04 - Enterprize

[Captain Hair]

STAR TREK: ENTERPRISE
TO BOLDLY GO…
ENTERPRIZE

DEREK KESSLER

Ensign Coto's Personal Log
July 8, 2156

Four days ago I went with Captain Archer, Commander T’Pol, and Ensign Sato down to the surface of Galonar II. It’s a Menshara-Class planet that was colonized a few decades ago by a race called Kardassians; they’re over a hundred light-years from their homeworld. They seem to be a culture rich in literature and arts; there were giant murals everywhere, musicians on the street, beautiful sculptures all over the place. It was… extraordinary. Breathtaking, in fact. Anyway, as is usually the case, things went wrong. An industrial accident a few days before our arrival released large quantities of methal, methalhydr… uh, I can't remember what the stuff was, but Phlox said that even small doses can cause some pretty strange changes in the humanoid brain. Oddly enough, the effects, well, the events that transpired because of the effect, gave me an inspiration for a small story…

Archer woke up, his eyes greeted by grit. He rolled over and coughed, spewing sand. The captain shook his head, raining more sand onto his lap. He grunted and slowly stood, surveying his surroundings. A narrow beach stretched to either side, a dense jungle stood ahead, and a vast blue sea lay behind. He had no clue if his ship was nearby, nor if any of his crew was around. For all he knew he’d been thrown overboard in his sleep. He checked his outfit: wide leather boots, brown pants stolen from a British seaman, white linen shirt, and a worn leather vest. His black coat and belt were gone. He straightened his vest and moved to adjust his tri-corner hat, discovering that it wasn’t atop his head where it should be. A quick visual scan of the tree line revealed that it was perched on a fallen coconut tree.

He shuffled towards the trees, weighted down by his water-logged boots. With the flick of his wrist the hat was back on his head. Archer noticed his belt was under the tree. He grabbed it and pulled, meeting resistance. “Must be caught on… vines.” He dropped to his knees and unsheathed his sword from the belt. With a bit of probing, he found the thick vine that was wrapped around the belt. It took one slice from the sword to cut through the vine. Archer pulled out his belt, sighing with satisfaction.

The ground suddenly heaved beneath him and he found himself up in the trees, surrounded by netting made from the vines. T’Pol’s distinctly English voice came from below, “I see that you’re awake.” Her story was an interesting one, a girl of the Amazon raised by the English and captured by pirates. She joined Archer’s crew at sixteen years old, thinking she would be returned to the Amazon, as Archer had promised to do, and as any pirate would, didn’t. Her hair was various tones between brown and dirty blond and hung down past her tanned shoulders. She wore a thin white skirt, stained and tattered by years of use, and a discarded leather vest, ripped in several places during a loosing sword fight. Things like that weren’t easily thrown away, and somebody like her would be more than happy to get their hands on it. Under the vest T’Pol sported a thin orange blouse, faded and wrinkled from nearly as much use as the skirt.

Archer growled and realized that his sword and hat had fallen to the ground. “Why didn’t ya just tie me up when I was out?”

T’Pol grabbed his hat, carefully placing it on her own head. Despite having lived with Archer’s crew for several years, her grammar and pronunciations were still perfect, “That would not have been anywhere near as satisfying.” She took his belt and fastened it around her narrow waist, taking it in several holes past the one Archer had worn in it. She adjusted the pistol and sword so they were at her sides, “Would you like to come down now?”

He sighed, “Aye.”

With a quick swipe of the sword, the vine holding the net gave way, dropping Archer four yards onto the ground. He shouted in pain, rolling onto his side, “You little wench!”

He wasn’t prepared for the quick strike from her boot to his face. His head whipped to the other side, bleeding from multiple gouges. T’Pol took a loose lock of hair and lightly placed it behind an ear, “Respect. It’s a word you’ll want to learn.”

Archer spat blood onto the damp ground, a matted mix of sand and palm fronds, “I always respect a fine woman.”

T’Pol crouched next to Archer, pointing the tip of the sword at his neck, “I’m prepared to hold you to that, unlike your other lies.”

“Aye.”

“Get up.”

Archer sat up, yelling at pain in his back, “I think ‘ye broke a rib,” he twisted lightly, feeling several vertebrae pop, “Er, somethin’.”

T’Pol jumped up onto a log wedged in the crook of a tree, “I don’t care.”

“You’re such a,” Archer paused, remembering that he was no longer armed, “Neva mind.”

She dropped down on the other side of the log, “This way.”

Archer stood, wiping blood away from his eye, “Where ya goin’? T’Pol started into the jungle and Archer yelled after her, “Hey! Where’re ya goin’?” He stood defiantly for a moment, and then followed after her.

* * *

Reed slashed his sword through the thick tangle of vines in front of him. Mayweather rolled his eyes, “Why don’t we just go around?”

“Go around to where?” Sato asked. She dropped onto a log behind her, “We don’t even know wha' we goin’ Or where we are.” Mayweather plopped down next to her.

“There’s a port on this island,” Reed said, ”I saw it before we went down.”

Phlox stumbled up from behind. His long sand-colored hair was tossed about his head and the left lens of his gold-framed glasses was cracked. Tucker was behind him, holding a pistol to the his back, “Look what I found.”

Reed laughed, pointing his sword at Phlox’s bulging stomach, hidden under a herringbone vest and white shirt, “You better be glad the Tucker found ya. The Captain wouldn’t be nearly as forgivin’.”

Phlox straightened his glasses and spoke in a clear English accent, “I’d rather have not been found at all.”

Tucker grinned, exposing two rows of crooked yellow teeth, “Tough luck, doc.”

He sighed and tugged down on his vest, pulling it tight over his stomach, “Someday you’ll pay for this.”

Mayweather cracked a wide smile, bearing three gold teeth, “As long as you tell me when someday is so I can have me a last stand, that’s fine with me.”

Phlox cocked his jaw, then decided against spouting a retort. Tucker slipped his pistol under his belt, still grinning wildly. He laughed lightly.

Sato looked up at him, brushing a loose lock of her short black hair out of her eyes, “What?

Tucker’s grin disappeared, “What what?”

“You were laughing,” Sato said.

Tucker pursed his lips and looked off in the forest, “I was?”

Sato nodded, “Yeah.”

Tucker kept staring into the trees, “Huh.”

Reed’s sword lodged in the tangle of vines. He pulled at the handle, meeting resistance. The group paused, noting his struggle. “Need help?” Mayweather laughed.

Reed growled, twisting the sword free, “That ain’t no vine.”

“Prob’bly just a dead tree,” Sato said.

Tucker’s grin reappeared, “Or maybe it’s a chest full of treasure!”

Sato rolled her eyes, “In the middle of the jungle under a bunch of vines?”

Reed swung the sword down with all the force he could muster, cleaving through the vines and lodging with a thud. He grabbed his wrist and cursed, stepping back and cringing. Tucker turned back to Sato, “I said maybe. It could be a boat or somethin’.”

Phlox twisted his head to look back at Tucker, “As Hoshi said, in the middle of the jungle under a tangle of vines?”

“I didn’t say tangle,” Sato corrected.

“The exact wording is inconsequential,” Phlox said.

“What’s that mean?” Tucker asked with a puzzled look.

Reed shouted, “Trip’s right!”

Tucker turned his confused face to Reed, who was kneeling by the mess of severed vines, “It’s a boat?”

“If he’s put as many holes into it as I think he has, it’s not going to be a very good one,” Phlox quipped.

Reed pushed the vines back, “This ain’t no boat.”

Sato squatted next to him, “Treasure?” She pulled back more vines, revealing an old wooden chest with a rusted iron lock and hinges.

Reed wiped a finger across the oxidized surface of the lock. He took the tip of his sword and stuck it in the small slit for the key, twisting and rattling the blade in an attempt to open the chest. The lock refused to budge, simply flaking more rust as Reed’s anger grew with each passing moment. He started to growl as he worked the lock, “Open, dammit!” The lock suddenly burst open in a spray of sparks and pulverized wood. Reed fell onto his back, “What the hell?”

Tucker stood over him, pointing the smoking barrel of his pistol at the shattered lock. Reed took a moment to comprehend what had happened, “You could’ve warned me.”

“But then I wouldn’t have heard you scream like a girl!” Tucker taunted, slipping the pistol back into his belt.

Reed sat up, “I did not!”

Mayweather pointed at him, “You did too.”

“Did not!”

Phlox cleared his throat, “What’s in it?”

Reed looked up at him with a confused look, “What’s in what?”

“The chest,” Phlox rolled his eyes.

“Oh, right!” Reed stood and kicked the lid off the chest. It flipped open and broke off the hinges at the back.

Sato was the first to react, “Sand?”

“I wasted a bullet on a box of sand?” Tucker threw his arms up in desperation.

Reed dropped to his knees and began to dig through the sand, “There’s gotta be somethin’ here.”

Mayweather remained on the log as Sato stood and walked a few steps back into the jungle. He leaned forward, his voice heavy with cynicism, “ Like what?”

Reed cupped his hands together and started shoveling the sand out of the chest, “Maybe gold or jewels or a map or somethin’.” He stood and raised his right leg, driving it down into the broken lock. The wood shattered under the force, spilling the sand out onto the damp jungle floor. Reed dropped onto all fours, sifting through the spread.

Sato returned, “There’s nothing there! Why would they fill it with sand if there was something there?”

With a burst of laughter, Reed stood and held out a piece of leather the size of a head, “Nothing there?” He examined both sides of the sheet: one side held a map of an island marked with cryptic symbols, the other a paragraph of text. Reed squinted at the text, then handed it to Tucker, “What’s it say?”

Tucker turned it over in his hands, “I dunno. I can’t read.”

Sato grabbed it from his hands and looked over the text, “Isla del Acantilados is an island of great danger – cliffs and rocky waters await any who dare seek port. But if you have the courage of a hundred men and a crew to match, there are many treasures to be claimed. Jungles rich in fruits and animals, streams that teem with unique fishes, and hot springs to ease the tired sailor’s back. Bravery alone will not claim the greatest treasure. Decipher the clues and the lost cargo of the H.M.S. Liverpool will be yours. We wrecked on that island years ago and I was the only man to escape. The entire fortune of a dozen seized pirate ships is all that remains of the Liverpool, her crew long dead and hull demolished by the rocky waters. I am too ill to recover the bounty myself, and am likely dead by now. Godspeed.” Sato looked up into the canopy, “What a weird guy.”

Phlox sighed, “The Liverpool disappeared almost twenty years ago, my uncle was a deckhand on her.”

“Well,” Mayweather’s smile stretched across his face, “You know what happened to ya dear uncle, and we know where to find us some treasure.”

“We just got one problem,” Reed said. When no one reacted he pointed his sword at the broken chest, “It’s not a boat.”

* * *

Archer grunted and rolled over. He opened his eyes and was assaulted with light. He moaned and rolled back onto his side, sighting the waterfall that T’Pol had chosen as their camp for the night. Archer stood stiffly, looking up at the seven yard high waterfall. He jumped up onto a two yard wide boulder and surveyed the pool at the base of the cascade. T’Pol was nowhere to be seen. A glint of light near the water’s edge caught his eye. Archer squinted at its source, seeing his belt with sword and pistol on a boulder near the falls and close to the jungle’s edge.

He jumped off the boulder and walked towards his effects, stepping with ease as the noise of the waterfall masked his approach. The belt lay atop a pile of fabric, with his tri-corner hat in the pebbles nearby. Archer immediately grabbed the hat and placed it on his head, the pulled them off-white fabric out from under the belt. He held it up, examining the yard-square sheet. He glanced down, seeing T’Pol’s orange shirt at his feet A mischievous smile came to him as he lowered the sheet, realizing that it was T’Pol’s skirt.

A strong male voice called out with a clear English accent, “I don’t think orange is quite your color.” Archer’s smile faded as he looked up into the eyes of a red-coated sailor of the British Royal Navy. The same waterfall noise that had masked Archer’s approach to the rock had also masked the steps of this sailor. He stood right at the edge of the wood line, holding a drawn sword at his side.

Archer dropped the sheet onto the rock, “I swear, it’s not mine.” He took a step back, which was matched by a step forward from the sailor.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” the sailor responded dryly.

Archer smiled, “I’m glad you trust me.” He took a quick and long step back, pulling his sword from its sheath on the rock and swinging it at the sailor. The sailor responded by stepping back and raising his sword with both hands to block Archer’s. With a metallic clang the sailor’s sword was wrenched from his grasp, leaving him empty-handed before the point of Archer’s sword. “Now that wasn’t too smart, was it?” Archer said.

The sailor smiled, “Never trust a pirate.”

“Whoever said I was a pirate?”

“Lord Barrington.” There were to clicks to either side of the sailor as a pair of Royal Navy sailors stepped from the jungle, pistols drawn, cocked, and aimed at Archer’s head.

Archer sighed, “That’s just not fair.”

“It isn’t?” the first sailor asked.

“No,” Archer dropped his sword, “Three of you is no problem, but with pistols…” He put a leg up onto the rock, looking back at the water, “That’s just not a fair fight.”

“I don’t fight fair,” that sailor said.

Archer turned back to them, smiling, “Neither do I.” He pushed off the rock, twisting into the air and diving towards the water. The two sailors fired off their shots, one hitting Archer in the thigh as he plunged into the pool. Archer was pulled by the current away from the waterfall, towards a fast-moving stream filled with large rocks. Suddenly he was pulled out of the water by the back of his collar.

The sailor holding him dropped him on his back on the bank of the stream and examined the bleeding gash in Archer’s leg. “It just grazed him.”

“Pity,” Archer groaned, “I thought you’d be a better shot.” The sailors hefted Archer to his feet and pointed into the woods. Archer grudgingly went forward, followed by the trio of redcoats.

T’Pol pushed her head through the waterfall, brushing back her soaked hair so she could see clearly. It had been a long time since she had had the opportunity to bath like this and when she awoke this morning the waterfall proved an irresistible temptation. She had been in a small alcove behind the cascading water, washing her body and the grime from her vest, when she heard the voice of the sailor. T’Pol had considered coming out and greeting the sailor, asking him to lead her to the port on this island, but given her unclothed state had decided against it. But now they were gone, as was Archer. Her cloths were where she had left them, the unsheathed sword stuck nearby in the sand. Archer’s hat caught on a rock a few yards downstream. T’Pol looked around one more time, and confident that the area was clear, walked out from the side of the waterfall and over to her clothes.

* * *

Reed edged toward the stone side of a building that formed the perimeter of the small port on this island. He had put the map in his jacket pocket, alongside a small flask of whiskey. Reed pulled out the flask and took a quick drink, grimacing as the less-than-quality alcohol burned down his throat.

Phlox noticed the reaction, “Honestly, I don’t know why you drink that wretched stuff.”

Reed capped the flask and slipped it back into his pocket, “Neither do I.” He took a step and pressed his back against the wall, sliding along towards the closest corner. He turned around and leaned past the edge, looking into a shaded alley that led to an empty road only a few yards away.

“Are you sure this’ a good idea?” Sato whispered.

“Nope,” Reed stepped around the corner, confidently treading down the cobblestone path. He stopped on the road, looked around, and then headed down the gentle slope to the right.

Sato, Tucker, Mayweather, and Phlox stood quietly in the jungle, listening as the occasional pedestrian or carriage went by on the road. After several minutes of silence, Tucker headed for the alley. Sato grabbed his arm, “Where d’ya think you’re goin’? He told us to wait.”

Tucker shook her off, “I’m tired of playin’ second fiddle to that snob.” He turned away from Sato and walked out onto the alley, turning right onto the road.

Sato sighed, “This is not going well.”

“Nothing ever does with this bunch,” Phlox said.

Mayweather spat at Phlox’s feet, “Shut up.”

* * *

Reed paused at the edge of what passed for the port’s market: two sidewalk vendors, a small tariff post, and a saloon - The Red Lizard. Three red-coated Royal Navy sailors left the saloon and crossed the stone street, walking straight onto a dock that branched out to several sailing ships. Reed watched them for a moment before heading into the saloon.

A thin veil of smoke, from both lamps and cigars, filled the small main room of The Red Lizard. A dozen sailors and an equal number of civilians filled the saloon, most were quietly drinking their ale or beer and conversing with those at their table. A lone bartender filled pint mugs straight from a stack of wooden kegs behind the bar. He was the first to notice Reed’s entrance, gesturing with an empty mug, “Come!”

Reed skirted past a table of sailors, who paid no attention to his presence. He stopped at the bar, dropping a single silver coin on the beaten wood surface, “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

The bartender smiled, filling the mug with a yellow ale, “What brings you to Port McPhee?” He plopped the mug before Reed, sloshing ale over the edge.

Reed grabbed the mug and took in a large drink, grimacing as the ale went down. He looked down into the mug, then back up at the bartender, “What?”

“I don’t recognize you,” the bartender said, “What ship did you come in on?”

“The Croswell,” Reed slipped onto a stool at the bar, raising his cup to his mouth.

The bartender poured a mug for a sailor that came to the bar, “There’s no Croswell at dock here.”

“She’s still out at sea,” Reed countered, tipping back his mug. He brought it down, holding it with both hands, “We had a few… problems. Takin’ on too much water to come into port or some such.”

“We’ve got one of the deepest harbors in the Caribbean,” the bartender said proudly.

Reed downed the remainder of his mug and handed it back to the bartender, “Do ya? I’ll tell the Captain about that when I go back.”

“We do,” the bartender grinned proudly, “Close to fifty feet. I helped dredge it out myself.”

“Must have been a lot of work,” Reed said, pretending to be curious.

“Aye, but it was good for business. Now we get ships like the Enterprize in here all the time.”

“The Enterprize is here?”

The bartender took Reeds mug and filled it with ale, handing it to a bearded man a few feet away, “Where do ya think all these sailors came from? Like I said: good for business.”

Reed chuckled, “So I see. What’s the Enterprize doin’ in a little port like this?”

“They’re doing a crew rotation. Most of these sailors will be stayin’ behind and transferring to the Farragut when she gets in next week. The Enterprize will be headed to Port Royal tomorrow with a skeleton crew to pick up her new peoples.”

A sly grin crossed Reed’s face, “Ya don’t say?” He dropped an extra coin on the bar, “Was nice talkin’.” He spun on the heels of his boots and left the saloon, happily grabbing and shaking a British sailor’s shoulder as he passed.

The bartender pocketed the coin and walked around the end of the bar to the same sailor. “I’d keep an eye on him.”

The sailor put his mug back on the table, “What, the pirate?”

“Aye,” the bartender nodded.

The sailor grabbed the mug and took a long drink, smiling when he finished, “We’re off duty.” The bartender rolled his eyes and walked away.

* * *

Tucker stood at the edge of the market, awkwardly holding his arms behind him. He watched as a group of British sailors walked from the docks towards The Red Lizard. The door to the saloon swung open and Reed walked out, holding the door open for the sailors. Reed spotted Tucker and started running towards him, “Trip!”

“Hey there, Limey.”

Reed stopped a yard from Tucker, enthusiastically gesturing, “Trip! I’ve got great news!” He wasn’t prepared for the crushing blow from Tucker’s fist. Reed dropped face-first to the ground and moaned.

“That’s for leavin’ us behind!” Tucker growled. Reed tried to push himself up, but Tucker kicked him in the stomach, flipping him onto his back and flinging coins across the street. “And that’s for tryin’ to be the captain!”

Reed groaned, “You bastard.”

“And this is because you annoy me,” Tucker lifted his foot above Reed’s leg and drove it down. Reed rolled out of the way, letting Tucker drive his leg full force into the cobblestone street. Tucker yelled in pain, dropping to the street and grabbing at his shin. Reed seized the moment and spun on his back, kicking his booted foot into Tucker’s head. Tucker snapped back, crashing on his back to the street.

Reed sat up, blood running from several cuts on his forehead, “That… was because that really hurt!” He spat blood to his side as Tucker moaned and rolled onto his side. Reed wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “Now, if you’ve had enough…”

Tucker coughed and spit a bloody molar onto the street, “Whatever.”

“Good.” Reed stood sheltering his stomach. He looked around noting that no one in the market was giving them any attention, “There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

“What?”

“Ever heard of a ship named Enterprize?” Reed asked.

Tucker nodded, “Aye. She’s big, fast, and well-armed.”

Reed crouched next to Tucker, “And leavin’ the port tomorrow with but a few sailors aboard.” He pointed at a tall frigate moored at the end of the dock.

Tucker grinned, showing his bloodied teeth, “I likes.”

“I thought you would,” Reed offered him a hand. Tucker reluctantly accepted and was hauled to his feet.

* * *

Tucker and Reed walked up the street towards Sato, Mayweather, and Phlox’s hiding place. They rounded a bend in the road, the blacksmith shop that marked their alley was fifty yards up the road. Sato suddenly screamed, “Where is he?” The pair froze, looked at each other, then sprinted up the hill.

Sato was pointing a pistol at the ground when Tucker and Reed arrived. Reed immediately held a finger to his lips, “Keep it down.”

“What’s goin’ on here?” Tucker asked. Phlox and Mayweather stood a few yards away from Sato, both looking at the point she was targeting.

“She knows where Captain Archer is,” Sato growled without looking up.

“Who?” Reed asked.

Mayweather rolled his eyes, “The Captain.”

T’Pol sat up, wiping blood away from a gash on her cheek, “I do not know where he is.” She grabbed Archer’s hat and put it on.

“You don’t?” Tucker stepped forward, offering a helping hand.

“No.” She reached for his hand, but he moved.

Tucker grabbed T’Pol by the front of her collar, lifting her off the ground. He growled, “Then why are you wearin’ his hat?”

“And belt,” Reed added.

T’Pol struggled to breath under Tucker’s tightening grip. “Where is he?” Tucker yelled.

“Put her down,” Reed ordered. Tucker twisted his wrist, tightening the collar. Reed stepped to Tucker’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder, “She won’t be of much use if she can’t talk.” Tucker released his grip and T’Pol collapsed to the forest floor, gasping for air and rubbing her neck.

A male voice suddenly called from the alley, “What’s goin’ on back here?”

Reed and Tucker both drew their pistols and aimed at the leather apron-wearing blacksmith, Sato pointed hers at him as well. Tucker and Reed shouted in unison, “This don’t concern you!”

The blacksmith raised his hands and backed away, “Fair enough.”

When he was out of sight, the attention turned back to T’Pol, who was slowly standing. Reed straightened her, holding her shoulders so she couldn’t turn away. He whispered, “Where is Captain Archer?”

T’Pol coughed, then cleared her throat. “I do not know.”

“How’d you get his stuff?”

“He left it when he was captured.”

“I thought he woulda gone down with the ship,” Mayweather said.

“You speak of Archer like he’s a man of honor,” Phlox said, “He was probably the first one off.” Mayweather shrugged.

Reed dropped his arms, “Who took him?”

“Three Royal Sailors,” T’Pol said, “I think they may have been tracking us.”

“And why didn’t they take you?”

“I was,” she paused, “Unintentionally hidden.”

“She ran away,” Mayweather accused.

T’Pol glanced at him, turned back to Reed, then drove a boot into Mayweather’s stomach. He fell to the ground and T’Pol straightened her hat, “Do not impugn my honor.” She returned her attention to Reed, “One of them mentioned a Lord Barrington.”

Reed smiled, “Do you suppose there will be a trial for us to interrupt?”

“Conner Barrington is the son of a judge,” Phlox said, “Pirate or not, Archer will get a trial.”

* * *

[Captain Hair]

Two sailors escorted Archer through a corridor in the Port McPhee Judicial Hall. Archer’s shackled feet shuffled across the oriental rugs that filled the building. The guards stopped at a closed door, one knocking on the polished wood. The door opened, revealing a large sun-filled office. Archer winced at the brightness and was shoved in by the guards. He stumbled, desperately trying to steady himself with his bound hands.

A strong hand caught his shoulder, forcing Archer upright. He grinned, still adjusting to the brightness, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” the man, cast as a silhouette, said. “Is it too bright in here?”

“Well, it is,” Archer paused, realizing how uncomfortable the situation was, “Yeah.”

The light quickly diminished as all but one window was covered by curtains. A short man sporting a long curly gray wig took his hand from Archer’s shoulder, “Mr. Archer?”

Archer stood straight, “Captain Archer.”

“Funny, Captain, I seem to recall sinking your precious boat just yesterday.”

Archer scowled at the thought, “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I am Lord Barrington and I want to offer you a pardon for your crimes.”

He feigned interest, “And in return?”

“You will teach me everything I need to think like a pirate,” Barrington said.

“So that you can track down pirates by being a pirate,” Archer rolled his eyes.

“Precisely.”

Archer held out his bound wrists, “Take these off and I’ll consider.”

Barrington eyes Archer suspiciously, “How am I to trust you?”

Archer looked at the two guards standing watch by the door, “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Of course,” Barrington took a ring of keys from under his coat and used one to release Archer’s irons.

“Much better,” Archer rolled his wrists, “Now, what’s to say that you won’t like piracy so much that you’ll give up all this to pursue a life of pluderin’ and pillagin’ on the high seas?”

Barrington smiled and returned the keys to a pocket inside his jacket, “We’ll cross that bridge if it ever comes.”

“And what of me?” Archer asked.

“A new life isn’t enough?” Barrington grabbed a pen from his desk, offering it to Archer, “You need to realize that my mission is to clear the whole ocean of scum like yourself. I’m offering you a chance to clear yourself from my path. Because if you stand in my way, I will destroy you.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want that weighing on your conscience.”

The lord smiled, “It wouldn’t anyway.”

A gunshot sounded from outside the door. The guard on the left inside of the door collapsed, exposing wood shattered by an exiting bullet. The other guard dropped to a knee and checked the pulse of the fallen sailor as yelling came from outside. The door shook violently as the guard stood and placed a hand on his sword. The heavy wooden door suddenly flew open, smashing the guard in the face and throwing him to the floor. Tucker and Reed stood in the hall, looking in, with two red coated guards at their feet. Tucker punched Reed in the arm, “I told ya my plan would work.”

Reed tossed Archer his tri-corner hat, “You okay, Cap’n?”

Archer put the hat on, “I’m fine.” He nodded at Barrington, “Nice pen.” Archer stepped over the body of the sailor hit by the door and headed out, followed by Reed and Tucker.

Barrington yelled after them, “You’ll hang for this!”

Archer poked his head back into the door, “Not today.” He slipped out of sight as Barrington dropped his pen in shock.

Reed and Tucker paused at a T-intersection in the halls. Archer stopped and looked at them, “You got a plan for getting’ out of here?”

“Uhm, well, we, uh,” Reed stuttered.

Archer rolled his eyes, “No.”

Tucker nodded, “Somethin’ like that.”

“I take it ‘ye didn’t bring my sword either.”

Reed and Tucker looked at each other and shrugged. Archer dropped his head in disgust. Frantic yelling echoed through the halls. Archer raised his head, “Wonderful.”

A man around a bend in the hall yelled, “Check the Lord’s office!” The trio immediately ran away from the voice, turning a corner in the corridor. They came face to face with a pair of sailors, rifles drawn.

Archer turned around, finding a pair of sailors advancing from the opposite end of the hall. He looked to Reed and Tucker, “Great job boys. Now Barrington’s got three necks for the morning.”

One of the sailors slung his rifle over his shoulder, pulling a set of irons from his belt. Archer rolled his eyes and stuck his hands out.

Reed leaned so he could look between the two sailors, “Is that?”

Tucker leaned over, knocking his head against Reed’s. Both immediately started pushing each other. Tucker shoved Reed against the wall and a shot was fired between the two, striking the chest of one of the sailors approaching from the rear. Reed and Tucker looked at the pair taking them into custody, who in turn looked behind themselves. A lady in a floor-length yellow dress and matching wide hat stood there, holding a pistol.

The only sound for several seconds was the collapse of the shot sailor. The lady threw the pistol into the face of the sailor cuffing Archer. He fell against the wall, yelling in pain and holding his hands to his bleeding face. The second moved to stop her, but was met by a kick to the stomach. He stumbled back against the wall, leveling his rifle on her. She promptly grabbed the barrel and aimed it down the hall towards the other pair of sailors. She drove the butt of her wrist into the rifle, triggering it to fire and striking the second sailor in the shoulder. The rifle now empty, the lady grabbed it with both hands and snapped it up into the chin of the sailor, eliciting a loud crack from his jaw. He fell to the floor unconscious.

Archer shook off his unfastened irons and grabbed the large hat concealing the lady’s face. He stepped back in shock, dropping the hat, “T’Pol?”

She grabbed his throat and dug her fingers into his flesh, “You owe me.”

Archer struggled to breath, “More than once.”

“Indeed.” T’Pol released her grip, leaving behind red marks on Archer’s neck, “Follow me.” She ran down the hall with Archer, Reed, and Tucker in tow. They went down a stairway into the basement of the building, running past six iron-barred jail cells occupied by a dozen scruffy, dirty, men of varying ages. All watched as the four went through a door to a stairway at the opposite end of the cells.

Archer stepped back into the jail, noting the ring of keys on a peg next to the door. He looked over his shoulder at the eager faces of the prisoners, then grabbed the keys and tossed them onto the stone floor in front of the cells. Archer ran back through the door as the prisoners reached through the iron bars for the keys.

T’Pol was waiting for Archer at the top of the stairs, which led out into the forest at the rear of the building, “What are you doing?”

A cheer came from the open door. Archer smiled, “A distraction.” He looked over T’Pol’s dress, “Where’d you get that?”

T’Pol fingered the silky yellow fabric, “The Lord keeps a closet for his mistress in the Judicial Hall.”

Tucker pursed his lips, “And just how did you do all this?”

She twisted back and forth in the dress, spinning it around her feet, “I let one of the guards watch.” She started off into the jungle as more cheers came from inside the jail.

Tucker leaned over to Reed, “Do ya suppose she’d let us watch?”

* * *

Tucker and Reed shuffled through the market, straining to carry the two-yard wooden crate between them. Sato and Phlox followed, struggling with another crate. They went onto the dock, heading straight for the full rigged frigate at the end, as a trio of sailors chased one of the freed prisoners across the market. They arrived at the end, which split into a T, allowing for the ship to be loaded from multiple points simultaneously. Reed and Tucker stopped at an open hatch at the intersection, shifting the weight of their crate.

A pair of sailors guarding the port stepped down off the shallow ramp and approached them. One pointed his bayonet at Reed, “Just where do you think you’re goin’?”

“Lord Barrington told us to load this wheat on board the Enterprize,” Tucker said.

“I haven’t been informed of that,” the sailor said. He looked to his partner, “Have you?”

“Nope.”

Phlox, standing at the back of the four, cleared his throat, “The wheat sent to Port Royal last week was rotten. Lord Barrington is sending them two crates of our wheat so he can no longer be in debt to Governor Swann.”

“Lord Barrington never struck me as a very nice guy,” the sailor said.

“He isn’t!” Phlox laughed, “But he doesn’t like being in debt to anyone, especially Governor Swann.” He looked back at the line forming behind him, “If you don’t let us load this wheat there will be a lot of very angry people at Port Royal waiting for you, an angry Lord here, and a line of frustrated people behind me now.”

The sailor thought for a moment, “Let them on.” He stepped to the side, allowing the four to pass.

Once inside the darkened cargo hold Reed asked, “Where do ya want these?”

The second sailor pointed at a cluster of barrels, “Put it next to the rum.”

Reed and Tucker nodded and shuffled over towards the barrels. The first sailor put out an arm and stopped Phlox, “What happened to your glasses?”

Phlox paused, “I beg your pardon?”

“Your glasses. How’d you crack them?” he asked suspiciously. Reed and Tucker dropped their crate by the barrels.

“I got hit in the face with the wood end of a pitchfork,” Phlox snapped, “This crate is really heavy.” The sailor pulled his arm back and Phlox started forward. Sato started a second later, throwing off their balance and tipping the crate. Phlox stumbled and the crate fell to the deck, flipping onto its side and spilling wheat out the detached lid. At once all four started yelling at each other.

T’Pol, still wearing the dress, stepped into the hatch, further darkening the hold. The yelling stopped as everyone looked up to see what was going on. She innocently played with an errant lock of hair, “Excuse me, can any of you direct me to your captain?”

The lead sailor removed his tri-corner hat, “Ma’am, we’re due to depart in only a few minutes.”

She nodded, “I’d really appreciate it if you fine sailors would escort me to him.” She turned to the side so she could look back at the dock, at make certain that her flattering silhouette was visible.

The two sailors immediately moved to her, saying how the captain would make the time for her and they would be happy to escort her past the ruffians that passed for sailors these days. Tucker shook his head when they were out of sight, “I hate it when she does that.”

As Sato and Phlox quietly picked up their spilled wheat, Reed and Tucker pried the lid off their crate. Tucker spoke into the wheat, “Cap’n, you’re clear.”

The wheat heaved and Archer sat up, a bamboo breathing tube sticking from his mouth. He was covered it a yellow dust, which he promptly wiped away from his eyes. He pulled the bamboo from his mouth and sneezed. After several blinks Archer reached up and smacked the back of Reed’s head, “Took ya long enough!”

One of the sailors walked in front of T’Pol and the other behind, smiling broadly as every one of the handful of deckhands aboard the Enterprize paused to watch her pass. They stopped at the door to the captain’s cabin, knocking lightly on the wavy glass panels, “Captain Higgins?”

A voice came from behind them, “Gentlemen, what did I tell you about bringing civilians aboard my ship?”

All three turned and faced a tall man in a deep blue naval officer’s jacket. Graying brown hair peaked from beneath the brim of his hat. T’Pol smiled, “You must be Captain Higgins.” She extended a hand.

“I am,” he said, taking her hand into his, “I’m going to have to ask you to disembark. We’re preparing to depart as I speak.”

“Actually,” T’Pol forced a blush as Higgins looked her over, “I wish to request passage aboard your vessel to Port Royal.”

Higgins nodded, “I apologize for my abruptness.” He pulled a key from under his coat, “I would be delighted to provide you with transport.” The two sailors were dismissed with a wave of his hand. He unlocked the door to his cabin, “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

T’Pol withdrew her hand from his, “Sarah. Ms. Sarah Watts, Captain.”

“Welcome aboard the Enterprize, Ms. Watts,” Higgins opened the door, “If you’ll wait in here while we prepare to depart…”

T’Pol smiled, “I trust you’ll be back soon?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Higgins smiled back, “Ms. Watts, I will return as soon as my duties permit.”

“Please, call me Sarah,” T’Pol stepped through the door, which Higgins then closed.

The two guards returned to the cargo hold hatch. While one stood outside, the other stepped in and shook his head, “They sure did a pissy job cleaning up.”

The other called from out on the ramp, “Did they put that second crate where I told them?”

The first stepped back through the hatch, “Right where you wanted.”

“Okay, let’s close her up.” The ramp folded up against the hull, cutting off most of the light.

Tucker whispered in the darkness, “Do ya suppose they’d notice if we drank some of the rum?”

* * *

T’Pol stood before the expanse of windows that embraced the stern view from the Enterprize. Port McPhee steadily shrunk in the distance as the winds carried the ship away. The door to the main deck opened and Higgins stepped through, “Ms. Watts?”

She turned and leaned against the sill, “I told you: Sarah.”

“My apologies.” Higgins held his arms behind his back.

“You need to lighten up,” T’Pol declared.

A slight smile began to creep across his mouth, “Well, there are seven barrels of rum in the hold.”

She almost shouted, “No!” She took a breath, collecting herself, “No, I’d rather not. If I have just one drink I do things that would make my father cry.” She winked, “And most grown men too.”

Higgins dropped his arms to his side, “I, uh, I…”

T’Pol giggled lightly and pushed away from the windows, “First, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

The captain started to eagerly wiggle his fingers, “I’m listening.”

She stepped close to him, her body mere inches from his, “But before I do, I want you to promise not to do anything until I’m done.”

“I won’t even breath,” Higgins pledged. He jokingly held up his right hand.

T’Pol smiled, “Excellent.” She stepped back, leaning against a table, “There are five stowaways in your cargo hold.”

“I’ll lock them up immediately,” Higgins declared.

“They’re pirates. And they intend to commandeer this vessel.”

“I have eighteen men aboard, they’ll pose no challenge,” he said confidently.

T’Pol nodded, “I’m certain of that. But I’d like for your crew to put up little resistance, let them take over.”

Higgins blinked, “You want me to surrender the H.M.S. Enterprize to five pirates?”

“Yes,” T’Pol grabbed a tall candle from a pile on the table, “They have a map to an island that supposedly contains the treasure of the H.M.S. Liverpool.”

“The pirate hunter?”

She nodded, “The very same. Lost eighteen years ago on the passage to England. And you will know the location of a treasure unequaled in the Caribbean.”

“Why shouldn’t I just capture them and take the map?”

“Do you have any cryptologists aboard?” T’Pol asked wryly.

“So I can humor these pirates of yours and get the location of the Liverpool?” Higgins proposed.

“Exactly.”

* * *

Archer stood at the base of the staircase to the main deck, watching Tucker work to disassemble the hatch that blocked their way out. Phlox groaned, “Will you hurry up already?”

Tucker snapped back, “You had your chance to stay behind. So shut up.”

“I’m not going to pass up the treasure of the Liverpool!” Phlox said, “I may be crazy, but I’m no fool.” Tucker shook his head and returned his attention to the hatch’s hinges.

Mayweather poked Phlox’s bulging stomach, “You know, with you gone we could split the treasure four ways instead of five.”

“Don’t forget about T’Pol,” Sato added.

Mayweather nodded, “Five ways instead of six.”

Phlox snorted, “What, so it could last you a few nights longer of booze and women?”

Mayweather grabbed Phlox’s shoulders and shoved him towards the loading hatch, “I can make it four right now.”

“Five,” Sato corrected again.

He turned and pointed a finger at her, “And you can make it four.”

With a metallic click and the creak of weathered wood, Tucker declared, “Got it!”

Archer drew his sword, lightly tapping it against the point of his hat, “Let’s go.” Sato cocked her pistol and shifted a dagger on her belt so she could easily grab it. Reed drew and cocked a pair of pistols and Phlox awkwardly held a rifle procured from a crate in the hold.

Tucker counted quietly, “Three, two, one.” He shoved the hatch up off its hinges and bounded up the stairs onto the main deck of the Enterprize. As he threw the door to the deck and drew his own sword Archer, Reed, Sato, and Phlox followed.

A young sailor standing at the rudder wheel above the captain’s cabin called out, “Hey you!” Reed leveled a pistol at him and fired, sending a shot flying past the sailors head. He immediately raised his hands in surrender.

Two deckhands at the bow came running towards them, drawing their swords. Archer and Tucker met them, quickly separating sword from sailor without inflicting so much as a scratch. Archer left Tucker to guard the pair and turned to the other three, “Go get the crew.” They nodded and ran across the deck to another hatch. Archer pointed his sword up at the sailor manning the rudder, “Get down here and join your friends.” As he ran down the steps Archer confidently walked across the deck to the captain’s cabin.

Archer cautiously grabbed the door handle and turned. He sighed with relief as the door silently swung open. The cabin was lit only by the faint moonlight coming through the large windows, casting much of the room in shadows. Archer slowly stepped across the deck, holding his sword at a low ready. He came around the table, finding Higgins lying on his side at the edge of his bed, wearing only a thin pair of pajama pants. Archer lifted his sword and poked him in the chest. Higgins stirred and scratched at his chest. Archer slapped the hand away with the flat side of his sword, “Wake up.” He pointed the sword at his nose.

Higgins’ eyes fluttered open, focusing instantly on the point of Archer’s sword. He lay still for a second before asking, “I assume you aren’t offering a late night fencing match.”

T’Pol, holding a sheet to her bare chest, sat up behind Higgins, “Hello.”

Archer grinned, his voice full of devious delight, “Wait ‘til I tell Trip ‘bout this one!”

* * *

Archer locked the door into the iron cage brig and slipped the ring of keys under his belt. He smiled mockingly at Higgins, who stood at the for of the nineteen sailors in the iron cage, and walked up the stairs to the crew quarters, then one more flight up to the moonlit top deck. Mayweather walked out of the captain’s cabin, holding a map compass in his hand, “We’re but a few hours out from that Ancanti-somethin’ island.”

Archer smiled, pointing up at the rudder wheel, “Take the helm, Travis.”

“Aye, Sir!”

Archer walked to the bow of the Enterprize and leaned forward against the railing. For several minutes he watched as the ship plowed through the dark blue waters, the occasional wave spraying a light salty mist in his face. He reveled in the snapping of the sails, the creaking of the rigging, the thud of each wave against the wooden hull.

A soft female humming caught his ear. He looked to his right and noticed T’Pol next to him, dressed in a simple gray dress that fell to the middle of her calves. Her long hair was tossed wildly by the occasional gust of wind. She gazed off the starboard side, humming a slow melody. Archer turned his back to the bow and sat against the railing, “I didn’t see you there.”

T’Pol looked to him, “You didn’t have to.”

“Something’s bothering you,” Archer said, “I can see it in your eyes.”

She looked back to the sea, “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Does it matter?”

T’Pol turned around and leaned against the rail, “Even you have principles. You have a heart and a conscience.”

Archer shook his head, “I do what I need to do.”

“But don’t some of the things you do make you feel guilt or regret?”

“On occasion,” Archer shrugged, “But it’s not a big motivating factor.”

T’Pol nodded, “What about betrayal?”

“If I have to…”

“And what of being betrayed?” There was an awkward pause before she added, “Like when Forrest stranded you in Nassau.”

“Betrayers are more scum than I,” Archer said, “And that’s sayin’ somethin’. They are without honor. They cannot be trusted.”

“They are pirates,” T’Pol said dryly.

Archer nodded, “Aye. And so are you.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yes,” Archer smiled, “You’ve assisted in the escape of a pirate, attacked sailors of the His Majesty’s Royal Navy, stolen from a lord, assisted in the cover-up of criminals stowing away on the flagship of the Royal Navy, and assisted said criminals in overthrowing the crew of said flagship. If you weren’t a pirate before yesterday you certainly are now.”

T’Pol nodded, “I suppose you’re right.”

“I usually am, I just like people to think I’m stupid.”

“Low expectations yield disproportionately high results?” she asked.

Archer tilted his head to the side, “Somethin’ like that.”

T’Pol pointed at the brightening sky over the stern, “Sun’s coming up.”

The captain pushed off the railing, “Carpe diem, my dear.” He walked back towards the captain’s cabin, lightly dragging his fingers across the polished wooden rail.

* * *

Archer stood at the bow of the longboat, staring ahead at the inhospitable island that lay ahead. A shattered cliff dominated the view, splitting an otherwise pristine stretch of beach. Sato stood right behind him, holding the leather map. She pointed at a small beach to the north of the cliff, “Put us in over there.”

Mayweather, rowing with Tucker, glanced over his shoulder at the approaching island, “What about all those rocks?”

“Avoid them,” Archer said flatly.

T’Pol nodded, “The beach itself appears to be clear of obstacles.”

Phlox grabbed the rudder and pulled it towards him, steering the boat towards the beach. Reed impatiently tapped the stock of his rifle against the hull, “How far will we have to go once we’re ashore?”

“Not far,” Sato said quietly, intently examining the symbols on the map.

Archer patted her on the shoulder, “I knew there was a reason I let you on.”

“You’re lucky I agreed to be part of your crew,” Sato shot back without looking up from the map.

Archer grimaced, “Aye, ya got me.” They scraped one rock before the boat dug into the sand near shore. Archer leapt off the bow, landing with a splash. He held out a hand and helped Sato over as the rest of the crew climbed out. As they headed to the beach, Archer placed a hand on Phlox’s shoulder, stopping him, “Stay with the boat.” Phlox started to protest, but Archer held up a silencing hand, “The tide’s gonna be coming in soon. Make sure we keep the boat and I’ll make sure you get your share.” He looked into the boat and noticed the three shovels they’d brought along still inside. Archer sighed and grabbed them, balancing the shovels on his shoulder.

Phlox looked over his shoulder at the anchored Enterprize and nodded, “Okay.”

Archer turned and ran to the beach, “Hoshi, lead the way!” The five quickly walked away from the cliff, rounding a corner of the beach and leaving Phlox’s sight.

Tucker moaned as he trudged through the sand, “God, it’s hot.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a heavy coat,” T’Pol countered.

“I like it,” Tucker said proudly. He adjusted the high collar so it stood away from his neck.

Sato suddenly halted, catching the other four off guard. T’Pol ran into Archer, knocking them both to the ground. Archer groaned, having landed on his shovel, “Watch it, will ya?”

T’Pol rolled away from Archer and sat up, dusting sand from her front, “Sorry.”

“Whatever.” Archer pushed himself up with his shovel, “Hoshi?”

Sato kept glancing from the map and up at various landmarks. She whispered, talking herself through the clues, “The curve, the cliffs.” Sato turned around and visually traced the arc of the beach with a hand. She faced back to the jungle, “A letter V and triangle.” Everyone looked at the tree line.

Reed shouted, “Over there!” He pointed several yards down at a pair of coconut trees leaning away from a joined base and a large pointed black boulder nearby.

Sato ran over to the trees and stood directly between them and the sea. She looked over at Archer, smiling broadly, “Right here!”

Everyone ran to her as Archer called out orders, “Trip, start digging here. Mal, over there.” He stopped next to Sato, “If you’ll kindly step aside?” She gracefully complied and Archer immediately attacked the sand with his shovel.

After several minutes, a wooden thump emanated from Tucker’s hole. He paused, looked up at Archer with delight, and started to dig out around his pit. Archer and Reed left their holes and ran to assist him, as Sato moved closer to get a better view. Archer kneeled and began brushing sand away with his hands, revealing the curved top of a wooden chest. Reed and Tucker quickly dug out handles on either end and lifted it up onto the beach.

“It’s heavy!” Tucker said with delight.

Archer struggled with the latch, “And locked.”

Reed pulled out a dagger and shoved it beneath the lid, pointing towards the lock. With a vicious kick he drove the knife through the lock, popping the lid open a few inches. Tucker moved to open the lid all the way, but Archer reach out and smacked his outstretched hand, “Captain’s prerogative.” Tucker stepped back as Archer dropped to his knees before the chest. He lifted the lid a few more inches and peered inside. All excitement drained from his face as he sat straight, “Guys, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Sato snapped angrily.

Archer nodded solemnly and grabbed the edge of the lid. “I’m sorry we have a dozen more chests to dig up.” He threw the lid open, revealing a chest full of gold and silver coins of countless nationalities, jewelry, fine silverware, and cut precious stones.

Tucker threw his arms into the air, “Yes!” He hugged Reed and lifted him off the ground, “Yes yes yes yes yes!”

Sato smiled broadly, “Excited?”

He dropped Reed, “Nope!”

Phlox’s voice yelled from down the beach, “Captain! Captain Archer!” He ran as fast as his portly body could manage, a sight that made Sato giggle.

Archer stood, letting a wave of anger pass over his face, “I told you to mind the boat!”

Phlox arrived at the group, breathing heavily. He was drenched and swelling on the right side of his face, “She, she took the boat!”

“What?” Archer questioned.

“T’Pol,” Phlox took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “She hit me with one of the oars and took the boat.”

Archer’s shoulder’s dropped, “Wonderful.” He rolled his eyes.

Phlox doubled over and coughed, spitting out sea water. He stood back up and took another deep breath, “She had your keys!”

Archer’s hand immediately went to his belt, feeling for the ring of keys for the Enterprize brig. He looked down and confirmed that he no longer had the keys. And then he realized that in all the years he had known T’Pol he had never seen her come close to stumbling or running into someone.

A bell rang out on the sea. They all turned to see the H.M.S. Enterprize sailing past, a dozen red coated Royal Navy sailors manning the lines. Archer shook his head, “She’s a damn good pirate.”

Several sails dropped from their yardarms as T’Pol’s voice called from the ship, “Bon voyage, mon capitaine!”

Archer couldn’t help but smile, “Oh, she’s good.”

Tucker leaned over to Sato, “What’d she say?”

* * *

Phlox pulled an emptied hypospray away from Archer’s neck, “That should do it, Captain.”

Archer nodded and rubbed his neck at the injection site, “Thanks, Doc.” He pushed off the sickbay bed and walked towards the door.

“Captain?” Phlox called after him. Archer stopped and turned around, raising his eyebrows. The Denobulan continued, “I’m sorry about some of the things I said down there.”

“Some?”

Phlox smiled, “Most, actually. It was most unprofessional.”

Archer nodded, “It was. But I seem to recall saying some pretty nasty stuff too.”

The doctor grabbed a hypospray and walked across sickbay, “I suppose we are, as they say on Risa, ‘equal as two lovers.’” He pushed the hypospray to Ensign Coto’s neck and discharged.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Archer laughed, “How about an Earth saying: ‘We’re even’?”

Phlox patted Coto on the back, “You’re free to go.” He turned to Archer, “We’re even. Oh, could you send Commanders T’Pol and Tucker down here next?”

Archer nodded, “Will do. See you at dinner, Doc.” He opened the doors with a tap of the controls and walked out into the corridor.

Coto jumped off his bed and followed, running after Archer, “Captain!” The sickbay doors closed behind him.

He stopped and turned around, “Ensign?”

“Did you get a chance to read my story?” Coto asked eagerly.

“I did.”

Coto waited for more, but after a few seconds of silence prompted, “What’d you think?”

Archer looked at a bulkhead across the corridor, “I don’t want to be a pirate.” He turned and headed away from Coto, smiling deviously as he left the dumbfounded ensign behind.