Daedalus's Children

by Dave Stern

  “Thirty seconds, sir.”

  “Roger that.” He frowned. “Ensign Riley, anyway you can think of to get us in range of both of them…”

  “I’ll be up for a commendation?”

  The captain had to smile. “If I have anything to say about it.”

  She smiled back, and refocused her attention.

  Archer’s gaze came to rest on T’Pol. The two of them locked eyes a moment.

  “Don’t know if I can put in for a commendation for you, Sub-Commander. Seeing as how you’re not officially Starfleet.”

  “I understand.”

  “Still…” He smiled. “I’ll do what I can.”

  T’Pol seemed on the verge of a reply when all at once her station beeped.

  “Second vessel is firing weapons, Captain,” she announced. “Phased energy bursts. Not…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  The PDC ship behind them exploded.

  Archer blinked. Either the big vessel had made a terrible mistake, or a miracle had just occurred.

  “Twenty seconds.”

  “Incoming transmission,” T’Pol announced. “It’s…it’s for you, sir.”

  For the first time since he’d known the Vulcan, T’Pol looked honestly surprised.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She almost—and Archer thought he could see her straining to keep the expression on her face neutral—smiled.

  “It’s Commander Tucker,” T’Pol said.

  Archer thought he’d heard her wrong.

  “Commander Tucker,” she repeated, and put the signal on screen.

  She was right. It was Trip.

  What she hadn’t mentioned was that he was sitting in the command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise.

  Archer’s chief engineer smiled and got to his feet.

  “Captain. Sorry it took us so long.”

  Archer opened his mouth to respond, and couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “Ten seconds,” Hess called out.

  The captain found his voice.

  “Lieutenant,” he smiled, “you can stand down self-destruct.”

  Twenty

  A LONG, HOT SHOWER. A shave. A fresh uniform. A pot of strong coffee. Porthos curled up sleeping in his ready room. Archer was in heaven—or the closest to it he supposed he’d get in this life.

  In other words, he was back aboard Enterprise, and all was right with the world. His world, anyway.

  The Denari were still having trouble with theirs.

  “You have my word, General,” the captain told Makandros. Archer was in his command chair, Makandros’s image on the main viewer before him. “We have no intention of leaving just yet.”

  And we may not be leaving at all, he could have added, but since he and T’Pol were still the only ones among the crew who knew that they lacked the sensor data that would enable them to return to their own universe, he kept silent on that score.

  “I am glad to hear that, Captain. I would be gladder to hear you agree to my request.”

  “I understand that, sir. You’ll understand that I must attend to the health and well-being of my ship and crew first.”

  “Of course,” Makandros said, looking as if he did not, in fact, understand at all. “I will contact you again in a few hours. Let us say two hours, which should give you—”

  “No.” Archer shook his head. “I will contact you, General, once I’ve had a chance to discuss this with my senior staff.”

  Makandros glared. The captain felt certain that among the uncomplimentary thoughts rushing through the man’s head this moment about Archer, foremost was regret at ever letting the captain and T’Pol off Hule once he’d had them there.

  Archer couldn’t blame him. The general was used to having his orders obeyed without question, not disregarded. Certainly while he was commander of the DEF, even more so now that was acting as commander of the combined DEF/Guild forces.

  “Very well,” Makandros said. “I will wait to hear from you.” With a nod, he closed the circuit, and the screen cleared.

  Archer sat back in his chair and looked around the bridge.

  Every station was occupied. Every member of his crew, having been ferried back from Hule immediately on Enterprise’s arrival at the Guild/DEF rendezvous point, was hard at work, testing and retesting every circuit aboard the vessel, going over the repairs the Denari had performed—check that, the repairs Cooney and Hess had performed at the Denari’s command—making sure all systems were back at nominal.

  But there was one nagging problem they were still dealing with, a legacy this Colonel Peranda had left them: a series of booby traps located at several critical hall corridor junctures, and most seriously, a rather large explosive charge that had been planted in Launch Bay 2. While the booby traps were easy enough to disarm, the launch bay charge could not be removed without a code that Peranda possessed—a code the Colonel, currently cooling his heels inside Enterprise’s brig, had yet to surrender. Reed was down there now, trying to make the man see reason—much as Archer had done a few hours ago, on his way to the bridge.

  Peranda had looked up at his entrance.

  “Don’t waste your time,” he said. “I have nothing to say until you people are prepared to deal.”

  “There aren’t going to be any deals.”

  Peranda remained silent.

  “I’m Jonathan Archer, the captain of this ship.”

  “You know who I am.”

  “That’s right. I know what you’ve done as well.” Archer looked him in the eye. “I want the code to disarm that explosive in my launch bay.”

  “Are you prepared to deal?”

  “I don’t make deals with murderers.” Trip had told him about Westerberg.

  “Then we have nothing to say to each other.”

  Archer checked his anger. He would not let Peranda get to him.

  “General Makandros is very interested in talking to you. Perhaps you’ll speak more freely to him.”

  Peranda remained silent.

  Archer had to give the man credit—he was playing the only card he had for all he was worth.

  Archer wasn’t going in on the game, though.

  “I’ll be back, Colonel. To see if you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I believe you will,” Peranda said, in such a way that Archer looked him in the eye.

  All at once, he had the feeling that the man had more tricks up his sleeve. The thought gave him pause.

  Outside the brig, Reed was waiting.

  “Nothing,” Archer said. “I’ll leave him to you, Malcolm.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The captain had every confidence in his security officer and his team. He was certain they’d get not only the code from Peranda, but whatever other secrets the colonel was hiding.

  He snapped back to the here and now, and glanced around the bridge. A lot of unfamiliar faces on the bridge at the moment—many of his officers were down in sickbay, getting a quick physical from Phlox. As everyone in the crew had been doing, in shifts, over the last few hours.

  Those who had been most adversely affected by their time in the Denari environment were being confined to sickbay or placed on restricted duty—Dwight, Hoshi, Malzami, and Dingham so far, though Archer was certain that list would grow longer as Phlox saw the rest of the crew.

  The captain himself felt back to a hundred percent, though he supposed a good part of that was psychological, a change in mood attributable to regaining control of his ship and his destiny. Now all that remained was to find a way back to their own universe…

  And finish up the business that they had gotten involved in here. Which brought him right back around to Makandros’s request.

  Find General Sadir’s son.

  In the day he’d been gone, the DEF ships at Kota had won control of that facility. Elson had withdrawn his forces to Denari, to regroup there. The man was refusing all attempts at contact, at mediation.

  A long, bloody civil war seemed
inevitable.

  “We must find the boy,” Makandros had told him. “We could use your help. Your ship can—”

  “I know what my ship can do, General. When it’s at a hundred percent. Which we’re not yet. Right now, we’re piloting off an auxiliary helm station, there’s a problem with our main sensor array, and we have booby traps scattered throughout the vessel.”

  “You’ll let us know when you’re ready,” Makandros had said. Archer had said he would—once he talked it over with his staff, with Trip, in particular, who knew considerably more about the Denari political dynamic than he did—but the captain felt sure they’d honor the general’s request. Help prevent the Denari from slipping into total war.

  The com sounded.

  “Engineering to Captain Archer.”

  Archer smiled. And speak of the devil…

  “Trip. You have news for me?”

  “Yes, indeed. Warp engines are back on-line.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Got more than the usual complement of qualified people down here,” Trip replied. Archer knew he was referring to Cooney and the other Daedalus personnel, who were assisting him. “Sir, you got that minute for me now?”

  His chief engineer had been after him for a moment in private from the second Archer had stepped back aboard the starship. The captain had put him off for the last few hours, to make sure the whole crew got settled and that the ship was in condition. But now…

  “Sure. Come up to the ready room.”

  “Actually, Captain, I wonder if you’d come down here.”

  “Engineering?”

  “Yes, sir. D-deck.”

  Archer frowned. Could the Denari have done something to the engines after all? Trip had said they were fine, but what if there was a problem he didn’t want to discuss in front of the rest of the crew?

  “Sure. Be right there,” he said, and closed the circuit.

  When the lift door opened on D-deck, Trip was waiting for him. But instead of taking him to engineering, Trip led him to an access ladder and started up it toward C.

  “Hold on,” the captain said.

  Trip, halfway up the ladder, paused and turned around.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Well—” He looked down the corridor in both directions to make sure no one was listening. “You know that request of Makandros’s?”

  “Find Sadir’s son?”

  Trip nodded. “Yeah. That’s going to be a lot easier to do than you might suspect.”

  Archer looked over at Travis, who’d stayed silent the entire time, arms folded across his chest as Trip finished telling the captain who was inside the cabin behind them. At least he knew why he hadn’t seen his helmsman the entire time since he’d been back aboard Enterprise: Travis had been here, guarding Duvall and her son.

  “What does she know?”

  “She thought we were sent by Starfleet,” his chief engineer replied. “I told her that we weren’t—not exactly. And we haven’t discussed anything to do with our situation—Enterprise, parallel universes, all that. Nothing.”

  “I see.” The captain was quiet a minute. “And the boy—he’s in there too?”

  “Yes, sir,” Trip replied. “A little under the weather—something he ate yesterday. I’m thinking it’s the same thing that’s been happening to us, except in reverse. Doesn’t seem too serious.”

  The captain nodded. Of course. The protein intolerance that had affected his crew here probably worked both ways. If the boy had eaten some of Enterprise’s food…

  “Let’s get Phlox up here to see him.”

  “I already spoke to the doctor. He said once he’s through with the crew—”

  Archer interrupted him. “As important as this boy is, let’s keep him healthy. Tell Phlox—”

  The door to Cabin 428 opened, and a woman—slim, medium height, shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a simple black pantsuit—leaned out.

  Captain Duvall. Monique Duvall.

  In his mind, she’d been dead for fourteen years.

  Now here she was, alive, in the flesh, looking exactly as he’d remembered her.

  Maybe even better.

  “Jonny,” she smiled. “I heard your voice.”

  Archer blinked, and swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say. Jonny? The moment he’d hit puberty, he had insisted people stop calling him Jonny. Certainly not Monique Duvall.

  “Captain,” he managed. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Except that “again” was wrong—he realized it as he spoke. He had never met this woman—this Monique Duvall—before in his life.

  “And you,” she said. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

  “Of course. Give me a minute first, won’t you?”

  Giving him a look that mixed equal parts impatience, disappointment, and anger, Duvall nodded and disappeared back into the cabin.

  Archer collected himself and turned back to his chief engineer.

  “Get Phlox up here,” he said again. “Tell him this is a priority.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  He turned and spoke to Travis.

  “For the moment, let’s keep on as you were, gentlemen. No one else finds out the two of them are here yet—all right?”

  Both nodded.

  “All right,” Archer said, and turned toward the door to 428.

  “Sir,” Trip said. “One thing.”

  Archer stopped in his tracks.

  “She’s not the woman you knew, Captain. Even if she looks exactly the same—”

  “I understand, Trip. Thanks.”

  Archer nodded then, and stepped through the door into 428.

  For a second, he was disoriented—the room was dark, dimly lit, configured differently than he’d expected. No bunk, a low table, comfortable chairs around it, a kitchen area…

  Right, the captain recalled. This is the suite we set up with 430, after that business with the Jantaleyse ambassador.

  Duvall was standing in the kitchen area, pouring herself a glass of amber liquid from a clear, multifaceted glass bottle.

  She turned and smiled at him.

  He smiled back.

  Monique Duvall. Valedictorian of her Academy class. The best simulator pilot Archer had ever seen—and a pretty darn good one in real life as well. Helmsman on the Harmony 2, first officer on the Constellation prototype, captain of first the Maximillian and then, of course, Daedalus. He’d met her his first day of classes at the Academy—she was escorting her younger sister around, showing her the sights, renewing old acquaintances, having just returned from her first deep-space assignment—patrols in and around the new Centauri settlements, which were being harassed by Thlixian pirate vessels. Somehow, Archer had ended up alone with Duvall for fifteen minutes, quizzing her on what life ‘out there’ had been like. What a pest he must have been, he realized later. She’d put up with him good-naturedly until it was time for her to leave…at which point they’d shaken hands and said good-bye.

  It was the beginning of the most serious schoolboy crush of his life.

  Duvall had been in and out of the Academy for that entire year, alternating studies with patrol assignments. The captain remembered scheming up ways to spend time with her—preparing for conversations the two of them might have, practicing jokes he would tell her, pumping her little sister for information on her likes and dislikes…

  The effort had been almost entirely for naught. He’d seen her only a handful of times over those next few months, and then they’d lost touch completely, until the Daedalus project was announced. Then they’d renewed their acquaintance, become friends…though the captain never quite got over feeling just a little bit like a nervous schoolboy in her presence. Tongue-tied, almost.

  He felt a little of that right now.

  “Honest-to-God scotch. I never thought I’d see this again.” She finished pouring her glass and held out the bottle to him. “You want some?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She
shrugged and set down the bottle.

  “Cheers,” she said, and bolted half her glass in a single gulp.

  “We need to talk,” Archer said.

  “I know.” She looked him in the eye and frowned. “You don’t seem happy to see me. Why is that?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I am, believe me. It’s just that—”

  “When I heard that a Starfleet vessel had been captured and that you were the captain…” She set her glass down on the counter. “Fourteen years, Jonny. I swear to God, I’ve thought about you every single day.”

  Archer flushed.

  He had to set her straight this instant as to who he really was, and why he was here, because if calling him Jonny hadn’t been enough of a clue, the look she was giving him right now…

  This universe’s Jonathan Archer and Monique Duvall had been close—very, very close indeed.

  “You’re in a tough position,” she said. “I understand. You’re Starfleet here, and after what I’ve done—”

  “Captain—”

  “Monique, Jonny. You haven’t forgotten my name, have you?”

  “No, of course not. But, please, let’s sit down and talk.”

  Duvall wasn’t listening.

  “Everything I did, I did for him. For Leeman.” Tears filled her eyes. “It was Lyatt’s choice—his father’s name. I went along. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to insist on Henry. But in my mind, that’s how I thought of him. Just like we talked about, Jonny.”

  Archer looked at her, and heard his heart pounding in his chest.

  “What?”

  She nodded toward 430, and managed a smile. “He’s right in there, Jonny. Our son.”

  The captain blinked.

  Words failed him.

  Three surprises awaited Trip in sickbay.

  Phlox had finished with the crew.

  He was examining Ferik.

  Neesa was with them.

  She standing on one side of the diagnostic scanning chamber, her back to Trip. She turned reflexively at the sound of the door opening, and their eyes met.

  For a second, Trip didn’t know how to react. In his mind, he hadn’t decided whether or not he should try and see her, or anyone aboard Eclipse, for that matter, again. The way he’d left before had felt like good-bye. A final good-bye. He didn’t want to stir up emotions—hers or his—all over again.