Tempest (Star Trek: Enterprise)

[Wig_Powder]

After asking for advice regarding this story idea almost a year and a half ago, I finally managed to get the thing written. A large chunk of it was written during National Novel Writing Month last year, but I only recently had the time to sit down and rewatch the episode this story's based on in order to make sure I was being as canon compliant as possible. Hence the underlined bits in this fic; whenever one of those pop up, it's a direct quote from the show.

WARNING: This story contains SPOILERS for the Enterprise episode "Strange New World". Things do play out a bit differently than they do in canon, but the overarching idea's the same. It's not an episode that has huge ramifications for the rest of the canon, but if you're spoiler-averse, you may want to stay away.

~~~

Malcolm peered out the window of the shuttlepod along with the others, watching as the land below them drew closer and closer. But while most of them were admiring the scenery, he was more focused on trying to spot possible threats. That was why Sub-Commander T'Pol had selected him for the survey expedition, after all—as she'd put it, “If the captain insists on direct contact with an unexamined planet, then it would be wise to have our head of security there to decrease the chance of any unpleasant encounters.” It may have been said in that blunt way of hers, but Malcolm had the impression that she'd given him a compliment. At least, he was choosing to take it that way for the sake of his ego.

 

So far, he wasn't seeing any signs of danger, be they aliens or large animals that could injure the crew or the shuttlepod. Then again, the approach of the pod might have startled them enough to run from the area. He'd have to see what the scanners found once they'd actually landed.

 

As soon as they'd set down and the shuttlepod door was opened, Porthos, the captain's dog, bounded out with a yip and headed for the nearest tree. Archer was apparently unconcerned about this, instead taking in the scenery. “I almost forgot what fresh air smells like.” he said, smiling slightly.

 

Malcolm didn't share the Captain's enthusiasm. The moment he'd taken a breath of the new planet's air, his nose had started itching. Stepping out onto the grass only made it worse. He pressed the back of his wrist to his nose and pulled out his scanner, trying to detect any hazards, but was startled by the Captain saying “Put that thing away.” It took Malcolm a moment to realize he'd been talking to T'Pol, but he still felt compelled to lower his own scanner. Well, they did most likely have a few minutes before any potential predators felt brave enough to approach. Hopefully the Captain would move back into command mode by then.

 

The group started to move away from the shuttlepod, and Malcolm quickly followed them, dropping his hand from his nose for the sake of appearances. He could feel the itch gradually building, but as much as he wanted to fight against it, he knew he'd have to deal with it (and certain discussions surrounding it) sooner rather than later. All he could do was hope that the situation would be relatively calm when it happened.

 

Commander Tucker insisted on everyone posing for a picture, and while Malcolm didn't smile, he did position himself near the back of the group so his serious demeanor would be a little less noticeable. It also had the advantage of allowing him to dig his nails into the palm of his hand, which made the itch back off for a few seconds. Long enough, hopefully, for Tucker to get his photo.

 

“Be sure to get a copy of that to the Vulcan High Command.” Archer said, the grin obvious in his voice as he stepped forward.

 

Malcolm took that as confirmation that the picture-taking was finished, and turned his head to the side, succumbing to the itch. “Ukshhh!”

 

“Bless you,” Archer said, turning back to look at him, “You all right, Malcolm?”

 

Malcolm sighed and tried to make light of the situation. “Not quite, sir. I have an allergy to tropical grasses. I suppose my body has decided that the flora of this particular planet qualifies as 'tropical'.”

 

Archer winced sympathetically. “Sorry, Malcolm.”

 

“We didn't know, sir,” Malcolm responded, “And it's not too bad at the moment. Mostly a bit of itching in my eyes and nose. I should be all right for the duration of this mission.”

 

“If you're sure...” Archer said.

 

Malcolm nodded emphatically, not wanting the Captain to think an allergy would get in the way of Malcolm performing his duties. Sub-Commander T'Pol, at least, seemed to think that was enough, because she turned her attention to her science team. “You have your assignments. We'll rendezvous here at nineteen hundred hours, unless the Captain wants us to pose for more pictures.” Malcolm gave his nose a light rub, using it as an excuse to hide a faint smile at the hint of sarcasm in her tone. There were times when he thought T'Pol was a woman after his own heart.

 

While the rest of the away team explored, gathering data or just enjoying the scenery, Malcolm patrolled the field where they'd landed the shuttlepod. While he knew he should have accompanied one of the survey team while they did their work (Archer, Tucker, and Mayweather had set out to explore as a group, so they at least had safety in numbers), he'd been concerned about stumbling into an area with an even higher pollen count and ending up even more miserable as a result. He'd settled for checking in with everyone in ten minute intervals, ready to head to their location if trouble arose. But everything seemed to be going smoothly; no one had encountered any large creatures, and the animals they had encountered hadn't shown any inclination to attack. It seemed his inclusion in the mission had been superfluous, but he remained at attention just in case.

 

Besides, patrolling and checking in helped distract him from his allergies. Keeping one hand on his communicator and one on his phase pistol made it much harder for him to rub at his eyes and nose, which would keep him from looking completely wretched when he finally returned to Enterprise. He couldn't do much about the sneezing, however; every few minutes, he had to turn his head to the side or bring his arm to his face, maintaining a degree of politeness since there weren't any tissues available. He was just glad no one was around to see or hear him— he didn't mind the occasional blessing, but he also didn't want too much attention to be drawn to his condition, either. That ran the risk of being seen as weak, and that wasn't something he wanted to convey, especially not this early in their mission.

 

At 1900, most of the away team had made it back, though Archer, Tucker, and Mayweather took a little longer to arrive. Once they did, T'Pol told the Captain “We've identified several nocturnal marsupials. I'd like to keep crewmen Cutler and Novakovich with me overnight to study them.”

 

Archer seemed happy to grant her permission. Malcolm grimaced internally, but knew what he had to do, a position that was solidified when Tucker and Mayweather decided they were also going to spend the night on the planet. As soon as Archer signed off on it and Tucker had moved towards the pod to gather up the necessary equipment, Malcolm stepped forward. “I'll remain behind as well.”

 

“Are you sure?” Archer said skeptically, “Given your allergy...”

 

“Since most of the survey team is staying behind, it would be irresponsible for the security presence to leave them exposed to potential danger.” Malcolm responded, even as he rubbed at his nose.

 

“We've got phase pistols, Lieutenant,” Tucker pointed out, brandishing the case he was holding for emphasis, “And so far, the largest thing any of us has run into is a fruit-eating lemur.”

 

T'Pol spoke up before Malcolm could. “While all the species we've encountered so far are small and pose no danger to us, many predators are nocturnal. It would be wise to take precautions.”

 

“If you say so.” Tucker said with a shrug, setting down the case and reentering the pod for more supplies.

 

Malcolm moved to assist them. “As long as you two are staying behind,” he said to Tucker, “I'd appreciate it if you...took turns taaahshh!” he managed to turn away and sneeze into his arm. “Taking watch after me,” he finished, lifting his head and sniffing thickly, “I'm sure the Sub-Commander and the others will keep an eye out for danger, but it's always wise to have someone officially on lookout duty.”

 

“Sure,” Tucker said, before adding with a grin, “Though I'm not sure if those sneezes of yours are more likely to scare the wildlife off or bring 'em right to us.”

 

“Let's hope for the former,” Malcolm said dryly, “Though I'd like to think my sneezing is quiet enough that it doesn't attract too much attention.”

 

“I guess we'll find out when we try to head to bed tonight.” Tucker said, handing him a folded tent before ducking back into the pod. Malcolm shook his head faintly and moved to set it down.

 

With seven of them working together, it didn't take long to gather up their supplies for the night. “Got everything you need?” Archer asked, glancing around the field.

 

“I believe so,” T'Pol said, her eyes sweeping over the various cases, “Do you concur, Lieutenant?”

 

“Shelter, rations, water, weapons...that should be fine,” Malcolm said, “But I do think there's one last thing that I need.”

 

Climbing back inside the pod, he lifted one of the seats, revealing the cache of emergency medical supplies. Grabbing one of the portable oxygen tanks, he returned outside. Tucker immediately raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

 

“If I don't have any allergy medication, surely the next best thing is breathing in filtered air,” Malcolm responded, shaking the plastic mask for emphasis, “Besides, this way it will make it easier for me to fall and stay asleep, and I won't be an utter wreck when I wake up in the morning.”

 

Tucker looked like he wanted to make a joke, but restrained himself. Malcolm gave him a sideways look, then nodded at the Captain. “I think we're ready, sir.”

 

“Good,” Archer said, stepping into the pod, “Then have a good night, all of you. Comm the Enterprise when you wake up, and we'll send a pod as soon as we can.”

***

Once the shuttlepod took off, Tucker and T'Pol located an acceptable camping spot close to the animals she wanted to study. Everyone pitched in with setting up the tents (there were four in total, with Tucker and Mayweather sharing one, Cutler and Novakovich taking another, T'Pol having one to herself to avoid dealing with various human quirks, and Malcolm getting a private tent so he wouldn't disturb the others too much when he went on and off watch), making a fire, and generally trying to make the place relatively comfortable. Then Tucker and Mayweather left to do a little more exploring before the sun fully set while the scientists continued their data gathering. Malcolm opted to remain in camp within shouting distance of the science team, again for the sake of keeping his allergic response to a minimum. He was sure his nose was starting to turn pink, but as long as he didn't draw too much attention to it, he hoped the others wouldn't, either.

 

As night fell, everyone gathered around the fire. As T'Pol sat and continued to examine the data she'd gathered, Mayweather started telling a ghost story. Malcolm had never had much interest in them—his father had made it clear that there was no need to make up horrifying things when one could find plenty of examples in the real world—but made an effort to listen anyway. No need for two senior officers to come across as rude, after all. Still, his attention wandered more often than not, though at least he could explain it away as him keeping an eye out for danger. He did at least make sure to keep glancing back in Mayweather's direction every so often, which also allowed him to spot Crewman Cutler waving away a firefly that drifted too close to her. It made him smile slightly; that was a natural reaction, but it was also an amusing action for an entomologist.

 

(He also made sure to pinch his nose and sneeze as silently as possible whenever his allergies decided to assert themselves. His sneezes tended towards the quiet side, but he still didn't want to interrupt if he could help it.)

 

After Mayweather finished the story, Cutler pointed out their sun, a tiny speck up in the sky. Malcolm glanced up with the rest of them, feeling an odd mix of emotions. There was a sense of insignificance, pride that they'd managed to make it this far despite that, relief that some of the problems he'd left behind on Earth were lightyears away, and just a little bit of loneliness. He wasn't about to express any of that, however, and was almost grateful when his nose itched again. “Ep-tchh!”

 

He raised his head just in time to see Cutler looking around curiously. “You notice something? The fireflies are gone.”

 

Malcolm glanced around and saw that she was right. Trust an entomologist to notice a detail like that. While the others joked about the bugs being frightened by Mayweather's story, Malcolm tried to identify a cause. Insects generally didn't flee from large predators (not unless said predators ate insects, at any rate), so there was probably something else going on. His hand moved to his pistol in preparation, trying to ignore the banter beside him to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

 

Then a blast of wind hit them, causing the campfire to sputter, and the explanation immediately revealed itself. “A front is approaching from the southwest.” T'Pol said, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.

 

The others glanced at each other, and started gathering up supplies to take to their tents. “Might as well get in your tent, Lieutenant!” Tucker called out, “I doubt you'll be able to see or hear anything in the middle of this!”

 

He made a fair point. The wind had only just begun, and visibility had dropped to just a few inches. Besides, gusts this strong were bound to stir up a lot of dirt and (more importantly in this case) pollen, and Malcolm had been sneezing enough as it was. After doing his best to make one more sweep of the area, Malcolm retreated to his tent, though he wouldn't be heading to sleep just yet. He was taking the first watch, and he would still do what he could to see it through.

 

Once the door was zipped shut, Malcolm's first order of business was to grab the oxygen tank. Slipping the mask over his face, he opened the valve on the tank and took an experimental breath. While he couldn't tell much of a difference between the bottled oxygen and the stuff he'd been breathing a minute ago, the fact that he could inhale comfortably at least indicated that the tank was working. Nodding, he sat down, setting the tank on the ground beside him, and did his best to peer through the tent windows. He couldn't see much thanks to the dark and the wind, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to keep a lookout.

 

After a few minutes (and a flash of light from outside, revealing that they were dealing with a lightning storm), Malcolm felt his nose itch again. The fresh oxygen seemed to be helping, but there was clearly some pollen in his system that still needed to be expelled. After a moment of debating with himself, he removed the mask and turned his head to the side. “At-kishh!” He refrained from sniffing until he got the mask back on his face, afraid doing so would cause him to inhale more irritants. At some point, he'd have to resign himself into sneezing into his mask, but for now, he'd do what he could to keep it clean.

 

That turned out to be less of a problem than expected. While Malcolm wasn't quite sure how much time had passed since they'd all retreated to their tents, it had to have been no more than an hour before Tucker approached Malcolm's tent. Malcolm obligingly unzipped it, but refrained from sticking his head out to prevent damage to the mask. “We're breaking camp!” Tucker said, yelling to be heard over the wind, “T'Pol found a cave earlier, so we're going to hole up there! Grab anythin' you need and let's get movin'!”

 

Malcolm nodded and did a quick scan of the tent. It was relatively bare, as they'd all agreed not to store any of the scientific gear with him. Abandoning the sleeping bag, he gathered up the lantern (given the combination of cave, night, and storm, they'd probably need all the light they could get), his canteen, and the oxygen tank, made sure his phase pistol was still on his hip, and left the tent.

 

The blast of wind that greeted him sent him stumbling sideways, though he quickly regained his footing. Miraculously, the mask remained attached to his face, though Malcolm made a mental note to tighten the straps once they reached the cave. His eyes stung as dirt and bits of (presumably) plant matter struck his face, causing a sympathetic itch to spring up in his nose. Thanks to the barrier of the mask, however, he believed he'd be able to hold off from sneezing for a little while. He'd still probably give in before they reached the cave, but it was much better than things could have been.

 

“Are you ready, Lieutenant?” T'Pol called out, her voice still implacable even though she was shouting to be heard. Malcolm nodded, bobbing the lantern in an approximation of a nod to be sure she'd see. Lifting her own lantern above her head, T'Pol moved away from the campsite, the others quickly following behind her. Tucking everything he was carrying into the crook of his arm, Malcolm pulled his pistol from his holster and took up position at the back of the group, covering their flank. Even if the storm would make it difficult to spot danger until it was right on top of them, perhaps the combination of light and a weapon would dissuade anything from getting too close.

 

Several minutes later (and one sneeze that Malcolm stifled, still determined to keep from spraying the mask as much as possible), they made it to the safety of the cave. As T'Pol spoke about the matter with Archer, Malcolm shone his light around, making absolutely sure they weren't intruding on something's hibernation. Everything seemed clear, and once T'Pol assured Archer they'd be fine until the winds died down, Malcolm set his lantern in the middle of the room, holstered his pistol, and moved to help the others unpack.

 

“Who's got the food packs?” Tucker asked after a minute. They soon realized they'd been left behind, and while Malcolm didn't think they were that important, the others apparently disagreed.

 

“I'll go.” Mayweather said, sounding, if not cheerful, then at least willing to brave the storm.

 

“I'll join you,” Malcolm said immediately, “It's definitely not wise to be out there alone in this weather.”

 

“Agreed,” Tucker said, as both Malcolm and Mayweather grabbed onto flashlights, “Be careful.”

 

The two men carefully made their way back to the campsite, Mayweather keeping his eyes on the ground to try to spot the food packs while Malcolm scanned the area for danger, in this case large stones or branches that could knock them off their feet. Inevitably, he had to pause and stifle a sneeze again, and when he looked around, Mayweather had vanished. Cursing, he started spinning in a slow circle, shining his light in front of him. Fortunately, he was about two-thirds of the way through the rotation when he spotted the blue of Mayweather's uniform. Malcolm allowed himself a small sigh of relief before approaching the man. “Any luck?” he asked, shouting to be heard.

 

Mayweather nodded, showing him the silver packet. “Weren't you just in front of me a second ago?” he asked.

 

“No,” Malcolm said, “Why?”

 

“I thought I saw somebody near those bushes!” Mayweather said, pointing with his light, “And then again over there!” he pointed off to the right this time, “I assumed it was you!”

 

“It wasn't!” Malcolm said, “Perhaps the others realized there was something else we forgot! If we've got what we came for, we can go back and see!” Mayweather seemed dubious, but obligingly turned and headed back to the cave.

 

As soon as they reached the safety of the cavern, Malcolm pulled off his oxygen mask to finally deal with the straps, while Mayweather addressed the group at large. “Was anybody outside just now?”

 

“Just you two,” Tucker responded, “Why?”

 

“There's someone else out there.” Mayweather said, sounding worried.

 

Tucker glanced at Malcolm, who shook his head. “I didn't see anything. I think it was a trick of the lightning.”

 

“I'm telling you, I saw three people.” Mayweather insisted.

 

T'Pol tried to assure him and the others that there was no one around besides their small group, but wasn't having much luck in convincing them. For Malcolm's part, he was willing to believe her, since scans from both Human and Vulcan technology had repeatedly confirmed there wasn't any humanoid life on the planet, but given how convinced Mayweather was that he'd seen something, it couldn't hurt to keep an eye out. He finished tightening the straps and put his hand to his pistol, about to suggest they form a small barricade to keep out any unwanted guests.

 

Then Novakovich swung his light deeper into the cave. “There's someone back there. I heard voices.”

 

Malcolm approached him and shone his own light into the cavern, straining his ears, while the others tried to calm Novakovich down. He didn't see anything amiss, though he was interrupted when Novakovich fled the cave in terror. Tucker and Mayweather grabbed phase pistols and gave chase, and Malcolm was debating joining them when T'Pol glanced in his direction, picking up a pistol of her own. “We should examine the rest of the cave to see if Novakovich is right. Perhaps that will help put his mind at ease when the other two bring him back.”

 

Malcolm nodded and glanced at Cutler. “We shouldn't be long. Call out if you need us.”

 

Cutler nodded nervously, already moving to grab the final phase pistol. Malcolm tried to give her another, reassuring nod before following after T'Pol.

 

The path continued for a ways, with no signs of anything other than stone, before it eventually formed a crossroads. “I'll take the left path.” Malcolm said, already moving towards it. T'Pol nodded and went right. Holding the light over his head, Malcolm went still deeper into the cave, phase pistol always at the ready. It was only when the stones became too narrow to pass through that he turned around, but he made sure to shine his light through the gap to make sure there was nothing there. So far, he hadn't seen any sign of danger. He suspected Novakovich and the others were jumping at shadows, a more than understandable reaction given the circumstances. He had to admit, he felt a bit unsettled himself, but he'd do his best to keep a cool head for the sake of the others.

 

He returned to the crossroads, but saw no sign of T'Pol. “Sub-Commander?” he called, wanting to make sure she was all right.

 

“Here, Lieutenant.” T'Pol responded, her voice coming from the main cave. Relieved that she hadn't encountered any danger, Malcolm made his way back to their “base”, accidentally announcing his approach with a sneeze. “Hit-shhh!”

 

He emerged back into the main cave, rubbing at his nose, only to find T'Pol looking at her scanner while Cutler glared at her suspiciously. Before he could ask what was going on, Tucker and Mayweather arrived, without Novakovich. “The Captain's on his way. We're getting out of here.” Mayweather said.

 

“Not a moment too soon. From what I saw, these things live inside the rock.” Tucker declared, glancing around at the walls.

 

Malcolm frowned. On the one hand, if there were beings living in the rock, that might very well throw off their scanners, since they wouldn't exactly be biological. On the other, he hadn't seen a single sign of them, while almost everyone else had. He didn't want to be egotistical, but since he was generally more attuned to danger than the rest of the crew, he found it hard to believe that they were picking up on something he wasn't.

 

T'Pol seemed to confirm his suspicions. “I performed a geological analysis. The rocks are composed of limestone and cormalite, nothing more.”

 

“She's lying, Commander,” Cutler said abruptly, “I saw her talking to them.”

 

She and Tucker began to interrogate T'Pol, while Malcolm blinked at them in confusion. He hadn't gone that much farther once he'd left her at the crossroads. If she had talked to someone, surely he would have heard voices? Even if they'd been talking in a low voice, he'd have heard a faint echo, if nothing else.

 

“I have no reason to deceive you.” T'Pol said.

 

“Neither does she,” Tucker responded, gesturing at Cutler, “You keep claiming these creatures don't exist, but the rest of us have all seen them. That's a little strange, don't you think?”

 

“I haven't seen anything either.” Malcolm pointed out.

 

“Yeah, but there's probably reasons for that,” Tucker said, “For one, you've been armed from the start. Maybe the aliens know better than to mess with you. For another, maybe they're only movin' when you're distracted by your sneezin'.”

 

“That would suggest they move rather quickly,” Malcolm said, “Which seems unlikely, given the nature of stone.”

 

“These are aliens!” Tucker insisted angrily, “Who knows what they're capable of!”

 

T'Pol once again tried to insist she hadn't spoken to anyone, but Tucker remained skeptical, even going so far as to throw the Vulcan reluctance to cooperate back in her face. Fortunately, before things could get too heated, the argument was interrupted by Archer contacting them to let them know he was on his way with the shuttlepod. Everybody gathered up what they could and left the cave, Malcolm putting his oxygen mask back on as soon as he felt the wind on his face, the itch in his nose flaring up more intensely thanks to the proximity of the pollen.

 

Unfortunately, the wind proved too much for the pod to handle, and both it and the group had to retreat. And as soon as they were back in the cave, Tucker and T'Pol began arguing again. “You heard the Cap'n,” Tucker growled, “He wants to know about your 'friends'. What are you going to tell him?” When T'Pol didn't respond, he repeated the question a little louder.

 

T'Pol stood up and stared him down coolly. “This is pointless.”

 

The bickering continued, Malcolm watching it warily. He felt like he should intervene, but his previous attempts hadn't done much good, and the fact that both Tucker and T'Pol outranked him made him hesitate. A junior officer shouldn't get involved in a high-ranking dispute unless he had good reason to.

 

Then Mayweather chimed in, reporting they were running low on water. T'Pol mentioned that she'd detected a nearby water source, and when Tucker expressed suspicion, she suggested he join her. Malcolm thought it was a good compromise, and was about to add that he'd watch out for the others while they were gone, when things abruptly escalated.

 

Tucker pulled his phase pistol out of his holster, pointing it directly at T'Pol. “Sit down.” he said, eerily calm.

 

“Commander, what are you doing?” Malcolm said, getting to his feet in alarm.

 

“Keepin' us safe,” Tucker answered, removing T'Pol's pistol, “If she won't tell us what's goin' on, I'm not about to let her out of my sight.”

 

“You're pointing a gun at your superior officer!” Malcolm said, hoping to appeal to duty.

 

Tucker scoffed. “Oh, she's 'superior', all right. Always priding herself on putting logic before emotions. I'm not putting up with that anymore, not if it means putting us Humans at risk.”

 

Malcolm stared at him in disbelief, then glanced at T'Pol. She remained unflappable, sitting down as ordered. Tucker sat down across from her, staring at her coldly. “Keep your eyes and your weapon trained on the walls, Malcolm,” he ordered, “I don't want to risk the rock people getting the drop on us.”

 

Malcolm looked around the cave. He still wasn't seeing anything out of the ordinary, other than Tucker's behavior. But talking things through didn't seem to be working, and appeals to the chain of command hadn't been any help. Perhaps an appeal to authority...?

 

“Maybe we should contact the Captain about all this,” he said, “You should tell him of your suspicions, if nothing else.”

 

“Not yet,” Tucker said, “I wanna present him with some proof, first. He's got even more reason to dislike the Vulcans than I do; he deserves to have concrete evidence to rub in the Vulcan High Command's smug faces.”

 

Malcolm huffed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. So much for that, then. Now what?

 

As if things couldn't get any worse, he felt the itch in his nose start to grow in intensity again. The lack of greenery in the cave meant he wasn't sneezing as often, but he must have shaken loose a small cloud of pollen when he'd touched his hair. As he started to brace himself, he realized this might be the solution he was looking for. Turning his back on Tucker on the pretext of checking for danger, he carefully unzipped one of the pockets running along the arm of his jumpsuit. Pulling his communicator half out of his sleeve, he started to move his hand towards his pistol, then paused, cupped his hands over his face, and waited for the inevitable. “Et-chht!”

 

The sneeze pitched him forward slightly, and he leaned into it, dipping an extra inch. As he'd hoped, the movement caused the communicator to fall to the ground with a clatter, and Malcolm made sure to curse loudly enough to attract attention. Tucker glanced over at him immediately. “What is it?”

 

“I dropped my communicator,” Malcolm said, picking it up and pretending to examine it, “There's a chance it was damaged.”

 

“Oh, terrific!” Tucker said, throwing up his hands, “I'm so much more reassured that you're here lookin' out for us if you can't even take care of your equipment!”

 

Malcolm tamped down on his anger and kept his voice steady. “I doubt it's broken, Commander. Given that it was designed for space travel, I imagine it's fairly durable. Mostly I'm worried that some of the wires were knocked out of place, but I should be able to realign them.”

 

Before Tucker could have a chance to say anything else, he sat down and started to fiddle with the outer case, placing his phase pistol on his lap. As he started to pry the communicator open, he heard Tucker scoff. “So much for our...”

 

“First line of defense?” Malcolm finished, as he grabbed the pistol and pointed it into the back of the cave, “My reflexes should be fast enough to spring into action if necessary, Commander. And if it helps, I'll make sure to be very aware of what's going on in my peripheral vision.”

 

He gave Tucker a pointed look, and while Tucker still seemed skeptical, he just made another annoyed noise and turned his attention back to T'Pol. Malcolm returned to the communicator, pulling carefully but firmly at the casing. It was slow going, but he could see the gap widening, so he kept at it. No need to really damage the inner workings, after all.

 

After a minute or two with minimal progress, another sneeze snuck up on him, and he just barely had enough time to turn his head to the side. “Ut-tshhh!”

 

The casing separated under his hands, the lighter half clattering to the ground again. Initially surprised, Malcolm realized that the sneeze had caused him to apply a little extra force. Glancing up, he saw Tucker rolling his eyes at him and his supposed incompetence. Malcolm just sniffed, grabbed the fallen casing, and turned his attention to the inner wiring. After refamiliarizing himself with the layout, he opened one of the nearby cases and grabbed the first long, thin device that came to hand. Then he carefully inserted it into the transmitter and started to wiggle it, maneuvering it so that one wire was regularly brushing against the contact point.

***

Up on the Enterprise, Hoshi started hearing a series of small buzzes. Initially dismissing them as some sort of static, she noticed that they seemed to have a pattern to them. Once she had that thought, she listened more closely, and quickly identified the pattern. And after that, the message almost immediately became clear.

 

...prise. Reed to Enterprise. Reed to...

 

“Captain!” Hoshi said, “I'm getting a message from Lieutenant Reed!”

 

“What's he saying?”

 

“He's just trying to make contact right now. I'm not sure what's going on down there, but he's transmitting in Morse code. Should I respond in kind?”

 

Archer nodded. “Put it on the bridge speakers. My Morse is a little rusty, but just hearing the signal is a reassurance that things aren't completely shot to hell down there.”

 

Hoshi closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the various dots and dashes, and then sent back Message received. What's your status? There was only a short pause before Reed responded, the buzzes faint when transmitted over the speakers. Archer's eyes widened as he listened. “I'm only getting every third word. Did he just say 'pistol' and 'T'Pol'?”

 

Hoshi nodded and relayed the entire message. “'Away team acting irrational. Claim to see creatures coming from the rock. Tucker has pistol pointed at T'Pol, believes she's in league with creatures. Monitoring situation best I can.'”

 

Archer felt his anxiety spike. It had been bad enough when six of his crew were stranded on the surface, and even worse when beaming up Novakovich had resulted in debris embedded in the poor crewman's skin. But now it sounded like the situation was turning into an outright nightmare, and he had no idea what to do about it. He had his own gripes with the Vulcans, but he'd never point a gun at them. Trip probably thought there was a good reason for it, but it sounded like Malcolm didn't agree with his assessment. Without knowing more details, Archer had no idea of how to advise Malcolm to proceed.

 

“Ask if he can send more details,” he said at last, “I'll advise him on his next move once I fully grasp the situation.”

 

Hoshi nodded and started to tap out the message. Just as she was finishing, Phlox commed Archer and asked him to come to Sickbay to discuss Novakovich. Archer immediately headed for the turbolift, telling Hoshi to contact him once Malcolm finished his report.

 

As it turned out, the report wasn't necessary; Phlox had discovered that one of the plants on the surface produced a pollen with a psychotropic compound, which caused hallucinations when inhaled. The entire away team had probably been affected (Phlox had said that there was a reasonable chance T'Pol was just as susceptible as Humans were), which explained why Trip thought there were aliens when there had been no sign of them on scans. Initially, Archer assumed that Malcolm's report of events was a hallucination at well, but then he contacted the away team to let them know about the pollen and heard T'Pol say “And I have a phase pistol pointed at my head.”, followed by Trip rambling about rock aliens, confirming everything Malcolm had said. Archer managed to get Trip to lower his weapon, but it didn't sound like he'd convinced his friend that the rock people were all in his head. As he closed the channel, something Trip had said floated back through his mind.

 

“Travis and I have both seen them. Cutler saw two of them talking to T'Pol. Malcolm hasn't seen anything, but that just shows how good they are at hiding. They're up to something but of course, she denies it.”

 

From everything Archer knew about the man, Malcolm wasn't the type to stay quiet if he thought there was a threat, especially if others had spotted the same danger. If he said he hadn't seen anything, then he probably really hadn't seen anything. Not to mention he'd had the presence of mind to contact Enterprise via Morse code, presumably figuring it was the safest way to call for help without riling Trip up further. All the evidence pointed to the idea that Malcolm wasn't suffering from the compound the way everyone else was. But how was that possible? He said as much to Phlox, who thought for a moment before saying;

 

“You told me to prepare a vial of antihistamines for the Lieutenant's return, because he was allergic to something on the planet. You also mentioned that he took the emergency oxygen tank from the shuttlepod. I suspect one or both of those facts explain his semi-immunity.”

 

“How so?”

 

“If he's been using the oxygen tank, then less of the pollen's had a chance to make its way into his system. And there's a chance that his allergies are actually a benefit in this situation; since his body was already producing histamines to fight off the pollen grains invading it before the mountain pollen arrived, it's possible that the histamines are actually neutralizing the hallucinogenic effect.”

 

“Either way, it's good to know there's someone down their with their head on straight,” Archer said, “And it's probably best if we keep it that way.” he reached over and commed the bridge. “Archer to Hoshi.”

 

“Captain, Lieutenant Reed just finished sending a message. He said you'd been briefed on the situation?”

 

“I had a talk with Trip and T'Pol,” Archer confirmed, “I'll update you when I get back to the bridge. In the meantime, contact Malcolm and tell him to keep breathing from his oxygen tank as often as he can, and that he should try to share it with the others. And tell him to try to convince Commander Tucker to stand down. If that fails, he has my permission to stun him. Archer out.” Nodding to Phlox, he left Sickbay to return to the bridge, arriving just in time to catch the tail end of Malcolm's response to his instructions. “What's he saying?” he asked.

 

Hoshi tried her best to keep a straight face. “He's asking if he can get your last set of orders in writing, sir.”

 

Archer smiled faintly himself. They'd only been in space for about two months, but he'd already picked up enough about his armory officer to know that Malcolm was very devoted to his job and, by extension, its rules. The prospect of having to shoot a superior officer was probably a nightmare to him, so it was unsurprising that he'd want some sort of protection should this lead to an inquiry or worse. “Tell him I'll make a note that I granted permission to do so in my report. Hopefully that'll be enough for him.”

***

Malcolm nodded grimly as he heard Hoshi confirm the permission, sending back an Understood. Even with the assurance from the Captain, he hoped having to turn his phase pistol on Tucker wouldn't be necessary. Even if the Commander's current behavior was starting to test his patience. The knowledge that Tucker was under the influence of a hallucinogen wasn't enough to prevent Malcolm from bristling every time Tucker shot a veiled or not-so-veiled insult his way. Case in point...

 

“Haven't you fixed that thing yet?!” Tucker demanded, now sounding outright angry.

 

“These aren't exactly ideal conditions,” Malcolm pointed out, “I don't have a lot of light to work with, and I need to be on alert for an attack by the...rock people. Not to mention interruptions due to my...ah-hichh!” He barely managed to turn his head way to avoid sneezing on the communicator.

 

“All right, you've made your point,” Tucker snapped, “Just...try to hurry it up, will you? I'd feel a little better if I had some proper backup.”

 

Malcolm nodded, giving his nose a quick rub. As he did so, he decided he should probably start following the Captain's orders and resume breathing through his mask. But then again, he was relatively clear-headed. He could probably afford to wait a bit. The others, meanwhile...

 

“Commander, maybe we should all take turns breathing out of my oxygen canister,” he said, lifting it up for emphasis, “If what the Captain said is true, maybe it will allow us all to think a little more clearly.”

 

“Oh no,” Tucker said, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the phase pistol, “I can't afford to drop my guard even for a second. The rock people'll probably strike the moment I'm fiddlin' with that mask. But you can give it to the others if you're so concerned.”

 

Malcolm nodded and got to his feet, carefully setting down the communicator while keeping hold of his phase pistol to humor Tucker. He was halfway to where T'Pol was sitting when Tucker barked “Not her! She'll probably find a way to mess with it! Besides, if I have to suffer, so does she!”

 

“Aye, Commander.” Malcolm said. Glancing at T'Pol in a way she'd hopefully interpret as apologetic, he moved around her and went over to Mayweather and Cutler. They were both slumped against the wall, Cutler practically unconscious (though she was grimacing and squirming) while Mayweather looked up at him with bleary eyes, barely comprehending what was going on. Malcolm placed the mask to Cutler's face, waited until he'd seen her chest rise and fall twice, then brought it to Mayweather's face. “Take a few deep breaths,” he said quietly, “It should help.”

 

Mayweather feebly pressed his hand to the mask and inhaled, which was a reassuring sign. Malcolm helped him hold the mask until Mayweather had taken three breaths, then gently tugged it away. “I'll give you more in a few minutes.” he said, putting the mask to his own face as he backed away. Unless the situation escalated again, he might as well “fix” his communicator and devote all his attention to monitoring the situation.

 

As he sat down and picked up the communicator, Tucker moved over to Mayweather, trying to get him to help keep an eye out for danger. When that failed, he alternated between yelling at T'Pol (who seemed to have reverted to speaking almost entirely in Vulcan) and trying to negotiate with the “rock people”. Malcolm winced when Tucker fired the phase pistol into the rock, but his quiet rebuke of “Commander.” fell on deaf ears. Tucker continued to ramble, shining his light at the wall, and Malcolm started giving the communicator a once-over, making sure everything was in place.

 

Just then, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and raised his head, hand flying to his pistol. Then he realized it was T'Pol, moving to get her phase pistol while Tucker was distracted. He remained where he was, not wanting to either alert Tucker or give her the impression he was going to stop her. But he did curl his hand around his phase pistol, just in case.

 

T'Pol managed to pick up her pistol, but before she could stun Tucker, Tucker whipped around, leading to the two of them pointing their guns at each other. “Nice try.” he said, before shooting a glare at Malcolm. “How'd you let her get hold of it?”

 

“I was keeping my eyes on the walls, as instructed,” Malcolm replied, unable to keep a bite out of his own voice, “And she's got fast reflexes. She's a Vulcan, after all.”

 

“You're just shiftin' the blame!” Tucker said, as he moved to where Malcolm was sitting, always keeping the pistol pointed at T'Pol, “You don't want to admit that you got distracted because you were messin' with that damn communicator! Hell, you probably don't want to admit that you can't actually fix the thing! Never send a gun grunt to do an engineer's job! Give that here, I'll fix it for you!”

 

Yanking the communicator from Malcolm's hand, Tucker hurled it against the wall, the components scattering everywhere. “There! Now maybe you can concentrate on what's really important!”

 

“Commander!” Malcolm snapped, rising to his feet but keeping the pistol down by his side, “Anger is not going to make this situation better! We need to concentrate on the real threat.”

 

“She is the real threat!” Tucker responded, waving the gun at T'Pol, “And frankly, I'm startin' to wonder if you're not in league with her. The only reason I'm not beltin' you right now is because you don't seem like the type to have two masters, and you've never given me the impression that you're anything but loyal to Starfleet. So I'm gonna give you a chance to prove yourself, and maybe escape a court martial.”

 

He took a few steps back, holding his pistol at the midpoint between Malcolm and T'Pol. “Choose your side, Lieutenant! Her or me!”

 

Malcolm grimaced, knowing what he had to do but deeply concerned about the consequences of doing so. Then inspiration came to him. Nodding curtly, he started to move the pistol towards T'Pol, then let out a gasp and turned his head to the side, bringing his free arm to his face as he faked a sneeze. “Huh-chh!” But instead of closing his eyes, he lined up his shot and swung the phase pistol at Tucker, firing at the same moment he “sneezed”. Tucker crumpled to the ground, and Malcolm sighed, only to have to sneeze for real a second later. “Etkshh!”

 

T'Pol said something in Vulcan, and Malcolm couldn't be sure if it was a blessing or a thank you. He just nodded at her and rubbed at his nose, putting the pistol away. His heart was still drumming nervously in his chest, but at least the situation was more manageable now.

 

T'Pol's communicator clicked, and she flicked it open. “T'Pol.”

 

“What's your status down there?” Archer asked, sounding like he was barely keeping the anxiety out of his voice.

 

T'Pol spoke in Vulcan again. “What was that?” Archer said.

 

Malcolm raised his voice in order to be heard. “Reed here, Captain. Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol got into a standoff with phase pistols, and I was forced to stun the Commander. I'm...afraid my communicator was broken in the process.”

 

“We'll deal with that later. How are the rest of you?”

 

“Ensign Mayweather and Crewman Cutler are unconscious, or nearly so. I still seem to be in decent condition. As for the Sub-Commander...” he looked at her, not wanting to assume anything about how she was feeling.

 

T'Pol once again spoke in Vulcan, but apparently either Archer or Hoshi had understood it, because when Archer spoke again, he sounded a little calmer. “All right, good. Now, both of you listen to me very carefully. Novakovich may be dying. Turns out the pollen contains some kind of toxin our sensors hadn't detected. He's responding to medication, but his odds of recovery would be a hell of a lot better if we'd treated him sooner. Doctor Phlox is synthesizing ampoules of inoprovalene. We're going to have to use the transporter to get it to you, but it's imperative that you inoculate yourselves as soon as possible. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

 

“Aye, sir.” Malcolm said immediately.

 

T'Pol had a brief conversation with Hoshi, but apparently said “Yes.” as well. “We'll be beaming the medicine down in a minute,” Archer said, “And I'm going to keep communications open until I know you've gotten it. Malcolm, since you've got the oxygen mask, you're probably the best person to retrieve it.”

 

“Of course, Captain,” Malcolm said, bending down to pick up the mask, “Just say the word.”

 

Silence fell for a few minutes, Malcolm crossing over to Cutler and Mayweather to give them a few breaths of fresh air while they waited. At last, Archer's voice came through the communicator again. “All right, we've beamed a case of the medication down. Bring it back as quickly as possible.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Malcolm said, slipping the oxygen mask back on and grabbing a flashlight before moving towards the mouth of the cave. It didn't take long for the case to catch the light, and he picked it up and carried it back to the others. “I've got it, Captain.” he called out, removing the oxygen mask again to be better heard.

 

“Good. Now inoculate yourselves and try to sleep. The winds should dissipate by morning, and we'll be back to pick you up as soon as we can.”

 

“Understood.” Malcolm said, T'Pol presumably saying something similar before closing the communicator. Opening the case, Malcolm took one of the hyposprays and two of the doses. “I'll handle the Commander. Can you do the others?” He glanced over and saw her nod. He nodded back and moved to Tucker's body, quickly pressing the hypospray to the man's neck before retreating the moment he heard it stop hissing. The Commander would probably remain stunned for at least an hour, but Malcolm didn't want to take any chances. Loading the second dose, he placed the device against his own neck and pressed down. He didn't feel much different, but given his relative immunity, perhaps that wasn't a surprise. And based on the continuing itch in his nose, the medication didn't double as an antihistamine. But perhaps that would have interfered with its primary purpose.

 

Glancing at T'Pol, he saw her placing the hypospray back in its case. “The others have been inoculated.” she confirmed when she met his eyes.

 

Malcolm sighed in relief and put away his own hypospray. “Hopefully that'll be the last bit of excitement tonight. This wasn't quite the sort of protection I'd been expecting to provide.”

 

“Try to get some rest, Lieutenant,” T'Pol said, as she settled herself down against the wall, “I'll stand watch until morning.”

 

Malcolm nodded and moved to the end of the cave that was farthest from Tucker, just to be on the safe side. As he was slipping the oxygen mask back over his face, T'Pol said “Lieutenant.” When he looked over at her, she said;

 

“You performed your duties admirably tonight. I'll be sure to mention as much in my reports.”

 

Malcolm felt a small thrill of pride at that, knowing that was the highest praise he could ever expect to get from a Vulcan. But he merely nodded at her and lay down, pillowing his head on his arm and closing his eyes. Despite his allergies and the lingering adrenaline, it didn't take him long to fall asleep.

***

The next morning, almost everyone still had some lingering aftereffects from the events of the night. Crewman Cutler was disoriented, Mayweather kept massaging his shoulder, Tucker was surprisingly quiet as he processed what had happened the night before, and although the oxygen mask had prevented Malcolm's nose from getting congested, a thin layer of pollen had settled on his eyes during the night, and it took a tremendous effort to keep from rubbing at them too much. Only T'Pol seemed to have completely composed herself, which Malcolm wasn't remotely surprised by. While they waited for the shuttlepod to arrive, she remained seated, quietly meditating, while Malcolm took stock of their supplies, not wanting to leave anything behind.

 

“You didn't shoot me last night, did you?” Tucker asked abruptly, looking over at Malcolm.

 

Malcolm grimaced. “I did, unfortunately. My apologies, Commander, but I could see no other way to break the standoff.”

 

Tucker winced as well. “I'm sorry too. If my memory's right, I broke your communicator because I was angry. I shoulda been more professional than that.”

 

Malcolm was pleased by the apology, though secretly he was slightly more relieved that Tucker didn't seem to hold the stunning against him. “It was an unusual situation. Even the most disciplined person can forget protocol and act on impulse if circumstances are dire enough.”

 

“You didn't.” Tucker pointed out, and Malcolm wasn't sure if he sounded annoyed, ashamed, bitter, or some combination of the three.

 

Malcolm smiled dryly. “As I said, unusual situation. It appears that my allergies prevented the hallucinogen in the pollen from taking hold. Had things been just a little different, I suspect I would have been just as bad as the rest of you, if not more so.” His nose prickled, the (hopefully ordinary) pollen having slowly gathered inside his nose once he removed the oxygen mask, and he turned his head away, sneezing into his arm. “Hup-tishh!”

 

“Bless you,” Tucker said, “And if I ever poke fun at your allergies again, just remind me about this incident, all right? Maybe that'll keep me from gettin' too big for my britches.”

 

Malcolm nodded. “Gladly, sir.”

 

Shortly after that conversation, the shuttlepod arrived, with Captain Archer himself piloting it and Doctor Phlox on hand to give them an examination. He also had a vial of allergy medication for Malcolm, which Malcolm was more than happy to receive. Once Phlox had given them the all-clear (though he said they'd be spending some time in Decon just to be on the safe side), they loaded up the pod and took off again. Malcolm thought he heard Tucker mutter “Good riddance.”, but chose to stay silent, idly fiddling with the nearly empty oxygen tank as he watched the planet fall away. In fact, after Tucker's comment, everybody was quiet for a few minutes. Then, as they left the planet's atmosphere, Archer spoke up, sounding as if he was saying the words reluctantly.

 

“You were right, Sub-Commander.”

 

T'Pol turned to glance at him, but said nothing. Archer sighed and continued. “Maybe sending a probe to scout the planet first would have been a good idea.”

 

“At least you now understand our reasoning,” T'Pol said, “And it's extremely fortunate that your crew suffered no permanent damage in the course of learning that lesson.”

 

Malcolm couldn't see Archer's face, but based on the stiffening of his shoulders, the comment had obviously stung. Perhaps to change the subject, he said;

 

“Good thing you came along yesterday, Malcolm. I guess having at least one security member on away missions should become standard protocol from here on out. Even the ones that don't seem to pose any threat.”

 

“Indeed, sir,” Malcolm said, “I'll be happy to discuss the best way to implement that once we're back on Enterprise. And I'll have to add something to my own personal mission protocols as well.”

 

“What's that?”

 

“I should always have a prepared dose of allergy medication on hand in my uniform. That way, it's available if I need it, but on the off chance my allergies are actually a benefit, I won't have neutralized them prematurely.”

 

Archer was quiet for a moment, then chuckled. “You know, that sounds like a great idea.”

 

“I'll start regularly synthesizing doses for you, Lieutenant,” Phlox promised, “That way, there'll always be some available.”

 

Malcolm nodded his thanks and brought a finger to his nose, rubbing away the last few lingering itches. As tense as the past evening had been, at least it looked like some good had come out of it. At the very least, he probably wouldn't have to deal with sneezing on a mission for quite a while. And he certainly wasn't going to complain about that.

 

[MeForever]

Your Malcom stories are great! He's my favorite character in Enterprise so I love this! You write his character just right

[Wig_Powder]

@MeForever Always glad to see fellow Enterprise/Malcolm fans, and I'm glad you liked the story!

On 6/3/2021 at 8:47 AM, MeForever said:

You write his character just right

Thanks for that, too. I do my best to do his character in particular justice, both because he's my favorite and because it seems like the least I can do, given that I'm going to be spending most of the fic torturing him in one way or the other...

[SleepingPhlox]

I love Enterprise and I love this.  You've done such a wonderful job of crafting this story.  Its very immersion.

[Wig_Powder]

@SleepingPhlox Glad to hear you found it engaging! It's always nice to hear I pulled that off!