Captain Jonathan Archer, Commander T’Pol and Commander Charles Tucker III – Tripp to his friends – emerged from the captain’s Ready Room. Jonathan was smiling. Tripp was grinning from ear to ear. T’Pol, a Vulcan, was, as usual, impassive, but darting eyes betrayed a smidgen of something, perhaps it was happiness. 

“Hoshi, I’d like the intercom,” the captain requested. 

“Right away, sir,” she pressed a few switches, “Ready.” 

“All hands, this is the captain. As you are all well aware, today marks exactly six months since we began counting our days in the new calendar. It’s October twentieth of 2037, and it seems; in some ways, only yesterday that it was April twentieth of 2037. And of course we all know, not too long before that, it was January of 2154. But our particle wake in a subspace corridor, after escaping some Kovaalan ships, well, it changed all that. And so here we are, over a century earlier than we are supposed to be.” 

He coughed a little. “But I am not contacting you in order to dwell on that. We all know that these circumstances can, at times, bring out the worst in people. But today I’d like to announce that they can also bring out our best. As you all know, I’ve only conducted one wedding since we got into our current predicament and became a generational ship. And now, I am announcing, I am going to be conducting another one.” 

Hoshi looked up and smiled at Tripp. Silently, she mouthed congratulations. He nodded his acknowledgment. 

“The kicker here is that things are going to be a bit different this time around. For not only have I never conducted a Vulcan wedding before, but I have never even attended one. So the bride – Commander T’Pol – should be obvious. The groom, of course, is Commander Tucker. The wedding will be in a week, and will take place on the ship, so everyone can attend, either in person or virtually if you’re on duty. Please join me in congratulating the happ – the couple.” He smiled. “Thank you, Archer out.” 

Hoshi got up from her station and walked over to T’Pol, “Congratulations,” she said. 

“Thank you,” replied the Vulcan. 

Malcolm Reed, the Tactical officer, walked over to Tripp’s station, “I suppose we’ll have to get Jennifer Crossman to cover for you in Engineering. Best of luck to you, Commander.” He shook Tripp’s hand. 

Tripp just looked at him. “My, aren’t we formal? Malcolm, I, uh, I was wonderin’, would you be my Best Man? I mean, I dunno if Vulcan weddings even do that. But, well, just in case they do.” 

“I, I don’t know what to say. This is rather unexpected.” 

“C’mon, I’d do the same for you.” 

“I’ll, I shall keep that in mind, in case the occasion arises.” He swallowed hard, for there was such an imbalance of the genders that there was every possibility that the occasion would never arise, he would never wed, and would never have anyone to love. 

=/= 

Malcolm wasn’t the only person with such reservations and fears. Even women felt that way, even though the ratio favored them dramatically. 

Sure there were couples. Jenny Crossman, the second in command in Engineering, was already living with Aidan MacKenzie, who was second in Tactical. Judy Kelly and Michael Rostov, both of Engineering, had even gotten married – the captain’s first-ever wedding. Plus there were dating couples who weren’t quite as committed, like Karin Bernstein of Tactical and Josh Rosen from Engineering, or Tracey Carter from Engineering and Oscar Tiburón of the MACOs. 

Still others were circling each other, trying to figure out when to make a move. Walter Woods of the MACOs had his eye on Diana Jones, from Science. Hoshi had her eye on Andrew Miller, of the Bio Lab. José Torres of Engineering was interested in Hoshi. 

And then there were gay crew members, of course, who were even more tentative, like Frank Todd of the MACOs. There was even at least one gay woman, so the presence of gay men didn’t completely even out the bumpily uneven ratio of the genders. 

Then there were also those who felt bereft, or scared, or heartbroken, or nervous, or shy or just not too certain of their choices. Jay Hayes, the MACO’s CO, fell within this category, for he was emerging from an old heartache that was finally healing. The captain, too, was hesitant, not wanting to step on toes or unfairly pull rank. Sous-chef Lili O’Day figured that the men would all find her to be too old, although she was only forty-five. Malcolm was in this bucket, too, for he was not only nervous about his appearance and his age, but he had also been badly insulted by a nasty woman who had sought to out him. She – Sandra Sloane – had nastily and loudly and rather publicly proclaimed him to be closeted, even though he was nothing of the sort. She was misreading his natural reserve, but it hardly seemed to matter. The captain had made the crew go through sexual harassment retraining in order to try to squelch rumors and get everyone back on track in terms of how to treat one another. But the training did little to give Malcolm back his confidence, so he, too, sat on the sidelines. 

The ship’s physician, a Denobulan named Phlox, had what to do in order to contend with the growing ranks among the crew of people who were – there was no other word for it – depressed. 

“Hoshi, I’d like to send a message to all,” Jonathan stated, “It’ll be audio only.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“To the crew – despite what your own personal schedules may be, Doctor Phlox has asked that everyone make appointments for complete physicals. There are no exceptions. Please act quickly so that we can finish this as soon as possible. Thank you.” 

“Sent,” she reported. 

“Thanks. I’ll be in my Ready Room.” 

T’Pol looked around, realizing she was, yet again, being placed in charge. She walked into the Ready Room behind him. 

“Yes?” he asked. Porthos, his pet beagle, looked up from his nap. 

“Sir, you need to be out there, for the crew.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” he sighed, “but give me just a moment. Maybe five minutes alone, all right?” 

“By all means.” She took her leave. 

He sat there, in the tiny office, and sniffed a few times, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. “Porthos,” he whispered, “I should be happy for them. I know that. I know it intellectually. And it’s not like I love her or anything. It’s just,” he couldn’t continue. The dog came over and placed his chin on his master’s knee. Jonathan sat there and stroked the dog’s head a few times before continuing, “I, I just want, I want someone. There has got to be someone. Right? I have what to offer. And I don’t mean rank or anything like that. I treat women well. I can be romantic. I like to think I’m a decent lover. I like to think I’m an acceptable-looking guy. But I can’t just go out there, yanno? I can’t just hit on one of the women. It’s, it’s not right. It’ll skew everything. Do I wait for someone to come to me? I don’t know. I just – I don’t know. I’m scared of being alone. Forever.” 

=/= 

In the galley, Lili read her PADD. She clicked on one of the earliest choices for appointments. “Might as well get it over with,” she murmured to herself. A young Engineering crewman, Craig Willets, was sitting near her. 

“Get what over?” he asked. 

“We’re all supposed to get physicals.” 

“Oh. I hate being poked and prodded like that,” he commiserated, “Ready to start on trying to replicate carrots again?” 

“Actually,” she stated, “I was thinking of something else. We have four kinds of fish – salmon, tuna, shrimp and cod. We’ve already been successful at replicating shrimp.” 

“I still can’t get the texture right,” Craig admitted, “It still looks and feels like a lot of chopped up bits.” 

“Well, that’s okay for now. I mean, when Chef and I made egg rolls the other day, it was perfect.” 

“Really?” he asked. He was just over half her age, and her statement was making him beam. “I just, I wanna get this all right. This is our survival.” 

“It’s also our sanity,” interjected Chef Will Slocum, coming over to check on them, “If we start to run out of too many things, and the food loses its variety and its appeal, we may find ourselves with a riot on our hands.” 

“Or people will just take over the ship and try to go to Earth,” Craig mused. 

“A mutiny in order to get Chinese takeout?” Lili joked, “Actually, truly, it is almost as serious as all that. We all know how important morale is. Anyway, the fish – I was thinking – we might be able to get carrots and whatnot grown on that more temperate planet.” 

“Ah, yes, the as-yet-unnamed place,” Will confirmed. 

“Right,” she agreed, “but we can’t do that with fish. We’d better start trying to replicate it. I’d say to start with cod, as it has the mildest flavor.” 

“Plus any mistakes we can probably just bread and fry and serve as fish and chips,” Will added. 

“Oh, I like those,” Craig stated, “I’ll get right on it, sir.” 

“I see,” Will murmured to Lili, “you picked the twenty-first for your physical.” 

“Is that okay? You can spare me for, I dunno, forty-five minutes or whatever it takes, right?” 

“I can,” he confirmed, “is uh, is anything troubling you? I don’t mean physically. I mean emotionally. ‘Cause I suspect that these physicals are a front for Phlox to check us all out, see if we’re going loony.” 

“Will,” she looked at him, “you have seen these people, now, haven’t you? There are people on board who I think are depressed.” 

“Maybe,” he allowed, “I just, I want you to know that you can always talk to me.” He came a bit closer to her, and she stepped back involuntarily. “I, I only want you to be happy.” 

She stared past him, unsure of what to say. Craig called out, “I’ve got a first draft. You wanna taste it?” 

“Sure,” she called, “coming, Craig.” 

=/= 

The first physical was the captain. Phlox had insisted, and by telling Jonathan that it would set a good example, that had sealed the deal. “Well?” Jonathan asked after several minutes. 

“You’re in perfect physical health.” 

“So I’m free to go?” 

“Not exactly,” the Denobulan looked concerned. “Captain, I’d like to talk to you a bit about your mental state.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“We have been over this a bit already. You are showing signs of depression. And you are not the only crew member who is, you know. I already have sixteen crew members under some degree of care or another. Some are receiving medication and others are talking. But there are at least another seven or eight who are showing symptoms but are not receiving any treatment whatsoever. And you are one of those seven.” 

The captain thought for a moment. “I, this morning, I had to announce the T’Pol-Tucker wedding. I’m happy for them, Doc, I really am! But I couldn’t help feeling odd about it, like I was being left out of things. And I realized, as I was walking here, that my announcement of their upcoming wedding was barely about them. I spent a lot more time talking about myself. And that’s completely wrong.” 

“It is a bit of a sign. Depression can often take the form of too much self-reflection. It is a lot easier to dwell on one’s own personal problems when there are no other outlets. Tell me, have you pursued any of the women yet?” 

Jonathan looked queasy. “I have not,” he finally said, “it hardly seems fair. What if I had made a play for T’Pol? Not only would that have trashed my friendship with Tripp, it also would have kept them apart. And as for T’Pol, would she have been truly interested in me as a man, or simply obeying me as her superior officer?” 

“I am sure that T’Pol knows the difference,” replied the doctor. 

“I know she does,” Jonathan stated, “but she is also a Vulcan and she is second in command. What if I were to go after one of the really low-ranking women on the ship like, I dunno, Deborah Haddon in Security, or someone like Kate Shelton in Engineering? Would they respond with real affection, or with pleasure at being paid attention to by the captain of the ship?” 

“These women are not foolish. None of the women on board are.” 

“I, I, know, but I feel like I would just be in the way of everyone else. I, I feel like the herd has to thin out a lot more, I think.” 

“Captain, as you are well aware, there are fifty-eight men on the Enterprise, and thirty-four women, and those numbers include T’Pol and myself. This is not a terribly large herd to begin with.” 

“I know.” He thought for a moment. “I need to concentrate on running the ship. I can’t do a talking cure; it’s too slow. Just, if you could give me something to help with that, uh, that would be, er, helpful.” He smiled weakly. 

“I can give you something,” Phlox allowed, “But I want you to consider, perhaps, going public with your diagnosis and treatment.” 

“Public?” 

“Yes. As I mentioned before, there are at least a good half a dozen other crewmen who are not coming forward, and who could use treatment. I believe that they would benefit from you showing them that there is no stigma to having a few mental issues and taking the proper steps to resolve them.” 

“Forget it.” 

“Captain, your crew needs you.” 

“I said, ‘Forget it’!” Jonathan realized his voice was a lot sharper than he had intended. He swallowed a little. “You need to understand something. The morale around here, it’s like it’s being held together with chewing gum and duct tape half the time. If the captain ever looks weak or vulnerable, others will try to step in. This is a unique situation, and I have no one over me. I cannot create a situation where an ambitious person rolls the idea of mutiny around in his or her head.” 

“I had not thought of that,” Phlox admitted. “Still, it should be of concern. After all, what if a pilot becomes so depressed that that person seeks solace in alcohol, and comes to shift either drunk or hung over? Or a Tactical crewman is so distracted by his or her feelings that they don’t align the targeting array properly, and a battle is lost, and the ship damaged? Or an Engineering crewman is so down that he or she fails to show up for shift, and the warp containment field isn’t properly monitored? We could end up with a core breach, yes?” 

“Doctor, enough,” Jonathan protested wearily, “Please, do you think I don’t already have the weight of the world on my shoulders? I have to be perfect. And I mean perfect! I can’t show sorrow, sickness or loneliness. I don’t need to be a laughing boy, but I do have to appear dependable to all. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself with a lot more than a couple of dozen depressed crewmen – you might find yourself having to handle over ninety depressed folks.” 

Phlox rolled that over in his head. “I could, perhaps, approach a member of the senior staff. There may be someone who would agree to go public. That way, the crew would be shown an example of someone agreeing to treatment and showing their vulnerability, and you would not be exposed.” 

“Huh. That’s a good idea. I’m all for it, as long as that person isn’t pressured into going public. You may find that they want their medical privacy, too. They are entitled to it, of course.” 

“Of course,” replied the doctor, “I am merely considering all of the options. You’re free to go.” 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, October twentieth, 2037

I don’t know if I should’ve said as much as I did to Phlox today. It was under the guise of a physical, but he approached me about depression. He said I was. I suppose it’s a bit to my credit that I didn’t deny it. 

I am a little afraid that I admitted too much, though. It’s a difficult balance. I need to remain professional. I need to be reliable and strong and, like I said to him – perfect. And that part ain’t easy. 

My life is conflicting these days. I need to be strong, but I am hurting. I need to appear perfect, yet I am vulnerable. I need to open up to someone before I explode, but there is no one. After all, Phlox is under an obligation to recommend I be relieved of command if he thinks I can no longer hack it. 

So I need to play it cool. Today, he gave me an injection, and he gave me some pills, too, which I will take every morning before breakfast, starting tomorrow. Then I’ll be back in Sick Bay once they’re done – there are seven pills, so that’ll be a week from tomorrow – and he’ll reassess. I guess I’ll get another shot then, as well. 

I can do this. I can get my focus back. 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, October twentieth, 2037 

When we were talking about the physicals, Will said to me that he hoped I would open up to him. Of course I am not feeling great about things, but I do not wish to open up to him. He’s my boss! 

I wonder if he was hitting on me. 

It’s all a bit confusing. I mean, the ratio is bad, and it’s not getting any better. There are still a good fifty or so unattached guys out there, something like that. I walk through the halls and, while I know they’re not staring at me, they are definitely staring at the other women. 

But they aren’t staring at me. Except for T’Pol, I am the oldest woman on the ship, the senior sister, at forty-five. I have parentheses lines around my mouth, my lower teeth are crooked and my right breast is slightly larger than my left. I have a few kilos on me that I can never seem to lose. I am an Ensign, but only because there are only two people in Food Service. By all rights, I should be a lowly crewman. 

In short, on the surface, I have little to recommend me to the men. They are all thinking of Hoshi, or Amanda Cole, or even my new roommate, Sophie Creighton. I am sure that I, Lili O’Day, do not haunt anyone’s dreams. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, October twentieth, 2037 

So Tripp and T’Pol are getting married. That is wonderful for them. Tripp even asked me to be his Best Man. and I have to admit that the prospect has made some mixed feelings bubble up to the surface. 

I wish them well, of course. There is a bit of regret on my part, but it was more because I never acted. I have always found T’Pol to be immensely attractive. But I have not done anything about it, so it comes as no surprise that I am left as the Best Man as opposed to being the groom. 

As for the other women aboard, I have mixed feelings there as well. We’re not supposed to outwardly and openly compare, and I agree with that rule. After all, it would be the height of vulgarity to compare women’s looks and other attributes in the open. I do not wish to hurt anyone, of course. But I can’t help thinking of the thirty-four women on the ship. 

Judy Kelly is married, and now T’Pol will be as well. Jennifer Crossman is living with my second at Tactical, Aidan MacKenzie. Tracey Carter from Engineering is probably going to be the next to live with her beau, who is one of the MACOs. They are all, clearly, off the table. So is Maryam Haroun, the only Muslim woman on the ship, unless I was to convert, and right now that’s not bloody likely. Karin Bernstein would, I am certain, require a conversion to Judaism. But it doesn’t matter; she’s got a boyfriend in Engineering, Josh Rosen. 

So that leaves another twenty-eight. I haven’t totted up my own personal, private tote board lately, so now’s about as good a time as any, I’d say. 

I would rather stay away from women under the age of thirty as I believe that is not only wrong – I am, after, all forty-two years of age myself – but it also feels like we’d have nothing to talk about. In that group are Hoshi Sato – a pity, as she is rather lovely – Sophie Creighton, Ingrid Nyqvist, Kate Shelton, Emily Andreiou and I think also Colleen Romanov. Oh, and Diana Jones is too young, as well. 

In their thirties are, let’s see, Sandra Sloane – and she is completely and utterly out! Telling everyone that I was closeted! The nerve! It was hurtful, and nasty, and thoroughly untrue. And so I wonder about my chances with any of them. It is a pity that her actions color so much of this. I should ignore how it all makes me feel. I should not give her that much power. Other women in their thirties are Bree Tanner, Cecily Romano, Mara Brodsky, Victoria Dietrich, Tara Balcescu – at least, I think that’s how you pronounce her name – it’s a Romanian name, I believe, er, Shari Jeffers, Stephanie Ayers, Nyota Warren, Deborah Haddon, Felicity Reese, Cassandra Lester and I believe that’s it. 

The ones over forty are Meredith Porter, Patti Socorro and the sous-chef, Lili O’Day. 

But that’s not everyone, as there are also MACOs. There’s Julie McKenzie – she’s actually a cousin to an old girlfriend from way, way back when. I can’t see that. Besides, I believe she’s in the under-thirty camp. There’s Susie Money – she’s over thirty and may even be over forty. There’s Amanda Cole. I think she might be thirty, although I’m not certain. There’s Nan Myers and Christina Parsons. 

Dammit, who am I missing? 

Wait a tick. Shelby Pike, the Botanist, who I believe may be in her early thirties. That’s everyone. In any event, I prefer blondes. I suppose that’s a silly thing, but I do. And so the remaining blondes in the mix are Diana Jones, Lili O’Day, Julie McKenzie and Ingrid Nyqvist. Oh, and there’s also Deborah Haddon and Patti Socorro. I think that Jones, Nyqvist and McKenzie are too young. 

And then there were three, eh? 

=/= 

Craig Willets’s Personal log, October twentieth, 2037 

Lili’s always been nice to me. But I’ve got no chance. Why should she want someone as young as me? I’ll keep programming the replicator like I’m supposed to, and feeding her replicated cod or whatever, and I’ll try not to look in her eyes ‘cause I think I’ll get lost in there.

“Ensign, how are you feeling today?” asked Doctor Phlox as Lili sat on the scanner bed, her legs dangling over the side. 

“No complaints.” 

“Good, good, now, lie back and let’s have a look at you.” 

“A little quickly, if that’s possible, okay? I’m not a fan of being in the scanner tube for too long,” she said. 

“Understood. Ah, now, you are, chronologically, forty-five years of age. Your blood pressure is rather good – it’s one ten over sixty-seven. Your resting pulse is also very good – sixty-nine beats per minute.” The doctor flipped a switch and the scanner bed began to slide into the scanner. “I’ll make this as brief as I can.” 

“Thanks, Doc. Anything exciting on the monitors?” 

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” he said as he reversed the bed to bring it out. 

“Bad interesting?” 

“No, but I have the explanation for why your numbers are so good. You have a very slight kink in your left circumflex artery.” 

“What is that going to do to me? Will I die young, or something?” she sat up in alarm. 

“No, no, it’s nothing, really.” 

“Really?” 

“I am telling you the truth, Ensign. It’s a very, very minor flaw. And it’s actually not much of a flaw at all, as it’s helping you by artificially keeping your pressure down. I imagine you ingest a lot of salt and calories in your profession.” 

“Don’t remind me,” she said, patting her belly, which, although not large, was not exactly flat, either. 

“What I mean is, while I would prefer that you lost a few kilos, the tests tend to belie that. Your pressure and resting pulse are both as low as an athlete’s.” 

“I played shortstop on my High School’s baseball team when I was a kid, but that was close to thirty years ago – I mean, it’ll be in the 2120s. I still can’t get the years and the verb tenses right.” 

“No one can,” the Denobulan smiled. The smile was too wide, and it could be unnerving. “Tell me about your mental state, if you would. And, feel free to get dressed.” 

“Well, I feel okay. I mean, I bet everyone’s going to talk to you about matters of the heart. Is that the motivation behind all of these physicals?” 

“You got me. It is one of the motivations, although it is by no means the only one. Tell me what you think.” 

“I imagine I’ll be the last woman selected,” Lili said as she zipped up the jacket of her chef’s whites. “I am, after all, older than all of the women here except for T’Pol.” 

“But you’re close in age to the captain, and to Lieutenant Reed. Crewman Harris and Major Hayes are both older than you, in point of fact. I am older than you as well.” 

“It’s age and it’s attraction, and they probably also look at me and think I’m a reproductive dead end.” 

He looked at a screen. “A moment; the computer is counting.” 

“Counting?” 

“Yes; you might be curious about how many eggs remain in your ovaries.” 

“So you’ll know, more or less, when I become fully menopausal?” 

“Precisely. Ah, there, we have it. Ninety-two.” 

“So, that’s, what, it’s less than ten years.” 

“It’s a little over seven, assuming that you release one egg per month – and it may be more or less than that, on average, near the end of your fertility. I would say that you’ll be done in late 2044, early 2045 at the latest.” 

“So I’d be around fifty-two or so, or barely hitting fifty-three when I became fully menopausal?” 

“I’d say so. Therefore, you are, currently, as fertile as, well, as Hoshi Sato or Tara Balcescu presumably are. I haven’t tested them yet – plus their situations wouldn’t be the subject of public discussion, anyway.” 

“And mine shouldn’t be, either,” Lili said, “It’s not like I’m gonna go into the cafeteria, stand on a table and suddenly yell, ‘C’mon, boys! I got another seven years left! I’m still getting my period!’ It, uh, it just doesn’t work that way.” 

“No, I don’t suppose it does. Still, I can see why you’re in the predicament that you are in. It’s fascinating to me, truly. You humans are rather uptight about your sexuality and all manners when it comes to relations, yet you gossip about each other as if it were the most intriguing of subjects! And you hem and haw and push and pull and advance, then retreat, when it comes to declaring your attractions.” 

“Thrust and parry,” she said. 

“Let’s not get vulgar, Ensign.” 

“Uh, I didn’t mean it that way, Doc. Are, um, are you hitting on me?” 

He looked at her a bit quizzically. “I apologize if that was the impression.” 

“You’re hurting, too, aren’t you?” she asked, “And I bet you’ve got a similar issue, where you need to get it across that you’re, well, not to put too fine a point on it, but that the parts would fit and you would be a good, loyal mate for someone.” 

He looked down. 

“I’m sorry,” Lili said, “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. But it almost feels like we should be out there, broadcasting everything. We’d tell everyone our preferences and our levels of physical fitness and our quirks and we’d all choose. Or, better yet, we’d just feed it all into the computer and let it decide, eh? But deep down, I think none of us want that. I mean, I don’t want to be picked because of the children that I apparently can still have. That would be a bonus, but it shouldn’t be the reason why anyone wants me. I want to be, well, I want to be loved for me. Or at least liked! And for the whole package – not just what’s still in my ovaries, as if all I was; I was some baby bank, or something.” 

“You know,” the doctor said, “I should not be blaming this stalemate just on humans and human nature. It is the situation that we are in.” 

“Right,” she said, “we’re just fumbling around, and we’re all doing a pretty lousy job of it, I’d say. I don’t even think most of the gossipers are mean, not really, or at least they don’t intend to be. I think it’s more that there just isn’t any news, so they just make stuff up.” 

“Probably.” 

The doors swished open. It was Crewman Hamidi. “Doctor, I can come back later,” he said once he saw Lili. 

“Oh, it’s all right. The Ensign and I are finished here.” 

“Thanks, Doc,” Lili said, and departed. 

=/= 

“Sir, I have something on long-range sensors,” Malcolm reported. 

“Oh?” 

“I believe it’s a Xindi warp signature.” 

“In this area?” Jonathan asked. They were a few light years away from the as-yet-unnamed temperate planet, but even that seemed to be too close for comfort. 

T’Pol looked up from the Science station. “Confirmed. It’s a small vessel, possibly a scout ship.” 

“Looks like they’re heading away from us,” Travis Mayweather said, checking the piloting station. 

“Very well,” the captain stated, “I don’t think we need to be going out and looking for trouble.” 

“What if it finds us, sir?” Hoshi asked. 

“Huh, well,” Archer thought for a moment, “I’m open to suggestions. We don’t really have allies and we can’t really go around looking for them. How are we going to know whether something we do affects the timeline too much?” 

“You will recall,” T’Pol reminded him, “that we laid certain ground rules when it came to contact with other species.” 

“True,” Jonathan allowed, “but in the face of an enemy, I don’t think we can always hide. I mean, do you think that’s even possible?” 

“It could be; if I may interject,” Malcolm said, “it could be that, since it’s 2037 and the Xindi have not yet seen humans, they might not see us as posing a threat. We might not have to hide much at all, and should simply stay out of their way.” 

“We have the Xyrillians,” Travis suggested. 

“And they’re our only allies,” the captain noted, “I’d rather not impose upon them to fight a battle for us.” 

“That may happen, regardless of protocol,” T’Pol speculated, “However, it is true that we may need to cultivate some friendships. Perhaps our contact rules need to be rethought.” 

“I’d really like to know if anything we’re doing affects the timeline,” Archer mused. 

“Ensign Sato and Commander Tucker and I could again attempt to go through Crewman Daniels’s things,” Malcolm offered. Daniels was a time traveler. He was gone but his equipment remained, under lock and key. They had, earlier, attempted to use it, and had come up empty-handed, but maybe things would be different this time. Plus, if they could contact him, maybe he could get them back to the correct time – 2154. 

“Let’s change up the team,” the captain suggested, “It’ll be T’Pol, me and you,” he told Malcolm. “Hoshi, you have the Bridge. And get MacKenzie, Jones and Haroun up here to fill in. I want to take my time, if I can. Let’s see if we can reach Richard Daniels. Stand by, Hoshi. If we need you for transmission, we’ll call you, and maybe even Tucker if there’s any engineering work to be done. I’m tired of passively sitting around. I want to do whatever we can, right now, to use Daniels’s equipment as much as possible.” 

=/= 

“So, Crewman, you are feeling all right?” Phlox asked Security Crewman Azar Hamidi. 

“Sure, I’m fine.” 

“May I ask you a few non-medical questions?” 

“Uh, I guess so.” 

“Are you a very religious man?” 

“Sir?” 

“I am, let’s just say that I have been asked to inquire about such things.” 

Azar thought for a few seconds. “Crewman Haroun; you must be asking because of her.” 

“Yes,” Phlox admitted, “she has asked me to behave; I believe the term is in loco parentis.” 

“I guess that makes sense,” Azar allowed, “I, well, I’m kinda half and half. I pray but I’m in Security so I need to be available at all times. Lieutenant Reed does make an effort to not interfere with prayer times, but the Xindi and the Suliban and everyone else we’ve encountered, well; they haven’t always been quite so accommodating.” 

“Of course. And I understand that your, your income, at least until we were thrown back in time, it was considered to be halal, yes?” 

“Yes,” replied the young crewman, “it is in keeping with our faith. I take it you performed the physical in order to check my physical fitness.” 

“The term is good appearance, right?” 

“Don’t forget bodily cleanliness.” 

“Right,” agreed Phlox, “and I am checking those things but naturally you are aware that you are not the only person getting a physical during these next few days.” 

“Got it, Doc. There’s more, yanno, there’s the ability to make mature judgments; a forgiving nature, tolerance, an even temper; and being from a decent stable family. How are you gonna determine some of those?” 

“I can only determine about your family from a perusal of records. Even then, it’s not a perfect indicator, but it will have to do. As for the remainder, Crewman Hamidi, you and Private Azar will be observed by me. Consider yourself to be on notice.” 

“I, I see,” Azar replied, “I won’t ask you anything about it, nothing more. I just want you to know that I hope that you pick me for Maryam. But if you don’t I’ll, I will try my best to understand.” 

=/= 

Malcolm got the huge lock off Daniels’s door and the three of them walked inside. “I know there’s a kind of database,” the captain noted, “let’s start with that.” 

T’Pol and Malcolm rummaged around the desk. “Is this it?” asked Malcolm. It was a handheld device, about the same size and weight as a PADD, but it was more rounded at the corners. 

“I think so,” Jonathan said. He clicked around on it, trying to turn it on. 

=/= 

In 3098, Richard Daniels had just returned from a trip to AD 79 Pompeii. He was tired and his feet had been pretty badly burned from running through stone city streets that were on the verge of becoming lava fields. He heard an alarm chirp. 

Quickly, he traced the source – it was disturbance of his devices, by the NX-01, in 2037. “Now, Jonathan,” he said aloud to no one, “I put passwords and thumb print identifiers on everything for a reason.” 

The chirping persisted. He sighed. “I wish I could tell you that there is a species you are going to become friends with, good friends. And another that you’re going to battle – and it’s not just the Xindi – it’s another one. And I could tell you things about the Xindi as well, but I bet you wouldn’t believe me. Just, just, keep an open mind, and look for your answers within. Don’t come to me and my stuff for your answers. I’d love to give them to you, but you’ve gotta figure that I can’t. Get out there. Meet people. The timeline isn’t as fragile as you fear.” 

The chirping suddenly stopped. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s only the first iteration. And take care of my ancestors, all right?” He got up, a little gingerly, as the bottoms of his feet still burned a bit, and headed to the Sick Bay at the Temporal Integrity Commission. 

=/= 

The three of them returned to the Bridge. Everyone looked up. “Those are the looks of bad news,” deduced Aidan. 

“That’s right,” Malcolm confirmed, “we were unsuccessful. Stand down, Mister MacKenzie.” 

“Aye, sir,” He left with Maryam and Diana as the Bridge crew all returned to duty. 

=/= 

Phlox wrapped up the last of his examinations and began to feed his experimental animals. “We’ve had quite a day today,” he said to the Derellian bat. “I’ve got two more of the people who I thought were depressed to admit so. That’s good, but Crewman Brodsky did not admit to her condition. So there’s a problem right there. Ah, we’re all done. Time for me to dictate.” 

He sat down on a stool and clicked on his desktop computer. “Computer, dictation mode.” 

“Ahem. Chief Medical Officer’s Log, October twenty-first, 2037. I have conducted ten physical examinations today. At this rate, I can finish in about a week and a half. However, if other matters arise it may be longer than that. Here are my findings so far.” 

He scratched his wrist before continuing. “Captain Archer is in excellent physical health. We discussed his mental health, and he owned up to his clear, to me, feelings of depression. I gave him an injection of hypralonine and gave him a one-week supply of quatromenaline. He is to return when the quatromenaline has run out, and then I will reassess his mental state and his overall serotonin levels.” He paused a moment. 

“I also had occasion to retrieve samples of all bodily fluids. That is one of the reasons for these physical examinations – to assess reproductive fitness and to stimulate any questions that crew members might be having about sexuality, performance issues, marriage, fertility, or any of a dozen other topics. Furthermore, with Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol, we will be discussing their reproductive options, seeing as they are of dissimilar species. 

As for the captain’s own sample, I found that the count was good and motility levels were somewhat higher than would be expected in a forty-two-year-old human male. 

I next examined Lili O’Day. This crew member does not appear to be suffering from depression. She is, though, somewhat perimenopausal. I performed an ovarian scan, and determined that she has, at most, just under eight years of fertility remaining. 

Next I examined Crewman Azar Hamidi. This crew member is fully fit and virile, as would be expected of a human male in his twenties. He, too, appears to be free of depression. We also discussed Crewman Haroun, as that is another reason for these examinations – to begin to determine whether he or Private Ramih Azar would be a more suitable husband for the sole Muslim female aboard – Crewman Maryam Haroun. These inquiries are being performed at her request. 

Hamidi’s answers to my inquiries were satisfactory, and I did inform him that his actions would be observed by me as a part of making my determination. At this point – and I did not tell the crewman this – his behavior has been good, and there are no strikes against him as of yet. 

Nyota Warren was my next patient. I determined that there was a slight blockage in her left fallopian tube. That has been cleared. 

Private Rex Ryan was next. His physical fitness and virility were as would be expected of a typical human male in his twenties. He also confided that he has been experiencing some feelings of depression. I gave him an injection of hypralonine and he will check back with me tomorrow. Depending upon his reaction to the drug, I may adjust the dosage accordingly. 

Crewman Sandra Sloane was next. She is in her thirties; her fitness and fertility have met expectations. 

Crewman Meredith Porter, who is over forty, has, I believe, about six more years of fecundity ahead of her. 

Crewman Mara Brodsky was physically fit but denied what I feel to be depression. I informed her that my door is always open in the event that she ever feels the need to talk. 

Crewman Christian Harris was physically fit for a human male in his late forties. But he had a rather low sperm count. We discussed this, and he informed me that he has always had a rather low sex drive, and that he often feels quite asexual. He informed me that he did not wish to pursue any treatments to restore or enhance virility. 

Crewman Ethan Shapiro and I discussed his depression. The hypralonine injections do not appear to be working, so we are going to try an oral course of quatromenaline. We will reassess after one week. 

Tomorrow, two of my appointments will be with Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol. 

=/= 

In the gym, the MACOs finished their last drills of the day. “Okay,” said Major Hayes, “tomorrow, I’ve got a physical at eleven hundred hours. Corporal McKenzie will lead you in drill number six at that time. Any questions?” 

There were none. 

“Dismissed.” 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, October twenty-first, 2037 

I’ve got seven years left. Whooda thunk it? I guess I’m glad I’m not impossibly old yet. But I think that won’t be enough. I bet they all think I’m the hopelessly ugly sous-chef. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, October twenty-first, 2037 

I’ll see the doc tomorrow. And I guess I’ll mention to him how low I’ve been feeling. The MACOs under my command – they can never know. 

It’s getting tougher, not having anyone to really confide in. It’s not like I want to get hammered or anything, but the NX-01 could really use a good bartender. 

=/= 

Ethan Shapiro’s Personal log, October twenty-first, 2037 

I don’t feel any different. I guess I have to wait for the new drug to take effect. I know what would cure me, or at least it should. But it’ll never happen. 

Josh is a friend of mine, a good friend. And Karin is his girl. But it’s true – what would really bring me out of it would be if Karin were to come to my quarters and tell me that she wanted me, and not him. 

Hey, a fella can dream, can’t he?

Jonathan was roused out of a sound sleep by an urgent communicator chime. He threw a uniform jumpsuit on over his ratty old sweatpants and didn’t even bother to put his boots on. He ran, barefoot, to the Bridge. 

“What’s the trouble?” he called out breathlessly as soon as he arrived. 

T’Pol got up from the captain’s chair and pointed to the view screen. “Magnify twenty times,” she said. 

Chip Masterson was working the night shift at Communications. He punched a key on the console. 

It was a scene of four ships, all in a familiar configuration. “They’re Xindi sloth ships, right?” Jonathan asked. 

“They are,” confirmed Aidan, who was manning Tactical, “but they’re just sitting there. They haven’t charged weapons or anything.” 

“They’re a bit uncomfortably close to the temperate planet,” the captain complained, “Didn’t the Xyrillians say it was unclaimed? Or did Tre’ex have out of date records?” Tre’ex was a Xyrillian captain they had befriended. So far, he and his people were the only friends that the Enterprise had in its current predicament. The captain didn’t really want to test that friendship in combat. 

“It’s possible,” allowed Aidan, “but they haven’t made any aggressive moves that I can ascertain.” 

“Perhaps they are waiting for us to make the first move,” T’Pol surmised. 

“How long have they been there?” asked Jonathan. 

“About ten minutes,” said the night shift pilot, Ensign Sterling Hutchinson. 

There was a sudden chirp at the Communications station. “The lead ship is hailing us,” Chip said. He looked a little panic-stricken. 

“Uh, Aidan,” Archer commanded, “Be ready for a Tactical alert but don’t declare one unless it’s on my direct order. Wake up Major Hayes, just in case we need him and his people. And, Chip, let’s see them on screen.” 

Chip fiddled with controls and a Xindi sloth was seen on the screen. “I am Captain Scafen of the Thramb. We are Xindi sloth. I don’t recognize your species.” 

“I, uh, we are humans,” Jonathan replied cautiously. He glanced around, a tiny bit nervously. “My name is Jonathan Archer. I’m the captain of this vessel, the Enterprise.” 

“And where does your species hail from?” Scafen inquired. 

“The, uh, we come from the Vulcan neighborhood.” 

“Ah, so you have a home world. My people; our home world is being wracked by a civil war. We are looking for expansion, away from the fighting, and there is a temperate planet in this vicinity that is allegedly unclaimed.” 

“Oh, uh, we are claiming it.” 

“You are?” 

“Yes,” confirmed Jonathan, “we need to grow food crops.” 

“Our people could use a sense of purpose,” Scafen said, “Perhaps we could combine our interests in a mutually beneficial manner. Could we meet, perhaps on my ship, to discuss this?” 

“I’ll need to consider this. It’s a bit to think about. For us, it’s the middle of the night.” 

“By all means,” said Scafen. 

“Archer out.” 

=/= 

In his quarters, Jay Hayes was over three-quarters dressed when his PADD dinged again. He took a look at the message and said aloud to no one, “Huh, I can stand down, but there’s a breakfast meeting. I’m getting to be too old for being roused out of a deep sleep for nothing.” 

He disrobed, carefully folding his uniform and putting his boots away neatly. Everything had to be in its exact, correct place. Susan had laughed at that, he remembered for about a second. Susan Cheshire. She hadn’t been a slob, or anything. It was more that she was just freer about things like that. 

“Why is it,” he again mused aloud, “that every time I think I’m over you, every time I think I’m past this, this impossible infatuation, you invade my thoughts again? Dammit, Susan. Go away. I can’t do this anymore.” 

=/= 

The later morning brought the meeting with it. The senior staff met in the main conference room. Lili set out Danish and started up the coffee maker. Jonathan spoke. “We’ve had an interesting night.” 

“How interesting?” asked Tripp. He sat next to T’Pol and she hadn’t told him anything. He looked at her a little anxiously. 

“We made contact. Or, rather, contact was made with us,” T’Pol explained, “By the Xindi,” she quickly added. 

“Why wasn’t I informed?” Malcolm inquired. 

“I determined that we might just need muscle on the ground, not in flight,” the captain stated. 

“Oh.” 

“He didn’t,” said Jay. “I was ordered to stand down.” 

“I see,” stated Malcolm. He squirmed a little in his seat, feeling strange about that, as if he’d been left out of something big. 

“Few people were informed so as to prevent panic or rushed decisions,” Jonathan explained, “In fact, this meeting is completely confidential. That means you, too, Ensign O’Day.” 

“Oh!” Lili exclaimed, “Understood.” She brought over a selection of tea bags for Malcolm. He selected English Breakfast and she took the wooden box away quickly. 

“Won’t people notice who’s out there by just looking out of their viewing portals?” Travis asked. 

“They will,” Commander T’Pol conceded, “but they need not know the specifics of our meeting.” 

“And just what are the specifics?” Tripp asked. 

Lili brought over a plate of bacon and placed it on a warming tray. She then added tongs and stepped back again. 

“These Xindi – they don’t know us,” Archer clarified, “and so for them it was like First Contact. Their home world hasn’t even been destroyed yet.” 

“That makes sense,” Malcolm interjected. “I recall we dated the debris of their home world to the early to mid-twenty-first century.” He helped himself to plain Danish. 

“Precisely,” agreed T’Pol. 

Lili put a jar of blueberry jam in front of Jay and stepped back again. 

“Because their homeland is in the midst of a civil war, they asked whether we knew if anyone had claimed the temperate planet,” Jonathan reported. 

“And what’d ya tell ‘em?” Tripp asked. 

“I said that we were claiming it,” said Captain Archer, “and then they made an interesting request.” 

“The Xindi asked whether they could cooperate,” T’Pol said, “they recognized that their people need a purpose. When Captain Archer indicated that we would be using the temperate planet for agriculture, the Xindi captain noted that perhaps his crew could assist.” 

“What’d ya tell ‘em?” Tripp repeated, looking a little sick. Lili offered him a plate of eggs and he shook his head. 

“I said we’d discuss it,” Archer explained, “so here we are. Impressions?” 

“I don’t trust ‘em,” Tripp blurted out. “I’m sorry. I don’t think of myself as prejudiced. But they attacked us! They killed seven million humans, including my sister Lizzie. I can’t just shake hands and tell ‘em that all’s forgiven, yanno?” 

“These people didn’t design that weapon,” Hoshi took a little fruit on her plate, “they’re, what, the grandparents of the people who did?” 

“Something like that,” Jonathan looked up, “Uh, just a little,” he said to Lili when she offered him hash browns. 

“We could really change the timeline,” posited Travis, taking a heaping helping of bacon, “and maybe we’d never be born.” 

“That is possible,” conceded T’Pol, taking a cherry Danish with a clean pair of tongs, “However, it is also possible that, by cooperating, we could change the course of history positively. We could, perhaps, redirect some of the builders of the weapon into more peaceful pursuits.” 

“If we make friends with them – or at least were respectful – maybe they wouldn’t think of building the weapon in the first place,” Hoshi conjectured. 

“It’s also possible,” Jay smeared toast with the blueberry jam, “that we could gather intelligence for our descendants. Or maybe even for ourselves, when you think about it. We’d know a lot about them, certainly more than we do now. Observations taken over the course of a good century-plus – those have gotta be good for a lot.” 

“Are you saying to pretend to be friendly with them, and instead be spying on them?” asked Malcolm. 

“No,” explained Jay, “just that we should keep our eyes and ears open. I mean, there’s no reason we can’t take notes, right?” 

“More coffee, sir?” 

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Jay speculated, “and I, I just think, we have a unique opportunity here. Imagine knowing, in advance, when the attack would occur. Knowing where the weaknesses are in their hull plating, or their personal armor – we’ve seen the Reptilians; they seem to wear something like that, right?” 

“We already know about their Council, too,” the captain stated, “we have plenty to tell our, well, the ship’s descendants.” He hesitated for a second – there was a very real possibility that none of the descendants would be named Archer. 

“There are any number of things we could learn.” Phlox took a second cheese Danish. 

“What about peace?” asked Hoshi, “And I mean real peace. Not just pretending and instead writing things down in little books as if we were some kind of, I dunno, secret police. I mean real, honest to goodness peace. Make friends with them and not just with one hand behind our backs with our fingers crossed. And then we don’t have to worry about weapons or hull plating weaknesses or where there are cracks in their armor.” 

“That is an admirable sentiment,” admitted T’Pol, “one thing we do need to keep in mind is that this would be a radical change to the timeline. As Ensign Mayweather pointed out, we could be ensuring that none of us would be born.” 

“But Daniels said that the Xindi attack was never supposed to really happen,” Jonathan remembered, “Maybe we’re being given the chance to put right what once went wrong.” 

“We still might wipe ourselves out,” Tripp interjected. 

“Then, well, then what do we do?” the captain asked, “I mean, what good are we, how much do we matter, versus seven million innocent people? We didn’t sign on for a generational ship, or to be here for the remainder of our lives. And we didn’t sign on for suicide missions or that much self-sacrifice. But we are already here for the rest of our days, and maybe we’re meant to do those other things. Maybe that’s our real purpose.” 

There was silence for a moment. 

“Anyone for more hash browns?” Lili finally asked. 

Jonathan smiled a bit. “Life goes on, and the hash browns must be eaten, eh? Are they the replicated kind?” 

“We replicate the potatoes, but then Will and I fry them. I guess I just like feeling useful, sir.” 

“I bet we wouldn’t know if we were never born,” Travis mused, “I mean, how could we? And our families wouldn’t know, either, right? No one would ever know.” 

“There are a lot of people on this ship,” Jonathan mused, “who do all sorts of things that none of us really notice, not at this level. The only reason we know Lili here at all is because the ship is so small. But if there were, say, over a thousand crew members, I doubt most of us here would know her by name. Yet we would still eat her hash browns. Maybe that’s what we’re all meant to do, to be the ones who quietly serve and everyone benefits, but there isn’t necessarily a great deal of glory.” 

“I hardly serve in silence, sir.” 

“And hardly anonymously, either,” Malcolm quipped. 

She looked at him and smiled. He looked down a bit. 

“I don’t really know what to think, or how to feel,” Tripp admitted, “but if this saves Lizzie, or if it can, well, I guess I’m on board with it.” 

“So we’re in agreement?” Jonathan asked. Everyone nodded. 

“Sir,” Hoshi inquired, “in point of practicality, should we tell them that we’re not from this time period? I mean, if we don’t, and it comes out later, it’ll probably undo any good we accomplish. And someone’s bound to slip up eventually.” 

“Right,” the captain agreed, “so let’s tell them up front, from the very beginning. Not about the other stuff, of course – but we can tell them we’re from 2154, and that our species were at odds, and that we’re still not one hundred percent sure why that is. All of that’s honest. And our motivation, in part, will be obvious – that we want to prevent it all from happening again.” 

“Do you imagine they’ll suspect us of trying to gain an espionage-type of advantage?” Malcolm asked. 

“They aren’t stupid,” Jonathan stated, “I’m sure they’ll think of that, too. But if we come to them immediately, and we lay more cards on the table than maybe they’d expect, well, I hope that would help in that area. We can have lunch with them. You’d serve, Ensign, seeing as you know what you do.” 

“Of course, sir. Are they vegan, do you know?” 

“No idea. Let’s make it a small group, and as nonthreatening as possible,” the captain decided. 

“Someone should be there in case things get ugly,” Jay cautioned. 

“Not a brute with a sidearm, though,” Malcolm shot back. 

“No weapons,” Archer commanded, “we won’t exactly be demonstrating any good faith if anyone’s armed.” 

“I, I can’t go,” Tripp shook his head, “I just can’t stomach it right now.” 

“Let’s make it the four of us,” Jonathan decided, “myself, T’Pol, Hoshi and Jay.” 

“Sir …” Malcolm began. 

“In case there’s a problem, Jay will be there. He should be able to physically overcome at least two of them. Hoshi, you’ll be there, ostensibly, it’ll be about linguistics but you are also to be there because you’re nonthreatening. And Ensign O’Day is nonthreatening as well.” 

“And what shall you do if the Major here cannot overcome all of them?” Malcolm asked, a tad sharply. 

“I need you in the captain’s chair,” Jonathan explained, “If they attack, Malcolm, I want you in command, and for Tripp and Travis to be gunning the engines to get us out of there. There are four of their ships. We aren’t going to win any fire fights. But at least we can take down as many of them as possible if it comes to that. And you’re just the man to do that.” 

“Understood.” Malcolm backed down. 

“I’ll go call them and invite them to lunch,” Jonathan caught Lili’s eye, “and I’ll ask them if they have any dietary preferences.” 

“Thank you, sir.” She began to clear the dishes. 

=/= 

Tripp caught up to T’Pol. “Why didn’t ya tell me what was goin’ on?” 

“I did not wish to wake you,” she explained.

“You shouldn’t be keepin’ secrets from me.” 

“The captain made it clear that the senior staff would be informed. He also made it clear that much of the information was confidential.” 

“T’Pol, you are gonna be my wife,” Tripp said, “I’d expect a little more openness from you.” 

A crewman walked by – Colleen Romanov. They waited for her to pass before they continued talking. 

“When it comes to orders,” T’Pol explained, “I must obey the captain.” 

“I, I understand,” he said, “but I, well, I need for you to share things with me. We need to be a team.” 

She thought for a moment. “This will create occasional conflicts.” 

He was about to complain but that brought him up short. “Yanno, you’re, you’re right. No wonder Starfleet doesn’t want people fraternizing. I just, I wish you had at least warned me.” 

“It is unclear to me what I should have done,” she admitted, “for to warn you would have generated a number of questions and thereby jeopardized the captain’s desire for confidentiality.” 

“But I was gonna be told, anyway,” he pointed out, “I just; I need for you to be supportive. This whole thing is upsetting to me.” 

“I will endeavor to be more sensitive,” she said. 

“I wonder if this’ll put off our wedding,” he said. 

“I would prefer that that not happen.”

“Same here.” He smiled at her. “How are ya ever gonna figure out how to deal with me?” 

“I believe the expression is: practice makes perfect.” 

=/= 

Jay sat on a bio bed in Sick Bay. “Well?” he finally ventured. 

“You’re in good health although you appear to be fatigued today,” answered the Denobulan. 

“I had to get up in the middle of the night, but I was ordered to stand down. And then I couldn’t get back to sleep.” 

“Something on your mind, Major?” 

“Plenty of things,” Jay looked down. 

“Anything you care to discuss?” 

“No,” he replied flatly, “I, Doc, I know that there are people who are feeling down. And I know I’m one of them. But I can’t be medicated, and I don’t have the time to really talk. I just have to work this out for myself. The captain needs for me to be on high alert, pretty much all the time. Do you understand?” 

“I do,” Phlox confirmed, “but I will be here, naturally, if you need any assistance or you change your mind.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” 

=/= 

Scafen arrived with three other Xindi. “These are the captains of the other three vessels. This is Prala; she is the captain of the Mintrel. Ketton here is the captain of the Omahris. Krivan to my left is the captain of the Azetla. And as you know, my ship is the Thramb.” 

“That’s a difficult word for us. Or, at least, it is for me.” Captain Archer then introduced the others, including Lili, who offered beverages and then set about getting the plates of food served. 

“Do you have servants?” asked Prala. She was nearly as hairy as the men. 

“Oh, no, Lili isn’t a servant. She’s actually the assistant to our chef.” Jonathan explained. 

“I made the salad and the dessert,” Lili said, “ah, this is for you,” she set down a plate of chicken marsala in front of Prala. 

“So your task is to cook?” inquired Krivan. 

“And to clean, and serve, like you see,” Lili said, “uh, I bet you didn’t come here to talk about me.” She retreated, near where Jay was sitting, and then busied herself getting him a sharp knife. 

“It is a curiosity to us,” Ketton said, “for so many of our people have forgotten how to cook. And then when our civil war began, well, it gave us pause. Our society had become so dependent upon devices and conveniences. And as we scatter, we are finding that it would be a very good idea indeed to relearn some of the older arts.” 

“One of those older arts is agriculture,” Krivan said, “and we understand that that is your purpose for claiming that planet.” 

“Yes,” Jonathan confirmed, “our Botanist assures us that the continents have mostly useful climates for a variety of foodstuffs.” 

“We don’t have a Botanist,” stated Scafen, “None of our ships do. It seems like a lost art as well. Tell me, Captain, is the growing of these crops, is it very labor-intensive?” 

“I think our Botanist, and maybe our Chief Engineer could answer that best,” said Jonathan, “but, um, first, I think we should come clean with you.” 

“Come clean?” asked Ketton. Lili saw Jay stiffen up just a little, as if he were suddenly on extreme high alert. 

“Yes, we, uh, Ensign Sato, when were you born?” Jonathan asked. 

“July ninth.” 

“Which year?” the captain inquired, “The, the real year; that is.” 

“2129.” 

Prala and Krivan looked up. Scafen said, “How?” 

“When were you born, Major?” asked the captain. 

“December fifth, 2102.” 

“T’Pol?” 

“By your calendar, March fifth of 2088.” 

“Ensign O’Day?” 

“I was born on March the twenty-seventh, 2109.” 

“And I, Jonathan Archer, was born on October the ninth of 2112.” 

“Time travelers?” Prala asked. 

“Inadvertent ones,” Jonathan explained, “It was 2154. We passed through a particle wake created by a Kovaalan ship’s impulse manifold, and suddenly we were thrown back nearly one hundred twenty years. It brought us to April of this year, just over six months ago.” 

“So that is why you need agriculture?” Krivan asked. “Is it to sustain your, your generations until you catch up to 2154?” 

“Precisely,” T’Pol confirmed. 

“Did you encounter any Xindi in your time period?” asked Scafen, “Or are we your first contact?” 

It’s now or never, Jonathan thought to himself, “We have seen Xindi before – all five surviving species, actually. It was,” he sighed, “it was not under the best of circumstances.” 

Prala asked, “Are our peoples at war with one another?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Jonathan admitted, “we are, well, we aren’t a warship. We were sent out here, to the Delphic Expanse, in order to locate a large weapon that is threatening our planet. We were sent to destroy that weapon.” 

“A prototype of that weapon was launched against their home world,” T’Pol explained, “and it caused the deaths of some seven million individuals.” 

Scafen thought for a moment. “I don’t know why our governing council would do such a thing. It seems altogether wrong. Did your government somehow provoke ours?” 

“We don’t know, not really,” Jonathan admitted, “It doesn’t make sense to me, either. I would not – and I doubt that anyone in my crew would feel otherwise – I would not support an attack such as that.” 

“I doubt any of our crews would, either,” stated Ketton, “It seems so barbaric and senseless. May I ask you, how does your crew feel about us?” 

“I can’t say that there isn’t a little apprehension,” Jonathan stated, glancing over at Jay for a split second, “and a member of my senior staff lost a family member in the attack. He is particularly affected.” 

“I can scarcely imagine,” Krivan sympathized, “such a reaction is perfectly natural and justified, I’d say.” 

“We need settlement land,” Scafen told them, “this temperate planet is really only good for us, and for Xindi humanoids. For the Insectoids and the Reptilians, it doesn’t get hot and rainy enough for them to complete a necessary portion of their reproductive cycles. For the Aquatics, the oceans are too saline, and the lakes and ponds are too small. Terraforming would fix some of that, but we have immediate needs. It makes a great deal of sense for us to adapt for the species which need the least amount of accommodation, and have the others look elsewhere, at least for the time being.” 

“And you,” Krivan interjected, “I suspect you need labor in order to plant, harvest, process and store your food crops.” 

“And both sides, I am sure, need and want peace,” Prala added. “There is a civil war on our planet. We could use some peace.” 

“We definitely do,” Jonathan explained, “and we want to build trust. Our motivation is, well, it’s not just to feed the ship’s future generations. It’s also, if we can prevent this war, then we will do so. Even if we wipe out our own existences.” 

“Perhaps it need not be so dire,” Scafen stated, “for we are talking and you are still here, yes?” 

“Still, even if their lives are spared, maybe our own descendants will be lost if this persists,” Ketton mused. 

“I don’t think we have any way of knowing, either way. Except, I guess, for us,” Hoshi offered, “If we’re here, then, well, I guess we’re still here.” 

“It is all a potential paradox,” explained Krivan, “for if you were to suddenly be gone, where would we be? Would we be back on our ships? Floating in space, without pressure suits? Or somewhere else?” 

“Betcha didn’t think this was gonna turn philosophical, eh, Major?” Hoshi asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I suppose I didn’t,” Jay admitted, “All I know is that we are all here, now.” 

“There may be little sense in worrying about tomorrow, at least, when it comes to our own existences,” Scafen allowed, “but our position is, well, it must be, that we are unsure of your intentions and your veracity. Not to be offensive, Captain Archer, but we don’t really know you. From our perspective, what you are telling us could be the opposite of the truth. Cooperating may very well cause this war. Or it may end it. Or prevent it from ever happening.” 

“I think,” Prala opined, “that anything could happen. I suspect our history is not yet written, despite what you claim to know. It may already have been changed by this, this Kovaalan ship’s particle wake. Why not approach this as if it were a huge, blank slate, not just for us, but for you as well? And if we work together, and we forge a friendship, then it will be for all of our needs, our purposes and our as-yet unwritten futures.” 

“A suggestion, if I may,” Ketton offered, “let us keep this planet – assuming you permit us to settle, and to work with you – let us keep it for our species only, and for our four ships only, and not for others. This is not to say that others could not visit, or that our people could not marry outside of the crews of the four ships, but the fewer outsiders, the better, I am thinking. Let this be our independent place, if you are willing. We know that there is a much warmer planet nearby, but it is too warm for us, and it is not rainy enough for Reptilians or Insectoids. Aquatics, maybe, would be able to settle there. Is it, perhaps, being claimed by you?” 

“Yes,” Jonathan confirmed, “we’ve even named that one Paradise. We, uh, we have a lot to think about. But I think this meeting has been a good one.” 

“Dessert, anyone?” Lili asked, “It’s an apple tart. If, uh, my understanding is, if we can get agriculture really going down there on the temperate world, a lot of its ingredients could be grown there, like wheat for the flour and the apples themselves. The cinnamon part, I think, it would have to be grown on Paradise.” 

“I think I know the name for that temperate planet,” Hoshi dug a fork into a slice of the tart, “if no one objects. I know we had a contest to name the other planet, but maybe this could just be put to a yea or nay vote.” 

“Let’s hear it,” Jonathan encouraged. 

“Amity.” 

“Amity?” asked Jay. 

“It means friendship,” Hoshi explained. 

Captain Archer raised his glass of iced tea. “Here’s to Amity.” 

=/= 

At the end of the day, T’Pol sat on a bio bed while Tripp hovered nearby, a little anxiously. “Everything all right?” he asked; a little worried sounding. 

“T’Pol is in excellent health, as are you. I would, though,” Phlox explained, “like to speak with you both about your reproductive future.” 

“Go on,” T’Pol encouraged. 

“Currently, you cannot have children together. I will work on this. It may take a while, though. In the meantime, if you wish to become parents more rapidly, you may need to work with an egg donor. I would suggest, possibly, Crewman Haddon, if she is willing, as she most closely resembles Commander T’Pol.” 

“Haddon?” Tripp asked. “Huh, never thought o’ her that way. Something to think about, kinda hold in our back pocket, eh?” 

“My thoughts exactly, Commander. But I will work on getting your chromosomes to line up properly. It will be a top priority for me.” 

“Thank you, Doctor,” T’Pol then left with Tripp. 

All alone, Phlox whispered to the Derellian bat, “I’d better find a way. Otherwise, I won’t have a reproductive future, either.” 

=/= 

Phlox’s Personal log, October twenty-second, 2037 

I have another depressed crew member who is, well, not in denial, not exactly. But Major Hayes is consciously refusing treatment. I do understand his reasons, however, as he wishes to remain in a high state of alertness. Given our negotiations with the Xindi, I’d say it makes sense to keep him drug-free, at least for the moment. 

As for the Xindi, all reports are that the captains of the four sloth vessels are pleasant persons. And perhaps we can achieve a kind of understanding with them. That would be something to strive for. I am not a political man, but eliminating the war as a source of friction and tension would help the crew quite a bit. 

Furthermore, there is the very real possibility of some of the men becoming intimately involved with some of the Xindi sloth women. I don’t know if there would ever be an attraction, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility. For lonely, dejected crew members such as Ethan Shapiro, this might be a way to help brighten their moods. It would be good if I could cut back on his medication a bit.

 =/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, October twenty-second, 2037 

I talked to Phlox a little bit about how I was feeling, but not about Susan. There really isn’t anyone to talk to about her. 

If I had someone, I know I wouldn’t think about her anymore. She would just be a faded memory. But I can’t be thinking about such things right now. If we really do work with the Xindi, I still think we should exercise caution. I doubt that these, specific people mean us harm. But it does make me wonder – and this is crazy-making – does our cooperating with them somehow cause the attack and the war? I wish I knew what the right course of action was, but I’m not the only one who’s confused about that. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, October twenty-second, 2037 

I feel a bit like I’m being left out of things. I know that’s not the intention, but I sometimes cannot help how I feel. 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, October twenty-second, 2037 

I am so tired. I served both breakfast and lunch today to the exec staff. And it was all very hush-hush as we’ve made contact with Xindi sloths. I have never seen a Xindi sloth before, in person. Hell, the only Xindi I actually saw in person was an Insectoid. And she was coming into the kitchen, with some partner. The partner left but that one remained, and I was alone and didn’t have a sidearm with me. I ended up smashing in her face with a cast iron skillet. It was awful. I’ve never thought of myself as a killer. Yet I guess I am. Her name was She Who Almost Didn’t Breed in Time. 

We threw the pan out, Will and I. Neither one of us wanted to touch a pan with a sentient being’s brains on it. That still makes me shudder, thinking about that. 

I know that these people are different, and I can accept that. I actually find myself hoping that we can do something with them. God knows no one’s got a combine harvester or anything like that. We will need a bunch of people to pick apples or thresh wheat. Why not them? 

I got to spend time with some of my faves today, too. There’s the captain – he’s got this wonderful Roman nose. And Travis is just swoonworthy when it comes to muscles. But I doubt we’d have a lot to talk about. Then again, yanno, talking can be kinda overrated. The Major has great eyes, but he’s always so serious. It’s the same with Malcolm; he’s all angular and withdrawn. They’re not the only ones who I like. Frankly, I’m finding myself becoming curious about all of the men on board. It’s like I’m getting supercharged. I wonder if that’s a side effect of perimenopause. 

=/= 

Charles Tucker III’s Personal log, October twenty-second, 2037 

I think T’Pol understands why I was a bit annoyed that she didn’t share information with me. But I can see her point – I guess it must be confusing to her. She needs to be loyal to Jon but also to me. 

And now we’re talking about cooperating with the Xindi! At least the captain agreed to postpone any real decisions until after our wedding and honeymoon. I can’t believe we’ll be getting married soon. 

Captain Archer fiddled with his uniform. “Are you sure you’ve got everything translated and transliterated properly?” he asked Hoshi. 

“Yes! Now hold still! You’re supposed to wear a hooded robe, too. Let me adjust it,” she said. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled at her, a little crinkly around his eyes. She’s too young for you, he thought to himself. Still, she’s great to look at. No! Focus! 

“Sir, you’re not paying attention,” she scolded, “There’s a gong. You wait for Tripp to strike it. Then Malcolm rings a bunch of bells – we didn’t have that but there was a dinner bell that Chef had in school as a joke. It’ll have to do. Then you call out koon-ut-kal-lif-fee and ask if anyone challenges Tripp for T’Pol. I’m going to assume no one does, because it’s supposed to be a fight to the death.” 

“Oh, boy,” Jonathan said, “I can’t go sacrificing crewmen for this.” 

“No, of course not, and no one here is a Vulcan except for T’Pol, so I think it can just be a ritualized thing if it happens at all. I mean, we’re improvising here, right? Then the couple kneel and, um,” her voice trailed off. 

“Hoshi?” 

“I’m sorry. My mind is wandering a bit, too. Makes you think about all weddings, eh?” 

“Yes, it does,” he commiserated, “your day will come.” 

“So will yours, sir.” 

=/= 

They gathered in the main conference room. Almost everyone was wearing some sort of hooded garment in deference to Vulcan tradition, although some of those were just varsity hoodies. “Did you heat up the plomeek broth?” Will asked Lili. 

“Not yet. It’s only going to get cold. I’ve got the cold hors d’ouevres to start. Are we missing anything?” 

“I don’t think so. Shh, looks like we’re about to start,” he put a finger to his lips. 

Jonathan strode to the front of the room. “Welcome to the marriage of Charles Tucker the third of Earth and T’Pol of Vulcan.” He stepped back to reveal the gong, which was really a large metal tray suspended from the ceiling. 

Tripp stepped forward, and Jonathan handed him the striker, which was a regular hammer. Malcolm stepped forward as well, holding the bell and making sure it didn’t make a sound. Tripp took the hammer and struck the tray. It made a dull clanging sound. 

“Koon-ut-kal-lif-fee!” Jonathan yelled. “Wedding or challenge! Does anyone challenge this man for this woman?” He nodded toward T’Pol, who was wearing a lavender gown with a matching scarf tied behind her head. Around her neck was a small gold cross lavaliere that Tripp had given her as a symbol of their engagement, the closest thing he had to jewelry. She, in turn, nodded at Malcolm, who realized they were waiting for him. He rang the bell several times. 

“Is there a challenger? Is there a champion?” Jonathan asked the assembled guests. They were quiet. 

“I am T’Pol’s champion,” Tripp announced. He looked at her. “I know this isn’t the way the ceremony normally goes, but I just want you to know, I will always be your champion.” 

“Are we in agreement?” Jonathan asked. 

The couple both nodded. They got onto their knees and faced each other, and touched their fingers together. 

Jonathan intoned, “"What ye are about to witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is their, and now it also our, way." 

=/= 

As soon as the ceremony was concluded, Lili retrieved the metal tray and put it to use. “Now, I’ve got little pastry shells filled with hot plomeek broth to start. There’s also little triangles of tofu and a dipping sauce made from tahini. Make sure to take a napkin, of course.” 

“Are those made with dairy?” Malcolm asked her. She knew it was a secret that he had lactose intolerance. He had never actually told her, but she had figured it out from observing him. He was ashamed at his body often betraying him that way, and was grateful that she was discreet. 

“Everything is vegan,” she reported, and then lowered her voice considerably, “so no worries for you whatsoever.” 

“Oh, why thank you, Ensign.” 

She moved over to where Walter Woods was standing with Diana Jones. Walter was one of the MACOs and Diana was in the Science Department. They each took a tofu triangle and she moved on. 

“I guess you’ll be busy, with T’Pol on her honeymoon,” Walter mentioned to Diana. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, I suppose I will be,” she replied. She was a blonde, a bit short, and was sipping an orange juice. The ceremony and reception were dry, as it was the middle of the day. 

“And so, um, you see, I was going to talk to you after the last wedding, Judy and Michael’s,” Walter stammered. He was darker than her, well-built, like all of the MACOs were. 

“You talk to me nearly every day!” 

“I mean, um, talk to you seriously, Diana. But I chickened out. And now that there’s another wedding I, well, I figured I should talk to you now, rather than overthink it and miss my chance.” 

“What are you trying to get at?” 

“Diana, I want you to know that I, well, that I like you.” 

“Oh, Walter.” 

He sighed. “And you don’t have to say anything, because it’s pretty obvious from the way you’re sounding that you, you don’t like me.” He turned to walk away, his head down a bit. 

“No, no, wait a second.” 

“Is this where you give me the speech about how we’re good friends and you don’t want to screw it up? Or the one about how you don’t think of me that way?” 

“No, c’mon, Walter.” 

“Then which speech is it?” he asked, brown eyes a little shiny. 

She came closer and lowered her voice. “It’s, um, it’s the speech where I tell you I’m a lesbian.” 

He looked at her, open-mouthed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I’m, uh, I guess I’m telling you now. But you’re right; I probably should have mentioned it sooner. I hope you didn’t feel you were being led on.” 

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured her, “uh, why aren’t you more open about it? I don’t mean so much to save me from embarrassment, but to give you, well, lay it out there so you can make it clear that you’re interested in one of the girls. Uh, are you?” 

“Interested in one of the girls? Kinda, sorta,” she admitted, “I doubt there’s anyone here for me, Walter. You should, um, you should talk to Ingrid.” 

“Your roommate?” 

“Yeah. She’s straight. I know this for a fact. And she’s nice. Talk to her like you’re talking to me right now.” 

“I can’t,” Walter shook his head, “I can’t just flip my feelings on and off like a switch. Know what I mean? I’ve, I’ve liked you for a long time. I guess I missed any signals that were out there. Uh, were there any signals?” 

“Not really,” she smiled, “I just like things to be private. But if people have overheard us, and I bet they have, well, then I figure it’s out and it’s not so private anymore.” 

A few other crew members – Stephanie Ayers and Brad Moreno – were nearby, and they pretended to not be eavesdropping. 

“Sorry to bring it up,” Walter said, “you know I didn’t mean to do anything like that.” 

“I know,” she nodded. 

“Look, there’s a very real possibility that I’ll be one of the odd men out. If I am, can we, I dunno, come to an understanding?” 

“Go talk to Ingrid,” she pushed him a little in the right direction. 

=/= 

Michael and Judy broke away from the wedding party to Cargo Bay Two. This was where the honeymoon was going to be. They set up a little tent and dumped sand out on the floor. “Here, can you help me with this?” Michael asked. He had a huge package under his arm. 

Judy came over and helped him set it down. They carefully removed its paper wrapping. “What is it?” 

“It’s supposed to be a palm tree.” Michael found a stand and brought it over. He attached it to the base of the “tree” and then the two of them adjusted the “branches”. 

“I think Tara Balcescu has Christmas lights,” Judy suggested, “think we should borrow ‘em?” 

“Sure,” he said, “And Shelby was going to come over with a few real plants, too.” 

They left to get the lights. 

=/= 

Reception over, Tripp and T’Pol walked over to Cargo Bay Two. “I fail to see why we can’t spend our honeymoon in my – our – quarters,” she pointed out. 

“This is more romantic,” he explained. He hit the door controls and then bent over her. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Carrying you over the threshold?” 

“What a strange custom.” 

“Just humor me a second, okay?” He carried her into the cargo bay. 

The bay was decorated with the sand and the mock palm tree was in the center of the area. The tent was over to the side and the Christmas tree lights were strung between the tent and the palm tree. There were also a few flowering plants, including a flowering rose bush. He set her down. “Huh, I bet these plants don’t all go together.” 

“I suppose the Morale Committee did their best.” 

There was an ice bucket and a bottle of Champagne. “Now this is what I call campin’!” He popped the cork. 

“There is also a tray with vegetables and dip,” she noted, indicating. 

“Good, ‘cause we’re gonna need a little energy. Actually, what’m I sayin’? We’re gonna need a lot.” 

“It is not quite time for my Pon Farr,” she pointed out. 

“That hasn’t stopped you so far.” 

“True, but often the first marital relations are during Pon Farr, in a Vulcan marriage.” 

“Well, we’re half and half, so I guess we’ll bend the rules a little. Actually, hang on; a new couple should have a first dance.” 

“A dance?” 

“Yes. A dance. And there’s no music here so, uh, I’ll provide it if you promise to not be too upset if it doesn’t sound so good.” 

She looked at him. “I can detect pitch and tone better than you can, I suspect.” 

“I betcha can. Just, uh, humor me again, all right?” He put a hand on her waist and then took the other in his. “We’ll just move ‘round in a circle, slowly. It’s easy.” 

“All right.” 

“This is a song my grandpappy used to sing to my grandma. Ahem,” he began to sing. 

“I am dreaming Dear of you, day by day

Dreaming when the skies are blue,

When they're gray;

When the silv'ry moonlight gleams,

Still I wander on in dreams,

In a land of love, it seems,

Just with you.

Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.

Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.

Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.

Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.

Longing for you all the while, More and more;

Longing for the sunny smile, I adore;

Birds are singing far and near, Roses blooming ev'rywhere

You, alone, my heart can cheer; You, just you.

Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you.

Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.

Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.

Let me call you "Sweetheart," I'm in love with you”

She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. “We hide our emotions, and are taught to do so from a very, very early age. We are taught not to smile, and to suppress all of it. But I’m not there anymore, and I may never see another full-blooded Vulcan again.” 

“Don’t say that. Maybe you will.” 

“Please,” she said, “I just want you to know that I can tell you what I am feeling, right now. I can tell you that you are the only one for me, and that I love you and it will be ever thus.” 

=/= 

“Ensign, might I inquire something of you?” The wedding was over and everyone was gone. Lili was cleaning up. It was Malcolm who was asking. 

“Uh, sure, but I have to get these dishes in the sanitizer. So come with me to the kitchen, all right?” 

“Certainly.” He held the door open for her. 

“So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”  She asked as she steered a little cart filled with dirty dishes into the kitchen. 

“Are we, uh, are we quite alone?” 

“Huh, lemme see.” She looked around. “I think Will is indisposed or something and I’m guessing Craig went to Engineering. How can I help you?” 

“I, Ensign, you hear things.” 

“I try not to. I make it a point not to listen to gossip.” 

“I, I appreciate that. But you still hear quite a bit, I’ll wager. Could you, please, could you tell me, what do people think about me? What do they say?” 

“Huh. Well, they think you’re very smart and very competent. No one is more trusted at Tactical.” 

“I, well, my job performance is all well and good, and I thank you, but, uh, what do they say about me as a person? It’s all right if it’s a little negative. I can handle such things.” 

“Lieutenant, I, er, I think they think you’re standoffish. You aren’t mean but you seem, well, kind of stiff sometimes. You seem to be removed from everything, maybe even observing a bit, if that makes any sense.” 

“I see. Are those, perhaps, your own observations as well?” 

“I thought this wasn’t about me, but just about what I hear,” she pointed out. 

“Uh, yes, sorry. Please ignore that question, then. What, uh, what do they say about my, about my sexuality?” 

She averted her eyes and began to fidget. “I should really get these dishes into the sanitizer.” 

“Here, I’ll help you,” he said, and they started to load the big machine together. “Well?” he asked after a while. 

“Sir, I’m really uncomfortable talking about this.” 

“It’s that bad?” 

“It’s, it’s more that I think some people try deliberately to be really nasty and insensitive. I tell them I don’t want to hear it. So I really don’t hear a lot of it, and I try not to hear the worst of it. It’s just plain wrong, to go around speculating about such things. I mean, we went through sexual harassment re-education recently. Well, I took those lessons to heart, even if some of the others didn’t. And, well, if someone is being hurtful I just, I don’t want to repeat that.” 

“You’re not protecting someone, are you?” he asked. 

“No. It’s what I said. I don’t want to say the words; I don’t want to repeat the implications, nothing like that. Please, it’s just not fair. No matter what’s true or isn’t, even if it was all positive – it’s just, it’s private stuff.” She fidgeted even more. 

“I, I apologize,” he finally said, after a silence of a minute or so. “I should never have put you on the spot like that. Please, please forgive me. I did not mean to give you so much discomfort.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Don’t, uh, you don’t have to call me sir.” 

“All right,” she said. 

“Friends, then?” 

“Friends.” They shook hands. 

=/= 

Charles Tucker III’s Personal log, October twenty-seven, 2037 

I’m trying to dictate this while T’Pol is sleeping, but I bet she can hear me no matter what I do, but I will say this anyway. 

I can’t believe today. I never thought I could be so happy. 

=/= 

Walter Woods’s Personal log, October twenty-seven, 2037 

I asked Diana out. And, well, things did not go quite as I expected. I was shot down, but not for the usual reason. It turns out that she is gay. I had no idea, and I bet no one else knew, either. Of course I won’t say anything. That’s for her to tell, and not me. 

It’s funny, she told me to go talk to her roommate, Ingrid, even after I guess, well, I was clutching at straws and I tried to see if she would at least agree to maybe trying to be together if there was no one else. This is so damned depressing. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, October twenty-seven, 2037 

Well, I am constantly putting my foot in it, it seems. I feel like I have offended Ensign O’Day, by asking her about any rumors about my sexuality. She refused to answer, and rightly so. 

I apologized, but I shall send a letter as well. 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, October twenty-seven, 2037 

I can’t believe Malcolm Reed asked me if anyone thinks he’s gay. I didn’t answer, but people do think that. 

I don’t want to be offensive, and the whole thing feels really uncomfortable. He’s a nice person, and this shouldn’t be a negative, but people are still cruel and childish sometimes.

What I didn’t tell him is that I’m one of those people who thinks that he’s gay. 

=/= 

Phlox’s Personal log, October twenty-seven, 2037 

I shall continue with crew physicals over the course of the next few days. I am over halfway finished. 

There have been no more big revelations of feelings of depression, but that may come in time. Crewman Shapiro seems to be doing a bit better on the new drug regimen. 

No one has come to me yet regarding relations with Xindi sloth women. As for my own potential reproductive issues, and those of Commanders T’Pol and Tucker, I do not yet have any progress to report, but it hasn’t been too much time yet. We shall see.

When Lili woke up the following morning, her PADD was flashing. “Huh,” she said, as she padded over to her desk. Her roommate, Sophie Creighton, was still sleeping. But it was very early, a necessity in Lili’s line of work. 

“Malcolm Reed, huh,” she whispered as she walked into the little bathroom. She read as she cleaned her teeth and combed her hair. 

Dear Ensign O’Day, 

I wish to apologize, again, for pushing you to reveal such information as I inquired about yesterday. It was rather boorish of me to ask. I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my overstepping of boundaries. You were quite correct when you characterized me as standoffish. 

I also wanted to thank you for how thoughtful you have been regarding steering me toward dairy-free foods. I greatly appreciate your discretion in this matter. Espionage agents have naught on you when it comes to secret-keeping! 

I hope you realize that I shall keep your secret, too, regarding how you lost your parents. I consider it a sacred trust and I know it may have been difficult to confide such a thing to me, a standoffish relative stranger. You can count on me. 

Ever Onward, 

M. Reed 

She smiled at the letter. “Your mother raised you right. This was thoroughly unnecessary but polite just the same. I now have this vision of you, if there had been any real paper on board, sending this on engraved stationery.” 

“Lili!” came Sophie’s voice from outside the bathroom door. 

“Almost done, sorry,” she tied her hair back with a turquoise ribbon and opened the door. 

“Yanno,” Sophie yawned, “You talk in your sleep. And now I guess you talk to yourself, too. I can never get any sleep,” she complained. 

“Oh, sorry. Gotta go get breakfast started.” Lili got out quickly. Sophie was not the best of roommates. 

=/= 

In Sick Bay, Doctor Phlox looked over Crewman Sandra Sloane. “Anything you wish to discuss with me?” he inquired. 

“No,” she looked down her nose at him. 

“Crewman,” he explained, “depression can be signaled by a great many different symptoms. One of them is increased aggression. Now, that is more often found in men than in women, but that does not mean it’s an impossibility.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“What I am saying is, you are behaving somewhat, well, your patience appears to be sorely tested all the time, and you seem to be developing quite the attitude.” 

“Listen,” she snarled, “I’m sick of this place. And I was getting sick of it before. But now, I gotta stay. And apparently somewhere in there, I’m supposed to be getting with one of the guys on the ship. And they’re pretty much all a bunch of losers.” 

“Crewman,” Phlox begun to struggle to maintain his composure, “your behaviors are indicating to me that you have changed since coming aboard. Starfleet would not have consented to you being hired for the Enterprise if they felt that it would be such a difficult assignment for you.” 

“You’re darn right it’s difficult. And it’s only gotten worse. I hate the Expanse, I hate my superior officer,” she spat out the word superior as if it were a rotten bit of food, “I hate the selection here. Need I go on?” 

“Crewman,” he explained, “I believe that you are undergoing a bit of a personality shift. There is such a thing as a depressive personality disorder. It may have made you more critical of others than you were before. It may have thrown problems you were having into far sharper relief.” 

“I’m not depressed,” she snarled, “it’s just that everything sucks. You do know what that means; don’t you?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Then leave me alone. Don’t try to medicate it out of me or anything like that. I’ve got a right to hate this place, don’t I? Or does it have to be happy talk all the time?” 

“It does not have to be this so-called happy talk all the time,” he said, getting a little flustered despite himself, “but Crewman Sloane, your behavior, well,” he sighed, “I don’t think I need to tell you that you are often an impatient and abrasive woman.” 

“No. You don’t have to tell me that. But I do my job, right? Is that fag putting you up to this?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“My boss, Reed. Is he pushing for you to get me on drugs or something? ‘Cause he’s got his own agenda.” 

“Crewman,” Phlox did his best to will himself to remain calm, “Lieutenant Reed has nothing to do with this. This is me, as your personal physician, telling you that I feel you may have a problem, and it may be affecting your job performance and your relationship with the remainder of the crew. Furthermore, this crew’s overall morale is of the utmost importance.” 

“So their needs trump mine, is that it? You dope me into a stupor in order to keep everybody else happy?” 

“No, and no,” Phlox’s fight for his patience was becoming a losing battle, “it is more that everything is clearly magnified. I scarcely think that a person who casually tosses out such slurs would have ever been hired by Starfleet. Perhaps you had these feelings earlier, and they were being suppressed. But they don’t seem to be suppressed anymore. It’s as if you have lost some of your inhibitions in that area.” 

“I just don’t give a damn anymore,” she told him, “and I don’t really care who knows it. Can ya let me go now?” 

“We have another five minutes,” he reported. 

“Oh, c’mon!” she rolled her eyes in exasperation. 

“Your maturity level is also leaving a lot to be desired. Now, Crewman Sloane, here is a bit of non-medical advice. Take it for what it’s worth. Your behaviors and your attitude are going to spell trouble for you, sooner or later. I suggest you allow some form of treatment. This cannot stand. You could endanger everyone if you make it difficult for others to act in a team.” 

“Are you through?” 

“Yes.” 

“I better not be hearing about this from anyone else. I’ve got doctor-patient confidentiality, just like everyone else.” 

“You do,” he confirmed wearily. 

“Then you keep your mouth shut about what we talked about. Depression? I hardly think so.  There’s nothing wrong with me that getting the hell out of here won’t cure.” She left. 

He clicked around on his PADD and wrote a letter. 

Dear Captain Archer, 

I may have gotten to the bottom of who spread at least some of the rumors about some of the crew members’ sexuality. It is entirely possible that there is more than one culprit, but I wanted to share my findings regarding what I have so far. 

While I cannot reveal anything said during the course of treatment or a physical examination, I can tell you that I learned something from someone I had in for a physical. Here is a list of the seventy-two crew members I have already examined, out of the ninety-two total members of the crew. 

I am unable, under my oath as a physician, to draw your attention to any particular crew member or even provide any additional identifying information, such as gender. However, I trust this information at least whittles down your suspect list. 

In confidence, 

Phlox, MD 

=/= 

Jonathan noticed the message on his PADD but kept it to be read later. They were approaching Paradise again. “Hoshi, send a note to everyone about naming the planet Amity. Uh, give them a voting option of yes, no or write-in, okay?” 

“Sure.” 

“Oh, and get me Jenny Crossman.” 

Hoshi hit a switch. “Ready.” 

“Jennifer,” Jonathan inquired, “everything all right down there?” 

“Yes, sir,” she reported, “we had a little bump earlier due to a slight variance in the intermix ratio, but that seems to have smoothed itself out. Are you noticing any other issues?” 

“None whatsoever,” he told her, “you’re doing a great job with Commander Tucker out on his honeymoon.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Archer out.” 

His PADD flashed a few more times. More messages. “Malcolm, I’ll be in my Ready Room. You have the Bridge.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

=/= 

First there was the message from Phlox. “Man oh man,” Jonathan said to himself upon reading it, “I don’t want to be going on a witch hunt.” He shook his head and filed that information away for later. Then he opened up the next note. It was from Crewman Tracey Carter, who was in Engineering. 

Dear Captain Archer, 

I would like to formally ask for permission to move in with MACO Private Oscar Tiburón. 

Thank you. 

Sincerely, 

Tracey Carter 

“Huh, well, sure,” he murmured, “and everyone else continues to roll on without me.” 

Another note was from Joshua Rosen. 

Dear Captain Archer, 

Karin Bernstein and I would like to get married, in a Jewish ceremony, in about a month. Can you do that? 

Thanks. 

– Josh and Karin 

“You may have just solved my problem,” Jonathan said, “I guess we’ll do some more switching.” 

He composed responses to both notes, asking about the roommate situation. Tracey’s roommate would end up with Karin’s, and Oscar’s would go with Josh’s. That could work, he figured. 

The last note was from Shelby. 

Dear Captain Archer, 

There’s some flowering on the coconut palm and the orange tree that we planted on Paradise. Since there are no natural pollinators there, we’ll need to return in order to take care of that. At that time, I’d like to plant some more tropical crops, if that’s all right with you. 

Thank you. 

Yours Truly, 

Michelle Pike 

“Sounds good to me.” He composed a quick response and sent it. 

He got up and went back onto the Bridge. Malcolm was about to relinquish the captain’s chair, but he shook his head. “Hoshi, can you find a Jewish wedding ceremony in the database, and write it out so that I can read it?” 

“Of course, sir, I’ll transliterate it right away.” 

“I suppose this means that Miss Bernstein and Mister Rosen are to be wed?” Malcolm asked. 

“Yeah,” Jonathan smiled a little tightly. 

“You’ll need a glass,” Travis looked up from piloting. 

“Do they drink wine or something?” asked Jonathan. 

“They do,” he explained, “but they also break one. I went to a Jewish wedding once; it was held on a rival freighter. They said a bunch of words in Hebrew, traded rings and eventually the groom stuck a glass under his boot and broke it. Then they kissed.” 

“We’ve all got different traditions,” Hoshi said, “Oh, and I’ve got your transliteration, sir. I’ve sent it to your PADD.” 

“Thanks,” Jonathan said, “Give me a chance to read it over and then I’ll retake command, Malcolm.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

=/= 

Phlox greeted Hoshi once he saw her. “Ah, my next examination!” 

“Yes.” She hopped on a bio bed. 

He began to go over her with a handheld scanner. “A question, if I may.” 

“Sure.” 

“Would you care to go public with your diagnosis?” 

“Huh?” 

“The diagnosis of depression, Ensign. Would you, perhaps, be amenable to being more public about it?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“It’s just that I have certain crewmen who could truly use treatment, and they are not getting it. There is still, in this day and age, a stigma attached to mental health problems and their treatments. I think a public airing – and for others to see that you remain as competent as ever at your duties – could potentially help to nudge a few others to voluntarily seek treatment.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“People are suffering, Ensign. I would like very much to help them, but I can’t force them to do so.” 

“I know. It’s just, it’s a lot to ask. You’re right that people still feel there’s a stigma attached to it and all. Let me think about it, okay?” 

“Very well.” 

=/= 

At the end of the day, Hoshi sent the day’s findings over to the captain. “I guess it’s official,” he said, “A quick turn on the intercom before we change shifts, all right?” 

“Ready, sir.” 

“All hands, this is the captain. I’m pleased to announce that the more temperate planet has been named Amity. We’ll be back there in a month or so. And at that time, we’ll have another wedding. But before that, we’re off to Paradise again. Shelby informs me that it’s time to start planting. Archer out.” 

=/= 

Ethan Shapiro’s Personal log, October twenty-eight 2037 

I cannot believe she wouldn’t tell me she was engaged, and I had to hear it in an announcement from the captain! Dammit, this shouldn’t hurt me so much, not anymore. But it does. Karin, why are you with him? Why aren’t you with me? 

=/= 

Hoshi Sato’s Personal log, October twenty-eight 2037 

Today, Doctor Phlox asked me if I would go public with my depression diagnosis. I am of two minds about this. I know it would do others a great deal of good. But at the same time, I’m a little scared of what people would think of me. 

And then there’s Andrew. I like him, I do! But it’s a nonstarter. I just can’t seem to get up the guts to talk to him for more than five minutes, and always it’s about work. 

I’m a fool for waiting. Someone will grab him first, I just know it. I know that this is the depression talking, but I just feel like it’s hopeless, and like I won’t be able to say the right things, and he’d never be interested in me. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, October twenty-eight 2037 

Another wedding – this one will be a Jewish one. I’m no rabbi, but I suppose I’ll figure something out. It’ll be in a month or so, when we next return to the temperate planet, which we’ve named Amity. In the meantime, I’ll read and reread the Old Testament, and I’ll see if I can come up with something good to talk about. There’s the story of Adam and Eve, but maybe I’ll do something different. I don’t know. 

The Xindi have agreed to give us a little space, which is helpful. But I do want to have something decided fairly soon, probably near when it’s time for the wedding. Right now I am really unsure of things. Some of that will hinge on how well things are going with the plants on Paradise. Shelby says that there’s flowering on the plants we have there. And now we have to pollinate. I guess the plants, at least, will get some, eh? 

In other news, Tracey Carter will be moving in with Oscar Tiburón. So the roommates will switch, and Maryam Haroun – who was Carter’s roommate – will room with Cecily Romano, who is currently rooming with Karin Bernstein. On the men’s side of things, with Oscar Tiburón and Josh Rosen moving out, Dan Chang will be paired with Colin Myles. 

I think that’s it for the roommate shuffle. At this point, the women are starting to be taken. There are thirty-four women and the following are taken – Judy Kelly Rostov, Karin Bernstein, T’Pol, Jennifer Crossman and Tracey Carter. 

Twenty-nine to go. 

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, October twenty-eight 2037 

I better not be hearing anything from the doctor about any depression. He’s totally barking up the wrong tree there. 

I’ll go talk to Chang, maybe at that wedding. I need a diversion, something to do. Or, someone. Ha, I slay me.

Jonathan stood at the back of a makeshift canopy, which was actually four tall poles with two prayer shawls draped over them. The four poles were held by Andy Miller and Ethan Shapiro, who were wearing their own prayer shawls – tallit. At the front were Karin and Josh. She was wearing a wine-colored dress. Josh had on a full-dress uniform and was wearing a yarmulke, as were all four of the men. Karin had a tiny lacy white veil pinned to the back of her hair. 

“And now’s the time where I say a few words,” Jonathan smiled a bit.

Everyone looked encouraging, so he continued. The weather on Amity was pleasant. He could see not only the crew members on the surface, but also their Xindi sloth guests, Prala and Krivan. “I was at a bit of a loss as to what to say. See, I figured I should mention something from the Old Testament. I went hunting around because I wasn’t so sure I wanted to go to Adam and Eve for my inspiration. Josh’s name is from Joshua, who was a warrior. And it didn’t seem appropriate to talk about a battle and the walls of Jericho tumbling down.” 

Prala looked lost. Hoshi was sitting nearby and whispered, “I’ll fill you in afterwards, if you like.” 

“That would be helpful.” 

“Fortunately, Karin came to my rescue, with her middle name, which is Ruth. You may not know the Book of Ruth terribly well, but I am here to tell you that it’s a love story.” 

Josh took Karin’s hand. Ethan looked straight ahead, trying to be impassive. Andy stood there, wondering how long he’d have to stand there as his arms were getting a little tired from holding up two of the canopy poles. 

“Ruth and Orpah were from Moab, which is a country that we now know as Jordan. Our own Maryam Haroun was born there.” 

Maryam looked down, a little embarrassed at drawing the attention. 

“Ruth and Orpah married brothers. But their father-in-law died, leaving their mother-in-law a widow. And soon their husbands died as well. Naomi, their mother-in-law, wanted to return to Bethlehem. She told her two daughters-in-law to go back to their own mothers, and find new husbands, but Ruth and Orpah refused. They went along with Naomi on her journey.” 

“How far a journey was this?” whispered Krivan. 

“I don’t know,” replied Azar Hamidi, who was sitting nearby. 

“After a while, Orpah decided she couldn’t go on, so she went back home. And Naomi told Ruth to leave, too, but Ruth said no. She said, ‘entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’” He paused for a moment. “I guess Ruth was pretty stubborn, eh?” 

The assembled crew members and guests laughed a little bit. 

“They went to Bethlehem. Now, you’ve gotta understand, Ruth and Naomi were some of the poorest of the poor. They only had the clothes on their backs. And without men to support them, they were in pretty bad shape. So they relied on the charity of others. They used to do what was called gleaning. There were wealthy landowners, and the rule was that they would harvest most of their crops but would leave the corners. And then the poor people would glean – that is to say, they would harvest – the leftover grain from the corners of each parcel of land. In this way, Naomi and Ruth didn’t starve.” 

“Like the crops you wish to plant?” Prala asked Hoshi. 

“I think so, yes.” 

“Now, Ruth was a beautiful woman. And one day, one of the wealthy landowners, a man named Boaz, noticed her. And he asked around about her. One of the things he learned was that she was not just a pretty face. She was also kind and loyal, and she cared for her mother-in-law. Ruth could have just walked away, but she didn’t. Boaz also happens to be a relative of Naomi’s, so this impressed him even more.” 

“Nothing like family, eh?” Krivan commiserated. 

“Nothing,” Crewman Hamidi glanced ever so slightly in Maryam’s direction. 

“Naomi told Ruth to go to Boaz’s tent. And she did. She essentially made the first move with him. And, well, it worked out. She met her – to mix genres and metaphors and mythologies – she snagged her Prince Charming. And it was her beauty that drew his attention to her, but it was her kindness and her loyalty, her gentleness and her thoughtfulness, that kept his attention, and won him over, for I’m sure there was a lot of competition for a wealthy single man’s attentions.” 

Ethan continued staring straight ahead, avoiding looking either Josh or Karin in the eye. 

“We all see the competition. We all feel it. But there is something to be learned from this story,” Jonathan stated, “It’s that we should be able to look past the surface, and embrace those who are, deep down, truly worthwhile.” 

“Hear here,” Hoshi murmured softly. 

Jonathan began slowly intoning in Hebrew, as well as he could, and she found herself mouthing the words along with him so as to try to keep him on track. He got to the couple’s names and Andy smiled. He didn’t know much more Hebrew than Jonathan did, but this part he recognized. 

“Khana Root bat Rifka v’Itzik,” Jonathan said, “Karin Ruth, daughter of Rebecca and Ian.” 

Malcolm smiled a little to himself as he listened. 

“Yoshua ben Malka v’Adom,” Jonathan said, “Joshua, son of Melissa and Adam.” 

The vows continued and Karin walked in a circle around Josh seven times, and then he returned the favor. They drank wine, exchanged rings and then Jonathan picked up a little glass wrapped in a cloth napkin. It was an old cracked glass that Will and Lili could spare. He gave it to Josh. 

Josh set the glass down on the ground and stamped on it, hard, shattering it under his boot heel. He smiled at Karin and kissed her. Jonathan yelled out, “Mazel Tov!” as Ethan looked away, blinking, trying to get some pesky bit of dirt out of his eye. 

=/= 

At the reception, Lili served as people began to line up for barbecue. 

Private Chang was first. “Why aren’t there any cheeseburgers?” 

“’Cause they’re not kosher,” she explained, “no milk and meat can be mixed today.” 

He was about to whine but Andy Miller was right behind him. “It’s just for one meal, man.” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Well-done, uh, please.” 

“Here ya go,” she indicated, “ketchup and other fixings are over there.” She continued serving, but the line was getting longer. For some reason, things were just slow. She saw Brian Delacroix. “Do you mind helping a little?” 

“Helping how?” he asked. 

“Just, can you serve up while I cook?” 

“Sure.” 

Together, they served the guests, who stood on the line with everyone else. “Oh! You should have been served first!” Lili exclaimed when she saw Prala and Krivan. 

“Oh, that is all right,” Prala assured her, “we don’t need to be treated in any special manner.” 

“Do you like spicy things? We have mustard with whole mustard seeds, and that’s a little sharp-tasting. It’s the yellowy-orange sauce over there,” she pointed. 

“And the other?” 

“The red one is a tomato-based sauce called ketchup. It’s, um, a tiny bit tangy, but also a touch sweet. This is potato salad; it’s what’s called German style, so it’s got some of that mustard in it, and the skin is left on the potatoes.” 

“Potatoes are an animal?” Krivan asked. 

“They’re a vegetable,” Brian explained, “uh; I think they can grow in a place like this.” 

“They can,” Lili confirmed, “but these are replicated. Still, we might grow them here anyway, I don’t know. You’d have to ask Shelby. She’s in charge of all of that.” 

“And what else can grow here?” Prala asked. 

“All sorts of things, things we haven’t fed you yet,” Lili brought over a plate of medium-well burgers. “I think part of the plan is to have fruit trees growing here.” 

“We won’t bother you, seeing as how busy you are,” Prala smiled. Jay Hayes was right behind her, and he’d been waiting for a while. “Which person is this Shelby?” 

“Over there,” Brian pointed. 

The two Xindi sloths walked over to where Shelby was sitting with Andy. “May we sit with you?” asked Krivan. 

“All right,” she moved over. 

“We were curious as to what can be grown here,” Prala clarified. 

“There are four continents, as you know,” Shelby noted, “and two of them are wetter. This is one of the two drier ones. This continent is a bit like an environment on Earth called the Russian steppes. As you can see, it’s a kind of scrubland. The other dry continent is a tad warmer. On both of these, we can probably grow big grain crops like wheat and corn. We can probably get orchards going here, too, for fruits like apples and maybe peaches.” 

“And on the wetter continents?” asked Krivan. 

“Cranberry bogs and rice paddies, I’m thinking,” she mused, “But we’d start with some experiments in the beginning. At the start, it’ll probably be pretty labor-intensive, as we don’t have a combine harvester or anything like that. Plus anyone down here would have to manually pollinate the plants. We had to do that on the warmer planet, Paradise.” 

“I see,” Krivan asked, “so you would need our labor?” 

“I, uh, I don’t make that decision,” Shelby looked a tad uncomfortable. 

“Understood,” replied Prala, “thank you; this has been most educational.” 

The two Xindi sloths got up and walked a bit away. Krivan murmured, “This is a little like – do you remember? When you and I committed to each other?” 

“I was more slender then, and my hair was silkier.” 

“I have not noticed any changes,” he assured her. 

She smiled a little at that. “Can we trust these people? They are on their best behavior but I sense that they are cautious and a bit skeptical.” 

“I imagine if we were in their position, we would be equally skeptical. The question is also; would we settle to be their day laborers? Should we not strive for more?” 

=/= 

On the NX-01, T’Pol sat in the captain’s chair as Chris Harris piloted the craft. “Have we readings from the surface?” she asked. 

“We do,” Aidan, looked at his console. “So far, all of the biosigns are remaining very close together. It doesn’t look like the Xindi are breaking off to go too far away.” 

“Then perhaps they are not privately speaking of us,” T’Pol concluded. “Mister Masterson, get me main Engineering.” 

“Ready,” Chip replied. 

“Mister Tucker,” she reported, “it appears that the Xindi are remaining with the party and are not wandering off, as you had feared.” 

“Oh, huh,” he was a little distracted, “thanks for checkin’ that out for me. I can’t help being cautious about ‘em. Tucker out.” 

“Continue monitoring, Mister MacKenzie,” she commanded. 

“Of course.” 

=/= 

Ethan Shapiro’s Personal log, November eighteenth, 2037 

I got through it. It’s funny. I wasn’t in love with her before, not before we were tossed back to 2037, like just so much gefilte fish. 

And now I am, and it’s too late. I don’t really know what to do. I suppose I could write bad poetry and try my hardest to be mopey. Or I could get with one of the other women, maybe, I don’t know. 

I don’t think the medication is working at all. I just want to die. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, November eighteenth, 2037 

Another woman is off the table, for good, I imagine. 

It amused me a little, to hear that her father’s name is – or was, or I suppose will be – that it is Ian. For I have never liked the name Malcolm. I would change my name to Ian if I could. Perhaps I could reinvent myself, if I didn’t have so much of this bloody emotional baggage. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, November eighteenth, 2037 

We had another wedding today. That’s the third. I guess there will be another thirty or so. 

There were two Xindi sloths there. I’m not so sure I trust them. They seem nice, but it just feels too soon. I don’t know why they attacked Earth in the first place, but my understanding is that they have a representative government. So somebody had to vote for the attack. To my mind, that means that there are some underlying thoughts against people like us. Is it prejudice? I don’t know. 

I don’t see how people can be thinking about weddings when they are still a threat. 

The other threat – maybe – is those big beasts we saw the last time we were on Amity. We didn’t see any today, but we weren’t on one of the wetter continents, either. We’re going to go back down soon, and I’ll be sure I’m in that landing party. We need to know what we’re up against. Maybe it’s nothing. But we need to know. I can’t be thinking about girls or anything like that until that’s more settled. 

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, November eighteenth, 2037 

I need a hook-up soon. I am so bored. 

=/= 

Brian Delacroix’s Personal log, November eighteenth, 2037 

Lili had me help her serve today. It was kinda fun. I know there’s an opening for someone to apprentice under her and Chef. I’m considering whether I want to do that. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, November eighteenth, 2037 

Well, I made it through all right. We’ll go back down to the surface soon, to see what’s up with those beasts. Once we’ve got that settled, we can start to think about planting. 

I am still cautious about the Xindi sloths, but so far, so good. I hope we can work with them.

0417 hours. 

Tracey Carter lay in the two shoved-together beds in the quarters she was sharing with Oscar Tiburón. She was tentatively trying to decide whether to wake up for real. 

It was quiet, and it was disgustingly early. The night shift was still working. Even the sous-chef wasn’t up yet. Tracey lay there, smelling Oscar’s lime aftershave and, while it wasn’t unpleasant, it was making her stomach a little iffy. 

She’d been that way for a few days already, but had dismissed it, as it hadn’t been bad, and she figured it was some small stomach bug and not really anything to talk to Phlox about. 

Oscar. His very name made her laugh. It always sounded so silly to her. He had found her laughter charming and cute, and kissed her laughing and then there had been more, much more, and it had gotten … serious. 

But his name had still made her laugh, so they had worked out a nickname. Osc had not worked, but Osh – rhymes with Josh – had. And so they had become Trace and Osh, or Osh and Trace, and had lived together for close to a month. 

He would get up in the mornings and work out, and she would hustle off to Engineering, and they would share lunch when they could and dinner every night, and then the rest of their evenings, as they more or less abandoned their friends for each other. She smiled a little, grateful for his company, and enjoying his presence, but then he rolled ever so slightly and suddenly his lime aftershave and his apple shampoo and peppermint lip balm all assaulted her nostrils and she ran to the little bathroom and lost the previous night’s Chicken Teriyaki. 

“Sick Bay, Sick Bay,” she whispered to herself, wiping her mouth. It was still incredibly early. This was, possibly, worse than a minor stomach bug. She’d have to tell Tucker. Later. At that moment – 0420 hours – all she could think of was Sick Bay. 

She threw a jumpsuit on over just panties, not even bothering with the undershirt, bra and all of that. It just seemed like too much trouble, and she felt too hot for all of that jazz anyway. She inched along, clutching the wall like a drunken sailor. 

She got to Sick Bay and Phlox greeted her with the all-too-wide Denobulan grin. That made her run to his bathroom and lose the previous evening’s side salad. She emerged. “I have this stomach bug.” 

“I see,” he replied, “Let’s take a scan, shall we?” 

She was still very tentative, and he ended up helping her onto the scanner bed. The doors to Sick Bay swished open as the bed began slowly sliding her into the scanner. It was Osh. 

“What’s going on?” he asked as soon as he got in, his voice betraying his concern. 

Phlox didn’t answer; he just clicked on a PADD and observed the readings on the scanner. All Tracey could think at that moment was Phlox’s utter lack of bedside manner. She wanted to be told everything would be all right or at least for Osh to be told that. 

The bed began reversing and, as soon as her hand was available, Osh took it and held it. “I’m right here, Baby,” he rolled his R ever so slightly. 

They both looked up. “I have your findings. Look at the readout,” Phlox pointed up. 

It was a picture of a tiny thing, shaped a little like an almond or a kidney bean. “Cancer?” asked Osh, alarmed. 

“No!” the doctor smiled again, the expression threatening to split his face, “That is your baby.” 

“Whoa,” was all that Osh could say. 

“I guess I should’ve taken the birth control shot,” Tracey stated. 

“It would only be right if we were to marry,” Osh declared. 

“Is that a proposal?” 

“I guess so.” 

“Okay, then.” 

=/= 

The cafeteria at dinner hour was filled with buzzing about Osh and Trace and the as-yet unnamed almond. “Almendra,” Osh decided, “we can call the little one Almendra until we know the sex.” 

“What does that mean?” Tracey asked. 

“Almond,” Hoshi leaned in, “Congratulations!” 

“Thanks,” Tracey replied, “I still can’t believe it. I wonder how we’ll work all of it.” 

“It’s just the first day,” Osh told her, “no need to figure out logistics yet, right?” 

“You’re right,” Tracey nodded, still a bit tentative, “Let’s just enjoy today.” 

At a nearby table, Andy Miller and Ethan Shapiro were having dinner. “You doin’ okay, bro?” asked Andy. 

“Me? Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

“Whaddaya think of them?” Andy gestured to Tracey and Osh. 

“I think she didn’t get the shot, or something. Ya gotta figure it’s a little unexpected.” 

“Maybe, but they seem to be okay with it. Uh, and about yesterday, uh, how are you doing?” 

“Don’t ask.” 

They ate in silence for a while. Andy looked up and noticed something else, and it made him fidget a bit. “What’s wrong with you?” Ethan asked. 

“Don’t turn around too fast,” Andy cautioned, “just be cool, man, and look right behind you.” 

Ethan did so. “So that’s Sandra Sloane. So?” 

“So she’s giving the look.” 

“The what?” 

“The look. You know.” 

“No, I have no idea what you’re going on about, Miller.” 

“Sheesh, hasn’t a woman ever given you the look?” 

“Not me.” 

“C’mon!” 

“Drop it.” 

“All right,” Andy allowed, “but I can’t be playing games with this, anyway, I’ve got a date with a book; Phlox is pushing me to learn some of his simpler tasks. See ya.” He bussed his tray and left. 

Ethan continued looking out the window, and about jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “What the –?” 

“Hi.” It was Sandra. “This seat taken?” 

“Uh, no.” 

“Bored?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. 

“Wanna do something about it?” 

“Me?” 

“You could bring your friend.” 

“Er, um,” he made a face, “I don’t think so.” 

“Then just you.” 

“Now?” 

“Yeah. Now.” 

=/= 

They were walking down the hall to her quarters when Ethan realized – Tracey Carter! “Uh, we better stop at Sick Bay.” 

“Sick Bay? Why?” asked Sandra. 

“To get the birth control shot.” 

“I’ve already gotten one.” 

He continued following her and then realized – no. He’d better get his own shot. “This’ll only take a second,” he turned in the direction of Sick Bay. 

“You don’t trust me.” 

“It’s, well,” he didn’t, but she didn’t need to hear that, “it’s that I hardly think we want two unplanned pregnancies on the NX-01 in the same week, right?” 

“Sure,” she replied, and he got the distinct impression that she was already getting bored with him. 

The Sick Bay doors swished open and Phlox looked up. “Ah, Crewman Shapiro! Are you here for your hypralonine  injection?” 

“Uh, no,” Ethan stated quickly, as Sandra walked in behind him. The door had been open, and perhaps she had heard the doctor. “I’m here for a birth control shot.” 

“Oh.” Phlox went to prepare a hypo. 

=/= 

In Sandra’s quarters, her communicator chirped. She answered it, only saying, “Get lost, and stay lost.” 

“Who was that?” 

“Nobody.” 

He moved to kiss her but she rebuffed him. “Huh?” he asked. 

“No need,” she pulled down the front zipper on his uniform. 

“I like to kiss women,” Ethan told her, “Particularly if, er ….” 

“Oh honestly,” she snapped, “It’s not like we’re doing this for love or anything sappy like that.” 

“But …” 

“I’m not her, yanno,” She stripped him down to nothing and he stood there, aroused but feeling more than a little bit exposed. 

“How?” 

“How do I know? Sheesh, everybody knows, it’s totally freakin’ obvious.” He did not make a move to take off her clothes so she did that herself. “Well?” 

He stared for a few seconds. She was definitely hot, but he had a feeling in his gut that it was wrong, all too wrong. “I, I can’t do this.” 

“What?” 

“I said –” 

“I heard you,” She found his things and threw them at him. “Get out.”

 “Huh?” 

“I said, out.” 

He began to put on his shorts – he was still, inconveniently, rather aroused – and she hit the panel to get the door to open, even though she was still naked, and he very nearly was. “Get! But remember this when all of us are taken, and you’re all alone. None of those Xindi women will look like me, or like her.” Sophie Creighton and Ingrid Nyqvist were walking nearby. They stopped and stared a little. 

Sandra smacked the door panel again to close it and flipped open her communicator. “Get over here,” she commanded, “I am so horny.” 

In the hall, Ethan put on enough clothes to be decent and, carrying the remainder, ran, redfaced, back to the safety of his quarters. 

=/= 

Ethan Shapiro’s Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037 

I had no idea I could possibly feel worse. Well, so much for that. I most definitely feel worse than I did before. 

I almost – almost – hooked up with Sandra. I am not that sort of a person, really. I don’t go around using women for sex. I am not like that. 

But I was angry, and hurt, and lonely, and when she gave me the eye, I went for it. And then, oh man! It was, I get the feeling this is what it’s like to be with a prostitute. Because she didn’t want to kiss, and didn’t want to do foreplay, and I got the distinct impression that she couldn’t wait for it to be over with. 

I left her, or rather, she threw me out; it was a bit of both. And she screamed at me, and there were people in the hallway and of course they must have heard. 

Who am I kidding? They heard. So I’ll be the focus of Rumor Central. Karin, I know, will hear. I’m certain that this little escapade hasn’t done me a damned bit of good with her. Not that that would have happened. She’s married to Josh now. I have to accept that. 

=/= 

Tracey Carter’s Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037 

Osh and I will get married soon. Almendra and I are doing quite nicely. I love him. We’re gonna be a family. 

=/= 

Maryam Haroun’s Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037 

My roommate, well, my old roommate, Tracey, she is with child. And not married yet! This is not how I was raised, though I am happy for her and for Oscar. 

They will wed soon. She has asked me to stand up for her, and I will, although the wedding will be a Catholic one. 

And it reminds me, again, of how delayed everything is. I know that Doctor Phlox is not my kinsman. And he is busy with physical examinations for all, not just my two potential suitors. But I am a little dismayed. I want to be a wife, and I want to be a mother. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037 

We’ll return to the surface of Amity and see about planting crops. Tripp and Jennifer have refitted a shuttle with what can only be described as a large rake. 

As for working with the Xindi, Major Hayes recommends investigating those beasts a bit more, and I agree with him. They may or may not be sentient. It’s hard to tell from a distance. The planting will occur on one of the drier continents – we really need to name those continents already – so we shouldn’t run into the beasts. 

Scafen  and Ketton will come along with the Major, Andrew, Travis and a few other MACOs, and they’ll check out the beasts while Shelby supervises Chris Harris and the, I guess it’s sowing. 

The other big thing of note is that there is finally a first pregnancy. Tracey Carter and Oscar Tiburón will become parents. Phlox thinks it’ll be in August of next year or so.

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037 

The evening was almost a total bust but it was salvaged. Good thing I’ve always got a backup. 

And Shapiro is such a lovesick loser! But have I got a juicy tidbit about him! He’s on hypralonine. I looked it up. It’s a powerful anti-depressant. I bet everyone will find that really interesting.

Both shuttles landed on Amity at almost the same time. One went to one of the drier continents, and it contained Shelby with Chris Harris, Nyota Warren, Ethan Novakovich and MACO Walter Woods. 

Shelby got out first, and Walter was right behind her. “We should really name these continents,” she asked, “What would you name a continent, if you could?” 

“Me?” 

“You’re as likely a person as any to do the naming. So have at it.” 

“Huh,” he thought for a moment, “this is the north dry one, right?” 

“Yep.” The others got out of the shuttle, except for Chris. 

“Well, what’s dry north in Latin?” he asked. 

“Let’s ask Hoshi when we get back. Actually, maybe we can name all of them that way,” Nyota suggested. 

She and Ethan unfolded and attached the big rake to the back of the shuttle. “Okay, Chris!” Shelby called out, “Ready to go!” 

He gave her the thumbs up and took off. He took a low pass over a flat area and the rake hit the ground and plowed it in fairly neat rows. When he was done, he landed nearer to where they were. 

Then they removed a few sacks of seeds from the back of the shuttle. All five of them strewed the seeds, trying to get them inside the plowed furrows. Once they were done, Chris got back in the shuttle and lifted off. He made another pass with the rake and then landed again. Then the five of them manually turned over more of the dirt in order to cover up any seeds that they could see. 

Finally, Walter and Nyota removed the rake and folded it back up. They placed it into the back of the shuttle while Shelby and Ethan set up a camera. 

When all five of them were in the shuttle, Chris took off again. “So,” he asked, “what do we do now?” 

“Pray for rain,” Shelby quipped. 

=/= 

The other shuttle landed on a wetter continent and contained Jay Hayes, Travis Mayweather, Andy Miller, Scafen, Ketton and two MACOs – Julie McKenzie and Brad Moreno. 

“How very curious,” Scafen remarked as soon as he disembarked. “Have you noticed these holes in the ground?” 

“We have,” Andy confirmed, “and in some places, they seem to be pretty uniform, as if whatever made them meant to do that.” 

“Perhaps it – or they – did mean it,” Ketton opined. 

“Look, over there,” Jay pointed. Julie and Brad raised their phase rifles and looked through their scopes. 

“What are we looking for?” Scafen asked. 

“One of the big beasts, it’s over there,” Julie replied. 

“Come with me,” Jay said to Brad. The two of them jogged over toward the beast. 

“Everybody else, stay here,” Julie cautioned. 

=/= 

Several meters away, Jay and Brad came up close to the beast. “Keep your rifle down unless threatened,” Jay commanded, “We don’t know anything about intelligence or intentions.” He held out his universal translator, but it wasn’t helping one iota. 

Then, they saw it. The beast stepped, apparently, into one of the holes, which were too small for an adult human’s foot but seemed to fit the beast’s feet perfectly. It fell, gracelessly, to the ground. 

They rushed closer. The beast had how many legs? Twelve? Fourteen? It struggled a little. Brad raised his rifle, to dispatch it. “No, wait,” Jay commanded, “We’ll see what happens to it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

They waited for a few minutes and then there was a bit of a clapping and a chattering sound, which seemed to be coming from the ground. 

Then all around them, creatures began crawling out of the little holes in the ground. 

They were small, and seemed to be ignoring Jay and Brad, at least for the moment. They were odd little things, also with, perhaps, a dozen legs, but their backs were a lot like clam shells. The creatures didn’t seem to have heads, unless those were enclosed in the shells, or maybe those were the shells. 

They gathered around the fallen beast and there was a lot of clapping and what seemed to be chatter. “They’re talking about it, sir,” Brad concluded. 

“Maybe,” Jay replied cautiously, “it might be more like dogs barking or something like that.” 

Then one of them – the leader? – It maneuvered over to the side of the big beast and clapped its shell loudly.  A few others came over and appeared to try to hold down one of the beast’s freer legs. When the leg was held down, the first one positioned its shell and closed it on the side of the beast’s leg. In a few seconds, the beast stopped struggling. 

“What did it just do?” 

“I think it poisoned the big thing,” Jay guessed, “or maybe it cut off some vital artery or something. I dunno.” 

The little clamshell creatures set about clapping their shells on the beast’s legs and it was obvious that they were snipping away pieces of it. Others came and took away the pieces, bringing them into the holes. At one point, the one leg that had been held in the ground was released, and it, too, was cut up. The little creatures snipped away everything but what could only be described as the beast’s torso, although it was somewhat shapeless and didn’t seem to have a coherent structure. The big beast appeared to be an invertebrate. 

“Cover me,” Jay commanded, “and make sure they don’t pinch me with a shell. We don’t know if their poison – or whatever it is – can work on us.” He leaned over and, taking a knife out of a zippered pocket, cut off a piece of the big carcass’s torso and stuffed it into a small bag and then into a  pocket. The clamshell aliens scattered, all of them rushing down the holes. 

“Should we try to catch one of the little guys, you think?” Brad asked. 

“We’ll get Miller or one of the other science people back here with some sort of safer sample cage. Until then, we’d better leave the little guys alone. C’mon, let’s go back.” 

=/= 

Back with the others, they reported their findings. “Yeah, Andy would be the right person to check on that, or maybe Diana or Ethan N.,” Shelby speculated, “But, weird. It’s almost like the big guys are the cows or the deer and the little guys are the wolves.” 

“Yeah,” Jay allowed as they took off, “maybe.” 

“I don’t understand your analogy, of course,” Scafen said, “Do you think they will pose a danger to the plantings on the northern continent?” 

“No way to tell,” Jay said, “Right now, I’m guessing no, ‘cause I don’t think we’ve seen those holes anywhere where it isn’t really swampy. The little guys, they might like the water, or even need it for something.” 

“Probably for reproduction,” Shelby speculated, “but maybe also for easier to find food. The big guys might be some big hunt, a special treat, that kind of thing. The little jobs might mainly live off smaller stuff, like the equivalent of plankton. Of course I’m just speculating.” 

=/= 

Back at the NX-01, Andy caught up with Jay. “I understand you have something for me,” he said. 

“Oh, yeah, here,” Jay gave him the bag. “It’s all I could safely get. You should go back with a secure cage and grab a few of the little clam guys and study them. But bring along a couple of my people and be careful – we think they’re poisonous or something. They took down a thing that was maybe a thousand times bigger than them, and it looked like it was with just one bite, or what you could call a bite.” 

“Yeah, I probably should capture a live one. And, uh, thanks.” He walked over to the Bio Lab as Jay returned to his own quarters. 

=/= 

In the Bio Lab, Andy looked at the sample a few times under a microscope. “I wish you were bigger, or more complete, Mister Sample.” 

In the lens, he could see greenish and bluish streaks, striations that might have been muscle or skin or even something related to digestion. It was impossible to tell for sure, but it was rife with a toxin. He ran some of it through a centrifuge and awaited a chemical analysis. 

The door swished open and he jumped. “Shelby! You should knock or something.” 

“Oh, sorry, I just got a little excited.” 

“About today’s events? Didn’t you just plant a bunch of seeds?” 

“I did, but, do you ever look at the camera work from Paradise?” 

“No, sorry, I don’t.”

“Here,” she started to fiddle with her PADD, “I’ll show you.” It was a picture of the camera feed from the hotter planet. The feed showed the two plants that had been ceremoniously interred back in August of that year. 

“What am I looking at?” he asked. 

“Here,” she pointed at a small green orb on the screen. 

“What is that?” 

“It’s a little orange. It’s not ripe yet or anything, but, check it out!” She adjusted the settings and zoomed in. 

His jaw about hit the floor. “Oh, my God! That is an orange! Shelby, this is excellent!” 

“Yeah!” she yelled, a little loudly, “We’re gonna be parents!” 

She lunged over and hugged him, and he hugged back, and then suddenly he turned to face her and she was smiling so broadly and so freely and so happily that he had to kiss her. 

He pulled back after a second, and they both laughed a little with nervousness. “I, uh,” he stammered, “Maybe that was too much.” He realized he still had his hand on her waist. He removed it. 

“No, that was good.” This time she initiated the kiss. 

=/= 

“Julie!” Travis called after her. 

“Yes?” 

“Thanks for coming along today.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she told him, “the outings are kinda fun.” 

“I was, uh, wondering,” he said, “do you like looking at star maps?” 

“Huh?” 

“You know, the maps and stuff.” 

“I prefer looking at the stars themselves,” she replied. 

“If you, uh, if you like, maybe I could show you on a PADD a map of where I’ve been, and we could look out the window of the Observation Lounge and I could point some of those places out to you tonight.” 

“Are you asking me out, Travis?” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all,” she smiled, “I think it’ll be fun. In fact, I’m sure it will be.” 

=/= 

Andrew Miller’s Personal log, November twenty-third, 2037 

I had not thought of Shelby this way before. I should have. She’s great. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, November twenty-third, 2037 

Captain Archer says I’ll be going back to Amity soon. This time, we’ll make sure the big beasts aren’t sentient, and then we’ll see if we can bring one back, probably dead as I don’t think it’ll fit inside a shuttle and we have no idea what beaming it up would do to it. Plus Miller will come down and see if he can grab a few of those – I guess you’d call them little clam guys. It’s funny. We go to alien worlds and sometimes we just don’t expect them to be quite so, well, alien. 

Silly humans, eh? 

=/= 

Julie McKenzie’s Personal log, November twenty-third, 2037 

Travis and I are going to go look at the stars soon, if yanno what I mean. 

=/= 

Hoshi Sato’s Personal log, November twenty-third, 2037 

Nyota asked me for some likely Latin names for the continents on Amity. I came up some that we can vote on. For the northern dry continent, Aquilasicca; this means north and dry. For the southern continent – which is wet – Meridia, which just means south. For the eastern wet continent, maybe Imperia, which means empire. After all, it’s like the empire for those like clam guys. And for the last continent, which is more westerly and is dry, how about Tritica? That means wheat, which is where Shelby and the others are going to plant wheat. The other one’s been sown with corn and rye. 

As for the wildlife, I have a few ideas about those. Maybe Procul for the big guys – it means faraway, and God knows we are far from anything and everything familiar. As for the little poisonous clams? Malostrea. I’m particularly happy with that one. It means evil oyster.

“Turkey’s in!” yelled Lili as she banged shut two of the oven doors. She sat down for the moment. 

Craig walked in. “You wanted to see me?” 

“Yeah,” she replied, “let’s see if we can pass off some of the replicated food today.” 

“For Thanksgiving?” 

“Well, why not?” 

“Yeah, okay. We can make raw vegetables.” 

“Crudités.” 

“Crudities.” 

“No, silly, crudités!” she enunciated. 

“I can’t speak French at all,” he went over to fiddle with the replicator. 

“Ah, well, you see, I am half-French.” 

“O’Day is a French name?”

“No, Ducasse is.” 

“Ah, I see. Well, Willets is Willets – we’re just English or something, I dunno. Do you want me to make shrimp?” 

“Sure, but maybe later. It’ll be a few hours before the turkey’s done. Maybe let’s start with a nice pumpkin purée.” 

“Are we running out of turkey?” he asked.

“Well, it’s only a finite supply. I do hope you can make something taste a bit like turkey. I hear they’re going to go back to Amity and try to bring down one of those big guys.”

“Procul,” he clarified, “we voted on the names, remember?”

“Yeah, the procul. I guess Andy and some of the other Science folks will check it out. Maybe they’ll hand me the leftovers. Procul stew, anyone?” 

“I dunno,” he mumbled. 

Will walked in. “Do we have pie yet?” 

“Nothing yet,” she reported, “I’ll make pumpkin soon; I just wanted to get my bearings.” 

“Okay, and let’s make a pecan pie, all right?” 

“Sure thing, Will. Do uh, do you think we’ll get any of that procul beast to try to cook it?” she asked. 

“What?” 

“The procul. I understand they’re going to probably shoot one tomorrow and then it’ll be analyzed.” 

“Aren’t those things poisonous?” asked Will. 

“I think only the little clam guys – er, malostrea – are, sir,” explained Craig. 

“Huh. Well, Miller or whoever analyzes them had better be certain. We don’t want to be poisoning anyone.” 

“Of course not,” Lili looked over at Craig, “Ah, pumpkin purée! Let’s see how that tastes before I start making pies. Grab a spoon, Will.” 

=/= 

The chow line started early. It was all Lili could do to keep up. Brian came over. “Here, let me help you.” 

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver! There are rolls in the warmer; could you refill the basket and maybe get more clean plates?” She turned back to serving before even waiting for him to acknowledge her instructions. 

Plates piled high with turkey, chestnut stuffing, mashed potatoes with the skin on, cranberry sauce, asparagus with slivered almonds, carrots with an orange and dill sauce and, of course, gravy. Side salads were heaping, as bowls of lettuces, tomatoes and walnut halves were topped with gorgonzola cheese and vinaigrette, or just vinaigrette if a diner was vegan or keeping kosher. 

Captain Archer abandoned the captain’s mess and entered the cafeteria. He got in line with the others but they parted and let him get to the beginning of the line. “No, no,” he insisted, “I’ll just wait,” he stood at the front of the line but let others pass ahead of him. 

Then Tracey and Oscar arrived and he called her over. “You first,” the captain commanded. 

“Me?” 

“You’re eating for two, right?” 

“I can still wait to eat, captain!” 

“I know,” Jonathan stated, “I just wanted to do a little something for you, okay?” 

“Okay. Will you be okay with a Latin mass?” asked Oscar. 

“I’ll try,” Jonathan told them, “we even have a special communion host for you.” 

“No wafers?” asked Oscar. 

“I made you something,” Lili explained, “I understand that it just needs to be blessed and then you’re good to go. After all, wasn’t the bread in the Last Supper matzoh anyway?” 

“Probably,” allowed Oscar, “uh, more of the dark meat, please.” 

“You got it.” 

=/= 

Captain Archer disappeared back into the captain’s mess after being served. He waited for Tripp and T’Pol to join him. 

“This is such a curious holiday,” she opined, “It is not religious, yet it has some of the earmarks of faith.” 

“That’s true,” Tripp confirmed, “we didn’t pray before meals, except on Turkey Day. I guess we just wanted to really express our gratitude.” 

“Is the slaughter of the turkey necessary?” 

“Well, not really,” Jonathan explained, “I bet some of the crew didn’t have turkey on Thanksgiving before, um, before. You’re not the only vegan crew member.” 

“True, but it seems to be a necessity for many of them. What will they do when there is no more turkey?” 

Jonathan stopped in mid-bite. “I guess we’ll just improvise.” 

=/= 

Sandra was sitting with Lili’s roommate, Sophie, and a bunch of other single women, not too far from a table that was packed with male MACOs. The cafeteria was really crowded, as people had brought in extra chairs, and some of them were seated on desk chairs or Bio Lab stools or the like. She complained, “It’s like cheek by jowl in here. A little too much togetherness.” 

“I think the night shift is here,” Sophie buttered a roll, “I wonder who’s flying the ship.”

“It’s on auto,” Ingrid quipped, “Or maybe the Xindi are driving.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sandra seethed, “they give me the creeps. Not unlike some others.” 

“Do tell,” Sophie pressed.

“Well, it’s just that some people are just, oh …” her voice trailed off. 

“Oh, don’t mind me;” said Rex Ryan, one of the MACOs, turning around and eavesdropping. “I’m just here for the scenery.” 

“Aren’t you, like, married or going out or something?” asked Victoria. 

“Me? Ha, no.” 

“I dunno where I got that idea, Ryan,” Shari sniffed. 

“I suppose I could,” Rex suggested, “marry you, or Sophie, or maybe Colleen, eh?” 

“In your dreams,” Sandra replied sharply. 

“’Scuse me, Miss I’m Too Good for you. Ladies,” he turned back to his friends. 

“What was that all about?” asked Tara. 

“He thinks he’s God’s gift,” Sandra complained, “they all do. But then there are the others. You know, they wouldn’t know what to do if you waved it in their faces.” 

“Virgins?” asked Ingrid. 

“Probably,” Sandra sneered, “I mean, get a load of,” she lowered her voice a little, “Shapiro over there. Pining for what’s-her-face. That ship has sailed, Bub! He, like, he was ridiculous. And that’s not the worst of it.” She pointed at Ethan, who was sitting with Andrew and Shelby and trying, unsuccessfully, not to stare at Karin. 

“Well, you talked about the Brit,” Sophie nodded, “sheesh. Totally closeted.” They all murmured agreement, seemingly knowing, as Malcolm got to the front of the line and didn’t hear them. 

“Uh, are the potatoes made with milk?” he asked Lili. 

“And butter, too, sorry. But hang on a second.” She disappeared in the back for a moment, and returned with a plain baked potato on a little plate and a small ramekin. 

“Don’t tell anybody,” she whispered to him, dumping the potato on his plate. 

He smiled and took the little ramekin – it had the odds and ends of bacon in it – and dumped its contents over the potato. “You always know the right thing. You’re rather good at your job.” 

“I try. Remember – tell no one.” 

“Understood, and I thank you.” 

=/= 

Back at the single women’s table, they were still looking Malcolm over. “Man, that waitress! She’s in for a surprise, eh?” Victoria quipped, and they all laughed. 

“You don’t have to live with her,” Sophie complained, “she talks in her sleep. Constantly.” 

“What does she talk about?” Tara asked. 

“Guys,” Sophie revealed, “I mean, she must be the most frustrated dried-up old spinster there is! And then when she’s awake she covers it up and talks about food. Again, constantly. So boring.” 

“We should switch,” Sandra suggested, “I’m living with Haddon, the Queen of the Dykes. See her over there, with Masterson? He’s another one in for a surprise, eh?” 

MACO Frank Todd turned around this time. “And what do you have to say about us?” 

“You?” Sandra looked him up and down. “You might be good for something. But you’ll have to get in line. This stuff’s rarer and finer than your turkey dinner, Soldier.” 

“Actually, I hear you give it away. A lot,” he said. 

“You want some o’ this?” she laughed, “Well you can’t get any.” She turned back to her friends and they all joined her in laughter. 

He turned back to his table for a second, ready to finish eating, and then thought better of it. “Rex, pick up my tray. And yours, too. In fact, everyone, pick up your trays,” he said to the other MACOs – Woods, Moreno, Brown and Forbes. 

“What are you doing, man?” asked Forbes. 

“Something that shoulda been done a long time ago,” Todd replied. He got up. 

He clambered up until he was standing on the table. He was already tall, and had to stoop slightly so as to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. Everyone stopped what they were doing and quieted down, even the women at Sandra’s table. 

He spoke, loudly projecting. “My name is Franklin Thomas Todd. And while it is nobody’s goddamned business, except for the people I care about, and who care about me, I want you all to know that I am a gay man. I don’t hide. I am not ashamed. I am who I am, and being gay is as much a part of me as having a tattoo on my bicep, or brown eyes or being from Europa originally.” 

He cleared his throat a little before continuing. “I say this to tell others, don’t be afraid, and don’t be ashamed. And I say this to tell some that their rumors and their speculations, they might be wrong. And they are hurtful so much of the time. We are grownups, are we not? Then let’s start acting like them. Let’s put aside these childish whisper games and act like men and women. Let’s remember that we are MACOs, or we are Starfleet, and we are all members of the NX-01’s crew. And we should be acting like the pride of the fleet, and not some middle school.” 

He stood there quietly for a second. “I am hearing slurs about people. I am hearing innuendo. I am hearing anger and thoughtlessness and nastiness. I am hearing haughtiness and pettiness. I am hearing people who are being divisive, when we should be pulling together with even more strength and caring than we were before. There are some people here, it’s true, who probably won’t find somebody. But we don’t have to go around rubbing their noses in it, or treating them like pariahs. Today is Thanksgiving.”

He didn’t even hear the swish of the door opening between the cafeteria and the captain’s mess. Jonathan, Tripp and T’Pol had apparently heard, and had opened the door so as to hear him better. 

“Today is; it’s a day when we’re supposed to be coming together as, as people. We’re supposed to be kinder to each other. We don’t have to love each other, although I think a lot of us will. I hope everybody finds some peace even if they don’t find love. And I hope we can be kinder and sweeter to each other, from, from now on. Because I hate what I’ve been hearing. And I don’t ever want to hear it again. You wanna talk that way? Then you shut up about it whenever I’m in the room. Because I do not want to hear it ever again.” 

He caught his breath and caught the captain’s eye. Jonathan slowly started applauding. Most of the rest of the crew joined in, although not all of them. Sheepishly, Frank got off the table. Lili came over and wiped down the table with a rag. “Hang on a second,” she told him. 

She disappeared into the back and brought out the two kinds of pies. “First choice of dessert for a very brave man.” 

“I’ll, um, I’ll take the pumpkin, thanks.” 

=/= 

In the hallway after dinner, Frank walked away as fast as he could. He hated being the center of attention. That was not his job; he was there to take orders, and not to give them, at least at that stage of his career. But he had had all he could take, and more. 

“Todd!” he heard his name again, and spun around. 

“What?” 

“I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate what you said.” It was Dave Constantine. 

“Yeah, um, thanks.” 

“It’s ‘cause I am, too, and those women, they, they’ve made it hard to just come out and be done with it. They make it seem like it’s wrong, like it’s just another bit of fodder for their jokes and their, what did you call that?” 

“Whisper games.” 

“Yeah, good expression. I, um, tell me more good expressions. I’m sure you’ve got a thousand,” Dave stammered. 

“You asking me out?” 

“I guess I am.” 

“On one condition.” 

“Name it,” Dave said. 

“That we are open about this. We don’t have to do public displays but I want people to know that we are together.  That we might hold hands sometimes, or stuff like that. That we are, um, together.” 

“You got it,” Dave tentatively held his hand out. Frank took it, and together they walked down the hall of the NX-01. 

=/= 

David Constantine’s Personal log, November twenty-fifth, 2037 

Life has changed, and for the better. 

I don’t know if Frank and I will be long-term, but it’s, it’s a good thing. He is one helluva brave fellow. There is nothing sexier than openness and honesty, than telling the naysayers to go to hell and have a good day while doing it. 

He’s a good kisser, too. 

=/= 

Victoria Dietrich’s Personal log, November twenty-fifth, 2037 

I can’t believe I was suckered in by that. It was wrong, what we were saying, and doing. Frank Todd is right – we’ve been acting childishly. No more. At least, no more of that will come from me. 

I want to get past that, and go beyond it. It’s time I began looking for a fellow. I don’t want to be just running and giggling and pointing fingers as if was eight years old again. I want to be in love, or at least be close to that. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, November twenty-fifth, 2037 

I have to say, I am a bit grateful for Private Todd’s speech today. I know he was speaking for the gay men and women on the ship, but he could have been speaking for any of us who have been victims of the vicious rumors. 

I feel better about things but I still don’t feel confident. I don’t know how I shall get that back. That part is nowhere near as easy to reclaim. But I am hopeful. 

=/= 

William Slocum’s Personal log, November twenty-fifth, 2037 

It looks like no one even noticed that most of the white meat turkey was replicated. Willets is really working out well. 

As for vegetables, the replicated potatoes were good, as were the almonds. We had to sliver them, but that made for a better presentation anyway. It all worked out for the best. There was also very good pumpkin purée although I think it was a bit more like sweet potato purée. It may need a little adjusting. 

The private’s speech today gave me pause. I don’t pass on the rumors but I don’t squelch them, either. I think that’s a part of this. People like me need to start actively telling the rumormongers to shut their traps. I know Lili does. I’ll start doing that as well. 

And speaking of her, I need to somehow figure out a way to get through to her. She only sees me as her boss. How can I get her to see that I am a lonely man? 

=/= 

Sophie Creighton’s Personal log, November twenty-fifth, 2037 

Sandra is right; we should switch roommates. I’ll put in a request and see if I can move in with her and leave the chatty waitress behind. Pain in my tail! 

And that speech – sheesh! I half expected swelling strings behind that big galoot of a private. I bet he and Reed went off riding into the sunset, or maybe the Major. And then to do – gross! Things I don’t want to think about. It’s unnatural, is what it is.

The executive staff assembled in the main conference room. “It’s time to talk about working with the Xindi,” the captain opened, as Lili served omelets to most of them and a bowl of steel-cut oats to T’Pol. 

“I, uh,” Tripp ventured, “I know you wanna trust ‘em. And so far, they’ve been all right. But I have a lot of trouble gettin’ past, well, things. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what any of those things are.” 

“Of course not,” the captain acknowledged. 

“One consideration,” Phlox mused, “is that cooperating with the Xindi could help to even out the male to female ratio considerably.” 

“Taking the, the Xindi women as, as wives?” Malcolm asked as he cut a piece of pineapple on his plate. 

“Well, yes,” replied the doctor, “After all, they are humanoid.” 

“Yes, but, well, it’s just, it’s the differences,” Malcolm stammered, “they’re so very great.” 

“How many differences would be acceptable?” asked T’Pol. 

He blinked a few times. “Uh, I don’t know if I can answer that.” 

“Look,” Jonathan stated, “we might not have the opportunity anyway. They might find us to be too clean-shaven, or something.” 

Jay smeared blueberry jam on some toast as he spoke. “The more we hang around with them, the deeper we get into potentially partnering with them. I can’t tell if that’s a good foundation for a friendship, or if we’re being lulled into a false sense of security.” 

“I think,” Hoshi opined, “if we start to get into some, well, relationships with them, it’s going to become more difficult to keep things from them. Strategic things, I mean.” 

“Exactly,” the captain agreed, “I want to cooperate with them, but I don’t see that happening to the extent of marriages. Maybe my mind will change on that. I can’t predict the future.” Another wry, tight smile – he was doing that a lot lately. 

There was a Communications chime. Travis answered it. “Yes?” 

“We’ve got Insectoid and Reptilian ships, coming up fast,” reported Aidan, who was in command. 

“On our way,” Jonathan nodded at Travis. 

“We’ll be right there. Mayweather out.” 

“I guess we’ll finish later,” Jonathan told Lili. 

“I’ll put everything away, sir,” she told him. 

Just then, the ship lurched, and she crashed into him. “Sorry, sir.” 

“Not a problem.” He punched the wall communicator. “What the devil’s going on, MacKenzie?!” 

“They just fired at us, sir! No warning whatsoever!” 

“Go to Tactical alert!” yelled Jonathan. 

Hoshi grabbed a piece of toast as they all ran out. 

Alone in the conference room, Lili began covering the plates as quickly as she could, and then double timed it to the kitchen. 

=/= 

“Status!?” yelled Jonathan as he arrived at the Bridge. There were three Insectoid ships on the main viewer and two Reptilian vessels. 

“Plasma is venting from E deck. We’ve engaged emergency bulkheads,” Aidan reported as Malcolm relieved him, “Hull plating is at ninety-seven percent.” 

“Did they fire more than once?” Jonathan asked. 

“No, not yet, sir. It’s almost like they’re waiting for something.” 

“Did they hail us?” the captain asked Maryam. 

“No, sir, they just fired. We tried hailing them, and we got nothing.” 

“Travis,” he commanded, “let’s pull back, closer to Amity. Hoshi, hail them and, if they don’t answer, try hailing Scafen. Maybe he’s got some ideas. Malcolm, arm torpedoes but wait for my signal.” 

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm busied himself with fulfilling Jonathan’s request. 

“No response from either the Reptilian or the Insectoid ships,” Hoshi reported. 

“Try Scafen!” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Scafen answered quickly. “What’s going on?” 

“You tell us! We’ve been fired upon!” 

Scafen checked some sort of instrument in front of him. “Hail the lead Insectoid ship,” he commanded to a woman nearby, “They have no business being in this sector.” 

The Enterprise rocked again. “We’re going to start returning fire if this keeps up,” Jonathan warned. 

There was a Communications hail. “I’ve got Prala,” Hoshi reported. 

“Put her through, on a split screen,” Jonathan commanded.  “I thought you told us that they didn’t want Amity, that it wasn’t hot and rainy enough for them.” 

“Hail the lead Reptilian vessel,” Prala ordered her people, “We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Her ship arrived in the area as Scafen’s followed close behind. 

“The Insectoid ship is ignoring our hails,” reported the Xindi sloth Communications officer to Scafen. Their Bridge was rocked as they were hit by weapons fire. 

“This is outrageous!” exclaimed Scafen. 

“The Reptilian ships are charging weapons!” Malcolm called out. 

They saw as the first Reptilian ship fired upon Prala’s ship, the Mintrel. “Return fire!” she yelled at her Tactical officer. 

The Reptilian ship came about and, instead, fired at the NX-01. “Permission to return fire?” Malcolm asked. 

“Do it. Target their shielding.” 

Malcolm fired and that Reptilian ship turned about and fired, again, as another Reptilian ship followed suit. “Hull plating holding at seventy-three percent.” 

“Launch torpedoes,” Jonathan ordered, “tight dispersal.” 

Malcolm nodded and fired. As he did so, the first Insectoid ship turned to help out the Reptilians, and it, too, fired upon the Enterprise. There were two other Insectoid ships, and they aimed and fired at the Xindi sloth ships. 

The Mintrel turned and fired upon the first Insectoid vessel as Scafen’s ship, the Thramb, positioned itself and began torpedoing the Reptilian ships. 

There was a hail. “It’s the Ohmaris,” Hoshi reported, “Ketton is hailing us.” 

“Put him on,” The captain then he turned to Malcolm, “Keep targeting the lead Reptilian ship, and target their weapons.” 

“Aye, Captain,” Malcolm nodded, as the ship was again rocked, “Hull plating at fifty-four percent. Plasma leaks on C and D decks.” 

“Captain Archer,” Ketton stated, “we are here to assist.” 

“Get the Insectoids off us,” Jonathan requested. 

“Right,” Ketton looked to his side, “Hail the Insectoids,” he commanded an officer nearby. 

“We’ve tried that,” reported Prala, “but they’re not responding!” 

“No response,” added Ketton’s Communications officer. Their Bridge was rocked, too. 

The Azetla arrived – Krivan’s ship. They didn’t even bother hailing the Enterprise, and instead set about torpedoing the first Insectoid ship. Finally, it backed off and its two mates followed. 

“The lead Insectoid ship’s weapons have been disabled,” Malcolm reported, as they watched the first Reptilian ship coming in for another pass. 

The second Reptilian ship then came about and it seemed that that vessel’s captain figured something out, for it warped out of there. The Insectoid vessels followed, and then so did the other Reptilian ship. 

“What the devil just happened?” Jonathan finally asked the four Xindi sloth captains on screen. 

“Despite the fact that Amity is not suitable for them, I suppose there is some competition for it,” Krivan guessed. 

“We have experienced some of this behavior from them previously,” Ketton shook his head, “but they had not been quite so hostile before.” 

“I fear we have alienated them completely,” Prala sighed, “there were already some tensions among the species, and this incident will undoubtedly magnify them. We are not without blame. We should have told them that we were cooperating with you. But they saw a likely planet, I suppose, and decided they would take possession of it by force. At least, that is my interpretation of events.” 

“That would seem to follow the facts,” T’Pol stated. 

“Captain Archer,” Scafen muttered, “I regret this incident. The Reptilians, as a species, can be rather impatient. We tend to find them untrustworthy. And the Insectoids, as a whole, have a tendency to be easily provoked.” 

“Provoked by what? We didn’t do anything, at least, nothing to start,” Archer pointed out. 

“Understood,” agreed Prala, “but even your being nearby might have tipped them into acting. They are a species that does not live for too terribly long. They do everything rather quickly, and that can lead to hasty decision-making indeed.” 

“We were almost all killed because of their impatience and their rash decision-making.” 

“They are, I regret,” Ketton mused, “they may have come here because of our presence. And that may have provoked them. We should leave this area, and leave Amity to you. Cooperation was a good idea, but I fear its time has not yet come. Our remaining here would simply endanger you and your crew, Captain Archer.” 

There was a communications chime on all of the Xindi Bridges. Ketton’s face fell, as did Scafen’s. 

“What is it?” asked Jonathan. 

“It’s a text-only message,” replied Krivan. “It says that the Reptilians and the Insectoids – their faction – they planted explosives on Xindus’s eight largest seismic fissures. They, these explosions have ripped our planet apart. Our, our home world. It’s just, it’s gone. We need to go.” 

“Yes, we should go,” Prala’s tone was also saddened, “I wish that the circumstances were better. We may be able to salvage our relationship with the Insectoids and the Reptilians if we depart now. We will tell our Ruling Council that Amity and Paradise are claimed. They will, I am sure, be searching for a place for us.” The Mintrel departed before Jonathan could respond. 

“Captain,” Scafen stated, “all I can tell you is that we will tell our Ruling Council that we dealt with humans, and that you offered us friendship, but that we felt that we could not accept it, for we must be able to work with all five of our species. But it is to our regret, and our sorrow, that it did not work out between us. Our futures, perhaps they are not written, and maybe they have already been changed. The weapon that you said would be deployed in 2154 – I wish I knew what today’s events did with reference to that. Did we cause it? Prevent it? Change it somehow? I cannot tell.” 

“Of course not,” Jonathan agreed. 

“But what I can tell you,” Scafen continued, “is that I, for one, will tell my children that humans tried to make peace with us, and that the fault was in us, and not in the humans. And I will teach them that you are not a monolith of feeling. That there are differences of opinion, much as there are in our own ranks, and that sending a weapon to harm you all is, well, it is wrong in a thousand different ways. I am but one person, and I doubt that I can change the minds of the Ruling Council.” 

“You are not just one person,” Krivan was still shaken from the news. 

“Thank you,” Scafen smiled a tiny little. “I am sorry that this is the end of our experiment. But I suppose it has to be. If there is any way to change this, then I will do everything in my power to do so. Good-bye, Captain Archer.” 

“Thank you,” Jonathan called out, “Godspeed.” 

The Omahris, the Azetla and the Thramb all departed. 

=/= 

In his Ready Room, Jonathan just sat there for a few minutes, in the quiet. Porthos came over and he petted the dog a little. 

There was a door chime. “Not now,” he complained. 

The door chimed again. “Please,” he pleaded. 

He whispered to Porthos, “Is this how it’s gonna be, boy? We’ll try and try but then end up with nothing? Because I can’t help thinking – despite the circumstances – that we did something horribly wrong. And whatever it was, it caused things to just not work out, not at all. It feels a little like being a very young boy again, wondering if people like me,” he smiled, again, that oh so tight smile, “I know you like me. But how long are you gonna live? I know we can’t do anything about that.”

He flicked a tear out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know if I would’ve ended up with one of the Xindi women, but it was certainly worth a shot, eh? I could, I suppose, learn to look past the obvious differences. Reed, it doesn’t seem like he could. Or maybe it was a bit of a cover up. Funny, after Todd’s speech, you’d think all of the gay crew members would be feeling comfortable enough to come out. But right now it’s just him, Constantine and Jennings. Maybe they’ll have a love triangle of their own. Wouldn’t that be something, eh? Huh, well, at least they’d have a focus for their affections. Except for you, I can’t say as I have the same.” 

=/= 

In the gym, Malcolm pounded away on the treadmill, running as quickly as he could, to escape how he was feeling. Hayes came over and took the next treadmill over. He, too, started running, and Malcolm began running faster, and then the Major did, and finally they were both going flat out. They did not look at each other, just straight ahead, both concentrating on the task at hand. It was Hayes who finally stopped, panting, saturated with sweat. 

He left the gym and Malcolm finally felt comfortable dialing back on the speed. He slowed down the belt and stopped it, a little dizzy, and held his side. That had been too much, but he felt that he couldn’t show any form of weakness or indecision or waffling in front of Hayes. 

From her vantage point at the exercise bicycles, Sandra watched, and drew her own conclusions. 

=/= 

José Torres saw Hoshi as she got off shift. “Got any plans for tonight?” he asked. 

“Huh? Uh, not really.” 

“Do you want to do something?” 

“Oh, um, sorry,” she shook her head, and he backed off. “I’m just, uh, can I tell you something?” 

“I, I guess so,” he stammered, as they walked a little together. 

“I just don’t feel myself these days. I don’t like talking about it.  But I probably should. I think a lot of people feel this way, too,” she paused as Sophie and Tara were strolling by. 

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” He was a big, clumsy kind of a guy but his tone was gentle and caring. 

“Well, it’s just, Doctor Phlox had suggested this, and I am getting the feeling that he’s right. José, I’m suffering from depression. And I bet a lot of other people here are as well. It’s making me tired and irritable and I’m lousy company for pretty much everyone. I’m sorry – I just think I’d be terrible company and you shouldn’t have to just sit around and listen to me whine.” 

“You’re not whining.” 

Tara and Sophie were staring, so Hoshi added, a lot more loudly, “I have depression. You hear that? I do hope you get that through Rumor Central, because I don’t feel like having to repeat myself. Here, I’ll spell it for you.” She walked toward the two women, a little menacingly, and they backed off. 

=/= 

Hoshi Sato’s Personal log, November twenty-seventh, 2037 

Well, I did it; I came out of the depression closet. I do hope that this does some people some good. I hope that Phlox is right, that now some others will seek treatment. Sophie and Tara heard, so now I know that everyone else will know. For once, I guess, that communications channel can be used for some good. 

I’m sorry José had to hear all of that. As for him, well, he asked me out but I’m just not feeling it. Not just with him, but in general. He doesn’t need to hear me complaining all the time. I feel lousy and I don’t have much of a drive these days. I doubt he’d want to go out with me if sex was completely off the table. I dunno. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, November twenty-seventh, 2037 

The Major continues to be a thorn in my side. Every time I feel as if I am free of worrying about him as competition, the feeling returns. 

With the Xindi gone, we will all go back to concentrating on each other, and on ourselves, I suppose. The last thing I need is for a homosexual MACO CO to be breathing down my neck. 

I did, though, appreciate Private Todd’s speech the other day. Perhaps Sandra and the others will lay off. I don’t know. I caught her looking at the Major and me today. I assume it was with contempt. There is no other assumption I can make about her, when it comes to her thoughts about me. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, November twenty-seventh, 2037 

I know, I know, T’Pol tells me that I need to be more accessible to the crew. I get that. But I just want to crawl away and die, at least a little bit. I feel like we’ve blown it, like we will never have allies and, let’s face it, it’s not about the ship so much, not at all. It’s about whether I will have my own personal ally. 

I know that Prala was taken; at least, that was my impression. But there were other Xindi women. I never really thought about being attracted to any of them, but, you know, I guess you close your eyes and think of another’s beauty while you understand, in your head, that someone is kind or generous or funny or your intellectual equal. Isn’t it true that, years ago, humans didn’t marry for love, that love is a product of the Middle Ages or so? What happened before that? I guess people performed sexually – they wanted a sexual release and they wanted children. They needed children to run their farms and all. But somewhere in there, I’ve got to figure that some of them felt something for their partners. I could have done that, I think. 

But now I won’t have the chance to do so. 

I need to think about the women on board some more. I have backed off for a long time, and allowed the men to make their choices, and the women, too. But I think I still need to back off, at least for a while. It just seems fairer. 

I mean, what’ll I do, order someone to sleep with me? Yeah, that’ll go over well. Talk about closing your eyes and hoping that it’s someone else. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, November twenty-seventh, 2037 

Today, Reed and I were in the gym, and I swear that guy is way too competitive. Today it’s treadmills; tomorrow it’ll be something else. At least I don’t think it’ll be over any of the women. But who knows? The rumormongers all seem to think both he and I are gay as the day is long. They’re wrong about me. It wouldn’t shock me if they were wrong about him as well. 

And in some ways, that makes things worse, as he seems to be going along, feeling the need to prove himself to everyone. I just know that Sloane is behind things, but I don’t have very good proof. There are plenty of rumormongers, and she is certainly one of them. And she’s the Queen Bee ringleader of her little coterie.  But I won’t accuse without incontrovertible proof. I’m not going to get into a mess if I can help it. 

With the Xindi gone, we will need to do the farming. And we still don’t have a good handle on the procul or those malostrea.  We’ve got to go on, and not worry about what happened with the Xindi, at least not right now. I guess we own Paradise and Amity, whether we really want to, or not. I’ll go back tomorrow, and will check out the procul. 

=/= 

Travis Mayweather’s Personal log, November twenty-seventh, 2037 

No more Xindi. That’s a little sad. I’m glad I’ve got Julie to keep me company. It’s good. She’s a good person, and I feel right with her. This is the start of something really great, I can tell.

The shuttle was packed – Andy Miller, Jay Hayes, Dan Chang, Brad Moreno, Deb Haddon, Diana Jones, Frank Todd and Rex Ryan. Travis was copiloting, with Frank in the copilot’s chair. 

“Coming up on Amity,” Travis reported, as they touched down, “Meridia continent.” The southern continent was soggy and marshy – the perfect habitat for procul and malostrea, apparently. 

“All right,” Jay commanded, “here’s what we’ll do. Dan, you and Brad will cover Diana and Andy as they work on capturing a couple of the malostrea. The rest of us’ll hunt a procul. Travis will stay here, of course.” 

“Of course,” Travis confirmed. 

“Keep the lines of communication open,” Jay commanded, “we don’t know what we’re dealing with out there. When we hunt, we will make one last attempt to communicate. Then all bets are off. We’ll see if we can bring a procul down with just stun first, and then switch to the kill setting if that’s not effective. Any questions?” 

“What should we do if we’re bitten by one of the malostrea, sir?” asked Deb. 

“Try not to let that happen. But if it does, get an emergency beam-out,” Jay advised, “So nobody wanders off alone. I don’t care how interesting something is. We stick together ‘cause I get the feeling that if anyone’s bitten, they might go downhill really fast. We know the procul do, and I estimate that one of them is a good four times the size and mass of a grown man.” 

“We’ll beam the malostrea cages up separately,” Andy clarified, “Tucker and Crossman have been instructed to only handle them with steel mesh gloves on.” He indicated a pair of gloves that Diana was donning. They looked a little like chain mail. 

“They’ll bring them to Sick Bay,” Diana explained, “and then we’ll be able to study them in a controlled environment. Ha, when I think of bad oysters, I tend to think of stomach upset, and not stuff like this.” 

“Maybe they’re just trying to get revenge,” Rex speculated.  

=/= 

Diana and Andy rummaged around near the holes and stuck a tube down as a probe as Dan and Brad looked on. “Here, little oyster, here, little oyster!” she called. 

“Please, it’s malostrea,” Andy corrected her, smiling. 

“Okay, so, here, little malostrea,” she called. 

=/= 

Jay led the way and was followed by Deb, then Rex and Frank. Their boots squished in the soggy ground as they jogged. “There,” Deb finally pointed. It wasn’t just one procul. It was a whole herd of them. 

“Okay,” Jay cautioned, “let’s move in nice and slow. No sudden movements. Two will hang back, uh, Rex and Frank. Deb, you and I will circle over to the left and hold out the UTs. Let’s see if we can get anything to register, even if it’s garbled.” 

She nodded. They approached the herd cautiously and held out their universal translators. “C’mon,” she coaxed, “can’t you big guys talk?” 

The beasts shuffled around, mostly ignoring them although one did turn a bit. There were a few smaller ones. Were they females? Juveniles? It was difficult to say. Jay stamped his foot closer, and some of the ground splashed up on a procul’s foot. That got its attention. It turned a little, and reared up on a few of its legs. They could clearly see a pair of eye spots on what could only be described as its abdomen. 

“Is that a hostile act?” asked Deb. 

“Me you’re asking? I have no idea. Just stay calm. Let’s see if we can get it to make some sort of a noise or something.” 

The beast got back on all fourteen of its legs and lumbered away, backwards., changing colors as it went. “I suppose we weren’t interesting enough,” opined Deb. 

“Ha!” Jay called out, as he rushed at the herd, to see if he could provoke another reaction, but there was none. Some of the herd moved backwards a little, but otherwise they did nothing and made no sounds. 

Then the one that had reared up rubbed a couple of its legs together. This produced a bit of a high-pitched whining sound, almost like a pennywhistle. Most of the rest of the herd followed as that one – perhaps it was the leader? – It continued retreating backwards. 

There was one that stayed behind. It did not make any threatening moves, and seemed to be having a little trouble moving under its own steam. 

“Do you see what I see, sir?” Deb asked. 

“I do,” Jay confirmed, “I think that one’s old or injured. That’ll be our target. Let’s try one last chance for communications.” He spoke into the universal translator. “We are here to try to make contact with you. We don’t want to cause you any pain. We are humans. I’m a male and my companion is a female.” 

Deb spoke into her own universal translator. “Your herd is safe. Don’t worry about that. We want to live here but we will stay off this continent if you want us to.” 

They waited, and there was no response. They looked at each other. “It’s like trying to talk to a cow,” Deb quipped. 

“Or a deer or something. Ready to shoot?” 

“Sure. You can go first, if you want to.” 

“Don’t mind if I do.” He set his phase rifle on stun and fired at the procul’s huge misshapen torso. It fell but squirmed a little. There was the sound of scrabbling underfoot. 

“I think we’ve got evil oysters,” Deb reported. 

“We can’t let them poison it. Shoot it again,” he commanded. 

She fired. As soon as the beast was hit, it died, and the scrabbling sounds stopped. “I guess our little pals only want the meat if they can make the kill themselves.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he stated. “Here, help me with it.” 

Frank and Rex came over. “Need help?” asked Frank. 

“Sure, this thing looks like it weighs a good fraction of a ton,” she told them. 

They slung the big beast over their shoulders and brought it back to the shuttle. Travis came out to greet them. “I don’t know if it’ll fit in here,” he guessed.

“Maybe not,” Jay then clicked open his communicator. “Hayes to Tucker.” 

“Go ahead,” came Tripp’s voice. 

“Can you beam up a dead procul?” 

“Uh, sure. Set it down and stand back.” 

The big beast dematerialized quickly. Rex looked over his uniform right after it was gone. “I don’t even have any blood on me.” 

“Me neither,” Frank reported. 

“Maybe they don’t have anything we’d think of as blood,” Travis speculated. 

=/= 

Diana and Andy were having worse luck. “Think they know we’re trying to catch ‘em?” she asked. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” 

“Maybe they only come out if the dinner bell is rung,” Brad speculated. 

“Or if one of their own is threatened,” Dan guessed. He stuck his phase rifle into a nearby hole. “Don’t worry; it’s on stun,” he explained. He fired one round. 

That got their attention. They came out in droves, little shells clapping and clamoring. 

“Now you’ve made ‘em mad,” Diana stated. 

She and Andy held a cage open and Brad managed to herd one of the malostrea into it. They shut the door and latched it quickly. Then Dan pushed one along with his boot. It tried to turn and bite him, but he kept shoving it along and into a cage. Once it was inside, Andy shut the door and latched it.

“We better go,” Brad pointed, “Look.” 

There were at least a hundred more malostrea running toward them. They couldn’t move that quickly, but they were clapping their shells and making a racket. The numbers made it look almost like an insect infestation, except they were the size of large grapefruits. The four of them started to run back to the shuttle. The captured malostrea clapped and rushed against the sides of their cages, perhaps trying to break them apart. 

Once they were close to the shuttle, they put the cages down. “Tucker!” Jay yelled into his communicator, “Beam up the cages!” 

“Got ‘em,” came Tucker’s voice. 

They ran into the shuttle and Travis took off as they heard clapping and thumping on the sides of the shuttle. The malostrea were mad. 

=/= 

In the transporter area, Jennifer and Tripp stayed away from the cages, which tumbled and rocked a little as the malostrea continued to clap and bump the sides. “Those are some angry oysters.” She put on steel mesh gloves. 

Tripp clicked on the wall communicator. “Tucker to Phlox.” 

“Yes, Commander?” 

“We got two of ‘em. They are royally PO’d.” 

“I’ll put the two cages inside a larger one I have. Phlox out.” 

Jennifer and Tripp proceeded to Sick Bay to deposit the angry mollusk-like creatures. 

=/= 

Less than an hour later, the malostrea cages were secured and the procul carcass was in Andy’s Bio Lab. The shuttle had docked and he was waiting to begin dissection. “We’ll observe all biohazard protocols,” he told Diana as she looked on.

“Right. Are we sure it’s dead?” 

“Hayes said he figured it was once the malostrea lost interest. Ready to make an incision?” 

“Sure,” she replied, “Now, let’s see what makes you tick, Miss Procul.” 

“Miss?” 

“Well, I didn’t want to assume anything.” She began to cut into the big beast’s soft, malleable torso. 

=/= 

Now or never, thought Jonathan as he sat in the captain’s chair. “I’d like the intercom, please, Hoshi.” 

“Aye, sir,” she clicked a few switches, “all set.” 

“All hands, this is the captain. I’d like to address a few recent incidents. Maybe now isn’t the best time to deal with this, but deal we must. Better to get them out of the way now, I figure.” 

He cleared his throat a little. “First, the departure of the Xindi. I, well, I can’t tell you that it’s a uniformly good thing or a uniformly bad thing. Truth is, no one really knows right now. But I can tell you for sure that, at least from my end of things, it feels a bit strange. But I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did the Xindi sloth except, I suppose, for their not informing their fellow species of their trying to work with us. I do hope that was not a fatal error on their parts. Those Insectoid and Reptilian ships definitely didn’t hesitate to fire on their own allies. I shudder to think what may happen at their Ruling Council. I do hope that reason will prevail.” 

He shifted in his seat. “I can’t say whether they were true friends to us or not, but they may have given their lives in order to help us, and to give us a chance on Amity, and on Paradise. I hope that that sacrifice, if it did indeed occur, was not in vain. And I also hope that we don’t lose our spirit – our spirit of extending a hand of friendship first, and at least making an attempt. We named the temperate planet Amity for a reason. Let’s try to live up to that ideal.” 

He blinked a bit. “This means friendship to others, and friendship within. It means treating one another better. I hope that we can all begin to do that, to get along better. I have gotten a few requests to change roommates, and I recognize that conditions aren’t necessarily ideal for all. I’ll do my best to be accommodating to as many people as possible. But you need to meet me halfway, and you need to meet each other halfway and, perhaps, even more than that. You need to work and pull together, because without the Xindi to help us, we are going to be harvesting that wheat and those oranges and everything else. We need to work together, in every way.” 

He sighed a little. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and no one does, of course. But today, right now, I hope you will all join me in pledging to do our best to be better friends to all, and work together better, and without reservation. Let’s do our best to live up to our ideals. Thank you.” 

=/= 

“Are we in agreement?” Andy asked as he took off his biohazard gear. 

“We are,” Diana stated, “The big fellow – er, girl, er, fellow-girl – isn’t poisonous.” 

“Then I guess it’s time to send him, uh, her, uh it over to the kitchen,” he decided. “I’ll call Hayes, ask him about its behavior and then have him haul a part of the carcass over to the galley.” 

=/= 

Jay slung much of the beast’s torso over his shoulders and brought it to the kitchen. He also had one of the legs with him. “Where do you want this?” he asked Lili. 

“Oh, uh, here,” she cleared the counter a bit. “Is that all that’s left?” 

“They’re still looking at the rest of it but they said they could spare these parts,” he put them down. 

“Huh, well, let’s see how it tastes,” she got out a paring knife. She cut off a sliver and sniffed it. 

“Aren’t you going to cook that?” 

“Later,” she explained, “first, let’s see if it’s okay tartare style. Or, huh, we could call it carpaccio.” She chewed on the piece a bit. “Funky.” She began to saw off another small piece. 

“What’s it –?” he asked, but she didn’t let him finish his sentence and, instead, stuffed the piece into his slightly opened mouth. 

“Tell me what you think that tastes like,” she watched him for a reaction. 

He was a bit surprised and stepped back slightly. “Hmm,” he swallowed, “it’s like, uh, like deli.” 

“Exactly! It’s kinda like pastrami. And, um, I’m sorry I whacked you in the mouth.” 

“No blood,” he reported, “But next time warn me, okay?” 

“Sure,” she smiled, “Do you know what the parts are?” 

“No idea,” Jay admitted, “Miller told me they saw eye spots but I don’t think they gave me that part to give to you. It doesn’t seem to have anything we’d call blood. It’s more like, I dunno.” 

“It’s gelatinous. I wonder if that’s normal or if it’s coagulated in death or something. And no bones whatsoever, eh?” 

“No, it’s like vertebrae didn’t develop at all on Amity.” 

“Maybe not,” Lili mused, “I’ll try a few things, see if I can boil it and stuff, see what happens when it’s fried, that sort of thing. Wanna stick around for the experiments? I promise I won’t just slam them into your mouth.” 

He smiled and laughed slightly. “That’s okay. You didn’t break any teeth. I gotta go work out. See ya.” He left. 

She was alone in the kitchen, and she started up a small pot of water and sliced a few pieces off and threw them in there, and set a timer for three minutes. She then sat down on one of the kitchen stools and murmured absently, “I wish you liked girls, Jay Hayes.” 

=/= 

Biology Lab log, November twenty-eighth, 2037 

The procul is almost like a big octopus, except it’s got fourteen legs, instead of only eight. And its eyes aren’t as well-developed as on an Earth octopus. Instead, it only has eye spots, which are a lot more like a more primitive life form, like a flatworm. 

And the eye spots are underneath, or at least what we think of as the undercarriage of the beast. But I was able to articulate the limbs around in all sorts of ways. When you have no bones to break, you can go backwards, forwards, up and down without any worries. Thick rings of muscle keep the legs rigid enough that the beast can stand and walk. But it doesn’t seem to move that quickly. Maybe it can’t, at least not on land. 

It’s got no organized circulatory system to speak of. The beast is in possession of one big ovary-type organ and one smaller spermatophore-creating organ. I am guessing that it lays eggs and deposits a spermatophore or two or twenty nearby, and in water. Observation of the creature’s habits would confirm this. 

According to Major Hayes, the herd seemed to have a leader, and the leader made a sound with a pair of its legs. Whether this was a primitive method of communication is tough to say, although that seems to be the most likely explanation for that behavior. Since the creatures are probably all hermaphrodites, I can’t tell why one creature becomes leader over any of the others. Hayes reports that the so-called leader didn’t appear to be appreciably larger than the others. 

I am also mindful of the fact that this specimen was moving slowly and may have been of what, for the procul, is an advanced age. If I had to guess, I’d say it was less than ten years old. But again, more observation will be necessary. This species could be studied for decades, I feel. 

The brain is located just above the sex organs and does not appear to be advanced enough to allow for sentience. Earth octopuses are rather intelligent creatures, but the procul doesn’t seem to be. I would guess that the intelligence level of a procul is closer to that of a cichlid or other predominantly herbivorous fish. 

Further study is needed, including observing these beasts in their natural habitat. I suspect that procul swim better than they walk, and that may account for the eye spots being where they are on the body. I will make every effort to return to the planet’s surface in order to make more detailed observations. We will also attempt to set up a camera although we are mindful of the fact that the beasts may knock it over. 

=/= 

Andrew Miller’s Personal log, November twenty-eighth, 2037 

The procul has gotta be the weirdest thing I’ve seen so far. I bet it can really zoom underwater. I’d love to see that.

And what’s even nuttier is that we had it for dinner tonight! Chef and Lili said the menu had changed and we were having deli. They had all sorts of stuff out for fixings, like sour pickles and cole slaw. And I had it – they didn’t tell anybody what it was, but since I’d sent the stuff over I figured that was it. It was good, like lean pastrami. Weird. 

Reminded me a little of going to a kosher deli with my grandma when I was a kid. Shelby, she didn’t have those experiences growing up. But I didn’t have her experiences, either. That’s okay. 

=/= 

Phlox’s Personal log, November twenty-eighth, 2037 

The malostrea are rather interesting specimens. Crewman Miller and Crewman Jones and I will be working with them but I can already report that they are a handful. They did not appear to wish to eat the raw hamburger that I threw into their cages. They were more amenable to eating a bit of the deceased procul meat but it did not appear to be a preference of theirs. They were considerably happier with two live tribbles I had around. Fortunately, they envenom their prey rather quickly and, apparently, somewhat painlessly, or at least it appears that way. For once the tribbles were poisoned, they were torn apart. 

The malostrea are in separate cages but appear to be communicating or at least making what may be encouraging or sympathetic noises to each other. I hesitate to anthropomorphize their behaviors but that does appear to be the explanation. I don’t believe they are sentient enough for true, organized communication, but I am open to being convinced if I am proven wrong. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, November twenty-eighth, 2037 

What a day. I haven’t gone on a hunt in years. Good to know I’ve still got hunting chops. The critter was weird; it was almost no challenge whatsoever. It’s gotta be almost like deer the first time they ever saw or heard percussion weapons. I bet the next time it won’t be so easy. 

And then – even weirder – I brought most of the remains over to the kitchen, and the chef’s assistant shoved a piece of raw procul in my mouth. And dammit, I am thinking about the food and stuff like that, I mean, I’m supposed to be, and suddenly, dammit, I am totally aroused. I didn’t want her to see, I mean, it’s not like she was trying anything, she was just having me taste this stuff. Nothing else. It couldn’t’ve been, could it? 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, November twenty-eighth, 2037 

I’m so wicked. 

I should really stop that. It was just silly, but Major Hayes and I were in the kitchen and I was cutting up the procul. And instead of asking him if he wanted any, I ended up just shoving a piece of it into his mouth. 

I gotta say, it made me think of other things. Oh, other things. I miss those other things. I love sex and love and romance and all of that. 

I have my favorites, and he is one of them, but I know it’s impossible. He wouldn’t be interested in me. Hell, he wouldn’t be interested in anything in a skirt. I would like him to be happy, though. He really should come out. He’d be a much happier person, I think.

A little under a month later, the day shift sat at their stations on the Bridge. There was a Communications hail. “It’s Tre’ex,” Hoshi reported. 

“On screen,” Jonathan commanded, and the familiar face of their ally, a Xyrillian captain, appeared. 

“Ah, Captain Archer! We have been monitoring a bit, and we saw there was weapons fire less than thirty days ago. Are you all right?” 

“Not too bad,” Jonathan reported, “we only had small repairs and minor injuries. All of that’s been resolved.” 

“Good, good, please, let us know next time, as we would have assisted you.” 

“Oh, we, uh, we weren’t sure about that, and we didn’t want to impose and overstep the bounds of our friendship.” 

“Don’t stand on ceremony,” Tre’ex assured him. “I am sure that if we have troubles with the Imvari, we can count on you?” 

“Have you seen them in the area?” T’Pol asked. 

“We have detected some warp trails but nothing that seems to have stayed around for too terribly long. We have also detected some warp signatures from what we think are Ikaaran vessels.” 

“Ikaarans? You mentioned them when we last spoke,” Jonathan recalled, “but you didn’t tell us too much about them.” 

“Yes,” Tre’ex confirmed. “The Imvari are a mercenary species, hell-bent on selling the various local species into slavery, to the Orion Syndicate. The Ikaarans seem to be particularly vulnerable, as they put together work gangs and then those ships are ambushed. These work vessels do not seem to be terribly well-protected, providing easy pickings for the Imvari.” 

“And a ready-made labor force, too, I’ll wager,” Malcolm speculated. 

“Precisely,” confirmed Tre’ex, “We are hoping that you could help us with our defenses. The Ikaarans do not have terribly good or sophisticated weaponry, and our ship is not as well-armed as your own, either.” 

Malcolm quietly murmured, “Sir.” 

Jonathan motioned for Hoshi to cut off the sound. “Yes?” 

“I think they want us to do their fighting for them. That might be why they are so eager to make nice.” 

“Possibly. Let’s hear them out.” He nodded to Hoshi. 

“Captain,” Tre’ex stated, “I know you have not yet seen the Imvari in this area. But they are a serious threat.” 

“We recently met up with Xindi,” Jonathan stated, “and the weapons fire you detected was Reptilian and Insectoid ships trying to shoo us away from the two planets you had told us were unclaimed. We, we’ve claimed them, and named them Paradise and Amity.” 

“You may need to set up some sort of perimeter security,” Tre’ex suggested, “We are not well-suited to do that, so you may need to add mines or the like.” 

“Mines?” the captain asked. 

“I’m afraid so,” Tre’ex shook his head, “The Imvari can be quite ruthless. We do our best to take every precaution, but we just don’t have the firepower.”

“Aren’t there other species out here that could help?” 

“Very few,” Tre’ex explained, “The Delphic Expanse and its thermobaric clouds have kept many out. Our own species does not travel here much. We are assigned to this sector as a precaution but – and I say this hoping for some confidence with you – we are not as well-equipped as we should be. It is not a favorable position to be in. Our scientists and technicians are working on improving our weaponry, but it can be slow going.” 

“Understood,” the captain stated, “Right now, we’re working on getting set up on Amity and Paradise. We’re not exactly going out looking for fights, with the Imvari or anyone else.” 

“To be sure,” Tre’ex allowed, “yet those fights might just find you. Let us speak again, in a year, perhaps? A few months? Whenever you feel more settled on those two planets. There may be ways to set up bases. In the meantime, we are going to return to our home world, for supplies and a crew change. I will be back but most of my crew will be heading back home to their families. Until we meet again, Captain.” 

“Looking forward to it. Archer out.” 

Once the connection was cut, he stated, “So we’re alone. Some Christmas present, eh?” 

=/= 

In Sick Bay, Doctor Phlox hummed a little as he fed his animals. The Derellian bat happily munched on its pellets. The others slurped or chewed whatever he gave them. The malostrea, however, snapped, and seemed to be angry. “Well, I wouldn’t enjoy captivity if I were you, either,” he muttered, “but right now we have little choice in the matter. And do try to expand your dietary options. I don’t have tribbles just lying around, even if they do reproduce like bunnies hopped up on Spanish Fly.” 

The doors swished open, and Andy and Diana walked in. “How are our little clammy friends?” she asked. 

“As uncooperative as ever,” Phlox reported, “Still, I’m not so sure I blame them. It’s got to be quite a shock to them.” 

“Have you figured out how to sedate them?” Andy asked, “We should take blood, uh, assuming they have blood, stuff like that.” 

“You analyzed the substance that poisons the procul, did you not?” asked the Denobulan. 

“I did,” Andrew confirmed, “and it’s a derivative of tricoulamine.” 

“And for humans, Vulcans and Denobulans, that’s a fatal nerve toxin. But we may still be able to use it. I can take one of the malostrea and place its cage inside the decontamination chamber. I can release tricoulamine gas and we’ll see if we can’t get the little fellow to sleep.” 

“And not permanently,” Diana added. 

“Well, that would be the point, of course,” Phlox agreed. 

=/= 

Lili was zesting a lemon when Malcolm walked in. She looked up when she heard footsteps. “Ah,” she asked, “what brings you here? Snack time?” 

“No, I was, uh, I was going to go to Sick Bay for a, well, I get injections at times, for my condition. I figured there would be plenty of dairy tonight so I might as well be prepared.” 

“Well, I can set something aside for you.” 

“I appreciate that, but I know tonight of all nights, you’ll probably be swamped. Uh, is your PADD here?” 

“Sure.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and retrieved her PADD. 

“I, uh,” he presented his PADD to her, “Happy Christmas.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s Merry Christmas, you say that, right? You’re an American, yes?” 

“Me? Oh gosh no, I’m from Titan.” 

“Oh, I would not have guessed.” 

“Well, I lived in San Mateo for a while. I had a restaurant there, just before I got drafted to help Chef. Uh, what are you giving me?” she looked at the PADD. 

“Oh, uh, here,” he took it from her and clicked on it a little. “Do you, uh, do you do crosswords, and the like?” 

“Yes, and the acrostics, too, but the selection is getting a little stale. It seems like it’s becoming a bit repetitious.” 

“I was thinking that myself,” he commiserated, “and I once saw you working on a puzzle, so I took a chance that you might really like them and, well, I took the liberty of introducing some other clues and quotations and the like, and randomized it a bit more. Therefore, there should be some more variety now.” 

“New puzzles?” 

“Yes. It’ll be able to make several new puzzles now,” he confirmed. He clicked his PADD next to hers in order to transfer over the data. 

“Oh! That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you,” she looked down, “you didn’t have to do that. And I didn’t get you anything.” 

“That’s all right. Actually, you’ve done a lot for me in the past few months. You’re always letting me know in all sorts of surreptitious ways what’s vegan and the like. You’re good about dressing it up as being you telling T’Pol what she can eat, but I’ve noticed, you don’t seem to say that until I’m within earshot.” 

“Well, you wanted the, uh, the way you are to be kept private. I can respect that.” 

“It, it means a great deal to me. To, uh, to be able to trust. In, uh, in you.” 

She looked down and went back to zesting; a little pink on the tips of her ears indicated a little flushing on her part. 

“I’ll do one of your new puzzles tonight,” she finally told him. 

“Tonight? Aren’t you going to the holiday party?” 

“I am, but I mean afterward. I, er, I get the feeling no one’s going to ask to take me home or anything.” 

“Perhaps someone will,” he speculated. “Do, uh, did you know that there’s a Scrabble board?” 

“With the tiles and everything?” 

“Yes. It’s even wooden. Very old-fashioned. Would, uh, would you care to play some time?” 

“I’d love to. But I have to tell you, I work the dinner shift after you’re done with work, so it’s later before I’m free.” 

“Well, after you’ve cleaned up, then? Would that be all right?” 

“I do get tired easily. This can be a rather physical job sometimes. Would it make sense to play over the course of several evenings?” 

“I don’t see any reason why not.” 

“Could Deb join us?” 

“Deborah Haddon?” he asked. 

“Yes. She’s been my roommate for about three weeks now. I get along with her better than Sophie and I did, but I wouldn’t want her to feel left out or anything.” 

“Well, uh, of course,” he thought quickly, “although something tells me she might not be a Scrabble player.” 

“Well if she says yes, then we haven’t unfairly excluded her. And if she says no, then there are more tiles for us.” 

“That’s right.” 

“American or British spellings?” 

“Both. Is, uh, is tonight too soon?” he asked, just a tiny bit anxious. 

“I think so,” she stated, “I’ll be very tired. After all, it is Christmas. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I have to keep zesting. Oh, and the peach cobbler is nondairy. Not that it’ll matter after you get an inoculation, but, well, I figured I should mention it while I had you here.” 

“Thank you. I shall see you this evening then.” 

“See you then.” 

He left and, once the door was safely shut, she picked up the lemon and addressed it as if it were sentient. “Why is it that most of the guys who talk to me for more than five minutes are either coworkers or gay men?” She chuckled to herself. “I must have a big sign on my forehead that says only talk to me if you’re not interested.” She went back to zesting. 

=/= 

Malcolm arrived in Sick Bay and saw Phlox, Diana and Andrew bent over a malostrea cage. The other malostrea was nearby, clapping away, and it almost seemed worried. “Ah, Lieutenant!” Phlox enthused. 

“That’s all right; I can come back later,” Reed replied. 

“No, no, it’s no trouble. What can I do for you?” 

“It’s, uh, it’s a bit private.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Andy thought quickly, “Diana and I can wait outside long as it’s not too long. Thing Two is scheduled to wake up in about fifteen minutes or so.” 

“Thing Two?” asked Malcolm. 

Diana pointed. They had put a bit of paint on the malostrea’s shell, and there was some on the cage as well. Both were the number two. “Thing One is over there, and he’s pretty peeved,” she reported, “What can I say? I love Doctor Seuss.” She and Andrew left. 

“What’s the trouble?” Phlox asked once the door had shut. 

“I’d like a lactase injection, please. I don’t want to have to worry too much about tonight’s meal.” 

“By all means. Lieutenant, I am a bit curious. Why is this such a secret for you?” 

“Doctor, surely you know. It’s, well, lactose intolerance causes certain, well, bodily disturbances. They are more than a little bit distasteful.” 

Phlox thought for a moment as he injected Malcolm in the arm. “When I first came on board the Enterprise, I thought it would be an assignment that would finish up in, perhaps, five years or so – ten, at best. I never thought it would be for the rest of my life. And so I need to understand all of you humans better. I need to do a better job of, of knowing your fears and your foibles, your hopes and your dreams. And that includes the things that make you uncomfortable.” 

“Doctor, you sound a bit as if you’re not so much trying to understand humans as you are trying to understand women.” 

“Is that becoming obvious? Let me ask you, and mind we need to hurry up before Thing Two awakens, but, could you tell me, this Santa Claus figure, is he a favorite of human females?” 

“Well, he’s loved by children. And, uh, Christian children, that is. I don’t think Crewman Bernstein and Crewman Rosen will teach their children to believe in him.” 

“Believe?” 

“Yes, Father Christmas is a mythical creature, he’s supposed to come in the night and bring presents to good children. Why are you asking?” 

“The captain asked me to dress up and pretend to be him tonight. Crewman Khan has made me a suit and a hat for the occasion.” 

“Well, be jolly and, listen to what people want for Christmas,” Malcolm suggested. 

“Anything else I should know?” 

“When there are children – and there will be next year – they’ll tell you what they want. You’ll need to maintain the illusion. But with us adults, you won’t need to put on quite so convincing a performance.” 

There was a door chime. “Ah!” Phlox enthused, “We have to get back to Thing Two. Thank you for your help, Lieutenant. See you tonight.” 

=/= 

After Malcolm departed, the three of them continued working on Thing Two.  Diana tapped the side of its shell a little with a gloved finger. It tentatively opened its shell and they shone a light inside and snapped photographs. “Sorry, Thing Two,” Diana apologized, “I bet you’re still really peeved. We just want to get to know ya.” She looked up. “Do you think it’s safe to put him in with Thing One?” 

“Possibly,” Andy was cautious, “we haven’t tried that yet.” 

“They do seem to chatter a lot. Hopefully that’s not a lot of posturing and dominance and threatening. We’d best wrap up soon,” Phlox warned. 

“Oh! Yes, looks like Thing Two’s just about awake,” Andy reported. The three of them got the top of the double cage open and then Thing One’s cage, and deposited Thing Two in there. 

There was clapping for a while from both of them. “I bet he’s telling his buddy about the big, bad, nasty humans,” Diana speculated. 

“Ha, he’s telling Thing One, I fought them off with six of my legs tied behind my shell!” 

“Anthropomorphizing them is not the best means of study,” Phlox scolded. 

“Well, of course not,” Andy replied, “but don’t you ever wonder, a bit, what they might be saying?” 

The two malostrea suddenly stopped clapping. The three of them looked in on the side of the cage and the two little creatures were nestled together, legs entwined, resting. “Aw,” Diana cooed, “Merry Christmas, little guys.” 

=/= 

The holiday party was in full swing when Jay arrived. He immediately went over to the bar, where Will was tending. “What’ll it be?” asked the chef. The bar was makeshift, really just a flat extra piece of hull plating which had been placed over four posts. 

“Uh, what do we have?” 

“Not much. We’re growing barley and hops on Amity. We could probably make beer in a few months. But right now we’ve got, hmm, there’s punch, mainly.” 

“Then why do we even need a bartender?” asked the Major. 

“I’m here to cut people off if they have too much,” Will poured punch into a cup.

“Ah,” Jay took a taste. “Let me know when you make beer, okay?” 

“Sure.” 

Lili was running around, making sure a procul roast was cooked all the way through before bringing it out. Craig and Brian were helping her. She piled platters high and they brought them out to the assembled crew members. She finally got a chance to look up once the procul was completely cut up and set on the tables. “Whew, okay, uh, are the salad dressings out?” she asked Craig when he walked back in. 

“We have three.” 

“There are supposed to be five,” she stated, “The other two are probably still in the refrigeration unit.” 

Brian came in. “I’m almost out of rice.” 

“Oh! We’ve got, uh, here,” she handed him a spoon, “Just dump some more into this bowl and stick the spoon in and you’re good to go.” She straightened up and cracked her neck. “Um, and thank you for helping. You guys are lifesavers.” 

“I don’t mind, Lili,” Craig told her, “the person with the food is always popular.” 

“See,” she came closer and whispered conspiratorially, “this is why I got into Food Service.” 

He blushed a little. “Well, um, I dunno if I want to do this to be popular.” 

She didn’t quite hear him muttering and instead directed him. “Did you see if the snow peas and sliced carrots needed to be refilled?” 

“I think it’s okay,” he went back out there to check. 

“Lili,” Brian told her, “you really should sit down and eat.” 

“Yeah, huh, I guess I can now.” She walked in with him and grabbed a plate. The three of them sat down together, with Deb and Sterling. Maryam came over and joined them. 

“I have it on good authority,” Sterling boasted, “that Santa is going to be here.” 

“Saint Nicholas?” Maryam asked, “But there are no children.”

“Well, there will be at least one by this time next year,” Deb pointed out. “I guess this’ll be a dry run.” 

And with that, Santa arrived, flanked by two elves, Shelby and Colleen. 

“Santa!” Hoshi called out, grinning. “How did you find us here in the Delphic Expanse?” 

“Rudolph was given the coordinates by one Travis Mayweather,” Phlox joked, “and I parked my sleigh in Cargo Bay Two.” 

Jonathan set a chair out, separate from the others. “Your throne, Saint Nick.” 

“Ah, thank you, but first I’ll have a little procul.” Phlox took off his hat and beard and sat down with Hoshi and Travis and Julie. 

“You know, when there are little kids here, they’ll be shocked if you do that,” Travis informed him 

“Huh, I bet you’re right. I’ll have to remember that for next year. Kindly pass the pepper.” 

Sekar came over. “I see the suit fit.” 

“Yes!” Phlox enthused, “Your Quartermaster skills are unmatched, Mister Khan!” 

“Why don’t you join us?” Hoshi asked, “And tell me how you made the elf costumes.” 

“Well, it’s a top secret process involving a lot of sewing and green fabric.” 

“Do tell,” she got a little closer. 

Dave and Frank were sitting at the MACOs’ table, holding hands on top of the table. “Do we have an early start tomorrow, Major?” asked Frank. 

“Y–, uh, no,” Jay smiled a little. “In fact, let’s take Christmas week off. Only work out if you want to, okay? We’ll be on call for whatever the captain needs but let’s otherwise cool it. Have your fun.” 

“Thanks for understanding,” Frank stated. 

Jonathan sat down with Diana and Andrew. “I understand there are going to be candy canes,” he told her. 

“Oh?” she asked, “the tree looks pretty good, too.” She pointed. It was an artificial tree. The decorations were popcorn garlands and strings of lights. Next to it, on a table, was the menorah. Four candles, plus the Shammos, were lit. 

“Why aren’t you an elf?” Jonathan asked her. 

“I don’t think I have the butt for being an elf,” she admitted, “but Shelby looks great.” 

Andrew sighed. “Yeah, she always looks great.” He got up to approach and help her as she was carrying a big box. Colleen was following behind with a much smaller box. “Here, let me take the big one.” 

“Aw, thanks,” Colleen turned, “Shelby, he’s a keeper.” 

“Oh, yeah,” she agreed, “I’ll get the candy canes.” 

When it was just the two of them at the table, Jonathan leaned over to Diana, “Uh, do you have any plans for later?” 

“Sir?” 

“I was, um, wondering. I could put on It’s a Wonderful Life.” 

She looked at him and smiled a little. “Oh, man, I should really be more open about things.” 

“Do you, um, have a boyfriend?” he asked, realizing that it was not his night. 

“No, it’s just, um, sir,” she scootched closer so that he could hear her, “I’m a lesbian.” 

“Oh! I, uh, I had no idea. Well, if you’re free,” he spoke quickly, “my invitation still stands. You could still come and watch a movie, right?” 

“Sir, I, um, I think people will get a certain impression of me. Which they already have, and that part is definitely my fault. But I don’t want to add to it. I, er, I don’t like shouting it from the rooftops or anything. Know what I mean?” 

“Yeah, I think I do,” he went back to his roast procul and wondered why his radar was so off. 

Supper finished, Phlox put his beard and hat back on and went to sit on the chair that Jonathan had set up for him. 

“Now, I am a little new at this,” Phlox told everyone, “so forgive me if I don’t observe all proper protocols. But I am here to ask you what you all want for Christmas.” 

“It’s customary for people to get in line,” Tripp pointed out. 

“Ah, well, then a line it is,” Phlox enthused. 

The line formed, and Amanda Cole was first. She came over. Phlox sat there and he looked up at her. She leaned over and sat down on his lap. “No one, uh, told me that this would happen,” Phlox mumbled. 

“Uh, does that make you uncomfortable?” Amanda asked. 

“No, no, it’s just a tiny bit surprising,” he stated, and thought to himself, and it’s a bit stimulating as well. 

=/= 

On the Bridge, Karin Bernstein-Rosen got a little command experience. Aidan MacKenzie ran Tactical and Chip ran Communications while Chris piloted. Nyota Warren sat at the Science station. 

“Anything interesting to report?” Karin asked. 

“Nothing except I could play White Christmas on the intercom if you like,” Chip offered. She looked at him and he offered, “Uh, Jingle Bells?” 

=/= 

The elves handed out clear sticks wrapped in red foil. “Merry Christmas,” Colleen told Jay as she handed him one as she passed by the MACOs’ table. 

“Uh, what’s this?” he asked. 

“Candy cane,” she explained, “with no food coloring.” 

“Ah, okay.” Too much sugar. He could work it off that week. 

Music started, and couples got up to dance, even some people who were tentative and not really together yet. He sat there and watched a little. There would be a New Year’s Eve party as well, and then it would be time to return to business as usual. Couples were coalescing. And he was being left behind. 

Jonathan watched, too, and his thoughts were very nearly identical to Jay’s. Malcolm, too, observed the goings on. The single women’s table emptied as they were all asked to dance by someone or other – most of the MACOs. Tracey and Oscar danced slowly, closely, smiling at each other and occasionally stopping to kiss, even though their movements weren’t in time to the music. Judy and Michael danced, too, and they were good, better than most, stepping as one. Even Tripp and T’Pol got up and joined in. 

Chuck Berry sang on the intercom. 

Said Santa to a boy child “What have you been longing for?”
“All I want for Christmas is a Rock and Roll electric guitar”
And then away went Rudolph a whizzing like a shooting star
Run, run Rudolph, Santa’s got to make it to town, come on
Santa make him hurry, tell him he can take the freeway down
Run, run Rudolph, reeling like a merry-go-round 

And as the couples moved, some fast and others slow, some graceful while others were tentative, the ones on the sidelines continued to kick themselves for their hesitations and their shyness and their mixed signals and bad radar and, above all, their collective missed opportunities. 

=/= 

When she was finally done with putting away the clean dishes, Lili sat at a table, eating a little bit of the peach cobbler and clicking around on her PADD. When she was done with the acrostic, she read the quote aloud, “Think you I am no stronger than my sex, being so father'd and so husbanded? – Julius Caesar”. 

She put the PADD down and murmured aloud to no one, “Thanks, Malcolm, Merry, er, Happy Christmas to you, and to whoever can make you happy. I hope you find him soon.” 

=/= 

Diana Jones’s Personal log, December twenty-fifth, 2037 

Man, oh man, I really should tell people. But I hate coming out. It’s too dramatic for me. 

=/= 

Judy Kelly Rostov’s Personal log, December twenty-fifth, 2037 

I had a wonderful Christmas. My period is late. I’ll ask Michael to go with me to Sick Bay this week and I’ll have Doctor Phlox give me a pregnancy test. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, December twenty-fifth, 2037 

Ensign O’Day liked the gift I gave her. At least, I think she did. She is very gracious about such things. I asked her if we could play Scrabble as well, and she consented to that. 

I must be careful not to lead her on. She is a nice girl, but I am certain she can no longer have children. So it can never be. 

=/= 

Amanda Cole’s Personal log, December twenty-fifth, 2037 

I think I scared the tar out of Phlox by sitting on his lap. And I could tell – at least, if he was a human, I’d be sure of this – but I think he was turned on by that. 

I’ve never thought of him that way. Maybe I should. 

=/= 

William Slocum’s Personal log, December twenty-fifth, 2037 

I should have asked Lili to dance. But I’ve got two left feet, it seems. Still, I could see that she wanted to. 

How can I tell her that I don’t just think of her as a coworker? 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, December twenty-fifth, 2037 

Christmas reminds me of home, of opening presents with Laura while our folks looked on and we ripped open the paper really fast and then couldn’t wait to play with stuff. 

My parents are long gone, but Laura is not. Or, well, none of them are born yet. It had been a while since I had really missed them. And now I do again. On a day like today, that all comes flooding back. I think I’m better, think I’m okay and I’m not depressed anymore. But one little thing like that and boom! I’m back to Square One.

“Lili, why don’t we take the afternoon off?” Will suggested. 

“Hmm?” she was chopping walnuts and not paying a lot of attention. 

“Tonight’s dinner will be super-late,” he explained, “so we’ll just let lunch be catch as catch can for everyone and then you and I can serve dinner at about twenty-one hundred hours, plus drinks and the like for the New Year’s Eve party.” 

“Um, all right,” she stopped what she was doing, “but it’ll get dirty in here. No one does the dishes but me.” 

“I can load the sanitizer. Hell, so can Delacroix. If he wants to learn how to work in the galley, he’s got to learn how to do that as well. So let him. You – go rest! That’s an order!” 

“Aye, aye, Lieutenant!” she wiped her hands and got out of there. 

“If I am ever going to make a move,” Will sighed, “I need for you to not refer to me by my rank, O’Day.” 

=/= 

Deb was in their shared quarters when Lili walked in. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked. 

“Chef gave me some time off, since tonight’s dinner will be mondo-late.” 

“Ah, okay. I, um, Chip kinda invited himself over.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, huh, well,” Deb admitted, “he’s okay.” 

“You don’t like him?” 

“I, well,” Deb asked, “promise you won’t tell anyone?” 

“I swear on a stack of cookbooks.” 

“I like the captain.” 

“Hmm,” Lili mused, “it’s the Roman nose. It is awesome.” 

“That’s not the only thing that’s awesome.” 

“Deborah! What do you know?” Lili asked. 

“Nothing! It’s my own overactive imagination. Still, yanno, I mean, maybe it’s the whole authority thing. I dunno.” 

“You should be nice to Chip,” Lili told her, “let him down easy, at least.” 

“Could you stay, then? I mean, if you wanna sleep, go ahead and we can go someplace else, but it would be better if there was someone else here, know what I mean?” Deb asked. 

“Sure. Hmm, I’ll end up as a fifth wheel,” Lili thought for a moment. “What about Scrabble?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I can have Lieutenant Reed bring over the board and the four of us could play. Then you wouldn’t be alone with Chip and he wouldn’t just be trying to get rid of me.” 

“That could work,” Deb agreed, “and Chip’s not gonna try anything with my boss around. Do you, um, like the Lieutenant?” 

“About the same way that you like the captain. He’s out of reach.” 

“Sure, but at least the captain, well, he does like girls.” 

“Yeah, I know, I’ve got ridiculous taste,” Lili admitted, “I also think the Major’s kinda hot, and he’s the same way.” 

“Don’t you like any of the guys where at least there’s a chance?” 

“Do you?” 

“Touché,” Deb agreed, “I won’t tell anybody. The whole thing is so weird. I wonder if you and I would be more interested in available guys if there was a different selection.” 

“Or would we just continue to pine away for men we can never have? I bet it’s an avoidance thing,” Lili offered, “Maybe you and I just don’t want to commit.” 

“Well, it feels like it can only be zero to Warp Factor Five in five easy seconds,” Deb stated, “No one seems to date. Everyone just seems to get hooked. At least, those who date, do. And did you see all of those people who were dancing on Christmas night? I bet we’ll hear that three quarters of them are getting married in ’38.” 

“Maybe that’s their New Year’s resolutions. Mine is to lose ten kilos.” 

Deb chuckled at that. “Mine is to work out one extra day every week.” 

=/= 

Malcolm hit the door chime, Scrabble board under his arm and a velvet bag with racks and tiles in it in one hand. 

“It’s open!” Lili called. 

He walked in, and saw her with Deb and Chip. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had company.” 

“You’re part of my company,” Lili told him, “if you don’t mind. I was thinking, all four of us could play.” 

“Certainly,” he unfolded the board onto her desk. “Mister Masterson, help me with this.” The two men brought the desk over closer to Deb’s bed, and then brought over the two desk chairs. 

“We could play teams,” Chip suggested. 

“How do you do that?” asked Deb. 

“This is how we played when I was a kid,” he explained as he fished the four racks out of the bag. “The team members sit across from each other. Everybody gets seven tiles like normal. The twist is that the team members’ scores are added together at the end.” 

“That’s not very interesting,” Deb stated. 

“I am not finished yet, Miss Haddon,” Chip scolded, “Now, the other interesting part is, after you’ve put down your tiles, you trade one of your leftover tiles with your partner. Then you pick from the bag. So let’s say you and I are partners. You put five tiles on the board. Then you give me one of your two tiles that are left, and I give you one of my seven. Then you pick five new tiles.” 

“Can you reject a tile?” Lili asked. 

“Nope, you don’t even see them. We do it this way,” he demonstrated by holding both hands out. His right hand was palm side down and his left was palm side up. “You pass your tile with your right hand and you receive with your left. Keep your hands closed so that nobody can see. It gets funny when people start passing the same bad tile back and forth a few times. You can find yourself dumping the Q and then getting it back when your partner goes, stuff like that.” 

“And when you’re down to no tiles left in the bag and fewer than seven, does the swapping cease?” Malcolm asked. 

“Nope, you keep switching, even if you both just have one tile. The other thing is, the game isn’t won until both members of a team have no more tiles left.” 

“Well that sounds different. I think it could be fun,” Lili stated. 

“Okay,” Deb agreed. 

Malcolm nodded. Chip announced, “Boys against the girls.” 

“Really?” Deb asked. 

“Sure!” Chip enthused. “So you’ll switch seats with Lieutenant Reed.” She had been sitting next to Lili, on her bed. 

“All right.” She got up. 

Malcolm sat down on her bed. “For this afternoon, why don’t we all use first names?” 

“You won’t be upset with me when we wipe the floor with you, Boss?” Deb asked. 

Malcolm laughed at that. “Mister – er, Chip and I shall be too busy wiping the floor with you ladies.” 

“Lowest tile picks first, and then we go around clockwise,” Chip explained. “Ladies.” He presented the bag to Lili. 

She fished inside it. “D.” 

“G,” Chip stated. 

“N,” Deb said. 

Malcolm pulled a tile out of the bag, “B.” He showed it to the rest of them. They put the tiles back and selected their sevens. He fiddled around a little bit and then put down the first word – HAUNTS – for twenty points. He picked up the remaining tile from his rack and held it out to Chip. As they made the exchange, he asked, “What happens if I put down all seven tiles?” 

“There’s no trading then,” Chip explained. “Lili, you’re up.” 

“VIDEOS,” she counted, “uh, I think that’s twelve points.” 

=/= 

Alone in his quarters, Ethan Shapiro sat and thought about things. “I can’t be this way forever. Man, depression stinks.” 

=/= 

“Okay, so you got us that time. Rematch?” Deb asked when the game was finished. 

“Sure, but let’s change up the teams,” Chip suggested. “Uh, you and I’ll switch seats, okay? So it’ll be me and Lili, and you and Malcolm.” 

=/= 

Doctor Phlox looked up when the doors to Sick Bay opened. “Ah, Corporal Cole! Is there something I can do for you?” 

“Um,” she told him, “on Christmas, I was, well, I was kinda forward.” 

“That’s all right.” 

“I saw you were a little uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize. It’s just, you see, for Denobulan males, we can be a bit squeamish about being touched.” 

“Oh, then I’m really sorry. But I thought, well, isn’t there all sorts of stuff that goes on, on Denobula?” 

“There is,” Phlox answered carefully, “but the whole, the public aspect of it is, it feels a little strange.” 

“I don’t like public displays, either,” Amanda admitted, “but can I tell you something?” 

“Certainly.” 

“I’m a little, uh, curious.” 

“Curious?” 

“About you.” 

“I, I see,” he stammered out. “Corporal ….” 

“Call me Amanda.” 

“Uh, Amanda, I, well, I am a married man.” 

“Not in 2037, you aren’t. And even if you were, aren’t your marriages open ones?” 

“Do you accept that?” 

“Not really,” she admitted, “But all I’m wondering is whether anything could ever work. Would you be true? Or would you want two other wives, even if that was impossible? Would you get bored with just one?” 

He looked her in the eye. “I do not believe that I could ever be bored with you.” 

=/= 

“Now that was a lot closer,” Deb stated, “Sorry we were left with the Q, Malcolm.” 

“That’s all right. One last switch, then?” He traded seats with Chip. 

They had played a pair of rounds and Lili suddenly burst out laughing when she looked at the tile Malcolm had passed to her. He, too, smiled. “What’s so funny?” asked Deb. 

“We exchanged the same letter tile,” Lili explained. 

“Ah, then it wasn’t, lemme see, it wasn’t the Q, the Z, the J or the, uh, X,” Chip decided. 

“So you’ve narrowed it down to some twenty-two possibilities,” Malcolm quipped. 

“And that was a huge help,” Chip joked, “Okay, read ‘em and weep.”  He set down all seven tiles, in front of an S, to make PRESENTS. 

“A commanding lead!” Malcolm declared, “Need I remind you, Miss Haddon; that you work for me?” 

She started laughing, “I thought we were on a first names basis this afternoon!” 

“Not when it’s wartime,” Malcolm pretended to steel his gaze. “Your move, Lili.” 

“Huh. Oh!” She put down – adding to an L – MARGINAL. 

“Now it’s a horse race,” Deb announced, “Let’s see.” She added MANGO. 

The lead was traded a few times, and Malcolm found himself exchanging the tiles very slowly with Lili, lingering just a little bit as he brushed his fingers against her hands. He looked at her one time and she seemed to be nodding off a little bit. “Wait a tick,” he asked, “Lili, are you too tired to continue?” 

“No, I’m fine,” she yawned. 

“You’re just upset ‘cause we’re in the lead again,” Chip scolded. 

“No, no, we’ve been keeping her from resting,” Deb explained, “Maybe we could stop now.” 

“Leave the board here, maybe finish up another time?” Malcolm asked. 

“Don’t mind me,” Lili murmured sleepily. 

“You need rest. You’ve gotta be up tonight,” Deb reminded her. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” 

“Here, let’s get the desk back,” Malcolm decided, “Mind the tiles.” He and Chip moved the desk back to where it had been, and then the chairs. “So I’ll, uh, we’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yeah, sorry I’m not better company,” Lili yawned again, “It just suddenly hit me.” 

“Not to worry,” Chip turned to Deb. “Will you dance with me tonight?” 

“I dunno. I’m not very good.” 

“It’s okay,” he admitted, “I’m not too good, either. See you then.” He and Malcolm left. 

Lili crawled into bed and set the alarm. “He likes you, Deb.” 

“I guess he does.” 

“Just don’t break his heart. He’s really sweet,” she murmured drowsily. 

“Do you want him now?” 

“No comment,” Lili whispered, and she was asleep. 

=/= 

The party went smoothly, for the most part. This time, Lili was tending bar, and she wasn’t stingy with the alcohol. Jay came over. “You’re getting Shapiro drunk there.” He indicated surreptitiously. 

“Huh, well, he’s the one coming over and asking for refills.” 

“True, but maybe you should hold back a bit. I didn’t like the way Slocum mixed ‘em on Christmas, but at least nobody got hammered.” 

“You’re right. And, thanks. Another?” 

“Me, no, I’m liable to start dancing. And that would not be a pretty sight.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you move all right,” she told him. 

“You sure you haven’t had any of that alcohol?” he asked, turning away and shaking his head a little. 

Ethan came over. “Another, uh, please.” 

“No, it’s enough, Ethan,” she stated firmly. 

“C’mon,” he slurred. 

“No,” she handed him a club soda. “Here.” 

“C’mon,” he was a little teary, “I don’t get a chance to have, to have Ka – her – and now you’re telling me I can’t have any hootch?” 

Malcolm came over. “Crewman Shapiro, I think it’s time you called it a night.” 

“It’s not midnight. Hell, it’s just barely past twenty-three hundred hours!” Ethan complained. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Malcolm commanded, “return to your quarters.” 

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Crewman, that’s an order,” Malcolm repeated, somewhat sternly. 

Ethan took a messy swing at him that failed to connect. Three Security crewmen were up immediately. “Time to go, Ethan,” announced Brooks Haynem. He and Lloyd Ketchum had Ethan by the arms. “We’ll get him back to quarters, sir.” Tony Vittorio stood by to assist. 

“All right. Actually, here, I’ll go with you,” he looked at Lili, “Good night.” 

“G’night.” She busied herself wiping down the bar and not looking at what was unfolding. 

When they were gone, Josh came over. “I wish I knew what to say, or do.” 

“Tell me your troubles, Mister Rosen,” Lili offered. 

“You know them,” he replied, “one of my closest friends hates me because he’s in love with my wife.” 

“Maybe he needs to know that you’re still friends. Despite how he’s been acting, and how he’s been feeling. Know what I mean?” 

“Maybe,” Josh got an idea, “Would you go out with him?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“A little dinner, a few drinks,” he indicated the makeshift bar, “A little naughty stuff, maybe?” 

“Josh, I am old enough to be his mother.” 

“So?” 

“So I think it wouldn’t be fair to just lead him on like that.” 

“C’mon, he’s a nice guy. You know that. He’s just messed up right now. Whaddaya say?”

“Josh,” she sighed, “I think all that will do is make Ethan feel worse.” 

Josh thought for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

It was nearly midnight. Couples got together, both the official – like Judy and Michael – the semi-official – Jennifer and Aidan – and the new ones – like Felicity Reese and Eric Forbes. Jonathan stood at the sidelines, watching. “Three, two, one!” everyone yelled. “Happy new year!” 

No one sang Auld Lang Syne, but there was a lot of kissing. Lili saw Brian, “Hey, happy new year,” she kissed him on the cheek. He blushed. She found Craig and did the same thing, with the same reaction. 

Will came over, and enveloped her in an unexpected bear hug. “Happy new year,” he kissed her cheek, lingering, “Let’s make this a good year.” She squirmed out of his arms as quickly as she could. 

Midnight kiss finished, Andy looked at Shelby and suggested, “Let’s make this the year we get married.” 

“I’d like that.” 

“I love you,” Karin whispered in Josh’s ear. 

José came over to Hoshi. “Uh, happy new year.” 

“Thanks, happy new year,” she replied, and awkwardly kissed him on the cheek. 

Sekar came over and hugged her. “Happy new year, Hoshi.” 

“Happy new year,” she replied, smiling, a little surprised. 

“A kiss is customary?” Phlox asked Amanda. 

“It can be.” 

“Amanda, would you kiss me in Sick Bay?” 

“In front of the malostrea?” 

“Perhaps I’ll put a cloth over their cage.” 

=/= 

Tripp left Engineering and came to the Bridge, where Maryam, Bruce, Stephanie and Diana were, with T’Pol. Without saying another word, he approached the captain’s chair, and kissed his wife. 

A little surprised, she looked at him and stated, “It would appear that discipline is breaking down a little.” 

“Only a little,” he smiled at her. “I’ll be back in Engineering if you need me.” 

=/= 

Ethan Shapiro’s Personal log, December thirty-first, 2037 – January first, 2038 

Life is so unfair. 

I want to die. 

=/= 

Michelle Pike’s Personal log, December thirty-first, 2037 – January first, 2038 

This time next year, I’ll be Michelle Miller. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, December thirty-first, 2037 – January first, 2038 

The chef’s assistant said she thought I could move well. Or all right. Or something like that. I don’t know how I feel about that. Scared, I guess. I know that makes no sense, but it’s true. My head’s been all over the place. Christmas and New Year’s really brought a lot of it back, and brought me down again. 

Should I start again? I gotta say; I just don’t have the energy. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, December thirty-first, 2037 – January first, 2038 

I bet I’ll be conducting a lot more weddings this year. And the ships keep sailing away, and I am on none of them. I’m not even so sure I know how to get on one of those ships anymore. 

=/= 

Hoshi Sato’s Personal log, December thirty-first, 2037 – January first, 2038 

How very interesting. Here I was thinking nobody was going to want the depressed chick and then, suddenly, two! Well, maybe. Let’s not put the cart before the horse or anything like that. 

But it’s intriguing. I know I shouldn’t base my moods on men. I do get that. But, wow. I gotta say the attention does make me feel better.

“Hey, happy birthday,” Deb smiled as she and Lili got up to start their days. 

“Forty-six,” Lili sighed, “I’m not so sure I expected to be spending it in 2038.” 

“I’m sure you weren’t. How did you spend thirty-six, if I may ask?” 

“Working. I was tending bar, I think. Or maybe cooking. It’s all a blur. Anyway, gotta run. Pancakes don’t make themselves.” 

=/= 

In the galley, there was whispering and a lot of activity as Lili walked in. “Yes?” she asked Craig. 

“Uh, happy birthday,” he handed her a plate. 

“What’s this? You made chestnuts? You know we’re running low.” 

“No, no,” Will came in, “they’re replicated. Taste them.” 

She did so. “They’re good, a little sweet and definitely nutty. Ha, like me!” 

“Well, you’re more on the sweet end of things,” Brian brought over a bar of dark chocolate. 

“I haven’t had any breakfast yet! Please!” 

“This is another replicator experiment,” Craig informed her. 

She broke off a piece. “Oh, now this is terrific! It’s bitter – I love bitter chocolate – and has a good mouth feel, very creamy, like there’s a lot of butterfat in here.” 

“And here,” Will brought over a bowl of tabbouleh. 

“Ugh, you’re going to make me sick today. More replicator work?” 

“Yes,” replied the chef. 

She tasted it. “Garlicky and lemony and peppery, just like I like it. Oh, you guys!” she got a little teary. “You figured out how to replicate some of my most favorite foods!” 

“It was Chef’s idea,” Brian blushed and looked down. 

“We all wanted you to have what you like for your birthday,” Craig told her. 

“Well, I love it, all of it. Thank you. You guys are the best.” She hugged and kissed all of them and, as at New Year’s, Will hugged her too tightly and too closely and for too long. 

She broke away as quickly as decorum permitted. “Let’s start making the pancakes.” 

=/= 

Ethan Shapiro sat with Andy and Shelby and picked at his food. “Aren’t you hungry?” Shelby asked. 

“Not really.” 

“You haven’t been eating much for a few days or so,” she observed, “At least, not what I’ve been able to see.” 

“What are you, my mother now?” he bristled. 

“No. I just, we care about you. We want you to be all right,” she was sincere. 

“We do,” Andy agreed, “I swear we do. Tell either of us if you ever feel like talking.” 

“I never feel like talking,” he got up and left. 

Shelby looked at Andrew. “I got a bad feeling.”

=/= 

Doctor Phlox and Amanda sat with Maryam. “Doctor,” Maryam ventured cautiously, “would you be so kind as to speak with Ramih and Azar about, uh, about me?” 

“Oh, yes! Of course.” 

“What’s that about?” Amanda asked. 

“It is,” Maryam explained, “I had asked the doctor to help me choose a husband.” 

“Oh!” Amanda asked, “Why aren’t you working on this, Phlox?” 

“I have been, well, first the medical examinations intervened, and then we were working with the malostrea.” 

“Well that’s a long enough delay, now, isn’t it?” Amanda insisted. “What are you looking for?” 

“I am seeking the usual things that a good Muslim wife should want in her husband.” 

“Aren’t there specific things you want, just for yourself?” asked Amanda. 

“I, I don’t know.” 

“I’ll make sure he gets on the ball,” Amanda vowed, “I promise.” 

“Thank you,” Maryam adjusted her hijab and looking down a little. 

=/= 

Ethan blew past Colleen, Bruce, Diana, Susie, Sandra and anyone else he saw. “Good morning,” Malcolm greeted him and he ignored that and kept going. 

“Well, that’s funny,” Malcolm muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. 

Ethan kept going. This is it, he thought to himself. 

=/= 

Malcolm heard the alarms before anyone, and ran over to the airlock. He banged on the controls, yelling, “Emergency Override! Reed gamma nine oh nine!” 

Ethan fell out, dropping like a rock. Malcolm smacked the wall panel so hard that it hurt. “Medical emergency! Airlock, C deck! Get here right now!” 

=/= 

“Hurry!” Amanda yelled at Phlox, as they were still rushing from the cafeteria. She ran with him through the halls, and was faster than he. 

She found Malcolm giving Ethan mouth to mouth. “Oh my God,” was all she could say. 

Phlox arrived right afterwards. “Amanda! Get Crewman Miller here with a hypo of cordrazine and the cardiostimulators. On the double!” She yelled his request into the wall communicator. 

Other crew members arrived, drawn by the activity. Malcolm was still attempting to resuscitate Ethan. Phlox finally tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll do this now,” he stated grimly. 

Malcolm got up. “Get out!” he bitterly yelled at the others. “Give the doctor some room!” 

=/= 

Andrew ran over with the shot. “Here,” he gave it to Phlox. 

Phlox pumped a cc straight into Ethan’s chest. “Anything?” Andy asked anxiously. “C’mon, bro!” he yelled at the prostrate body. 

“Another cc,” Phlox intoned, injecting Ethan again. He put the cardiostimulators on Ethan’s chest and activated them. 

Andy held Ethan’s wrist in his hands. “I think I have something.” He grabbed the medical scanner. “Weak and thready.” 

“Another cc,” Phlox commanded. He injected Ethan. 

“That’s better,” Andrew reported, “I’m getting more stability.” 

“Let’s get him to Sick Bay,” commanded the Denobulan. 

“I’ll go get a stretcher,” Amanda volunteered. She and Malcolm left to grab one. 

=/= 

“What’s going on?” Josh asked. He and Karin were sitting in the cafeteria and had just seen a lot of movement. 

Sandra walked in with Colleen. “Make out session by the airlock.” 

“What?” asked Karin, incredulous. 

“Shapiro tried to off himself,” Sandra sneered, “And his lover boy’s busy giving him the Kiss of Life.” 

“What the hell?” Karin’s voice was rising. 

“What the hell should you care?” 

“Why don’t you?” Karin yelled, getting up and very close to Sandra, and pointing at her accusingly. 

“You wanna fight me?” Sandra asked, spitting out the challenge. “You’re too soft.” 

Tripp was sitting with T’Pol, not too far away. He got up. “What’s goin’ on here?” 

“Nothing,” Sandra spat. 

“It’s not nothing,” Karin sputtered. “There’s plenty that’s happening.” 

=/= 

Jonathan arrived in Sick Bay, coming as quickly as he could. “What happened?” 

“Captain,” Phlox stated as Andrew monitored Ethan’s vital signs, “this was a suicide attempt.” 

“Is he gonna be all right?” 

“We don’t know,” admitted Andrew. 

Tripp came in. “Cap’n, I gotta talk to you.” 

“Uh, not now.” 

“It’s related.”

“Oh. What, um, what is it?” 

“If you or anyone else is wonderin’ where the rumors are getting’ their starts, or why morale is taking a nosedive, I can tell you.” 

“Oh?” 

“I confined her to quarters. I’m not sure what else to do right now, and she doesn’t work for me anyway.” 

“What? Who?” Jonathan asked. 

“Sandra Sloane,” Tripp informed him, “If you wanna know why he did this, well, one of the reasons is, I bet it’s her and her nastiness. Look no further.” 

=/= 

Back in their quarters, Karin and Josh about jumped out of their skins when the door chimed. “Uh, come in,” her voice was shrill with fear. 

It was Shelby. 

“Any news?” asked Josh, fearing the worst. 

“No change,” Shelby reported, “Andy thinks he’ll be there most of the night. He and Phlox are taking turns watching, seeing if they can get responses, that sort of thing.” 

“My God,” Karin cried a little, “why did he do that?” 

“Karin,” Shelby stated, “he was desperate.” 

“I guess,” she conceded, “but to do that?” 

Shelby looked at them both. “He’s in love with you. He never said anything, but it’s gotten pretty obvious, at least I think it has. He stopped eating a few days ago, so far as I could tell.” 

“But what could we have done? I’m Josh’s wife now,” Karin stated. 

“We stayed away,” Josh admitted, “first it was that he was a bit hostile, and then it was awkward and then we just didn’t know what to say. I like to think I am not a jealous guy, but what kind of a conversation was I gonna have with him? He was suffering. That much was clear. I know he was getting treatment. I guess it wasn’t working.” 

“I won’t lie to you,” Shelby shook her head, “Andy said that Ethan might die. But I don’t know what you could have done differently. God knows none of us are mental health professionals.” 

“Phlox is,” Karin pointed out. 

“Well, yeah,” agreed Josh, “but I bet there are or were a bunch of other people who’re depressed. I mean, we all know about Hoshi. There’s gotta be more out there. He’s gotta have his hands full.” 

“And now it’s worse,” Shelby sighed. 

=/= 

Jonathan, Malcolm and T’Pol sat together in Ethan’s quarters with Andrew. “I really shouldn’t stay too long,” Andy fidgeted. 

“We know,” Jonathan replied, “but we’ve got to get to the bottom of this. We are going to go into his logs. We just want you to know this.” 

“It’s almost like I’m his next of kin,” Andy murmured. 

“In a manner of speaking,” T’Pol stated, “although roommate status would not normally confer such a relationship.” 

“Well, friendship status, then,” Andy agreed. “I guess I’m ready. Let’s do this.” 

“Do you have any idea when he originally became depressed?” Malcolm asked, “Let’s not go into logs any earlier than we have to.” 

“I’m not sure,” Andy shook his head. “But Karin and Josh started going out in; I think it was last September? Maybe it was late August.” 

“We’ll start there, then,” Jonathan decided, “Override, Archer theta seven three four.” 

“Reed override, gamma nine oh nine.” 

“T’Pol override, psi eight six one.” 

T’Pol started typing. “Since we were sent back in time, there are no logs until Crewman Shapiro’s log on October twenty-first.” 

“We’ll start there,” Jonathan decided. 

She read aloud, “I don’t feel any different. I guess I have to wait for the new drug to take effect. I know what would cure me, or at least it should. But it’ll never happen. 

Josh is a friend of mine, a good friend. And Karin is his girl. But it’s true – what would really bring me out of it would be if Karin were to come to my quarters and tell me that she wanted me, and not him. 

Hey, a fella can dream, can’t he?” 

“So it started then, or at least he acknowledged it then,” Malcolm pointed out. 

“That would appear to be the case,” T’Pol agreed, “The next entry is from October twenty-eighth,” She read, “I cannot believe she wouldn’t tell me she was engaged, and I had to hear it in an announcement from the captain! Dammit, this shouldn’t hurt me so much, not anymore. But it does. Karin, why are you with him? Why aren’t you with me?” 

“It was awkward,” Andy confirmed. “I know they didn’t want to leave him out of their news, but they were afraid of how he’d react.” 

“The next entry,” T’Pol reported, “is from November eighteenth.” 

“That’s the date of the Rosen-Bernstein wedding,” Jonathan nodded to T’Pol. 

She read, “I got through it. It’s funny. I wasn’t in love with her before, not before we were tossed back to 2037, like just so much gefilte fish. 

And now I am, and it’s too late. I don’t really know what to do. I suppose I could write bad poetry and try my hardest to be mopey. Or I could get with one of the other women, maybe, I don’t know. 

I don’t think the medication is working at all. I just want to die.” 

“My God,” Malcolm was troubled, “he was already thinking of it then.” 

“Did he have airlock codes or anything?” asked Jonathan. 

“No more than any other Tactical crewman would,” Malcolm stated. 

“There are also safety precautions built in. Crewman Shapiro had to have disabled them somehow,” T’Pol opined. 

“Maybe it took him that long to do that. I’ll have Tripp go over logs and look at all of the airlocks. Let’s figure out how he overrode the redundant controls and what we can do about preventing this from happening again. What’s the next entry?” asked the captain, biting his lower lip. 

“It is the following day,” T’Pol then read, “I had no idea I could possibly feel worse. Well, so much for that. I most definitely feel worse than I did before. 

I almost – almost – hooked up with Sandra. I am not that sort of a person, really. I don’t go around using women for sex. I am not like that. 

But I was angry, and hurt, and lonely, and when she gave me the eye, I went for it. And then, oh man! It was, I get the feeling this is what it’s like to be with a prostitute. Because she didn’t want to kiss, and didn’t want to do foreplay, and I got the distinct impression that she couldn’t wait for it to be over with. 

I left her, or rather, she threw me out; it was a bit of both. And she screamed at me, and there were people in the hallway and of course they must have heard. 

Who am I kidding? They heard. So I’ll be the focus of Rumor Central. Karin, I know, will hear. I’m certain that this little escapade hasn’t done me a damned bit of good with her. Not that that would have happened. She’s married to Josh now. I have to accept that.” 

“Crewman Sloane’s been busy,” Jonathan seethed. 

“Will you be speaking with her?” Malcolm asked. 

“Tomorrow,” decided Captain Archer, “right now, Shapiro is a lot more important. Sloane will have to stew in her own bitter juices for a day. Are there any more entries?” 

“Yes, here is one from January first,” she then read, “Life is so unfair. 

I want to die.” 

“It was New Year’s, sir,” Andy explained, “I could see that. Shelby could, everybody could, if you paid any attention. People like Ethan were on the outside, looking in.” 

Malcolm nodded, knowing that much all too well. “That’s when he became inebriated, too. Are there any more entries?” 

“Just one,” T’Pol confirmed. “The date is today.” 

“Let’s hear it,” Jonathan commanded grimly. 

“If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t chicken out, and I was probably successful. I hate what has happened, and what I’ve become, and how things are. Please tell Doctor Phlox that I know he did his best, but it wasn’t enough. I don’t blame him. 

But I do want Karin to know that all I really wanted was a chance, and a place, and a way to tell her that something happened to me when we were tossed back to 2037. And it wasn’t supposed to happen and I know how it must look, but what happened was that I fell in love with you, and I couldn’t shake that. And I know you’re Josh’s wife, and I, I respect that, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting like hell or turning into something that I wish to God was anything but that. 

All I want is to be loved, and all of us who are on the sidelines want that, but I have a focus, because I only want to be loved by you. Nobody else. And it can’t happen, so here I am, doing this because I just can’t take it anymore. I know that you want to have your life with your husband – my friend! And under any other circumstances I would wish you the best and I would just do what I could in order to go on. But these are our circumstances. 

You will go on, and you will have your kids and live your lives and I know that you will be happy. So be happy. Take whatever you think you might want of my things. I won’t be needing them where I’m going.” 

=/= 

Billy Dane and Gavin Prentice guarded the door to Sandra’s quarters. Sophie came by. “I gotta get in there.” 

“Nobody goes in there,” stated Billy. 

“I live there,” she replied sharply. 

“Go in, get a change of clothes and anything you need for tomorrow and then leave. Gavin here will go in with you. You get in and get out.” 

“Where do I sleep?” she asked. 

“Don’t you have friends you can stay with for a few days?” Gavin asked. 

“Huh, I guess so. She’s in big trouble, eh?” 

“I can’t comment,” he told her, as they entered her quarters. 

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, March twenty-seventh, 2038 

I’m stuck in my quarters. Even Sophie isn’t allowed to stay for long. That MACO Prentice had her pack a bag for a few nights. So I’ll be here for a while. 

I’ve done nothing wrong. They are violating my rights, big time. They’ll get a piece of my mind. 

=/= 

Andrew Miller’s Personal log, March twenty-seventh, 2038 

My God. I don’t know if there’s ever been a worse day in the history of days. Ethan tried to kill himself. Phlox and I have done everything we can. He’s lying on a bio bed and is in a coma. Neither of us have any idea whatsoever if he will make it. 

I blame myself, a bit, because I am his friend and his roommate, and I should have been there, and listened, and also forced him to talk, even when he didn’t want to. It’s all about Karin, and she must be a wreck. But as his friend, well, I had some obligations. And I should have fulfilled them, or at least tried harder to do so. He deserved that much from me. 

Phlox gave me some time to rest, and then I’ll get back to it tomorrow. I hope to God there’s some good news. 

And Shelby, oh, thank God for Shelby. I have no doubts about her. I had none before, and now I know that I never, ever will. If Ethan had someone like Shelby, I, well, none of us would be talking like this. I prayed for the first time in months. God, please, please don’t take this poor mixed-up schlemiel. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, March twenty-seventh, 2038 

There is nothing that I want less than to log what has happened today. But log it I must, for it is real and it is true. 

Crewman Ethan Shapiro attempted suicide today. He is reportedly in love with Crewman Bernstein-Rosen. I officiated at her wedding a few months ago. 

All of these weddings – they’re slowly killing the rest of us. I don’t know if others are thinking of doing what Shapiro tried today. I know he was under treatment for his depression, but apparently the medications were not working. All I can do is thank God that, for most of it, Phlox’s administrations seem to be working. 

I will have to deal with Sloane, but that will be in the morning. I don’t want to think about her right now. 

The crew is dividing, and it will continue to do so. I just pray that the dividing line isn’t drawn over this crewman’s body. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, March twenty-seventh, 2038 

I very nearly lost one of my charges today, and it may happen yet. Crewman Shapiro may not last the night. 

I will speak with Crewman Bernstein-Rosen about changing her shift. If Shapiro recovers, and if he can come back, I feel it may be kinder to him if he no longer needs to work with her. 

I don’t know. I have felt horrid and desperate but I have not had suicidal thoughts. I don’t know if others have. I hope not. 

=/= 

Joshua Rosen’s Personal log, March twenty-seventh, 2038 

Karin, Andrew, Shelby and I prayed today, for Ethan’s recovery. Shelby can’t read Hebrew yet but she was there and she was supportive. She said she wants to convert before she and Andy get married. She’s a good person. I wish Ethan could have found someone like her. 

I blame myself, in some ways. No one asked Ethan to try to kill himself, of course, but if I had only been there! Karin is beside herself. There’s nothing I can say, or do, to make her feel any better. I love her but I can’t fix this. It’s too broken.

“Mom?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I miss you.” 

“I know.” 

“Mom, am I ever gonna see you again? And Dad and Angela, too? I mean in person, not like this.” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“Mom, will I ever fall in love?” 

“I think you will.” 

“I mean with the girl loving me back.” 

“I know. And yes, I think that will happen. Just be patient, Ethan. And remember – she might not look like what you think she should. But that doesn’t matter. Look with your heart, and see with your soul. I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Mom.” 

=/= 

Doctor Phlox sat in Sick Bay, on a stool beside the bed where Ethan Shapiro lay. The patient was hooked up to all manner of monitoring equipment. “I cannot say what to do,” sighed the Denobulan, “But I know that there is a possibility that you can hear me. So I will tell you some things, if you don’t mind.” 

He thought for a moment. “I know that things are difficult. I know that you must be tremendously lonely. And I apologize, for I fear that my treatments of you have been unsuccessful. And in a very small percentage of cases, treatment can even cause suicidal ideation. But I know that you have active brain waves. I believe that you are going to recover. I also believe that you wanted to be found.” 

He got up and got himself a glass of water and then sat down again. “I’m not, mind you, saying that you weren’t serious. I am certain that you were. But often there is a thought, in the back of the mind, a bit of a hope of being found. Deep down, Crewman – uh, Ethan – I feel you do not wish to die. I believe that you wish to live, but to live better. You want things to improve. And I can’t say as I blame you.” 

His sipped his water a little. “May I tell you a secret? I, too, have felt lonely. And most of the crew has, truth be told. The behaviors that have been cropping up all over the ship are evidence of that. It’s even for the people who have found a mate. Many of them have done so out of a sense of, perhaps, obligation – that they should become a half of a couple. I can see that. I can understand that impulse.” 

He sipped some more. “This is one of the reasons I’ve been a little reluctant to simply go ahead and help Crewman Haroun choose a husband. Amanda – that’s Corporal Cole – she rather correctly surmised that I was engaging in some avoidance behavior. Right on the nose, she was! I am. You see, Crewman Haroun asked me months ago, to assist her in choosing between Crewman Hamidi and Private Azar. And I have given them both physical examinations, of course. A part of declaring that someone is fit for a Muslim marriage is to declare them physically fit. And both men are, so that leaves it at another stalemate, another tie.” 

He coughed a little. “And then it gets trickier. There are questions about piety. I cannot answer those questions. I don’t imagine I could answer them about your faith, either. After all, Crewman Miller is Jewish, but by his own admission he rarely practices the faith, and he is engaged to wed a non-Jew. Crewman Pike is interested in converting, yet she has not yet studied your faith and its ways. Then there are you, and of course Crewman Rosen and Crewman Bernstein-Rosen. But all of you work on Saturdays. You all eat in the cafeteria although I have seen you being somewhat careful about some of the foods. You burn candles on Chanukah but do not limit your diets during the holiday that is coming up – what is it called again?” 

He thought for a moment. “Passover. That’s it. In any event, it’s difficult to see where the lines are drawn. Are they? I am no Vulcan but I have been approaching this as I would a logic problem. Perhaps I should not.” 

He thought for a few minutes. “It is a matter of the heart, when all is said and done. And while Crewman Haroun might not admit it – and I would not say this to her, to be sure – she may be hiding behind faith as a means of avoiding a commitment.” He looked at Ethan closely. “You may be doing the same, or you may have, to start. And then it snowballed, and suddenly you were ill and then the medication did not work properly and so here we are. So I would like to ask you something now.” 

He took a breath. “It may assist you in your recovery to do something for someone else. Would you assist me with helping Crewman Haroun in her quest? I know this may be an unconventional request but I would like the assistance. Corporal Cole has already said that she would help. But would you be so kind? For a feel you have a great deal to offer. I think you could bring a good perspective.” 

=/= 

Jonathan came into Sick Bay for a moment. “Phlox, how is he?” 

“No change. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. He is stable and there is activity going on in his brain.” 

“So he’ll recover?” 

“I can’t be certain. Captain, I understand you have Crewman Sloane in custody.” 

“I do. She’s, well, her behavior definitely was one of the things that precipitated this. Plus she’s shattering crew morale. I don’t know if there’s any truly specific thing she’s done wrong, or any actual regulation that she’s violated, but I can’t have her spreading her hateful nonsense. It’s like a cancer.” 

“There is a possibility that she is suffering from depression.” 

“Depression?” 

“Yes. In some cases, it increases aggression. Furthermore, it can impair judgment.” 

“I see,” Archer asked, “Would you treat her?” 

“Only with her consent,” replied the doctor, “which she has never provided. She does not seem to believe that she has any sort of a problem whatsoever.” 

“What if I could convince her to get treatment?” 

“Then I would do all I could for her, and pull out all the stops, as it were.” 

“Got it. Thanks, Doc.” 

=/= 

Andy and Shelby stumbled to breakfast, late. Neither of them had slept much. The meal was over, and Lili and Brian were cleaning off the tables. “Let me get you something,” Lili offered when she saw them. “Coffee?” 

“A big vat of it,” Shelby quipped, “I’ll just bathe in it, thanks.” 

“How’s Ethan S.?” Brian asked. 

“No change,” Andrew shook his head. 

Lili came over with a pot of coffee and two mugs. “He’s gonna get better. I can feel it in my bones.” 

“I hope your bones are right,” Andy sighed. 

Brian brought over the leftover muffins. “There’s not much of a choice. We’ve got bran and corn only.” 

“That’s fine,” Shelby took a corn muffin. 

“How are the little clammy guys?” Lili asked. 

“Thing One and Thing Two seem to be a lot happier when they’re together,” Shelby smiled wryly, “Kinda like us.” 

“We’re gonna let them go pretty soon,” Andy stated, “I think we’ve learned anything about them we’re gonna learn, shy of dissecting them, and Phlox doesn’t want to kill one. And I agree with that, and so does Diana.” 

“That sounds like a good idea,” agreed Brian, “More coffee?” 

“Keep it coming,” Andy sighed, “I’ve gotta head to Sick Bay soon and I’ll need all the help I can get.” 

=/= 

Karin stood outside the Sick Bay doors and steeled herself for what was inside. She approached and they swished open of their own accord. 

“Crewman,” Phlox had been sitting on a stool near the bio bed. “Come in.” 

“How is he?” 

“No change,” Phlox reported, “But you should know, well, come here and have a look at this.” 

He punched a few keys and the display above Ethan’s head changed. “What am I looking at, Doc?” 

“Here,” he pointed, “see that line, and how it fluctuates?” 

“And?” 

“Those are brain waves.” 

“So he’s got something going on,” she deduced. 

“Most definitely.” 

“When will he come out of the coma, and get better?” 

“I can’t be certain. But this is very encouraging.” 

“Oh, whew. Can I, um, does it make sense for me to talk to him?” she asked. 

“Absolutely. There have been studies and they have shown that comatose patients often retain their sense of hearing. So have at it.” 

He busied himself with feeding the Derellian bat and the malostrea. She swallowed before speaking. “I, um, Ethan, I just want you to know that I care. And, well, it matters to me, what happens to you. It’s funny. Before we were thrown here, you never said anything. I had no idea. Not a clue. I wish I had known. I am so, so sorry, Ethan.” She took his hand and squeezed it, and then walked over to where Phlox was. 

“Yes?” 

“Can I come back tomorrow?” 

“Absolutely. If there’s no emergency, feel free to come at any time.” 

“Thanks. I’ve gotta go.” 

=/= 

“Ship approaching, Captain,” Malcolm reported. 

“Let’s see it, Hoshi.” 

“There,” she reported. 

“Any ideas as to who they are?” Jonathan asked T’Pol. 

“That ship appears to match the Imvari ships that Tre’ex told us of,” replied the Vulcan. 

“Hail them,” the captain commanded, “Travis, keep a safe distance. Let’s be able to warp out of here if we have to.” 

“Aye, sir,” responded Travis. 

“No answer,” Hoshi reported. 

The Imvari ship turned and warped out of there. 

“Huh, I wonder what that was all about,” Jonathan stated for all of them. 

=/= 

Jonathan strode to Sandra’s quarters as soon as his shift was done. Prentice let him in. 

“Well?” Jonathan asked. 

“Well, what?” she snarled. 

“I wanna know what’s been going on. You’ve been nothing but a gossip machine and a bad attitude generator for months. Phlox told me he thinks you’re depressed.” 

“Oh?” she arched a skeptical eyebrow. “So he’s giving away my medical privacy now?” 

“Your medical privacy ends when any of my crew are endangered.” 

“I didn’t make him do any of that. Shapiro brought all of this on himself, the lovesick fool.” 

“You may not have rerouted any conduits or gotten past any security protocols, but you sure as hell made him want to!” 

“He’s a big boy. He was competent enough to make his own choices.”

“I’m not so sure you are,” Jonathan seethed. 

“You’d have to prove that. Or force me into treatment. And you know Doctor Phlox won’t do that.” 

“You got a point,” Archer allowed. “But here’s what I can do. You’re confined to quarters until you agree to treatment. And that means total confinement. You stay in, under guard. No gym, no shift, no Movie Night, nothing. The only people you see are the guards and whoever brings you your meals.” 

“A vacation, how lovely,” she snarled, and he smacked the door panel, very hard, in order to get it to open quickly so that he could get the hell out of there as fast as possible before saying something he would really regret later. 

=/= 

Karin Bernstein-Rosen’s Personal log, March twenty-eighth, 2038 

I went to see Ethan today. He looks, well, it’s scary. I don’t know if he heard me. That seems impossible. But the doctor says that there’s brain activity. So I am hopeful. I talked to Josh about it afterwards. He was okay with it. I should have probably told him before, but I just was walking by Sick Bay and I had to go in. It was the only thing that made any sense. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, March twenty-eighth, 2038 

We saw the mighty Imvari today. And I have to say, I’m not very impressed. Malcolm was unable to get any readings of their interior or their weapons, and then they just left, without answering our hail. 

I don’t know if I’m supposed to be relieved, puzzled or insulted. I’ll go with puzzled, for now. 

According to Doctor Phlox, Crewman Shapiro is stable and there is some brain activity. Hence there is some hope. I just hope there’s no permanent damage. 

I have no news from Commander Tucker about the systems that were overridden. He and Crewman Rosen are going over every conduit. They say it will take a few months. I told them to make it a priority but to be discreet about it. The last thing we need are copycats. 

I also went to see Sloane. She is utterly remorseless. I have confined her to quarters and, essentially, into solitary until she agrees to treatment for depression. Whether that is her true problem or not, I have no way of knowing. Phlox himself said he was only speculating in that area. But I’ll be damned if I’ll allow her to go unpunished for this. She may not have pulled the trigger on Shapiro but she certainly egged him on. I can’t have that. 

=/= 

Andrew Miller’s Personal log, March twenty-eighth, 2038 

I can’t say I’ve felt worse, or at least much worse. At least there’s a little bit of hope, when it comes to Ethan. 

We’re going to let Thing One and Thing Two go soon. We’ve gotta. It’s not right to keep them and, seriously, Ethan is a much more pressing concern. 

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, March twenty-eighth, 2038 

The captain came over and I guess he thought he was gonna read me the Riot Act. Well, forget that. 

He’s got me confined here. It’s boring and all, but it’s time off. I don’t have to work at all, and my meals are going to be brought to me. Room service! 

I’ve been banished from Movie Night but that doesn’t matter as I’ve got a PADD. Sophie’s gone but I needed some space anyway. 

As for what I’m charged with, the truth is, he hasn’t got a leg to stand on, and I think he knows it. If we were in the right time, I’d get him court martialed for this. It’s a total violation of my rights. But we’re not, so I can’t. All I can do is make the most of it, and make him squirm while doing it. I won’t be the one to blink first. 

=/= 

Michelle Pike’s Personal log, March twenty-eighth, 2038 

Hoshi said she’s going to help me learn how to read Hebrew. I’m doing it. Andy never said he wanted me to, but that’s okay, because I really want to. I will convert. I’ll do anything for him. 

=/= 

Sophia Creighton’s Personal log, March twenty-eighth, 2038 

I’m staying with Colleen and Kate while Sandra’s confined to quarters. I don’t know what she’s really done, but it is apparently really serious. No one will let me talk to her and all PADD notes to her have to be approved by Hoshi first. Wow.

“All hands, this is the captain. I know that you know – today is one year since we were thrown back. A lot has changed since then. I’d like to talk about, about the positive things that have happened. We all know there are some negatives. Let’s try not to dwell on those today,” Jonathan stood to continue speaking. It just seemed like time for a real speech. 

After all, Sandra was still in custody, and Ethan was still comatose. In the past three weeks or so, neither of them had budged. 

“It’s been our great pleasure to take part in four weddings so far – Judy and Michael, T’Pol and Tripp, Tracey and Oscar, and Karin and Josh. And everyone knows that Tracey and Oscar’s baby girl is due later this year. What you don’t know is that she’s going to have a playmate, for Judy Kelly Rostov is also expecting.” He smiled. This part, he could be happy about, and without reservation. 

“We’ve claimed two planets, Amity and Paradise. We’ve started growing crops on both, and we can see from the camera on Paradise that we’re going to have oranges. The wheat and barley are coming up nicely on Amity, too. We can all be proud of that.” 

He paused for a moment. “And we’ve learned something about the wildlife on Amity, where it seems that backbones might never have evolved. Procul are graceful swimmers but lumbering beasts on land.  They also make good sandwiches. Malostrea seem to have a primitive form of communication, and appear to live communally. Today, Diana Jones and Andrew Miller will go with Travis and me to the surface, where we will release Thing One and Thing Two and return them to their home. Hopefully, they’ll be kind when they tell their friends and family about us.” 

He took a breath. “We also made friends with the Xyrillians, and were on our way to making friends, even, with Xindi. We are a good and kind group of people, and I am certain that it was circumstances that prevented our friendship with the Xindi sloths from truly blossoming. It may have ended up as a failed experiment, but I don’t believe that that time was wasted one bit. We all gave it the old college try, and we were able to set aside our gut reactions and our obvious differences. I think that bodes well for our future.” 

He sighed a little. “I don’t have to tell you that some things are,” he paused, “not always so easy.   But you have all done an amazing job improvising and making the most of what we’ve got. People have gotten creative, and have really stepped up. I know we’ve got a long way to go before we return to 2154. Together, we can make that century-long journey a pleasant and productive one – one that is well worth making. Thank you.” 

=/= 

In her quarters, Sandra snorted. “I see you failed to mention that you’re detaining someone without trial and without charges. Nice little set up you’ve got here. Give me my goddamned trial!” 

From outside, her guards heard her. Gavin Prentice yelled back, “Shut up in there! No one asked you!” 

=/= 

In Sick Bay, Phlox sighed a little. He leaned over Ethan’s body. “How are you today?” he asked. 

Ethan, comatose, made no sound, but there was slight movement by his left foot. “Ah, an autonomic response,” Phlox mused, “Better than nothing, but certainly not anything you intended, I’m sad to say. All that matters,” he clicked a bit and the display above Ethan changed a little, “is that right there.” He pointed. “That’s your brain activity. You most definitely have it. And it has not diminished. You have less at night, too, as if you were following circadian rhythms. I could almost swear that you were dreaming, and just riding out this time and remaining removed from it. Ethan,” he came closer, “don’t be afraid. It is safe to wake up.” 

=/= 

Jay Hayes sat at a table in the cafeteria after everyone else had left. Lili wiped down all of the tables around him, but not his. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he lifted his PADD, “I didn’t mean to delay you or anything.” 

“That’s all right. What are you working on, if I may ask?” 

“The duty roster for guarding Sloane. You, uh, you go there every day, right?” 

“Brian and I alternate,” she told him, “it’s like drawing the short straw most of the time.” 

“You think she’s dangerous?” 

“It’s not that. It’s more that she’s cutting. I don’t much care for her remarks, about me or about anyone else.” 

“She been insulting you?” 

“Doesn’t she insult everyone?” Lili asked, coming closer and wiping off his table. 

“Yeah, that’s true. I just, yanno, some of the MACOs – and this is strictly on the QT – but some people are a little more emotionally fragile than others. I sometimes wonder if I’m hurting them by making them deal with her.” 

“Well, someone has to deal with her, right?” 

“Right,” Jay agreed, “and she’s complaining about not being charged with anything, and not getting a trial. I, uh, I gotta say, she is right about that.” 

“Doesn’t the captain have some sort of authority to preserve crew morale under all circumstances? At least when it comes to crew safety?” 

“Well, yeah, but unless it can be proven that she helped Shapiro try to commit suicide, where does that leave things?” 

“Maybe she didn’t reroute anything,” Lili observed, “but her snide remarks certainly made him feel like it was the only thing he could do. Plus we’re in really awful and strange circumstances here. I think the captain deserves a little leeway. I mean, if this were, I dunno, Andoria, and we were in 2154 and Sandra was acting up, Captain Archer would just fire her, right? But he can’t fire anybody. So we’re all stuck. And Sandra, I think for most of it, she made herself stuck. This is her bed, and she’s gotta lie in it.” 

He looked down. 

“Something else is bothering you.” 

“I, uh, it’s nothing.” 

“It is something,” she sat down without an invitation. 

“Some of these days are just difficult sometimes, and today is a difficult one. One year, eh? You ever think you’d be spending any of your time during World War III?” 

“I can’t say as I did. I, well, I’m affected, too.” 

“You? You always seem so, I dunno, cheerful.” 

“I hide it well,” she confided to him. “And I suppress it, by taking it out on my cooking, or trying to spend time with friends. I made friends – I hadn’t really done that before. So if anything good has come out of that for me, well, it’s that.” 

“That’s good,” he encouraged, “I’m not really in that kind of a position where that’s really an option.” 

She looked at him. “Feel free to linger over coffee any time, schedule permitting.” 

“Um, thank you.” 

“You’re a really blue Jay, eh?” 

“Huh?” he smiled slightly. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile much before. You should, uh, try it more often,” she advised. 

“Huh, well, I don’t have a lot of occasions to.” 

“The weight of the world. We are all carrying it, yanno.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He got up and left. 

=/= 

The shuttle landed on the Meridia continent on Amity. Julie McKenzie and Susie Money got out first, and checked for malostrea. “Coast is clear,” Julie reported. 

Jonathan got out, followed by Diana and Andy, who were toting a smaller carrying cage containing Thing One and Thing Two. Travis stayed behind in the shuttle. 

They approached the area with the holes. The ground was damp and spongy under their boots.  Dozens of malostrea clambered out of their holes but kept their distance. “Think they know we’re bringing Thing One and Thing Two back?” asked Diana. 

“They seem to be waiting to see what we’re gonna do,” Andy speculated, “they might think we’re using Thing One and Thing Two as bait or something, and want more of them.” 

She addressed the cage. “Now, you guys, we’re sorry if we scared you or if you were ever really uncomfortable. And we know we didn’t always have the food that you like.” 

“And we didn’t figure out you wanted to be together until later,” Andy added, “But we never meant to do anything bad to ya.” 

“Please don’t say bad things about us,” she requested. They set the cage down and opened it. Everyone backed away. 

The captain stood there. “I wonder what they’re waiting for.” 

“Maybe they don’t want witnesses to their family reunion,” Julie speculated. 

“Or maybe they think we’re gonna just grab more of ‘em,” Susie speculated. 

Thing Two ventured out first. Both of the specimens had been repainted, so there was a fresh fuchsia 2 on its shell. The others began clapping with their shells, and they seemed to be excited. 

“A round of applause?” Susie asked. 

“Looks to be that way,” Jonathan smiled a bit. 

Thing Two clapped once and the others settled down, and then clapped again. This seemed to encourage Thing One to come out, too. The others began to clap and chatter again. The two malostrea hopped off the top of their cage and walked along with the others. Thing One had a freshly-painted blue 1 on its shell. One of the other malostrea tapped at the number with its own shell. 

“I wonder what that meant,” Jonathan said. Andy went over to collect the now-empty cage. 

Diana guessed, “I think the other guy was asking – where’d you get that cool tattoo?” 

“If your Mom sees that, you’ll be in trouble!” Susie joked. 

When Andrew approached the cage, the malostrea scattered, except for Thing One and Thing Two. They turned back, silent, while he picked up the cage. “See, you guys are, we’re done with you, okay? You can go home now,” he exhorted. 

The two painted malostrea clapped at him a few times and then disappeared down a hole. 

“Was that a goodbye?” Jonathan asked. 

“Or a threat,” Diana offered, “I wish we could get into their little heads – er, brains. They don’t really have heads.” 

“Let’s plan on coming back in a few months,” Jonathan suggested, “and see how they’re getting along. The paint should still be intact, right?” 

“Probably,” Andy stated as they walked back to the shuttle, “it’s the stuff we use on the hull.” 

“We have fuchsia paint for the hull?” Julie asked. 

“Not really,” Jonathan explained, “well, we do, but we rarely use it. It’s more to mix with. The theory is, if we need to somehow paint the Enterprise in order to camouflage it, we can.” 

“How strange,” Julie spotted a procul nearby, but not too close to the malostrea. “Sir, permission to hunt that procul.” She pointed. 

“Sure,” he agreed. 

Much as before, the animal went down without a struggle. They had it beamed to the Enterprise. 

The entire landing party reentered the shuttle. “How’d it go?” Travis asked. 

“Our little ones have gone back,” Diana smiled, “I’m glad – it looks like they were accepted back in.” 

“You did the right thing, letting them go,” Travis declared as they lifted off. “The little guys deserve to be happy.” Julie, who was sitting behind him, gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. 

=/= 

“Fancy a little Scrabble tonight?” Malcolm asked as Lili put the dishes into the sanitizer. He came over and started to help her. 

“Uh, sure. I’ve still got the board. And, yanno, it looks like this is all done.” She surveyed the area. “Close enough.” She started the sanitizer. 

“Don’t you have to unload that?” he asked. 

“It can be unloaded tomorrow morning.” 

They walked together to her quarters. Without thinking, Lili hit the panel and opened the door. They found Chip and Deborah, on her bed, kissing. “Oh! Sorry!” Lili called out. “Just coming to get the board.” 

She averted her eyes as she and Malcolm gathered up the pieces and got out as quickly as they could. 

Once they were out of her quarters, she said, “I wonder if they want me to clear out for the entire night.” 

“Hard to say,” Malcolm speculated, “I think they were as shocked as we were.” Her PADD chimed as they walked. “I think that’s you.” 

“Oh, huh, well, I’ll take a look when we’ve arrived,” she decided, “uh, where are we going, anyway?” 

“Which would be better for you?” he asked, “The cafeteria or the Observation Lounge, or perhaps my, uh, my quarters?” 

“Well, I don’t want to impose,” she was a tad flustered, “So maybe the lounge?” 

“All right,” he agreed, “but really, it’s no imposition.” 

“Thanks, but I do want you to be able to keep your privacy, just in case you’ve got, I dunno, something odd lying around.” 

“Such as what?” 

“Oh, I dunno. Dirty socks, maybe.” 

He gave her a look. “I keep a neat room.” 

“That’s what you want me to believe,” she joked, “I bet deep down you’ve got laundry or, I dunno, trashy novels, something like that. There is some sort of deep, dark secret.” 

He chuckled at that. “The only secret is that the room is mainly devoid of decoration. I decided to travel light, and now that’s bitten me a bit.” He looked a little far away so she didn’t pursue the line of inquiry. 

Instead, she looked at her PADD once he had secured a table and began setting up the board. “Oh, it’s from Deb. She apologizes and says that they will, um, welcome my return in a few hours. So I guess he’s not spending the night, although I bet he’d like to.” 

“Good for them,” Malcolm selected a tile from the bag. “S.” 

=/= 

Chandler Masterson’s Personal log, April nineteenth, 2038 

It is never good when you and your girl are not only caught in flagrante, but are caught by her boss. 

Still, Reed was pretty cool about it. Plus we didn’t kick Lili out for the entire night. And so I am back in quarters with Sekar and all I can think about is Deb. 

I want us to move in together. 

=/= 

Diana Jones’s Personal log, April nineteenth, 2038 

It was good to let the little guys go today. I know Phlox says not to anthropomorphize them too much, but it’s hard not to. I think their pals truly missed them. 

=/= 

Andrew Miller’s Personal log, April nineteenth, 2038 

Shelby told me today that her Hebrew lessons are going pretty well. I think she’ll be really good at it when we get married in a few months. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, April nineteenth, 2038 

It’s tough being here for a full year. I think back to how I was feeling, and I read the older log entries, and I wonder. The chef’s assistant noticed I was depressed, and she commented on it. She was right, of course. I guess my avoidance mechanisms are on the fritz a little. 

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, April nineteenth, 2038 

This is getting boring. I hate living on my own. I miss Sophie a little. But only a little. 

They cut off most of the movies. I get two. One of them is called Babe and the other is Cinderella. Kids’ movies! They really know how to torture a gal.

“Today, we are gathered for the wedding of Michelle and Andrew,” Jonathan stood under a canopy composed of two tallit held by Karin and Josh. 

The guests were all assembled in the Observation Lounge. It was a smaller wedding, and Jonathan noticed that the turnouts seemed to be changing. The married and attached people were still coming, and lending their support. But the singles were opting out, more and more often. He was still a singleton, but he didn’t have the luxury of opting out. 

Phlox and T’Pol stood by as attendants. 

“I would like to talk today about Adam and Eve. I was reminded of this story because Andrew’s Hebrew name – every Jewish person has one – well, it’s Adam. But you should know that Ah’dohm, the word in Hebrew, refers to of the blood. But it also means of the soil. It doesn’t mean of the Earth, though, as in of our planet, because Earth in Hebrew is eretz.” He smiled at Hoshi, who gave him a thumbs-up. 

“But it’s an interesting concept just the same,” the captain continued, “for the Hebrew Bible says that Adam was made from dirt and then the breath of life was infused into him. But that word is also blood, so he was fashioned from blood, too, or maybe he can become blood. When, later in Genesis, there is a reference to Cain spilling Abel’s blood on the ground, the truth is, in Hebrew, those two things are just about the same thing.” 

He cleared his throat slightly. “And from Adam’s rib, God made Eve. And he did so because Adam was lonely. He had all of the animals and the entire planet, but his life was missing something. And that’s why Eve was created. She wasn’t made in order to make Adam’s babies or cook his food or clean his house or anything like that. She was made in order to keep him company, as an intellectual equal, as someone who he could care for, and be with, and partner with.” 

=/= 

In Sick Bay, Malcolm stood at Ethan’s bedside. “Is it all right to talk to him?” 

“Absolutely,” Diana stated, “I’ll just be feeding the animals. Let me know if he seems to be in any distress, and I’ll call Phlox right away. But feel free. He’ll listen.” Ethan, still comatose, certainly seemed to be capable of little else. 

“Well, all right then,” Malcolm began as Diana busied herself with rummaging around in various jars in order to find the pellets that the Derellian bat liked to eat. “Mister Shapiro, I, uh, may I call you Ethan? I think it might be best if I were to do so. If I am out of line, you will tell me, yes?” 

Ethan, impassive, did not respond. 

“Right,” Malcolm continued, “well, I should like to give you the news. I’m not so certain that anyone has actually kept you up to date on all of our various goings on. And it’s been a few months. I know that Crewman Rosen and Crewman Bernstein-Rosen have been here several times, as has the captain and of course Mister Miller and Miss Pike and Miss Jones here and the doctor. But I’m not so sure that they let you in on the social doings.” 

He brought over a stool and sat down. “First off, today is August the twelfth, and it’s a wedding day. Or, rather, it’s yet another wedding day in a parade of weddings. There have been several since late April. There must be something in the water. First it was Bree Tanner and Connor Greer. Then it was Cecily Romano and Bruce Chalfont. And then, Emily Andreiou and Neil Kemper – he’s one of the MACOs, you know. All three of those were in May.” 

He stopped for a second. “Is this dull? I do hope it isn’t. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, let’s move onto June. In June, it was Cassandra Lester and Victor Brown, and then Christina Parsons and Sterling Hutchinson. In July, it was Felicity Reese and Eric Forbes. Oh, and, uh, Mara Brodsky and Robert Slater. Earlier this month, Shari Jeffers and Anthony Vittorio were also wed. So this is the ninth since, well, since. Today’s wedding is one that you knew about. It’s Andrew Miller and Michelle Pike. She converted, you know, and embraced your faith. Hoshi taught her how to read Hebrew. And while she says she cannot speak it – I asked, you see – she does say that she can at least make it out in writing. So her home will be graced with prayers and traditions in the ancient tongue.” 

He smiled a little. “It is a joy to see someone so devoted that they would change that much. But you have undoubtedly noticed that I am not there, at their nuptials. I just, you see, I can no longer do it. It’s become far too difficult to watch people stand up and plight their troths and swear fidelity when one feels so stuck and alone.” 

He put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “It’s not all romances, of course. And I haven’t even told you who is living with whom. Suffice it to say, there are only a dozen completely unattached women as of right now. One of them is Miss Jones over there.” 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Diana put away a little box. 

“But you are unattached, are you not?” 

“Lieutenant, not in the way you think,” she told him. 

He thought for a moment. “Oh! I had no idea. Are you, uh, are you in competition against me?” 

“No,” she replied, “I’m the only lesbian on board; I’m sure of that.” 

“Is it some great secret?” 

“No, I just don’t love broadcasting such things. It seems awkward and wrong to have to shout them.” 

“I can understand the sentiment.” 

“That’s why you don’t do anything to disabuse anyone of the notion that you’re gay. Sandra, I bet she spread that story initially.” 

“Here, yes, but I’ve been in other situations where I’ve had similar accusations hurled at me. I suspect it comes from being rather non-demonstrative.” 

“Yep,” she agreed, “It’s like everyone wants us to wear our hearts on our sleeves. And when we don’t, they fill in the blanks.” She sighed. “They can really go down the wrong garden path, eh?” 

“That they can,” Malcolm turned back to Ethan, “There are two pregnancies. I think you knew about Tracey Tiburón. She’s actually due any moment now. There’s also Judy Kelly Rostov. She’s got, I think, another month to go?” 

“Just about two,” Diana stated. 

“Just about two, then. We also returned to Amity and let the two malostrea go. There’s a camera set up there and we do see them on occasion. I follow that feed sometimes. Great big hulking procul lumber around nearby and seem to come out of the water for a spot of feeding. Mister Miller says he believes that they mainly eat water- based plants, but there must be something about the swamp biota that they like. So they come out and then they’re vulnerable to the malostrea.” 

He thought a little before continuing. “I also wanted you to know – because I’m uncertain as to whether anyone has told you – but Sandra has been confined to her quarters ever since, huh, late March. Whether she is depressed, as Phlox maintains, or is not, well, I cannot judge impartially. It’s going on five months and she has been remorseless and has not requested treatment. She is, essentially, in solit’ry confinement. Her roommate was forced to move out – and now that doesn’t even matter, for Sophie is currently living with Brooks Haynem. It’s funny, they seem to have bonded over the fact that he was one of the Security personnel originally tasked with guarding Sandra and keeping her in.” 

He realized he was still touching Ethan’s shoulder. He squeezed it a little. “I should go soon. I’ve talked your ear off.” 

Ethan’s shoulder rolled slightly under his fingers. “Diana!” 

“Yes!” she came over quickly, her voice betraying her alarm. “Should I call Phlox?” 

“I, I don’t know. I was touching his shoulder, and then suddenly it moved a little. Does that ever happen?” 

“No, it doesn’t. He sometimes involuntarily moves his feet, but not his shoulder. I’m calling Phlox.” 

=/= 

The wedding was very nearly over. The sermon had concluded, the vows had been said and the rings had been exchanged. Oscar glanced over to his wife. “Tracey!” 

“What? Shh, I want to watch them kiss.” 

“Tracey,” he was insistent, “your water has broken.” 

“Oh my gosh!” She got up. Phlox noticed and broke ranks with the wedding party. He ran over. 

“Are you feeling contractions?” he asked. 

“I felt a little indigestion. But now it feels worse.” 

“That’s not indigestion,” Phlox deduced, “it’s labor.” 

Shelby and Andrew looked at each other, and then at Jonathan. A communicator chimed. 

Phlox answered it. “Doctor!” Diana yelled, “We think Shapiro’s coming out of it!” 

“Be right there,” Phlox called Amanda over. “Get a stretcher and bring Tracey to Sick Bay. I’ll follow. Andrew, I need you. I’m sorry.” 

“Go,” Shelby told him, “We can finish this up later.” 

“Are you sure?” Andrew asked. 

She nodded. “Go be with Ethan, or deliver Tracey. Whatever Doctor Phlox needs for you to do, okay? It’s only one day. There will be a million more.” 

“But –”, He was about to protest but she pushed him a little in Tracey’s direction. “Uh, who do you want me on, Doc?” 

“Shapiro, I think,” Phlox decided on the fly. 

“All right,” Andy told her, “you know where I’ll be.” He kissed Shelby quickly and ran out. 

“I don’t think I pronounced you anything,” Jonathan mused. 

“I’m not so sure it matters,” Shelby smiled a little. “This is what I get for marrying a doctor, or at least a medic.” 

=/= 

Andy got there as quickly as he could. “What’s going on?” he asked, breathless. 

“Andy?” Diana asked, “Why aren’t you getting married? Can’t Phlox handle this?” 

‘Tracey’s in labor,” he replied, “So I’m assigned to Ethan. Lieutenant, do you know what happened?” 

Malcolm explained the reaction that he had observed. “Do you think it’s anything?” 

“Absolutely,” Andy stated, “it seems like an intentional act, particularly considering that you had just touched that same area. It’s a little like a reaction.” He leaned over. “Ethan, can ya hear me, buddy?” 

In response, Ethan’s eyelids fluttered a little. “He really is waking up,” Diana was in awe, “Holy cow.” 

“I should go,” Malcolm decided, “you’re going to need the space and you can’t have me just standing here, in your way.” 

Andy looked at him, eyes shining a little. “He’s waking up in response to something you said or did, Lieutenant.” 

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout that.” 

“He is,” Andy insisted. 

“Call me when you’ve got something big to report, all right,” Malcolm then leaned over. “Ethan, I’m going to go now. But I shall return. I’m glad we had this little talk.” He smiled a little, and left Sick Bay. 

=/= 

Amanda and Josh brought Tracey in, with Shelby, Karin and Oscar right behind them. Jonathan strode in just after them. He had a small item in his hands, wrapped in a cloth napkin. “You forgot this,” he presented it to Shelby. 

“Oh!” she looked at it, “It’s the glass that Andy’s supposed to step on.” 

Andy looked over. “I, uh, hang on a second, Ethan.” He walked over. “I can spare a minute or so. But then I’ve really gotta get back to things.” 

He shepherded Shelby, Jonathan, Karin and Josh to a corner near the decontamination chamber. “Well?” 

“I guess I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jonathan stated. 

“You guess?” Shelby laughed a little. 

“I do. I mean, uh, you’re married,” Jonathan confirmed. “Go ahead and kiss the bride.” 

Andy put the wrapped glass under his foot and pushed down. It broke under his boot heel. He kissed Shelby. 

“What was that sound?” Tracey asked Oscar. 

“It was the sound of two lives joining,” he replied. 

“We’d better go,” Shelby said to Karin and Josh. “I’ll see you later,” she said to Andy, kissing him again. 

“See you later, Mrs. Miller.” 

=/= 

After dinner, Lili delivered Sandra’s meal to her. “Beef stew again?” 

“It’s procul stew, actually.” 

“Oh.” 

Sandra seemed to be a bit disheveled. She picked up the bowl and threw it against the wall of her quarters. The bowl did not break, but the stew splattered everywhere. 

“I’m not going to get you anymore,” Lili informed her. “And I’m not gonna clean that up. So you can either clean it up like a normal person, and not some spoiled brat or you can live with it and smell it as it rots in here.” 

There was a small roll that came with the dinner. Sandra threw it at Lili, who caught it deftly. “Don’t mind if I do,” Lili took a bite out of it and then put it down on a desk. “I’m so full from dinner. I couldn’t eat another bite.” 

Sandra ran at her, on the attack. Lili yelled for Jay, who was outside with Dan. The two men ran in. 

Dan peeled Sandra off Lili. Jay helped Lili back up. “Are you all right?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“She ate my roll!” 

“And you threw your stew at the wall,” Lili seethed, “So you were obviously not hungry.” 

Sandra stood there, staring at Lili, shaking a little as Dan held her back. “But I, I am hungry!” 

“Then don’t throw your food around,” Jay scolded, “You know we don’t exactly have a lot to spare.” 

“Sandra,” Dan agreed, “the Major is right. You can’t be just tossing away perfectly good food.” 

She glared at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah,” her voice was a little husky, “you are supposed to be supporting me, Dan.” 

“Not when you do stupid stuff like this. You keep this up and the captain’s bound to just dump you on some rock or something.” 

Sandra stared into space and then started weeping. Choking, sobbing, loudly, even coughing a little, “I, I,” she barely choked out. 

“You what?” asked Jay, exasperatedly. 

“I, I want treatment,” she finally managed to stammer out, “I can’t live like this anymore. I miss people and I miss work and doing something that isn’t sitting here and reading the same old PADD messages or watching just a couple of old movies or eating or sleeping. I want to get out of here.” 

“You know what the key is,” Jay pressed. 

“Yes,” she sighed, “I know the key. I accept treatment for, for depression. I, I want to be treated. Please help me.” 

=/= 

Tracey Tiburón’s Personal log, August twelfth, 2038 

Amanda Lucia Tiburón was born today, at about nineteen hundred hours. I am exhausted. The little almond isn’t so little anymore. Our little Almendra. 

She looks just like Osh. He’s sleeping nearby – we’re all still in Sick Bay. Phlox says we can go back to quarters tomorrow. I am overwhelmed by the amazingness of this day. 

=/= 

Phlox’s Personal log, August twelfth, 2038 

It’s been an eventful day. I just sent Andrew Miller back to his quarters to be with his bride. Tracey Tiburón was delivered of a healthy girl at eighteen hundred hours and fifty-four minutes. Mother and baby are resting comfortably, as is the father. 

Plus Crewman Shapiro is beginning the long climb back to full consciousness. He has begun purposeful movements and his pupils are starting to respond to light. I feel confident that he will come out of his coma soon. 

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, August twelfth, 2038 

It looks like we can lay off the guard detail in maybe a week. Sloane has agreed to treatment, but I’d like to be certain that she didn’t do this just to get out of her quarters a bit. I want to be sure that she is really getting treatment. We’ll escort her to and from Sick Bay if we have to. 

She attacked Ensign O’Day – O’Day is fine – but that scared me big time. I don’t like to think that we could be guarding someone and then just let them do such a thing, practically right under our noses. I’m relieved that the Ensign is okay. She doesn’t deserve to be attacked just for bringing food that Sloane doesn’t like. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, August twelfth, 2038 

I don’t know if I had anything to do with Crewman Shapiro getting a bit better. I doubt that I did. But I am glad that he is recovering, or at least seems to be on the mend. 

If I had attended the Pike-Miller wedding, I would not have seen what I did. I don’t know quite what that means – ‘tis better to skip weddings unless it’s one’s own? I’m sure I don’t know. 

I was very worried. I still am, but at least that’s diminished a tick.

“I have returned,” Malcolm told Ethan Shapiro’s still prostrate form, on a Sick Bay bio bed. Ethan’s eyelids fluttered slightly. “What, er, what does that mean?” 

“Oh, yes, that’s a part of the process,” Phlox told him, “Now, you can stay as long as you like, but Tracey and Amanda – that’s the little Amanda,” he smiled, a tad too broadly, as per usual, “will be here soon.” 

“I shall leave then,” Malcolm turned back to Ethan. “So, I had told you who was wed. But I have not yet told you who’s attached, and who isn’t, of course. And that’s the most interesting.” 

He pulled up a stool. Phlox chuckled a little bit as Malcolm spoke. “There’s Jennifer and Aidan. You know about them, right? They have been living together for a while now. I imagine he’ll make an honest woman of her one of these days.” 

“An honest woman?” asked Phlox. 

“It’s a very old expression. It means that Mister MacKenzie would marry Miss Crossman.” 

“Oh, how interesting. What a strange expression.” 

“Now that you mention it; you’re quite right. It is odd,” Malcolm shook his head at the absurdities of English. “Hoshi, on the other hand, isn’t quite taken just yet, but she appears to have two suitors – Mister Torres and Mister Khan. Confidentially, my money is on Mister Khan,” he stated more quietly. “But don’t tell her I said that, all right?” 

Ethan’s eyelids fluttered a little. Whether he was agreeing or acknowledging or listening at all was not something that could be readily determined. “Now,” Malcolm continued, “there’s also the good doctor here and Amanda Cole. You know her; she’s a MACO. And Travis is with Julie McKenzie, another MACO. She’s not related to Aidan or anything. It’s a different spelling, you see. Deborah Haddon and Chip Masterson aren’t quite living together, but I imagine they will be soon enough. There’s also Sophie Creighton and Brooks Haynem. I think I told you about them before. Do feel free to stop me if I am repeating myself.” 

Ethan moved his eyelids down, and it seemed to be a more deliberate act than before. “Doctor!” 

Phlox came over. “Ah! I see some pressing down. Very good, Mister Shapiro! It’s going to take a while, and you will need to be patient. But you are getting your abilities back. Now if you can push the lids down, you may find that you can also pull them up. Take your time.” 

“Stephanie Ayers and Lloyd Ketchum – they are also a couple, as are Tara Balcescu and Gavin Prentice. That may be it. I can never say Tara’s surname correctly. Hopefully she’ll take Mister Prentice’s name. Of course, I don’t believe she’s dating him for my convenience.” 

Ethan’s eyes crinkled a little, and the right-side corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Did you see that?” asked Malcolm. 

“I did. Lieutenant, I do believe Mister Shapiro is laughing at your joke.” 

Malcolm felt a small tear squeeze out of the corner of his eye. “I have never had a family member or a friend or anyone I’ve known who’s ever been in a similar medical predicament. I scarcely know what to say or do.” 

“You should be doing precisely what you have been doing. It is, after all, working.” 

“Very well,” Malcolm continued, “that brings me to the very interesting point of our discussion. Allow me to inform you as to which of the women remain available. First, there’s Diana Jones, but she has told me that she is uninterested in men. So she is off the table. Maryam Haroun also remains available, but naturally she will have two suitors.” 

“She already does,” Phlox confirmed, “I have been giving Crewman Hamidi and Private Azar the occasional tests and the like. I’m working on an intellectual test.” 

“Perhaps they could play Scrabble,” Malcolm suggested, “I can demonstrate for you some time. It’s a fun game, but it’s also a bit of an intellectual exercise. But recognize that there is a spot of chance involved. Sometimes a rather skilled player can be demolished because of how the tiles go.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Phlox took note of that on his PADD. 

“Ah yes, the remaining eleven. There’s Meredith Porter and Colleen Romanov. There’s also Kate Shelton and Nyota Warren. Plus there’s Patti Socorro and Ingrid Nyqvist. Nan Myers and Lili O’Day are also available. Plus there’s Victoria Dietrich. On the MACOs side of things, there’s Susie Money. I think that’s it.” 

“That’s only ten. You’ve left out Sandra Sloane.” 

“Oh, yes,” Malcolm asked, “How is she?” 

“Doing better,” Phlox reported. “I can’t share the specifics of course, but she is having some luck with her treatments. She will also come here today.” 

“Perhaps I should clear out now. Mister Shapiro – er, Ethan – I shall return, of course, but it might again be a few days. In the meantime, I’m very glad that you’re making progress.” 

The Sick Bay doors swished open. It was Tracey and Oscar with their daughter. 

“Right on schedule,” Malcolm turned, “Doctor, I shall see you.” 

=/= 

Tripp walked into the kitchen, a place he didn’t normally go to, ever. “Uh, anybody home?” 

“Hiya,” Lili greeted him, “I didn’t hear you come in. Did you want Chef? He’s, well, I’m not sure where he is right now.” 

“No, that’s all right. Actually, I came to see you.” 

“Me? Well, I can’t tell you what’ll be replicated at dinner tonight although of course there will be something vegan for T’Pol.” 

“It’s, uh, it’s not about food.” 

“Oh?” 

“Ensign, um, I was wonderin’. You see, uh, well, T’Pol ‘n me, I dunno if we’ll be able to have kids.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” she wondered what this had to do with her. 

“And I was, well, I was wonderin’, seein’ as you won’t be havin’ any of your own, would you, uh, would you consent to acting as a surrogate mother for us?” 

“Commander, what makes you think I won’t be having any children of my own?” 

“Aren’t you, um, past that?” he asked, and then immediately regretted saying that. 

“What is it? Does everybody think I’m seventy or something?”

“What? Oh no, ‘course not.” He began to back out of the kitchen. 

“Because, Commander,” she was a little sharp in her tone, “I’m not at the end of my childbearing years. And I hate the fact that people always seem to just up and assume that.” 

“Well, I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump to any conclusions. Why, uh, why don’t you tell people?” 

“What?” 

“Tell ‘em.” He then regretted saying that as well. 

“Why should I?” 

“I dunno; people would stop making assumptions. People like me would stop, uh, putting our feet in our mouths and all.” 

“But why should they know my business? It’s personal. It’s private. And now suddenly you know.” 

“I’m, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It was dumb of me.” 

“Actually, can I ask you a question?” 

“I guess so.” 

“It’s a personal question,” she countered, “now that you know something personal about me, well, I think you might owe me this much.” 

“Uh, all right.” Tripp shifted his weight from one foot to the other, in anticipation of her inquiry. 

“When you and T’Pol agreed to get married, did you think at all about the fact that she probably can’t have your children?” 

“I, uh, a little bit, yes.” 

“But you went ahead anyway, right?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“You looked beyond it.” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it didn’t really matter, ‘cause I love her.” 

“See,” her voice quavered just a tiny bit, “This is why I don’t go around advertising it. It’s because, you see, I want there to be someone who also doesn’t really care whether I can have kids or not. Someone who looks beyond that, and who cares about me, and maybe even loves me, for who I am. And not for the kids I might or might not have.” 

“He’s, he’s out there; I’m sure he is.” 

“There need to be three or four of them, actually,” she continued, “because I know that the guys, they look at Meredith the same way. And I think they may look at Susie and Patti that way, too, even though God knows they’re younger than Meredith and me. Are there that many of them on board the NX-01?” 

“I, I don’t know,” he admitted. He sighed. “But I think they’re out there. Somewhere.” 

“I hope you’re right.” 

=/= 

“She’s in perfect health,” Phlox assured Amanda Tiburón’s anxious parents. The baby began to wail. “And she has a good, strong cry, too.” 

Tracey picked up her daughter and the baby quieted down. She walked over to Ethan. “How is he?” 

“He’s better,” Phlox reported, “It may not be readily apparent, but he is. He can hear us and there are small bits of purposeful movement.” 

“Oh,” Tracey then thought for a moment. “Ethan, I’m sorry Amanda cried so loudly just now.” 

In response, Ethan’s eyelids slowly, tremblingly, opened. 

“Doctor!” Tracey yelled. 

“Dios mio!” Oscar yelled. “Es un milagro!” 

=/= 

Dan hit the chime on Sandra and Colleen’s quarters. “I’m here to take you to Sick Bay. Hiya, Colleen.” Sandra opened the door for him. 

“Just about ready,” Sandra reported. 

“I don’t think you have to dress up.” 

“I just, uh, want to wear something that isn’t a uniform,” she adjusted a belt, “I lost some weight while in, uh, solitary. Lots of changes. Hell, I came back to a new roommate, even.” 

“Well, Sophie moved out, Kate moved over and then Tara moved out, too,” Colleen explained. “See ya at dinner.” 

Dan and Sandra left. “Now, how are you really feeling?” he asked as they walked. 

“Eh,” she replied, “I don’t like revealing all that. And now I’ve gotta reveal lots of things. It doesn’t make me feel comfortable or confident at all.” 

“I think you’re not supposed to be,” he told her as the Sick Bay doors slid open. 

“We can come back later,” Sandra stated, seeing everyone in Sick Bay. 

“No, no, that’s all right,” Phlox assured her. 

“We were just leaving,” Oscar stated. Holding a huge bag of baby gear, he left with his wife and daughter. 

“Now, let’s get started today, shall we?” Phlox’s tone was expectant. 

“What about him?” Sandra indicated Ethan. 

“He’s doing a lot better,” Phlox told her, “open eyes and everything, see?” 

She looked over. “Yeah, wow. I guess you didn’t expect that.” 

“I did, actually,” Phlox replied, “and my expectations have been happily fulfilled. “I have more expectations, though.” 

“And you have expectations of me, too,” she looked away. 

“That I do. Private, perhaps you should wait outside,” the Denobulan told Dan. 

“No, that’s okay,” Sandra informed him, “I don’t really mind.” 

“We’ll be talking about things, and those may be intimate subjects.” 

“I, uh, I need to learn how to open up more, I think,” she stammered. 

“That is true,” Phlox confirmed. “Let us begin.”

=/= 

Aidan awoke as Jenny was coming back to their quarters after her shift had ended. “How are ya, sleepy head?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” he yawned, “I, uh, Jenn, um, how would you like to get married?” 

“Huh,” she stood there, “you sure you’re awake?” 

“I am positive. This is not the first time I’ve asked you, yanno.” 

“I know,” she confirmed, “I just, um, getting married feels like, I dunno, like this is all permanent.” 

“Well, it is.” 

“I guess it is. I can deny it all I want to, but that doesn’t change anything now, does it?” 

“Nope,” he answered, “uh, it doesn’t have to be immediate.” 

“Let it be later this month,” she decided, “I’ve always like August for weddings.” 

“Jenny, I love you.” 

“I love you, Aidan.” 

=/= 

Rex Ryan was walking down the hall when he spotted Colleen Romanov and Meredith Porter. “Ladies! Are you baseball fans?” 

“Sure,” Meredith told him, “but there’s no baseball. On Earth there’s a war going on.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” he smiled slyly, “I’ve done some research. Major leagues are gone, but a kind of minor league is very much alive. They barnstorm throughout the Americas. There’s a game on almost every night. I think Chip can pipe it into the Observation Lounge.” 

“Are they any good?” Colleen asked. 

“Does it matter?” 

=/= 

Rex Ryan’s Personal log, August fifteenth, 2038 

Baseball! Whooda thunk it would be my in with the honeys? 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, August fifteenth, 2038 

It’s been a few days since Sandra attacked me. I’m glad she’ll be getting some treatment now, but God, it was scary. It’s starting to really hit me. Thank God Jay and Dan were nearby. 

I really have to get my mind away from guys I can’t have. The Major – he smelled a little bit like limes. I bet that was his aftershave. I like it. A lot. 

When Tucker approached me today about being a surrogate mother, it gave me pause. I wonder why other guys don’t think that way about me. After all, I am not being approached, well, at all. It’s like they’ve mostly forgotten it as an option. 

=/= 

Sandra Sloane’s Personal log, August fifteenth, 2038 

I don’t really mind Dan hearing my business. I’m finding I guess I don’t care as much right now. The doctor said that some of it’s the medication. It isn’t necessarily happy pills, per se. Rather; it just makes you give less of a damn about some things. 

I saw that Shapiro is getting better, too. It’s funny. I care less about some things, and I care more about others – already! It’s working pretty quickly, I think. I’m starting to feel almost normal again. It’s been far too long since I felt anything resembling normal. 

=/= 

Aidan MacKenzie’s Personal log, August fifteenth, 2038 

Jenny finally said yes! I guess it’ll be in two weeks or so. I love her, but it seems like I’m always the one who says it first. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, August fifteenth, 2038 

Ethan is doing better. That makes me glad. Phlox says I’m having an effect. I had no idea that was even possible. To know that I can make a difference, well, isn’t that a big part of what matters in the world? 

I told him I’ll return when I can.

Jonathan sat in his Ready Room, going over PADD messages. The PADD dinged – a message. It was from Oscar. 

Captain Archer, 

I do not normally ask for such things, but I know that my daughter has a rather loud cry. And I think it may be disturbing the others who live nearby. Therefore I am asking for you to move us, to wherever you see fit. 

Thank you. 

Private Oscar Tiburón and family 

Then there was another message. 

Dear Captain Archer, 

We would appreciate your moving our cabin. Amanda Tiburón is very loud, and we’re having trouble sleeping. Thank you. 

Cecily Romano Chalfont and Bruce Chalfont 

“Now this is the part of the job,” he told Porthos, “which is really glamorous.” He smiled a bit, that same tight smile that was becoming a reflexive habit with him. Porthos barked a little in response. 

Jonathan refilled the dog’s water bowl. “See, there are going to be more kids. And more marriages,” again, the tight smile, “and these complaints are going to continue. However, it hardly seems fair to move single people next to children. After all, it could just be a painful reminder. We don’t want a repeat of Crewman Shapiro’s performance, right?” 

The dog tilted his head a little at that. 

“Right,” Jonathan supplied the dog’s answer, “But, we still need to move kids. And they probably shouldn’t be in their parents’ quarters forever. After all, if we want any of these couples to have a second child, well, I don’t have to draw you a diagram.” 

The dog whined a little. “Oh, sorry,” his master apologized, “I forgot you’ve been neutered. My bad. Anyway, the Chalfonts are going to have to, at some point, get used to screaming babies. And the same is gonna be true of all of the married and committed couples. Plus,” he picked a bit of lint off his uniform, “there’s the matter of the singles. Not only shouldn’t they be subject to all of the sounds that go along with parenthood – unless, of course, they don’t mind – well, it’s also, they should be in a situation that’s more conducive to dating. Actually, let’s talk to T’Pol about this.” 

He walked out for a moment. “Malcolm, you have the Bridge. T’Pol, I have a question for you.” 

“By all means,” she vacated the captain’s chair. Malcolm sat down in her stead. Once the door to the Ready Room was shut, she asked, “How may I be of assistance?” 

He explained the problem to her. She thought for several minutes. “Perhaps a deck could be set aside for committed couples and their offspring.” 

“An entire deck? There’s only one child.” 

“And another is scheduled to arrive in perhaps a month. There will be more. It is logical to assume that most of the committed couples will reproduce.” She looked down for a split second. 

“You’re right,” he agreed, “but it feels a little bit like segregation.” 

“It need not be. This will fulfill several needs. First, the children will be together, and able to play and, perhaps, have a schoolroom. Parents could also be together, and could share in childcare duties. Single crew members could have their privacy.” 

“Children might have to double up,” Jonathan speculated. “At some point, we may find space is getting to be at a premium.” 

“Children of the same gender could share rooms. They need not be siblings.” 

He thought for a moment. “Here’s an idea. We could put the Tiburón girl and the Rostov girl – when she arrives – together in a room in between the cabins that would be occupied by the Tiburóns and the Rostovs. If the Rostovs have a son, he could sleep in the room on the other side of his parents. And if, say, the Chalfonts have a son, he could share a room with this hypothetical Rostov boy. It could be couple, then children of one gender, then another couple, children of the other gender, and so on. If there were, say, a lot more girls than boys, then it might be a couple with two girls on one side and two girls on the other.” 

“At some point,” T’Pol added, “it may also behoove us to set up somewhat permanent encampments on Paradise and Amity.” 

“Right,” he agreed, “but we’re not there yet. Which deck do you think would be best?” 

“E deck,” she replied immediately. 

“Why?” 

“It is the closest to Sick Bay. Plus it is in a better-protected part of the ship.” 

“Excellent thinking,” he confirmed, “but Daniels’s old quarters are there. Those will be off-limits.” 

“Naturally.” 

“See to it, thanks.” 

“Right away, Captain.” 

“Oh, and T’Pol,” he added, as she turned to leave, “You and Tripp don’t need to move just yet. Unless, of course, you want to.” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

=/= 

Sandra read a message on her PADD. “Huh, it looks like we’re being moved.” 

“Moved?” asked Colleen. 

“To D deck. It looks like E deck is being cleared of single people.” 

“Maybe there could be some roommate switching. I know you preferred living with Sophie,” Colleen stated. 

Sandra flipped open her communicator to call Sophie. 

“Hmm,” Sophie thought for a moment, “actually, this is a great opportunity for Brooks and me.” 

“Why?” 

“Sandra, I’m gonna suggest that he and I move in together permanently. I mean, I’ve gotta move anyway. So it may just be up two decks instead of one.” 

“Oh.” Sandra was a little hurt. 

“It’s not like we won’t see each other,” Sophie told her, “plus I think I would be cramping your style a bit.” 

“Huh?” 

“Have you not noticed a little attention from a certain MACO?” 

“I dunno. He’s supposed to be escorting me around. That’s all I think it is. I dunno anything anymore.” 

There was a PADD chime on the other end of the line. “Huh. Looks like we’re being called to the Observation Lounge,” Sophie read. 

=/= 

Dan accompanied Sandra and Colleen to the Observation Lounge. The other single women had already arrived. Jonathan walked in with T’Pol. “Private?” he asked Dan. 

“Sir, I’m supposed to escort Crewman Sloane around the ship.” 

“Oh?” 

“Those are my orders, sir.” 

“Oh. Well, then, carry on,” said Jonathan. 

He looked at the fifteen women in front of him. Short, tall, dark, light, younger, older – none of them seemed to be right. He sighed a little bit, despite himself. “There are going to be some changes,” he announced. “You received two PADD messages today. Everyone got the first one. But you ladies are the only ones who got the second one.” 

“We are moving the committed couples and their children to E deck. There are few children so far, and we have only heard of a third pregnancy today,” reported the Vulcan. 

“A third?” asked Meredith. 

“Yes, it’s Christina Parsons and Sterling Hutchinson,” confirmed Captain Archer. “I just got word this morning.” 

“Oh,” Victoria answered. 

“Therefore, you are mostly going to need to move,” he told them. “At some point, the number of children and committed couples will be too large for one deck. We will then convert D deck for their use.” 

“There are a lot more single men than there are women,” Sandra pointed out, “Why not tell them?” 

“We will,” T’Pol stated, “this meeting is merely to inform you first, nothing more.” 

“It’s also to find out if you have any preferences. Since you and Colleen have to move, as do Kate and Sophie, perhaps some more of you would like to move around.” 

“Actually, Captain,” Sophie stated, “I might be moving in with Brooks. I, uh, I have to, er, let him know first.” 

Jonathan smiled. “By all means. Anyone else have that going on?” 

“Probably me, sir,” added Deb. “Chip and I had talked about it but we didn’t really get around to it. We didn’t think there would be anyone else ready to switch. I know it’s a lot easier for you if there are two of us switching at once.” 

“It is,” he agreed, “Anyone else?” Stephanie and Tara also spoke up. 

No one else spoke up. “All right,” he told them, “I guess I’ll see you ladies at tonight’s wedding.” They filed out. He approached Lili. “You’re in the wedding party, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, although I scarcely know why.” 

“You’re Jennifer’s friend.” 

She smiled a little. “She and I had absolutely nothing in common. I’m old enough to be her mother. But she’s a decent sort.” 

“You’ve been staying away from the weddings, unless you’re working,” he pointed out. 

“You noticed?” 

“I notice a lot of things,” he told her, “and I am noticing that a lot of the single men and women are opting out of these celebrations.” 

“Sir,” she observed, “I think it’s that the single people, a lot of us feel bad. And we don’t want the couple to sense that. We’re happy for them, but them getting married – it’s just a reminder to the rest of us.” 

“Yeah.” 

=/= 

The next meeting was for the single men, and it was a lot larger. There were forty-two of them. Jonathan gave a nearly identical speech.

“Well, we’re committed, sir,” Dave looked at Frank. “Where should we go?” Preston Jennings and Lucas Donnelly both looked up for just a second. 

“I think you can stay where you are,” Jonathan told them. “That all right with you?” 

“Sure,” replied Frank. 

“Captain, Deb contacted me about living together,” Chip informed them all. 

“I got a similar note,” reported Brooks. Lloyd and Gavin also nodded. 

“You’ll all be going to E deck, then,” T’Pol replied. 

“Looks like we’ll need to shift around roommates. Sekar, Walter, Mario, you’ll need to figure out who’s living with whom,” the captain stated. 

“What about Shapiro, sir?” asked Walter. 

“Yeah, he’ll be the other odd man out. Uh, Khan, do you mind rooming with him?” 

“That’ll be fine, sir,” Sekar was a little grateful for the solitude but also mindful that his new roommate might never recover enough to be able to live outside of Sick Bay. 

=/= 

Lili and Will worked on the hors d’oeuvres. “Dammit, I wish we had lobster,” she muttered. 

“Replicated shrimp will have to do,” he sighed, “I wish we had more champagne.” 

“Watered down fruity cocktails will have to do,” she replied. 

Brian came in. “I’ve got plates stacked up and silverware wrapped in cloth napkins for buffet style. We’ve also got glasses out, pitchers of ice water on all of the little tables and the salad is out in bowls. Yes, the covers are still on the bowls.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled, “you’re getting to be good at this.” 

“Well, right now we don’t seem to need a lot of Security work to be done. And I don’t mind,” he blushed a little, the tips of his ears turning a little red. 

“I’ll teach ya how to flambé sometime,” she told him, grinning. 

“Aren’t you in today’s wedding, O’Day?” asked Will. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“So go change. And do whatever the hell it is that maids of honor do, okay? We’ll be here when you get back.” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” she left. 

Will watched as she left. “Huh. Make sure she doesn’t do any work tonight, okay? Let her relax a bit.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Brian, busying himself with shaking up a bottle of freshly-made salad dressing. 

=/= 

Lili put on her best dress, a sapphire blue number she’d bought on Callisto. She looked at herself in a wall mirror. “Not bad for forty-six.” 

The door chimed. “It’s open!” 

It was Jennifer. “Roomie, can I talk to you?” 

“Uh, sure,” she answered, “but we haven’t been roommates for a while.” Deb was … somewhere, probably with Chip. “Sit down.” 

Jenny was wearing a tight cocktail dress of an Asian design, in fire engine red. It accented the redness of her hair and every curve. She had the same white sash on that all of the brides so far had worn – the only concession to a white wedding that any of them had. It fluttered behind her as she paced around, unable to sit. “I, gaah!” She finally just blurted out, unable to even form a word. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“I can’t marry Aidan.” 

“What?” 

“I can’t! I just, plain, cannot.” 

“Why? What’s the matter?” 

“It’s just,” she sat down for a second on Deb’s bed – which had been her own bed – and then sprang back up again. “I, I don’t know if I love him.” 

“Oh, Jenny.” 

“It’s true! He tells me he loves me, and I just kinda parrot it back to him. It’s not nice and it’s not fair.” 

“Is it not true?” 

“I think so. I mean, it isn’t. I mean, it is. I mean, oh God, I have no idea what the hell I mean.” 

Lili chuckled for just a second. “Listen, you’re just getting cold feet. Lots of people do.” 

“But Lili! He’s, he’s really committed. He wants kids, he wants to be holding me close when we’re in our nineties, he wants to leave our children all sorts of information about what 2154 is like – and I, I never know what to say to that. I just never know if I can muster up that kind of, well, enthusiasm for, for us.” 

“Enthusiasm?” 

“C’mon, don’t make fun of me.” 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s that, well,” she sighed, “we’re all settling. Isn’t everybody just settling? Do you honestly think any of these marriages would have happened if we weren’t stuck back here in ’38?” 

Lili thought for a moment. “T’Pol and Commander Tucker – I think they could have gotten married, or at least they would have considered it. And Judy and Michael, too, right?” 

“But not the others.” 

“Not necessarily,” Lili replied cautiously, “I don’t know what goes on, behind closed doors. I look at, yanno; I look at Deb and Chip, okay? And I see they’re having fun and all, but I also see how he looks at her. And how she looks at him, too.” 

“They make cow eyes?” 

“Yeah, Jenny, they make cow eyes. It’s like they’re a pair of teenagers. And yanno, I see Aidan looking at you like that. A lot, when he thinks nobody’s looking.” 

“He does?” 

“Yeah, he really does. Jenny, I realize that this might not be your ideal. You are probably thinking, well, that something else should be happening, could be happening.” 

“But it isn’t,” Jenny insisted. “You see, I always thought that, somehow, the way I would love, and who I would love, that it would all be lovely and amazing.” 

“Yanno, it can still be lovely and amazing, Jennifer.” 

“Huh. I suppose. Did I tell ya that I’m having the Major give me away?” 

“What?” 

“Yep. He was shocked, but he said okay. Plus the Lieutenant is the best man. You’ll be fighting off both of them for dancing and all of that.” 

“Jenny, they’re both gay.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. At least, that’s what I understand,” Lili shook her head. Now it was her turn to look away a little and be troubled. 

“Roomie,” Jenny apologized, “I just realized – I shouldn’t have said that. You like the Major.” 

“I like both of them,” Lili admitted. “I like other guys, too, but I definitely like both of them. And it’s, you know, it’s what I can’t have. I guess I’m looking for something lovely and amazing too.” 

Jenny put her arm around her friend. “Maybe someone unexpected will be lovely and amazing.” 

There was a door chime. “Just a sec,” Lili called out. She dabbed at her eyes. “Makeup okay?” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Come in.” 

It was Malcolm. “Mister MacKenzie told me to come and collect you both. I had to use internal sensors.” 

That made Jenny laugh. “You scanned for us?” 

“I did,” he admitted, pretending to be serious. 

The three of them started walking to the Observation Lounge. Jay fell in step with them. “Ensign, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing.” 

“Just walk me down the aisle. After Lili and Malcolm and right after Aidan, okay? Then just kinda kiss me on the cheek to, to say good-bye and we’re good to go.” 

“Okay.” 

“Oh, and you’re supposed to dance with me later.” 

“I stink at that,” Jay confessed. 

“Just, uh, pretend you’re having a good time, okay?” Jenny pleaded a little. 

“Sure,” he hoped the alcoholic punch would be a little stronger than usual. It was the only way he’d ever loosen up enough to dance. 

=/= 

“And now,” Jonathan announced, “Jennifer and Aidan have written their own vows. Aidan?” 

All eyes were on the dark, tall Tactical ensign – agreed by all to be the best-looking man on the ship. He cleared his throat, a tiny bit nervously. He took Jenny’s hands and gazed into her eyes. “Be mine. I, uh, I want you to know a few things. When I first met you, you remember, when we launched, well, I couldn’t help but to look at you. And I bet no one can help but to look at you, because you’re so beautiful.” 

He smiled at her. “And then I got to know you a bit. And I noticed things that had nothing to do with your looks. I noticed how you talk to yourself when you’re trying to work out a problem. How you help out younger crew members, and make them feel like their contributions are the most important thing. How you are still in awe and wonder when we find some new phenomenon – being out in space for as long as we have – and, maybe, for as long as we will be – it doesn’t seem to ever dampen your enthusiasm.” 

Jenny glanced over at Lili when she heard that word. Lili nodded slightly, directing Jenny’s gaze back to Aidan. He continued, “I noticed how you take a big handful of popcorn on Movie Night. I saw how you say hello to anybody you saw in the halls – even the MACOs, when we didn’t know them that well.” From his seat in the front row, Jay nodded slightly in acknowledgement. 

“And I remember that I liked you, and I always wanted to ask you out. But yanno, you get busy, or shy, or you wonder if it’s something that’ll be welcome. So I hesitated. And then, well, you know what happened. We got back here. And suddenly all of the hesitation, it stopped mattering quite so much. And you, you were the one to take the initiative. So I thank you for that.” 

There was a murmuring of slight laughter among the assembled guests. “I look at you, every single day. And all I ask is to be able to keep looking at you. To be able to, to touch your face. I ask to be able to hear you as you talk to yourself, and watch you as you grab too much popcorn or make a younger crewman feel on top of the world. And when your red hair is grey, and then when it’s white, and mine’s all gone,” he smiled, “I ask to be able to look at you, to touch your face, to hear you talk to yourself, to take too much popcorn, and to greet the next generation of new crew members. I ask to be able to witness these things every single day for the rest of our lives.” He looked intently at her. “Be mine. It’s all I ask.” 

Malcolm gave Aidan the ring, and he slipped it on her finger – another metal crafting job by Engineering. She looked down at her hand for a second and then back at him. 

“Aidan, I, when I was a little girl, I knew that, I hoped that, I would have a love that was,” she hesitated for a split second, “lovely and amazing. I went to school and I hadn’t seen it, hadn’t found it. How was I to know that it was right here?” She whispered the last two words. “Be mine.” 

Lili gave Jennifer the ring and she placed it on Aidan’s finger. The three of them and Malcolm then turned to face the captain once more. 

“What more can I say?” asked Jonathan, “By the authority of Starfleet, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” 

=/= 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Chip called out. “We have the first dance! Let’s get up there and show the MacKenzies just how much we support ‘em!” He started up the very old-fashioned music which was from 1963, a mere seventy-five years before their present time. Dusty Springfield sang. 

I don't know what it is
That makes me love you so
I only know I never wanna let you go 

“Would you care to dance?” It was Malcolm.

“Oh, um, okay,” Lili nodded. 

“It seems it’s an obligation,” he stated, “I do hope I don’t step on you.” 

“That’s all right.”

'Cos you started something
Oh, can't you see
That ever since we met
You've had a hold on me
It happens to be true
I only want to be with you

Jay glanced over a little. “You did a good job as Jenny’s Dad,” Jonathan told him. 

“Yeah, um, thanks,” he grunted. 

It doesn't matter where you go or what you do
I wanna spend each moment of the day with you
Oh, look what has happened with just one kiss
I never knew that I could be in love like this
It's crazy but it's true
I only want to be with you

“I, I’ve never been that good at this,” Malcolm told her. They moved slowly, slower than the rhythm, and mainly watched Jenny and Aidan. Jenny was very good. Aidan was all right, mainly just watching her and facilitating her movements. 

“Jenny’s the graceful one,” Lili observed. 

You stopped and smiled at me
Asked if I'd care to dance
I fell into your open arms
And I didn't stand a chance

Others joined them. Chip goofed around with Deb as Tracey and Oscar moved slowly – she was still a bit tentative after little Amanda’s birth.

Now, listen, honey
I just wanna be beside you everywhere
As long as we're together, honey
I don't care 

Most of the single women got up and danced, mainly, with MACOs.

'Cos you started something
Oh, can't you see
That ever since we met
You've had a hold on me
No matter what you do
I only want to be with you

“That’s enough,” came a slurred statement, cutting in. 

“Will!” Lili exclaimed, “What –?” 

“Mister Slocum, I believe you’re intoxicated.” 

“Get back,” Will warned clumsily, “I am taking over.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her away. He looked at her and smiled. “When you marry, wear that dress.” 

She looked away, teary, flinching as if he had struck her. 

You stopped and smiled at me
Asked me if I'd care to dance
I feel into your open arms
And I didn't stand a chance

“Leave me alone!” Lili tried to wriggle out of Will’s arms. 

“C’mon!” 

Craig came over. “C’mon, Chef, play nice.” 

Will eyed him angrily. “Let me have this.”

Now hear this, honey
I just wanna be beside you everywhere
As long as we're together, honey
I don't care 

This time it was Jay intervening. “Chef, it’s time for you to call a cab and call it a night.” 

Will glared at him, but did back down. “It’s only a bit of fun, Major.” 

“Del,” Jay asked, “can you get him back to his quarters or something?” 

“I have to serve and clean up. He said to let Lili have the night off.” 

“It’s okay,” Lili came over. “I don’t mind cleaning up a little.” Still a little shaken, it was a lot easier to just do something familiar and a little mindless. Her hands trembled slightly as she cleared away some of the dishes.

'Cos you started something
Oh, can't you see
That ever since we met
You've had a hold on me
No matter what you do
I only want to be with you
I said, no matter, no matter what you do
I only want to be with you

=/= 

Jay Hayes’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

I am over the age of fifty and I never really minded the fact that I never had kids until tonight. I watched Jenny get married and even though it was just pretend, I really did feel, for a split second, like I was her father. 

Archer even commented on my play acting. And I came to the realization at that moment that most guys my age are married and settled down. And here I am, lingering in the past. 

=/= 

Malcolm Reed’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

I got a half a dance. That’s more than enough for me. I would prefer it if I were to be able to learn, and to improve. I shall suggest it to Hoshi. Maybe someone can provide lessons for the awkward among us. 

=/= 

Tara Balcescu Prentice’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

Well, I’m pregnant! 

=/= 

Colleen Romanov’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

I gotta find me a fellow. It’s only been a few days and I’m already sick of living with Sandra. She looks like she’s trying, but I gotta say, I just don’t buy it. 

=/= 

Jennifer Crossman MacKenzie’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

The die is cast, and we’re married.  And I am finally realizing that I love Aidan, and just how much I do. Lovely and amazing, all the way. 

=/= 

Jonathan Archer’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

I am getting a little tired of only conducting weddings these days. I think I’ll see if something else can be organized. Hoshi’s morale committee has been inactive for a while. Perhaps it should start up again. 

=/= 

Charlotte Lilienne O’Day’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

I gotta let him down easy. Chef is – this is not looking good. Sure I wanna be loved, and for who I am. But I am not at the end of my rope. At least, not yet. 

He’s beginning to scare me a little. 

=/= 

William Slocum’s Personal log, August thirty-first, 2038 

Brian Delacroix, who I could squash like a bug, escorted me back to my quarters tonight. 

It was stupid of me, to get started before most of the others did. I should not have been that way. Frankly, I’m surprised I’m as sober as I am right now. It’s practically midnight. 

I don’t know if I blew it. Maybe, maybe not. She’s gotta know that I’m interested, though. She has to know.