
in an attempt to avert an oncoming headache. "I hope Jon's okay."

Travis put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He's tough, he'll
be fine. You know him. He'd want us to figure this out as soon
as possible and not worry about him. Let's start from the moment
we left Enterprise. We flew out and everything seemed fine..."

Trip's eyes widened. "It must've happened when the power went
out. I looked in that ship, before we left and after it shut
off, and there was *nothing* wrong with her that should have
caused that."

Travis smiled widely and pointed at Trip. "That's right! There
must have been some sort of anomaly or something that threw us
into... this universe. Where Enterprise is different, and the
ship we were going to check out isn't there..."

"And Malcolm's a leather-wearing freak." Trip said with a
curled lip loudly enough to cause a few turned heads.

"Shh," Travis cautioned, "We have no idea what he'll do to us
if he catches wind that we aren't who we appear to be. Well, we
*are* but... never mind. We've got to get a look in that
shuttle. It's the only chance we have at getting home."

"Okay, but you go to your quarters and get some rest." He waved
away the Travis's protest before he could put it to words.
"We've got some long days ahead of us. Besides, if one of us
gets caught, the other might have to find a way to bail the him
out. And in this case, that him is me, so go to your quarters.
That's an order."

Travis knew when to give up. "Yes sir..."

----------------------------------------------------------------
----------------

Security was *very* heavy. Much more so than it had been on the
Enterprise Trip knew. Considering who was in charge, it was no
wonder. However, now that he had changed into the cloths,
similar to Malcolm's, he had found in his quarters, none of the
guards paid him much mind. They even let him into the shuttle
bay with nothing more than a warning of what would happen if he
tried to escape again. When they spoke to him, he heard
something strange in their voices, something no one in his
universe would use when speaking to him.

Fear?

He could only hope that the version of him in this universe was
at least a little better than the version of Malcolm or else his
Enterprise might be in for a hell of a time.

Eager as he was to return to the relative safety of his
quarters, he was painstaking in his investigation of the
shuttle's instruments. All he could think about was Jon. He was
very afraid of what had happened to his dear friend. After hours
of pouring over the contents of the shuttle's sensor logs, he
recorded it all to his PADD and shoved it back in his pocket.
There was no use in him trying to figure out what all of the
readings meant with his mind so focused on Jon.

He knew he should head straight back to his quarters, but he
had to check in on Jon. There was a single guard in the brig who
not only allowed Trip access, but gave them privacy. 

The sight of his captain struck him to his core. He was chained
to the wall of his cell, his arms high above his head and the
rest of his body dangling like a flesh marionette. His face and
torso was covered in bruises and lacerations. He wore nothing
but his blue boxers.

He looked up at Trip as he approached.

"Can't shut my mouth to save my life," he said with half of a
grin.

Trip furrowed his brow and gently touched his captain`s
shoulder. "Are you holding up okay?"

Jon nodded with effort. "Takes more than that little security
guard to break me. You find anything out about what`s going on?"

"Travis and I are pretty sure this is an alternate universe and
that that blackout we had in the shuttle mighta had something to
do with it. We're gonna find a way out of here."

"But for now, play along, I don't want you or Travis getting
hurt."

"Yeah, that's what we figured." He paused. "Y'know, Captain, it
might not be a bad idea if you play along too. Seems like the
Jonatan Archer that they know is a lot less..."

"Belligerent?" Jon chuckled. "You're right. I'll try not to get
myself in too bad a shape while you look for our ticket home.
Now, get out of here."

Trip pressed his lips together. He wanted-- no, *needed* to
help his friend, to keep anyone from hurting him further. And he
knew he couldn't.

"Get that look off your face, Trip." Jon said seriously. "I'll
be okay. You have my word."

Trip nodded slowly and walked towards the door. "That's a
promise you better keep."

----------------------------------------------------------------
--------------

Travis kicked his legs to the side of his bed and sat up. There
was no use trying to fool himself. He had no chance of sleep.
The bed was too hard, the ship too fast, the room too empty. His
counterpart had nothing more than the bare necessities in his
room. No decorations of any kind to soften the harsh, gray
walls, but an arsenal of weapons under the bed. Was the other
Travis really *that* much different than he was?

A chiming broke through his thoughts.

"Come in?"

The door slid open and Malcolm sauntered in.

"Wh-what do you want." Travis gulped.

Malcolm chuckled deviously and came to Travis, sitting next to
him on the bed. "You know very well, darling. But before we get
to that, I suppose there are a few things we should discuss. For
instance, what made you think you could get away from me? And...
why did you want to?" His voice was unsteady with an emotion
behind it that Travis couldn`t quite read.

He simply shrugged and silently wished he knew more about the
*other* Travis that he was playing the role of. Malcolm drew his
breath in slowly, obviously dismayed by the answer to his
question.

"Well, then, if you won't talk, we'll get right to it." He
leaned forward and pressed his lips against Travis's. At first,
the young pilot was stunned by the sudden and fierce desire
Malcolm was showing him, but it didn't take long for him to
regain the use of his body. He jerked his head away from
Malcolm, and the rest of him followed.

Malcolm's dark eyes burned. "What! Are you really that angry at
me?" His voice softened suddenly. "Let me make it up to you." He
crept closer to Travis, but Travis kept his distance.

"I-it's been a long day. I've got a... headache."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "What is wrong with you? All of you.
Since the three of you got back, you're all acting really bloody
strange. Reigle told me that Jon's had to have four beatings
since he's returned and even *that* hasn`t shut him up. And
you..." He grasped Travis's arm. "You haven't even looked my
way. I told you I'd stop paying Charlie so much attention. I was
just playing with him anyway. Wasn't that enough?"

"Really," Travis said, trying to steady his voice, but failing
miserably, "I just don't feel good. We could... do this another
night."

"You're *damn* right we could." He leaned forward to Travis's
ear. "You'd better be feeling well tomorrow. I'm not a patient
man." He stood abruptly and left Travis on his bed, staring
after him in disbelief.

Malcolm headed straight from Travis's room to the brig and to
the man who *couldn't* turn him down. Jonathan Archer hung
pitifully from his chains. His eyes were closed and he seemed to
be sleeping. Malcolm kicked him into awareness.

"Time to wake up sleeping beauty. I've a job for you."

"What do you want," Jon spat.

"My, my, my. But aren't we *feisty* this evening." He leaned
forward and his voice dropped to a dangerous tone. "You know
what I want. Did that little bit of freedom make you think that
you could say no to me? Do what you want? Hah!"

Malcolm laid his hand gently on Jon's chest and let his nails
trace a path down to his belly, then further to the rim of his
boxers.

"Hasn't Charlie come for a visit yet?"

"Yes." "And you still have these on?" Malcolm grabbed the
fabric and ripped it off with a harsh tug. He looked Jon's naked
flesh from top to bottom. "Very nice, darling. All those nasty
marks from last time have healed. You see? I'm not that mean to
you." He grinned. "I'll have to try harder this time."

Jon's eyes became wide with understanding. He struggled to
break free of his chains. Malcolm watched him with amusement
painted flagrantly across his face. 

"It's been so long since you fought me, my pet. This should
prove to be quite enjoyable." He fondled Jon's cock in his right
hand and began to unfasten his own pants with the other.

"Malcolm," Jon pleaded, "Don't do this."

Malcolm squeezed Jon hard, digging his nails into the older
man's most sensitive area. "Since when are you allowed to call
me by my name, pet? It's Master to you, and you know it What's
gotten *in* to you?" He chuckled. "Well, I certainly don't know,
but I do know what *will* be getting into you."

He began to touch Jon more gently again, trying to coax his
member into arousal. When his hands didn't work, he resorted to
using his mouth. Jon gasped sharply as his blood rushed to his
lower regions. Malcolm continued to play with the newly formed
erection with his tongue, and let his hand find its way to Jon's
hole. He slid his finger in slowly.

"Damn, pet, you're *tight*. Have Charlie and I really been
neglecting you *that* much? I'll make sure to fix that for you."
He wrapped his arms around Jon and rubbed his own naked erection
against the other. Jon wished he could detach himself from the
feeling between his legs. It felt good, but it felt horrible at
the same time. His stomach churned as Malcolm slid between his
back and the wall.

"You're being a good boy now, pet." Malcolm kissed his neck,
then bit deep enough to break the skin. He chuckled and lapped
up the blood. "If you stay this good, Daddy'll give his baby a
treat."

The sudden entry made Jon cry out in pain. Malcolm didn't
relent. He slid his cock nearly completely out, then slammed it
back in again and again. His lusty grunts made Jon even more
sick. He wished he could pass out from the pain, but he had no
such luck.

Malcolm wrapped his hands to the front of his chained lover and
began to pump the failing erection in rhythm with his thrusts.
Jon groaned as the sick pleasure hit him. Malcolm had become
suddenly gentle, the contact tolerable, and then desirable. He
ran his thumb up and down the small slit in Jon's cock causing
him to buck forward uncontrollably. Jon let his thought slip
away from him and focused on the feelings. It was better to
enjoy it than to let himself know what was really happening.
Anything was better than that.

Malcolm's pace quickened suddenly and they came together. They
stayed joined for several minutes, panting and wheezing. Malcolm
broke the silence with a self-satisfied chuckle, jolting Jon
back into awareness. The sudden shock caused him to lurch
forward and gag.

Malcolm slipped out from behind his pet. "Don't be silly. I
know you enjoyed it. These theatrics won't convince me
otherwise," he hissed. He looked at his hand in disgust and
wiped it on Jon's chest. "You got me all messy."

Jon chocked a sob back into his throat and closed his eyes. He
couldn't see Malcolm. Not now. Not ever again.

"You're going to be that way, eh? No skin off my nose. Brood
yourself to death, for all I care!" Jon could hear hurt in the
back of Malcolm's voice. Selfish hurt, but hurt nonetheless. He
forced himself too look up at the man who had assaulted him and
glared.

"Go. Away."

Malcolm stared at him, stunned. He gave slap half-heartedly and
left without a word.

Jon allowed himself his first tears since his father had died.

= = = = = = =

Travis had lain in his bed, struggling to find sleep for five
hours when the ship rocked. He sat straight up and made it to
his feet just in time to be knocked to the ground with another
impact.

"Senior officers to the bridge. NOW!" Malcolm yelled over the
comm. Travis scrambled up and ran out of the door. It wasn't
until he'd reached the bridge that he wondered if he was still a
bridge officer in this universe. He stopped short in the door
way.

"What do you think you're doing? Get down here! Klingons are
attacking." He pointed at the seat in front of the captain's
chair. Travis, relieved, went to his post. Trip, T'Pol and Hoshi
were also at theirs. A man that Travis recognized as Boon sat at
the tactical officer's post.

"Target their weapon--" Reed was inturputed by another blast. A
panel behind Trip exploded and hit him in the head, throwing him
to the ground. T'Pol took his place.

"Sod that! Travis, get in closer until we can get a proper
lock. Boon, target their warp core and fire at will. Don't stop
until you blow them out of the sky. I grow tired of this." 

"Y-yes sir," Travis said. They hadn't gone forward ten
kilometers when they were hit again. The console that T'Pol was
at exploded into an array of sparks and she fell alongside Trip.

"Dammit!" Malcolm kicked the side of Travis's chair. "Are we
close enough yet?"

"Almost, sir," Travis answered. "Just a little further. There!"

"Fire!"

Boon did as he was told. Once. Twice. Three times. The force
field that surrounded and protected the Klingon ship visibly
collapsed.

"Finish them off." Malcolm's eyes were wide, his face twisted
into a gruesome smile. He was enjoying it.

Another torpedo sped to the Klingon ship and crashed into the
warp core. One moment it was there, the next, it was nothing
more than a broken shell and debris floating in space.

Malcolm stood in place over Travis, relishing in the
destruction. He put clasped his hands onto Travis's shoulders.
"Good work, everyone. That will teach them to mess with the
Empire."

"S-sir?" Hoshi poked her head up from behind the console that
she had hidden under during the attack. "We have a couple of
casualties here. Can I take them to the infirmary?"

"What? Oh. Go ahead," He turned back to Travis. "You can make
the repairs on that console that blew up while you wait for
Charlie to get back."

Hoshi hurridly grabbed the two of them and brought them to
their feet. Trip held his head and swayed a bit. He pulled his
hand away and looked. Blood. T'Pol's cheek was burned and
bleeding as well, but she stood easily as though she were
unaffected by it.

"Come on!" Hoshi yanked at his arm. "Let's get out of here
before more Klingons show up."

He gave Travis a look that meant he was okay and followed her.

Trip was relieved to find sick bay little changed in this
reality. It was slightly less well lit, but the cots and stacks
of animal cages remained remained the same. Phlox greated them
with a large smile.

"Ah! I see that the little attack did some damage after all. I
was starting to wonder. You sit down, Charles. T'Pol's burns
look a little more severe than your cut, but don't worry, I'll
get to you in a moment." He turned to Hoshi. "If *you* don't
have an injury, Ms. Sato, I'm afraid you'll have to go back to
your post. You can't hide out in *my* sick bay."

"B-but the Klingons! I don't want my face ending up like her's!"

"She'll barely have a scar when I'm done. Now, get back to
work, Ensign, or I'll have to talk to the Captain about this."
He pushed her towards the door and she sullenly left. He turned
back to T'Pol. "Okay, subcommander. Let me see to that. Ohh,
yes, I have just the thing to help you. I got it from this
planet called Tovak, horrible place really, but they had the
nicest little creatures there called the Shukfar. They can
regenerate their limbs in a very interesting way. They secrete a
fluid that can be used to heal burns on most humanoids quite
effectively. I've never tried it on a Vulcan before, but I'm
certain it will work nicely." He pulled a tub full of a blue
gell from a cabinet and applied it to T'Pol's burn. It sizzled
and bubbled on her damaged flesh. She hissed, but nothing more.
Trip watched wide eyed. This T'Pol was even less human than the
one he knew. At least Phlox was the same strange but loveable
fellow.

The sick bay door hissed open. Two people came in, dragging a
groaning and heavily injured young woman in behind them. "Where
should we put her, doc? She's hurt pretty bad."

Travis had lain in his bed, struggling to find sleep for five
hours when the ship rocked. He sat straight up and made it to
his feet just in time to be knocked to the ground with another
impact.

"Senior officers to the bridge. NOW!" Malcolm yelled over the
comm. Travis scrambled up and ran out of the door. It wasn't
until he'd reached the bridge that he wondered if he was still a
bridge officer in this universe. He stopped short in the door
way.

"What do you think you're doing? Get down here! Klingons are
attacking." He pointed at the seat in front of the captain's
chair. Travis, relieved, went to his post. Trip, T'Pol and Hoshi
were also at theirs. A man that Travis recognized as Boon sat at
the tactical officer's post.

"Target their weapon--" Reed was inturputed by another blast. A
panel behind Trip exploded and hit him in the head, throwing him
to the ground. T'Pol took his place.

"Sod that! Travis, get in closer until we can get a proper
lock. Boon, target their warp core and fire at will. Don't stop
until you blow them out of the sky. I grow tired of this." 

"Y-yes sir," Travis said. They hadn't gone forward ten
kilometers when they were hit again. The console that T'Pol was
at exploded into an array of sparks and she fell alongside Trip.

"Dammit!" Malcolm kicked the side of Travis's chair. "Are we
close enough yet?"

"Almost, sir," Travis answered. "Just a little further. There!"

"Fire!"

Boon did as he was told. Once. Twice. Three times. The force
field that surrounded and protected the Klingon ship visibly
collapsed.

"Finish them off." Malcolm's eyes were wide, his face twisted
into a gruesome smile. He was enjoying it.

Another torpedo sped to the Klingon ship and crashed into the
warp core. One moment it was there, the next, it was nothing
more than a broken shell and debris floating in space.

Malcolm stood in place over Travis, relishing in the
destruction. He put clasped his hands onto Travis's shoulders.
"Good work, everyone. That will teach them to mess with the
Empire."

"S-sir?" Hoshi poked her head up from behind the console that
she had hidden under during the attack. "We have a couple of
casualties here. Can I take them to the infirmary?"

"What? Oh. Go ahead," He turned back to Travis. "You can make
the repairs on that console that blew up while you wait for
Charlie to get back."

Hoshi hurridly grabbed the two of them and brought them to
their feet. Trip held his head and swayed a bit. He pulled his
hand away and looked. Blood. T'Pol's cheek was burned and
bleeding as well, but she stood easily as though she were
unaffected by it.

"Come on!" Hoshi yanked at his arm. "Let's get out of here
before more Klingons show up."

He gave Travis a look that meant he was okay and followed her.

Trip was relieved to find sick bay little changed in this
reality. It was slightly less well lit, but the cots and stacks
of animal cages remained remained the same. Phlox greated them
with a large smile.

"Ah! I see that the little attack did some damage after all. I
was starting to wonder. You sit down, Charles. T'Pol's burns
look a little more severe than your cut, but don't worry, I'll
get to you in a moment." He turned to Hoshi. "If *you* don't
have an injury, Ms. Sato, I'm afraid you'll have to go back to
your post. You can't hide out in *my* sick bay."

"B-but the Klingons! I don't want my face ending up like her's!"

"She'll barely have a scar when I'm done. Now, get back to
work, Ensign, or I'll have to talk to the Captain about this."
He pushed her towards the door and she sullenly left. He turned
back to T'Pol. "Okay, subcommander. Let me see to that. Ohh,
yes, I have just the thing to help you. I got it from this
planet called Tovak, horrible place really, but they had the
nicest little creatures there called the Shukfar. They can
regenerate their limbs in a very interesting way. They secrete a
fluid that can be used to heal burns on most humanoids quite
effectively. I've never tried it on a Vulcan before, but I'm
certain it will work nicely." He pulled a tub full of a blue
gell from a cabinet and applied it to T'Pol's burn. It sizzled
and bubbled on her damaged flesh. She hissed, but nothing more.
Trip watched wide eyed. This T'Pol was even less human than the
one he knew. At least Phlox was the same.

He glanced at her momentarily and went back to watching T'Pol
heal. "Leave her by the door. She won't survive anyway. When
she's dead, I'll put her body to good use." The two nodded and
did as they were told.

"Wait a damned minute!" Trip stood, then his dizzyness forced
him to sit again. "Aren't you going to help her? She *could*
live you know."

Phlox looked at him, his face awash with confusion and
ammusment. "What do you mean, Commander? If she dies, I'll have
another body to run experiments on. You're the one that
convinced Malcolm to pursue this endevor, I would think that you
of all people would understand that casualties are hard to come
by on this ship, even in times of war." The doctor approached
Trip. "Now, all you need is a bit of a bandage for that little
scrape and then you go back to work. You won't be using me as
away to shirk your duty to the Empire."

Trip watched the young woman propped against the wall. Her
stomach was slashed open. She held the gaping wound and stared
down at it helplessly. He closed his eyes and waited for Phlox
to finish with him.

----------------------------------------------------------------
----------------

It was late when Malcolm let Trip off for the night. He went
straight to Travis's quarters. He *needed* to to talk to someone
he knew, not a twisted twin of someone he knew.

Travis seemed as happy to see Trip as Trip was to see him. His
face lit up and he greeted him warmly.

"I brought a copy of the information I found onthe shuttle. I
haven't had time to make heads or tails of it. Malcolm works me
like a dog and when I'm not working... I just can't focus."

Travis nodded. "You're worried about the captain aren't you?"

Trip laughed mirthlessly. "How did you know?"

"Did you go to check on him."

"Last night. The guard had roughed him up a little, but
nothing... *too* serious I guess. I'm gonna check on him again
today, Malcolm be damned."

"I take it your day was pretty bad too, huh?"

"On a list of worst days ever, it ranks pretty high up there. I
was even missing T'Pol. I mean, the one we know is annoying, but
the one here is just cold-hearted. And the doctor... He let
someone *die* today, Travis. So that he could experiment with
her corpse. Aparently 'I' liked this idea."

Travis bit his lip and shook his head. "We've got to get out of
this place. I'll look over that stuff you found. You go make
sure that the captain's... okay."

"Yeah," Trip said slowly, "I'm almost afraid to go. I'm afraid
of what state I'll find him in."

Travis couldn't find the words, but Trip could see it all in
his eyes. He put his hand on the young ensign's shoulder for a
moment, then left.

The walk to the brig was a long one. Trip took slow, short
steps, his eyes focused on the ground just ahead of him.

//He'll be alright,// he chanted over and over again in his
mind, //He'll have a few cuts and bruises but he'll be alright.
We'll get out of here and everything will be just like it was
before.//

He reached the brig, but waited a few moments before he looked
into Jon's cell. He took a deep breath and forced himself around
the corner.

"Jon..." He gasped. His friend hung from his chains, naked,
covered in cuts and bruises. He looked up at Trip blearily as he
approached. For a long time neither of them spoke, but Trip
never was one for silence.

"Who did this to you?" he growled.

"It's nothing," Jon choked out, "How are you doing with those
sensor logs?"

"I- uh- gave a copy to Travis. Malcolm's just as much of a
workaholic here as he is back home."

Jon grimaced. "He hasn't... done anything to you... has he?"

"He hasn't really talked to me since we got here."

Jon thanked God his friend was as dense as ever and didn't
catch on the the implications of his question. "How about
Travis?"

"He pays a little more attention to him than me. I don't know
if they've talked much. I haven't had much time with Travis
since we got here. No time."

Jon nodded. "You'd do best to stay away from him."

Trip's eyes widened. "He did this, didn't he. He hurt you. I'll
*kill* him."

"No, Trip. Please. Just figure out a way home and we'll go from
there."

The young engineer sighed heavily. "Yes, sir."

"I'm not speaking as your captain, Trip. I'm speaking as your
friend. Don't drive yourself crazy worrying about me. It'd
probably be better if you just stay away from me for the rest of
this until you figure something out."

"But--"

"There's nothing you can do for me right now and I'll be okay.
Now. Go."

Trip reached out to touch Jon, but stopped himself. He bit his
lip and furrowed his brow. "Okay. Bye."

----------------------------------------------------------------
----------------


Travis's door chimed and, without missing a beat, opened.
Travis turned off his PADD quickly and slid it under the bed.
Malcolm strode up to him.

"I'm not taking that lame headache excuse twice, love." He ran
his hand around Travis's cheek to his chin and held it gently
between his thumb and finger. "I miss you."

The need in Malcolm's voice was genuine. It frightened Travis
even more. "Um... yeah. Look. I just..."

Malcolm fell into a sitting possition on the bed beside Travis
and grunted in frustration. "Are you angry at me? Did I do
something wrong?" He sounded truely pitiful. Travis bit his lip.

"Well, no... I just..."

"You never fuck me anymore. Don't you think I'm attractive?"

"I..."

"I don't know what to do to make you happy," Malcolm turned his
fierce hazel eyes to Travis. "Do you want this thing between us
to be over?"

Travis saw his chance and took it. "Yes! That's it." The glee
in his voice wasn't missed by Malcolm. His eyes went from fierce
to glazed with shock.

"W-why?" He managed to squeek.

"You-- You ask too many questions." He turned away from Malcolm
abruptly. "Just leave and--"

"Just *leave*?!" Malcolm got to his feet and began to pace,
throwing his hands around vehemently as he spoke. "Jon told me
to just leave yesterday and now you. WHAT is going on here? I
don't understand it." He stopped abruptly in front of Travis and
turned to him. "One day you're shagging me like there's no
tomorrow and the next you're running away from me and *claiming*
to have a headache just to get out of our... arangment for the
night." He took a long shakey breath and kneeled in front of
Travis taking one of his hands into his own. "Tell me what I can
do to make this better. Anything."

"Leave."

"E-except that. *Please*." His eyes were glistening with unwept
tears. Travis wanted to push him away, wanted to tell him to go
to hell. This was the man that took pleasure in killing a ship
full of people. This was the man who sent Captain Archer to the
brig to be beaten. This was the man...

Whose heart *he* was ripping into pieces.

In spite of himself, Travis ran his fingers through Malcolm's
hair. It was too much for the brash captain. He bowed his head
down and tears sqeezed through his eyes onto Travis's knee. He
whiped them away quickly.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm muttered, "I know you hate it when I do
this."

"It's alright," Travis said gently.

"It is?"

Travis nodded and continued to stroke Malcolm's hair and
watched him as silent sobs racked his body.

"You've never been this lo- kind to me before." He sniffled. "I
don't understand it. *This* comes on the heels of your leaving
me?"

"I feel sorry for you," Travis said honestly.

Malcolm chuckled. "I must be really bloody pitiful right now,
eh? To evoke pity from *you*."

"Well, yes. You *are* pitiful right now. But it's much more
flatering than the way you usually act." He ran his hand down
Malcolm's neck and rested it on his shoulder. Malcolm leaned his
head on Travis's hand. He looked completely vulnerable. As
though he were just giving himself up to him. Travis hadn't been
prepared for this. He knew he should stop it before something
happened, but throwing him out now just seemed cruel. He
wouldn't allow himself to sink to that level even if the man he
comforted *was* down there. It was obvious the guy needed
someone. He'd already been thrown out once...

//Wait,// Travis thought, //Did he say that *Jon* told him to
leave?//

He pushed Malcolm away and looked him in the face. "What were
you doing with Capta- Jon?"

"W-well, I know you told me to stay away from him, but then you
threw me out and I didn't have anywhere else to go. I got myself
all worked up thinking that we were--"

"You had sex with him?!"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Yes... That's what I generally do
when I visit him. He's not worth much else. If I'd have thought
it would bother you I wouldn't have. You usually don't seem to
mind it."

Travis stared at him in disbelief. He knew there was no way
that his captain would have been with Malcolm willingly. "Did
you rape him?"

Malcolm snorted in responce, but Travis shook him to force a
verbal answer. "You can't rape the willing, Travis. He's always
liked me, you know that. The poor thing's obsessed. He fought a
bit, but I knew he didn't mean it. But then, he got all mad at
the end."

His mind filled with disgust and rage, Travis forgot pity. He
knocked Malcolm to the floor. "Get out of here. NOW."

Malcolm stared at him in utter confusion and horror. They
remained in tense silence for a long time.

The ship shook suddenly, violently. Then, again and again.
Malcolm scrambled up to the comm.

"Reed to bridge. What's going on?"

"A Bird of Prey is attacking us sir," Boon answered, "It
doesn't look like we have a-- AHHH!" They heard an explotion
over the comm and the ship rocked again.

Malcolm pressed the comm. "Bridge... Bridge!" There was no
answer. He turned to Travis. "Let's go." He swerved around on
his heel and headed toward the door. Mindlessly, Travis followed.

= = = = = = =

Malcolm and Travis ran through the halls of Enterprise
together. More than once they were thrown off balance into a
wall by weapon impacts. They passed three bodies. Two were still
moving. But they couldn't stop. They had nearly reached the
bridge when Malcolm threw Travis into an alcove. A phaser blast
screamed past them. Malcolm took out his phase pistol and waited
against the wall for a moment before twisting himself around and
taking a shot. There was a feral cry and a thud.

"Got one. The other's still coming. We've got to get out of
here." He grabbed Travis by the arm and pulled a panel out of
the wall revealing a tunnel. Travis wormed himself loose of
Malcolm's grip and made his way into the tunnel on his own
accord.

"Hurry!"

"I *am*!" Travis called back and he scrambled forward as
quickly as he could manage on all fours. Malcolm pushed in
behind him.

"The bridge is just ahead."

"I know that."

Despite Malcolm's constant insitance that Travis wasn't moving
fast enough, they made it to the bridge in minutes. Travis
pushed the panel out of place and crawled out onto the bridge.
The scene that met his eyes left him unable to move or speak.
He'd never seen anything like it. Hoshi was sprawled out on the
floor, her entire body covered in burns. Boon sat in the
captain's chair slumped to the side, eyes wide with fright.
Three others that he didn't recognize, partially because they
were not the usual bridge crew and partially because they were
charred.

Malcolm made his way to the tactical position, shoved the
corpse out of the way and sat. He shouted Travis's name and
pointed toward the helm where a blackened body was draped over
the seat. He stood staring at it in wide-eyed shock.

"What is *wrong* with you, Travis? Move him out of the way and
take your post!"

Travis stared up at Malcolm in disbelief, unable to comprehend
how the young captain could take this all so lightly. Then, a
Klingon torpedo shook the ship as if on cue to remind him. He
acted quickly, trying not to think about the stench or the fact
that the thing he was shoving to the ground was once human.

"What's online?"

"Impulse engines, I think," Travis answered shakily, "The warp
drive is gone."

"Figured as much. It's always the first goddamn thing to go.
And with our engineer probably dead..." He paused. "If we're
going to go down, we may as well do it fighting. Fly closer
ensign. Let's get right in their bloody face!"

"Y-yes sir."

Travis swooped in closer, all the time Malcolm firing torpedos.
The first few were disintegrated by the ship's shield. But at
last, one hit it's target. Before either of them even had a
chance to celebrate, the bridge door was torn open. The Klingon
shot Malcolm, then spoke something into his communicator. Travis
tried to stand, but by the time he had risen to his feet, he was
transported into a small, dark cell on the Klingon ship.


----------------------------------------------------------------
----------

One by one, Trip, T'Pol and Jon were transported into the cell
with Travis. They sat in the dark silence for a long time as
their eyes adjusted. Trip helped Jon sit against the wall and
covered him with the leather jacket he had found in his quarters.

"Is everyone alright?" Jon asked, his voice seemed small
against the roar of nearby engines.

Trip and Travis both answered immediately with a 'yes sir.' Jon
turned to T'Pol. "And you?"

Her head snapped toward him, "You are an insubbordinate.
Regulations do not require me to report to you on my condition.
Have any of you seen the captain?"

"He was with me," Travis said, "One of the Klingons shot him. I
don't know if he was... killed or not."

T'Pol eyed him. "That is the truth, Ensign?"

"I wouldn't have *said* it if it wasn't, sir."

A door groaned open in the hall. Two Klingons dragged Malcolm
to the cell and threw him in. There was a cut on either side of
his face and several burns on his torso. T'Pol went to him
immediately, but she did not seem concerned, only dutiful.

He grunted in pain as she helped him into a sitting position.
"Sir. It seems that I was incorrect in my annalysis of their
behavior." She nodded her head toward Trip, Travis and Jon.
"They are not defectors or they would not be held here with us."

"Defectors?!" Trip said, his fury directed at Malcolm. "You
thought that we were defectors?"

T'Pol answered. "Your behavior has been abnormal since you
returned from your escape attempt. It was one of the
possibilities that were considered."

Trip stood and approached Malcolm, a dangerous look in his eye.
He pushed T'Pol out of the way and squatted in front of the
young captain. His hand shot out and found it's target at
Malcolm's neck, pinning him against the wall.

"Listen to me. You're *this* close from really pissing me off.
YOu beat up Jon, treat everybody like shit, get a high from
killing a ship full of Klingons when you didn't have to and
*then* you try to say we're defectors?" He pushed into Malcolm's
neck. Malcolm grunted and tried to gasp for air, but managed a
grin.

"You're finally acting like yourself again."

Travis took Trip's arm and pulled him away from Malcolm. "Calm
down, Trip. The Klingons did enough damage for the both of you."

Trip backed off reluctantly, but his eyes still burned
dangerously at Malcolm. Malcolm coughed up a laugh and shook his
head.

"Funny that things should start getting back to normal between
us *now*."

"Malcolm," Jon spoke up from the dark corner that Trip had
propped him in. He struggled into a standing possition with
Trip's jacket tied about his waist. "You were right."

"What do you mean? And don't think because I'm a little worse
for the wear that you can call me anything but Master, pet."

"I'm not your pet," Jon said evenly, "I am Captain Jonathan
Archer of the NX-01 Enterprise. Now, we have reason to be--"

Jon was inturupted by Malcolm's laughter. He pushed himself to
his feet. "What kind of rubbish is this Jon? Have you really
lost it or what?"

"We have reason to believe that Tri-- Charlie, Travis and I
were somehow switched from our reality into this one. Your
versions of us could have escaped, or they might be back in my
reality. On *my* ship."

"Oh, so, in your reality, *you're* the captain and, what? I'm a
lowly ensign chained up in the brig?"

"No," said Archer, the strain of anger becoming aparent in his
voice, "You're my tactical officer. A leiutenant."

Malcolm chuckled. "Well, I'm quite honored, but we don't have
time for these stories of yours."

Trip spoke up, "Our Malcolm is a hell of a lot better man than
you!"

Malcolm cocked an eyebrow in Trip's direction. "You're going
along with this? This isn't the time to play around if you
haven't noticed. We're on a Klingon ship in a Klingon cell
surrounded by Klingons. Perhaps we should focus on how to get
*out* of this situation instead of making up--"

"It's true," said Travis quietly. Malcolm swung around to look
at him.

"Not you too. "I have no reason to trust you," he hissed.
"Look, if you want me to play along with your little fantasy,
fine. It *would* explain why you're all behaving so strangely."

"Sir," said T'Pol, "They had plenty of time to concoct this
scheme while they were on the shuttle. Perhaps it is a tactic to
throw us off. It is still possible that they are defectors."

"God!" said Trip, "You're more paranoid than *our* T'Pol."

Malcolm waved his hands to quiet them. His expression was calm
and amused. "T'Pol, I order you to play along with them. We
don't have much of a chance of getting out of here without them,
so if they are defectors, we're screwed either way. The only
chance we have is that they're telling the truth or they've all
three of them gone stark raving mad, so why not believe them?
Now, let's *stop* fighting and find a way to get the hell out of
here before the Klingons have had their fill and kill us all.
Any suggestions?"

No matter what he had done before Captain Malcolm Reed sounded
like a captain now, and a good one at that. Archer nodded toward
his two officers to follow Malcolm's orders.

"The Klingons are a harsh warrior race," said T'Pol, "It is
unlikely that they will respond to sympathetic impulses or
promises of material compensation."

"In other words, no begging or bribing," said Trip. T'Pol nodded.

"So, what *is* their weakness?" asked Jon.

Malcolm's eyes lit up. "What makes a warrior race a warrior
race?"

"A culture that is based upon hunting and fighting skills as
forms of status among--"

Malcolm inturupted the Vulcan's textbook answer. "Passion.
Hunger... A hell of a temper."

"How can *that* work to our advantage?" asked Travis.

"Easy. We convince them to kill us sooner than they plan to,"
said Malcolm, smiling at the looks of disbelief his statment had
earned him.

----------------------------------------------------------------
----------


The Klingon guard thudded into the hall, checking each cell for
prisoners as he passed.

"Hey! Hey you ugly, wrinkle-headed little girl! You heard me.
You'd lose a fight with a grain of space dust!"

The guard growled loudly and stalked to the cell where the
tauting was emminating from. He glared down at the slender,
straw blond man. Trip made a fist and dug in nails into his palm
to force the trembling out of his voice.

"You're just keeping me in here because you're *afraid*. Yeah.
You're afraid 'cause if I was out of here I'd kick your ass!"

Trip took an agressive stance and threw some punches into the
air. The Klingon growled again, louder this time, and put his
hand on the phaser at his hip.

"Oh, s-so you can't fight like a man... or Klingon or whatever.
Gonna shoot a caged and unarmed Human? Seems pretty cowardly to
me."

The Klingon lurched forward suddenly and slammed his fist into
a control panel. The force field crackled and was gone. Trip
backed away from the alien into the shadows.

"Any time now guys..." he muttered.

T'Pol jumped forward and grabbed the Klingon's shoulder. He
fell with a thunk to the floor.

Trip looked at the huddled form on the ground and then up at
the Vulcan. "Damn..."

Malcolm limped out of the cell and took the Klingon's weapon.
Then, he kneeled before one of the walls and pulled a panel out.
"Time for more crawling," he said. He looked at Travis and
winked. "This time, I go before you."

"What about the other prisoners here?" asked Travis.

"No time," said Malcolm.

"We can't just leave them here." Trip said, his jaw set
stubbornly.

"Yes, we can." Malcolm motioned for the engineer to get into
the crawl space. "We don't have time for this."

"He's right," Jon said reluctantly, "We can find a way to help
them later, if there's time."

Both Travis and Trip cast their eyes down, holding back any
further argument.

"Come *on*," Malcolm said, "We don't have all day to sit here
and debate with our morals."

T'Pol had already climbed in and was well out of the way. Trip
and Jon came next. Malcolm allowed Travis ahead of him with a
sly smile.

"Now," Malcolm called ahead to them once he'd replaced the
panel behind them, "It would be a good time to figure out a way
to get off this ship before they realize we are out of our cell
and find us. T'Pol, you're familiar with the layout of a Klingon
bird of prey, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Yes sir. The docking bay is forward and to the
right."

"Now the question is, how do we make sure they don't drag us
right back to the ship," said Jon.

"Do you have the PADD with you?" Travis asked Trip.

"Uhh..." He reached into his vest pocket and pulled it out.

"What do you have there?" asked Malcolm.

"The sensor logs from the shuttle," Trip answered, "We might
have a way to get out of this mess if we could just figure out
what happened to get us here. Me and Travis couldn't figure it
out to save our lives."

"But, T'Pol might understand it," Travis added.

"And, what? Send us back to 'your universe?'"

"This is certainly a Klingon trap." T'Pol gave Travis a cold
glare. "Only *they* would come up with such a stupid ploy to get
us out in the open."

"Do you have another choice?" said Jon.

There was a brief silence, then Malcolm chuckled. "I might be
insane, but," he shrugged, "T'Pol, take a look at those readings
and see what you can make of it. I'll watch the enterance," he
said, holding up the Klingon weapon.


----------------------------------------------------------------
--------


They sat in virtual silence while T'Pol looked over the
information on the PADD except for the whispers coming from Jon
and Trip. T'Pol occationally looked up from her work to cast a
suspisious glance in their direction, but said nothing. Finally,
she sighed with a vague hint of frustration.

"Sir, I have found all of the information that is possible to
discern from these logs."

"And...?"

"Are you certain you wish me to share my findings with--"

"I'm sure. What did you find?"

"There isn't much. At 1500 two days ago, seconds before the
shuttle was aprehended by Enterprise, there was a sensor glitch
that caused all sensors to cease fuctioning. There is little
indication of any change before the glitch and after."

"Little?" Malcolm leaned toward her.

"There... appears to have been a ship other than Enterprise in
close proximity to the shuttle. After the glitch, the ship does
not seem to be there."

Malcolm furrowed his brow. "A ship? I don't remember a ship..."

"There was not a ship in those coordinants at that time
according to the readings I took three days ago."

"See!" said Trip, "We weren't lying."

"There are several possibilities that would explain this
phenomena. The shuttle's sensors could have been malfunctioning
prior to the glitch," said T'Pol.

"Assuming they *aren't* lying. Assuming that during this
'glitch' they went from their universe into ourse, what caused
that to happen."

"There are... several possibilities."

"What's most likely?"

"There is a chance that there is a worm hole at those
coordinates. The shuttle and its passengers would have little
indication that anything happened, except that, in this case,
the sensors went out. The trip would be nearly instantanious."

"A... worm hole, huh?" Malcolm paused thoughtfully. "Any chance
that we could go back through that worm hole?"

"There is a 'chance', but it is a small one. Either side of the
worm hole could prove to be unstable and there is no way of
knowing for certain where it would take us, or if it is still
there at all. There is little known about worm holes. There is
no known records of anyone passing through one that I know of."

"If this ship is moving at its maximum speed, it will reach
Earth in four days."

"Earth?" asked Travis.

Malcolm nodded. "We'll be publically executed by the Klingons
on our on soil and Enterprise will be destroyed in Earth's sky.
Some rubbish about teaching us a lesson. That's what they *told*
me anyway and, in this case, I'll take them at their word. If we
could get back on the Enterprise and go to warp, we'd reach
those coordinates in a matter of minutes. They'd catch up to us
if we simply tried to run, but if we can go through this worm
hole of yours, they'd have no way of reaching us."

"Captain," said T'Pol, "There is no way of knowing that it will
even still be there. And if it is, they Klingon's would be
capable of traveling through it as well."

"There's no way of knowing it won't either. And if they try to
follow us, we'll just have to find a way to stop them. If we
stay here, we die. If we take a chance, we might die... but we
might live too. I'd rather take a chance than sit around and
wait for death to come to me."

T'Pol still looked more than skeptical, but she nodded. Malcolm
turned to Trip.

"If you're anything like the Charlie I know, you can figure out
how to keep them from seeing us for a few minutes once we reach
the docking bay."

"I can try," he said, then turned to his capatain, "If you
agree, sir."

Jon nodded, "Captain Reed is in charge here, Trip."

Malcolm gave him a strange look. "Trip?"

"Nickname," said Trip.

"Sir," said T'Pol, "We don't have much time."

"Of course. Let's go," said Malcolm, and waved for them to
follow the Vulcan through the crawl space.


----------------------------------------------------------------
------------

"I can get us five minutes from here. Once I get into the
actual shuttle bay, I'll be able to get the hatch open, but
it'll take some work. A few minutes. I'll try to make it three,
but I don't know," whispered Trip.

"Good enough. I'm sure there will be guards, I'll get them with
this." He indicated the phaser. "And we get into Enterprise,
Charlie or Trip or what have you, will go to the engineering
room, the rest of us will go to the bridge and get to that worm
hole at full speed. You'll have to get that warp core working
quickly, Trip."

"Don't I always," he said with a smile.

"All of you stay here until all of the guards are dead. Then
Trip. Then the rest of you. Got it? Good." Malcolm kicked the
panel open and went out shooting. He killed the first guard
immediately. The other fired on him, hitting him in the right
shoulder, but he switched the phaser to his left hand and shot
the second guard.

"Trip!"

Trip ran out and immediately began working on the console that
T'Pol had told him to use. His fingers stumbled around for a few
minutes before the hatch finally hissed open. Malcolm began an
awkward run favoring his left leg and motioned for the rest to
follow him. T'Pol was at her captain's side quickly to help him
and the others followed.

To Travis's chagring the bridge was the way they had left it,
littered with familiar bodies. But, now there was no time to
think about the humanity of the situation.

"Travis, you've got the helm," Malcolm commanded. "T'Pol, take
your usual station. Jon, can you handle munitions?"

"Yes."

"Good. Travis, set a course for the worm hole and move us
toward it on impulse."

"I'm on it, sir," he said as he sat at his post.

Malcolm hit the comm. "Trip. How are you doing?"

"I'm working alone here. It'll take a few minutes. The best I
can do is warp four."

"That'll have to do. Tell us when you're ready. Reed out."

"The Klingon ship is firing up their--" Jon was cut off by an
impact.

"It would seem that they are warning us, Captain," said T'Pol.
"They could have easily done significant damage."

"Put up the shields."

"Shields?" asked Jon.

Malcolm impatiently went to the console Jon sat behind and
tapped some buttons. "I thought you could handle this station."

"Enterprise doesn't have shields in my universe."

Malcolm cocked an eye at him, "Amazing you've survived."

"We're on a mission of exploration, not war," he spat.

The ship rocked again, but this time with less force.

"The- ah- shields look like their down to eighty percent."

Malcolm hit the comm. "Trip!"

"I'm doing the best I can! It would help if you'd keep this
boat steady."

"How long?"

"A couple more minutes. Just hold your horses."

Another impact. "Shields down to fifty percent."

"I can't hold them much longer, Trip."

"Almost got 'em... There! Try it now."

Malcolm nodded toward Travis and the helmsman changed the speed
to warp four. The ship shook dangerously, but kept it's course.

"The Klingon ship is matching our speed. They're toying with
us," T'Pol said. "Otherwise, we would be destroyed."

"Let them toy with us," said Malcolm. "We've got a trick up our
sleeve."

"Approaching the worm hole cooridnates," Travis reported.

Malcolm sat in the captain's chair. "Keep your fingers crossed,
everyone."

The ship stopped vibrating. One by one, the consoles went out.

"This is what happened last time," said Jon. "It should come
back in a minute and..."

Malcolm leaned forward, griping his arm rests. "As soon as we
regain power, prepare to launch torpedoes."

"At... what?"

"Our warp core."

"What?!"

The lights on the consoles flickered and came back on. Malcolm
tapped the comm.

"Trip?"

"Yes sir?"

"Jettison the warp core. Now."

"Jettison the... why?"

"Do it!" Malcolm slammed his fist down on the comm. Seconds
later, the warp core of the ship was floating in space.

"Captain," said T'Pol, "The Klingon ship just appeared--"

"Jon, fire one torpedo at the warp core. Travis, you get us out
of the way. Then, go back in and fire as many as you can at the
ship."

Finally understanding, Jon and Travis nodded simultaniously.
"Yes, sir."

Travis moved them away as far as he could within targetting
range. The first torpedo obliterated the warp core, shook
Enterprise, and destroyed not only the Klingon's shields, but
desicrated half of their ship as well.

There was a long silence. Malcolm turned sharply toward Archer.
"Fire!"

"Their ship is disabled."

"So? FIRE!"

Jon shook his head firmly. A growl came from the back of
Malcolm's throat and he threw Jon aside, firing on the Klingon
ship himself. It was not long before the ship was completely
destroyed. Malcolm watched the explosion on his view screen with
unmasked pleasure. Jon grabbed him by his arm.

"That was completely unnecisary! We didn't have to kill them."

Malcolm made no attempt to loosen the other man's grip. "They
would have killed us when they got the chance."

Jon moved in closer, his voice low. "That's no excuse."

"On this ship, Jonathan Archer, you *aren't* the captain. I am.
It was my decision and I don't like my orders being questioned
in front of my crew." He pulled his arm out of Jon's hand in one
forceful movement. He spoke, still staring into Jon's eyes.
"T'Pol, where is the other Enterprise?"

"It appears to be 12.3 light years away."

He smirked. "Travis, send a coded message on subspace to
Enterprise asking them to be of assistance and that your captain
is here. If that's okay with *you* Captain Archer."

Jon tightened his lips and dug his fingernails into his palm.
Finally, he broke eye contact with Malcolm and nodded toward
Travis.

"Yes, sir," Travis muttered as he moved towards the comm station.

= = = = = =

Lt. Malcolm Reed glared fiercely at the indignant blond man in
front of him. "I am the *tactical officer*. T'Pol is the sub-
commander. And even if she weren't, the captain put her in
command before he got... sick."

"He's not sick," Charlie insisted. "He's a fucking moron.
Always has been."

Malcolm sighed, "The doctor has told you more than once that
this is some sort of amnesia. The captain isn't like the
cringing thing he is now. And *you* aren't like you are now. You
just *think* you are. If he can't cure it, you're going to have
to learn to live with the way things are, and that means that
you take orders from a Vulcan."

Charlie took a step closer to Malcolm and peered closely at him
with his icy blue eyes. His voice became the low, controlled
tone that it had been ever since he returned. "Malcolm, I know
you. I've known you for a long time--"

"No, you haven't. Almost two years."

He shook his head. "No. Almost *nine* years. But that's not the
point. I know you'd be ten times the captain that bitch is." He
put his hand lightly on Malcolm's arm. "You have so many things
inside of you that you won't let out. I can feel my Malcolm in
you, but he's so far down there..."

His gaze had gone from distant to intense. Malcolm wanted to
pull away from him, to stop those eyes from drilling into his
skull. No such luck. Charlie moved closed.

"You look frightened," Charlie whispered. "Are you afraid of
me, or yourself? What I might do, or what you might do?"

Malcolm opened his mouth to answer, but Charlie quickly covered
it with his own. His tongue snaked in. Malcolm knew he should
stop the other man somehow, but something inside of him wouldn't
allow it.

The comm beeped, ripping Malcolm out of his trance. He pushed
Charlie away and hit the comm.

"Lieutenant Reed here," he breathed.

"Please report to the situation room. Bring Commander Tucker,"
T'Pol said.

"Yes, sir." He tapped the comm again and looked at Charlie.

"Commander, this way." He motioned toward the ladder. Charlie
grinned slyly and moved towards it. He stepped on the first rung
slowly, then began to climb. Half way up, he turned back.

"Don't look up my dress, Lieutenant."

Malcolm flushed and cast his eyes to the ground. Charlie
snickered and ascended into the hallway.

They reached the situation room in silence. T'Pol, Hoshi and
Travis waited for them within. They turned to Malcolm and
Charlie as they entered.

"What's this about?" demanded Charlie as he approached T'Pol.

She did not look at him, but kept her eyes straight forward.
"We have received a message. A ship 12.3 light years has
contacted us requisition that we rendezvous with them as soon as
possible. They... claim to have Captain Archer, Commander Tucker
and Ensign Mayweather."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "Well, you know they're lying
obviously."

"They said something about an alternate universe," said Hoshi.

"It *would* explain the way you've all been acting," said
Charlie. Travis nodded silently.

"The way *we've* been acting?" Hoshi muttered. T'Pol and
Charlie both shot her looks that quieted her.

"I believe that it would be prudent to study this matter with
great consideration," said T'Pol.

"It could be a trap," Malcolm said.

"Long range sensors indicate that they are in no shape to do
battle. We have already changed course to intercept the ship. I
would like each of you to compile as much information as
possible on them in the next three days. If the captain *is*
there, it is a priority to attain him if possible, despite the
risks."

"Yes sir," came the scattered reply of all present excluding
Charlie and Travis.

"You are dismissed," said T'Pol.

They filed out of the situation room with a heavy silence over
them. Charlie jogged to catch up to Malcolm's long, quick
strides.

"That explains it."

Malcolm stopped short and turned to him. "We both have work to
do."

"We should work together. Two heads are better than one, you
know."

"I'd rather not work with you." He began to walk towards the
armory again, at a quicker pace. But Charlie was relentless.

"Mad over one little kiss?"

Malcolm pressed his lips into a fine line.

"It wasn't even all that good of a kiss."

He reached his destination and went down the ladder.

"Certainly nothing to get mad over," Trip called down after him
before crawling down himself.

"If you insist on working with me," Malcolm said distantly as
he focused on a console, "Make yourself useful." He shoved a
PADD at him.

Charlie smiled malevolently. Nothing like the friendly,
sometimes teasing smile that Malcolm was accustomed to.

"I wonder how angry you'll get when I give you a *real* kiss."

----------------------------------------------------------------
--------

Captain Reed was more than ready to get to bed. But not by
himself. Not again.

Travis, on the other hand, would have been perfectly happy to
sleep alone and undisturbed when his door beeped and Malcolm
stepped in. He sat up in bed, more than a little surprised by
the intrusion.

"What are you doing here?"

Malcolm took a step back and began to fidget a little with his
empty pockets. Travis arched an eyebrow at the captain's strange
behavior. He seems slightly reminiscent of the Malcolm he knew.

"I know you don't like me much," Malcolm began slowly. "I know
I've no right to be here, talking to you. I should leave the
three of you alone after what I've done. I'm not ashamed of it.
It's who I am. And, in my world, it's who you are too. But..."

He raised his eyes to Travis, then looked away again. "You're
so much... I don't know. Warmer than the Travis I know. You
wouldn't, well, sleep with me like my Travis would have. But you
treated me so much better. I thought..." He sighed heavily. "I
fucking hate conversations like this."

Reluctantly, Travis beckoned Malcolm closer to him. Against his
better judgment, he sorta felt sorry for the guy. Malcolm took
the offer immediately and was at Travis's side in a moment.

"What are you trying to say exactly?" Travis asked after a
minute of silence.

"I'm in love with you. Th-the other you. But you--he doesn't
pay any attention to me, doesn't show the slightest bit of
interest. And you didn't seem interested either, but you treated
me like, I don't know, a *human*. And, no one's really... done
that... before."

"You don't really act it," Travis said truthfully.

Malcolm looked down at his hands, still fidgeting in his lap.
"I know," he whispered.

"I want to think you're redeemable, or whatever. But what you
did to Captain Archer. It's just not forgivable. Even if I
*were* interested in guys, I couldn't be with someone who did
that. Who *does* that. Who isn't ashamed of it."

"My Jon isn't like yours."

"That doesn't make any difference. You hurt him. You... you
*rape* him. It's disgusting. It's wrong."

"I don't rape him. He likes it. He likes me."

"Whatever. Look, I can try to help you. Try to be your friend.
But if you expect more than that out of me, I'm sorry. I
couldn't love you."

Malcolm's hands wrapped around themselves into one trembling
fist. His eyes glistened in the low light. "Those words." His v
oice was low and horse. "They sting more put to your gentle
voice."

Travis scooted closer to the hunched man almost involuntarily.
He knew he shouldn't feel guilty. He knew he shouldn't feel
sorry for this horrible man who delighted in raping and killing.
But he could barely connect that cold, cruel man with the one
that currently sat next to him, shivering with unwept tears.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Why? You think I'm disgusting. You think I *deserve* to be
hurt."

"I didn't mean--"

"You didn't mean much, did you?" Malcolm said with a sneer as
he stood. "I don't need your pity. I don't need your friendship.
And I certainly don't need your fucking love."

"Malcolm..."

The door hissed open and shut. Travis sighed and drew his
blankets around him. Thoughts buzzed around in his skull. It
would be a long night.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie sat abruptly in his bed. The sudden movement made his
sleepy head spin. One nightmare. Two Malcolms. One choking him,
the other running from his grasp. He took long slow breaths
until the hazy fright faded from him into the general numbness
that was his usual state. He'd been hurt too many times to let
much affect him openly, but while he slept his fears and pain
came back with a vengence, reminding him that he couldn't
completely shut himself off.

"Computer, what's the time?"

Silence.

"Fucking backwards technology," he muttered and he dragged
himself to his feet. He pulled on his uniform and headed to the
armory.

Malcolm was there, of course. Not the least bit of bleariness
in his eyes and in his morning mood, which was chipper. For
Malcolm.

"Good morning, Tri-er-Charlie," he said stiffly.

Charlie grunted in response and picked up his PADD. Work didn't
look very inviting at such a ghastly time. Especially after a
night when dreams had allowed him so little sleep.

"How long until we get there so we don't have to deal with this
bullshit?"

"We should reach the ship today. In a few hours, actually. I'd
like to have a little more information about their status of
their weapons before we reach them. From what you've said of
their technology, they would have us outgunned under normal
circumstances."

"We've gone over them plenty, Lieutenant," Charlie snapped.
"And every time we've found that just about everything is fried.
It's basically a chunk of metal floating out there waiting for
us to rescue the crew. You don't gotta be so goddamned anal
about it!"

Malcolm's lips tightened into a thin line across his face.
"This captain of yours doesn't sound like a trustworthy sort. I
don't want to take a risk."

Charlie laughed almost involuntarily. "That 'captain of mine'
is you, you know." He stepped closer to the Leiutenant. "You're
more clean cut and uptight, but you've both got that paranoia.
And your lips. He does that same thing when he's angry with me."
He took Malcolm's arm and turned him so that their faces nearly
touched.

"Please. I've work to do. If you don't want to help, go away
and leave me be."

Charlie sighed heavily. "Why don't you understand? Or maybe you
do. Maybe you hide it." He came closer. Malcolm could feel his
hot breath on his cheek. "You feel it too, don't you." It was an
accusation, not a question.

"I-I don't know what you mean."

His voice dropped low, slipping into the southern accent that
he hid so well. "You're flushed, darlin'. And your eye twitches
when you lie to me. Just like his does."

"I'm not him."

"Close enough."

He slid his hand down to Malcolm's crotch and gave it a gentle
squeeze. He gasped, but didn't move to elude the contact.

"S-someone might s-see," Malcolm hissed.

"They won't see inside my quarters." Charlie gave Malcolm's arm
a pull towards the exit.

"We have work to do."

"It's done, and you know it."

"I have to give my report to T'Pol."

"All right," he said, finally dropping Malcolm's arm. "Give it
to her. Then, meet me in my quarters." He brought his finger up
to Malcolm's mouth before he could protest. "Don't say no. You
know you want this as much as I do."

He didn't argue with Charlie. He simply grabbed a PADD and left.

But Charlie knew. He knew Malcolm better than he knew himself.
And this one was so much like the other had been when they first
met. 

So long ago...

It was an hour later that his door beeped. Charlie half
expected him to barge right in, like the other did, but he
waited patiently for Charlie to let him in. 

He stepped stiffly into the quarters, his hands behind his
back, biting his bottom lip nervously.

So much like him.

"I don't know what you expect, but--" Malcolm said abruptly.

"Bullshit," Charlie promptly interrupted.

"B-but, I merely came here to tell you that I don't appreciate
your... advances toward me and I would like them to stop."

"We'll reach my ship today. And then you'll be rid of me. Why
is coming here so important to you if it's only to say that?"

"We may be working together during the repairs," came the
practiced response.

Charlie grabbed Malcolm's shoulders and slammed him into the
wall.

"I'm tired of playing around." He ran his lips across Malcolm's
neck. "I want you *now*. I can't wait any longer. I've been good
and damned patient, if you ask me."

Malcolm raised his trembling hands from behind his back and set
them on Charlie's face, pushing him away just slightly so that
he could look at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed
it again, instead opting to speak with his eyes. Something
Charlie had grown accustomed to with the other Malcolm.

This Malcolm was asking. More than asking. Begging for an
answer. One that Charlie couldn't answer truthfully.

Why do you want me?

The eye contact was cutting too close to Charlie's heart, and
he broke it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on Malcolm's
and immediately pushed his tongue against them, asking for
entrance. Malcolm granted it. His muscles relaxed. It felt to
Charlie as though the man was literally melting in his surrender.

He led Malcolm to his bed and laid him down while he stood,
removing his own clothing, and then Malcolm's. He slowly lay,
covering Malcolm's body with his own. Malcolm closed his eyes
and sighed at the contact.

And, suddenly, Charlie was with the man he loved again.

He ran both of his hands back into Malcolm's hair and kissed
him again, more gently this time. He probed into his mouth and
searched its every familiar crevice. Malcolm kissed back this
time with a passion that Charlie had not entirely expected. He
ran his hands down Malcolm's chest to his nipples and squeezed
them gently, eliciting the powerful response that he had
expected. Malcolm bucked forward and grasped each side of
Charlie's waist, taking control, flipping him on his back.

Malcolm hovered over Charlie. His eyes were icy and fierce. He
ground his growing erection into Charlie's, and Charlie cried
out with a passion he'd not released in years. He wanted to beg
Malcolm for more, but he knew that words would destroy what he
had worked so hard for. He used his hands to speak his wishes,
grasping Malcolm's ass desperately with one hand and reaching
for the lubricant that he'd found in the drawer of this
universe's Charles Tucker. Malcolm took it immediately and
slathered it onto his cock as he pushed back Charlie's legs,
giving himself easier access to what he wanted.

He looked at Charlie for permission and received it. It took no
more than that. He slid his erection inside, completely
engorging himself. He paused for a moment before resuming. He
moved quickly, roughly and at an even pace. Charlie held Malcolm
tight. He wanted to feel every inch of his skin at once. He
wanted to memorize every feeling. His cock rubbed against
Malcolm's belly, causing a maddening sensation that sent
electricity throughout his body. The sensation slowly culminated
into throb bing heat until finally, there was release.

Charlie cried out and Malcolm held him closer as they came.
They lay together, sweating and panting, trying to bring
themselves back into the reality that they had briefly stepped
out of. Malcolm rolled off of him, so hot that he couldn't bare
the contact any longer. The expression on his face was strange.
Charlie had almost expected shame or disgust. It was different.
It was unreadable. He was afraid to break the long silence, but
he couldn't stand not knowing what was on Malcolm's mind.

He turned on his side and propped his head up, looking down at
Malcolm. "What are you thinking?"

Malcolm shrugged. "I'm thinking that I had better get back to
the armory before we reach your ship."

"That's it?"

"No."

"What else?"

He sighed. "I'm thinking that perhaps I'm not the Malcolm Reed
that you just made love to."

Charlie gave a noncommittal grunt and put his arm around
Malcolm's chest.

"I need to go."

"All right," Charlie said with a sigh.

Malcolm gave him a look somewhere in the gray area between
sadness and hope. Charlie answered it with a gentle kiss on the
cheek, coaxing a small smile from him.

"I'll see you later, Charlie."

Charlie gave him a flirty grin and nodded. "Later."


TBC. . .