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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.



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