"When Ethics Fail" by A. Rhea King Rating: PG Disclaimer: Don't own them, CBS/Paramount does. Summary: Stranded on an abandon space station, Archer discovers he is not alone. But is this alien the thief she claims, or the assasin his crew has been told about? Author’s Note: This story made it onto the alternative list for (he final) Strange New Worlds 10 anthology. Rumor was it was actually on the list for publication, but an editor’s decision bumped it. We were dis close --0-- but not close enuf. CHAPTER 2 Archer knelt on the floor next to a bench. “I bet your hungry.” He dug through it, retrieving a bag of dog food. “It’s been almost eighteen hours since you last ate.” Archer took it out and scooped up a bowl of food. “Guess I got caught up making all those repairs and finding us quarters. Forgive me?” He sat the bowl on the floor, watching Porthos plunge into it. Archer smiled, patting the dog’s shoulder. “You’re easy to please, do you know that, boy?” Archer stood and walked to the back of the shuttle pod. Porthos looked up when Kerql silently entered with her weapon aimed at Archer. Porthos stood still, seeming to sense something was not right. Archer retrieved a meal from a compartment, ripped it out of the package, removed the utensils, and tossed it into the rehydrator. In seconds it was done. He made a face at it as he pulled it out. “Port, I’ve seen spaghetti and meatballs have better days.” Archer turned and jumped when he found Kerql standing there. Kerql looked from him to Porthos and back, lowering her rifle. “You were talking to Porthos?” Kerql asked. “Yeah. I do it all the time. Kerql, you have got to quit sneaking up on me like that!” Kerql rested her weapon in her arms. “Porthos heard me. Perhaps you do not hear well.” “I hear fine for a human.” Kerql looked at the rehydrated rations that Archer is holding. “Would you like something to eat?” Archer offered. Kerql looked down at Porthos’ food. “Why does his food look different?” “That’s dog food.” “You do not eat the same foods?” “No.” Kerql crouched, plucked a kibble chunk from Porthos’ bowl and popped it in her mouth. As she chewed, Archer saw she had all canine teeth. “Does you food taste the same as his?” Kerql stood again. Archer sat down on a bench, starting to eat. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t eat his food.” “What does your food taste like?” “I can make you one.” “What if I don’t like it?” “You don’t have to eat it.” “That would be wasting food.” “It’s okay.” “You must have great stores of food on this vessel.” “Not really.” “Then why would you be willing to waste food? What if you diminish your food store before the storm is over?” Archer tried to reply, but was at loss. ‘This is like arguing with T’Pol!’ “I would like dog food. Shall I use his bowl when he has finished?” “No. Just eat it out of the bag.” Archer motioned to the bag. “Very well.” She sat down on a bench opposite him, propping her gun up beside her. She picked up the bag and started eating. Porthos resumed eating. When he finished, he laid down by Archer’s feet, loudly licking his chops. Archer smiled, patting his head. “Good, huh, boy?” Porthos’ wagged his tail. “What does Porthos do for you? I have not seen him help you in any way.” “He’s a pet. He provides companionship.” “How old was he when you received him?” “Six weeks.” “That is very young. Was he not with his mother still?” “He was weaned.” “What does ‘weaned’ mean?” “He was eating less milk and more food.” “Was it not barbaric to take him away from his family?” Archer smiled. There it was again; logic and reason that was impossible to argue against. “You are smiling again, but it looks different than the friendly one. Why is that?” “I’m a little frustrated. I don’t have good answers to your questions. These customs you don’t understand are just the way things are with humans.” “That will be.” “What will be?” “When things are done a certain way because we have always done them that way, we say, ‘that will be.’ It is an ancient saying passed down from the days we were nomads.” “You’re people were nomadic?” “Yes. We traveled the stars for a long time. But we now live on a dark moon.” Kerql sighed. There was sadness in it. Archer stopped eating, watching her. “My family lives there.” “Where is this moon? I would like to visit your people.” Kerql stood, dropping the bag of dog food on the bench. She hoisted her weapon into her arms again. “I must check the shielding integrity. You will be sleeping in the quarters you chose tonight?” “I’d planned on it.” “I will see you when you wake. Good leave.” “See you in the morning.” Kerql exited the shuttle pod. Archer looked down at Porthos. The Beagle rested his head against Archer’s leg, staring up at him. “What do you think of her, Port?” Porthos flopped his tail a couple of times. Archer shoveled another bite of food into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “She’s hiding something.” Archer looked around the shuttle pod. “I should probably start on some of the repairs or your Uncle Trip will whine to no end about it.” Porthos yawned, lying down. In seconds he was asleep. # Hoshi, Mayweather, and T’Pol were the only ones on the bridge. “T'Pol, I think we’re approaching a ship,” Hoshi said. T’Pol looked up. “You are not certain?” “No.” Hoshi looked back at T’Pol. “I’m picking up something that sounds like an audio transmission but with all this interference I can’t tell. Should I try to send a message?” “We don’t know if they are hostile.” “All the more reason to hail them. If they shoot us, we’ll both light up like a bon fire at a beach party.” There was definite logic to that remark. “Proceed, but make it more professional, Ensign.” “Yes, ma’am.” Hoshi sent the hail. She turned back to T’Pol. “No response, but it’s moving toward us.” “When they are within five hundred meters, hail them again.” “Yes, ma’am.” T’Pol stood. The view of the storm changed to show a humanoid alien. He had a sort of a tiara of skin-covered bone protruding from his hair. Interference from the storm created static and occasionally a ghost of the image superimposed. When the alien spoke there was a buzz and syllables were clipped. “It appears we were both caught off guard by this storm, doesn’t it?” the alien said, smiling. “It does appear so. I am Commander T'Pol.” “I’m Captain Darway. Do you require assistance?” “We do not. However, do you know of a space station a half light year from our current position?” “That would be the Odabi station. It was an ore processing station in its day. What of it?” “Our captain took refuge at the station. I was wondering about its integrity.” “He will be safe. It’s unmanned, but sturdy. Are you a carbon based species?” “Yes.” “He’ll have air then. I don’t know about food or water.” “He has supplies for several weeks aboard his vessel. Before the storm hit we did detect another ship approaching the station. Do you know what species it may have been?” “We had detected it too, but weren’t able to isolate it’s warp signature before we lost sensors. Hopefully it isn’t the fugitive we’re after.” “What fugitive would that be?” “If you would permit us, we can transmit the data to you. Perhaps you’ve seen her.” “Please do so.” Captain Darway motioned to someone. Hoshi turned to her controls. T’Pol looked at a monitor on the captain’s chair, reading the information scrolling across it. “This fugitive is an assassin?” T’Pol looked back at the view screen. “Yes. She assassinated our president and our seven nations nearly went to war because of it.” “I regret that I have not seen her. I will ask my crew and see if any of them have.” “I’d appreciate that. Thank you. And since we’re both stuck here for the time being, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to hail us.” “Thank you. Enterprise out.” The view changed to show the ion storm. T’Pol was concerned about Archer’s safety now. What if the ship had been the fugitive’s? There had to be some means of contacting Archer. T’Pol vaguely recalled reading about a primitive and simple means of communication humans once used. “Ensign Sato.” Hoshi looked back at her. “Yeah?” “If I recall, there is method of communication that uses electrical pulses of varied lengths.” Hoshi smiled, nodding. “It’s called Morse code. What about it?” “An ion storm does not interfere with the low band subspace wavelengths. You could use this Morse code on those bands, correct?” “Yeah, I could, but who would I be talking to?” “Captain Archer. He needs to be alerted to this fugitive, in case it was she who docked at the station.” “Morse code hasn’t been used by military since the mid- to late nineteen hundreds and it has never been used by Starfleet. His receiver wouldn’t even pick it up because it’s not monitoring bandwidths that low.” “Then I propose you devise a way to let Captain Archer know we’re trying to contact him, Ensign.” Hoshi frowned at T’Pol. “Aye, ma’am.” Hoshi turned to her controls and began working the problem. T’Pol sat back down, picking up her PADD. # Archer sat on the floor in front of the helm. His finger was bandaged and impeded his work. Next to him he’d placed a blanket folded into quarters. Porthos was curled up in the center, sound asleep. On the companel above him static suddenly broke the silence. He looked up at it, hearing a voice in the static. Archer moved to the pilot’s chair and worked the controls. Through the static he could just barely make out what Hoshi was saying. “Ente-- to --cher. Resp--” Hoshi said. Archer smiled, opening the channel. “Archer here.” “Can you --stand me, --ir?” “If that was can I understand you, barely. The interference is bad.” “Set --ceiver to --eive data mes--” “I hope she said set the receiver to receive data,” Archer said to himself. He adjusted the controls. “Go ahead, Hoshi.” On a monitor a message appeared with some of the letters missing: Set eiver to 0.342. Then et receiver to dynam var alpha-pi-3-2. Wait or conform of msg eived. “What are they up to, Port?” Archer asked. Archer made the adjustments and waited. He heard short and long pulses through the COM speaker and a message appeared on the screen monitor: Message receiving... We’ve met aliens called Kroashun. Stop. Have confirmed Morse code communication is stable. Stop. Confirm receipt of message. Stop. “Morse code? Port, I knew there was a reason I coerced Hoshi into being my COM officer.” Archer typed a reply: Message received. Stop. Is there a problem? Stop. A few minutes passed before the screen displayed: Message receiving... Fugitive may be on station with you. Stop. Black skin, white eyes, copper veins, named Kerql. Stop. The Kroashuns say she is an assassin, armed and dangerous. Stop. Be on the look out. Stop. Archer stared at the screen. That was what Kerql was hiding. The first reaction to rush through his mind was that he should subdue and restrain her. He should... But what if the Kroashuns were the ones who were lying? What if Kerql was innocent? Archer looked up when the pulses started again. On the monitor the message appeared: Message receiving... Confirm receipt? Stop. Kroashun captain has asked if you have seen fugitive? Stop. Archer contemplated his answer. In the end he decided he wasn’t going to judge Kerql by what someone else said about her. He would ask her himself. He responded: Station was abandon when I arrived. Stop. Porthos sat up, making Archer look at him. The Beagle was watching the hatch, wagging his tail. Archer looked back but didn’t see anything. It wouldn’t be the first time Kerql had snuck up on him. That was a vote for the Kroashun’s side of the story. He turned back to the monitor when the pulses started again. Message receiving... T’Pol estimates storm will last another three or four days and is increasing in intensity. Stop. Do you have enough rations for you and Porthos? Stop. Archer smiled. “They’re thinking of you, Port.” He replied: Rations enough for two weeks. Stop. One replicator is functional on station. Stop. Archer waited and the response appeared: Message receiving... We will see you soon. Stop. Keep settings on COM. Stop. We will send messages every six hours as per T’Pol. Stop. Trip is trying to convince her to make it every eight. Stop. Enterprise out. Stop. Archer laughed, replying: Captain’s orders, every twelve. Stop. Shuttle Pod One out. Stop. Archer sat back in his chair, staring at the conversation on the monitor. He debated leaving the conversation for Kerql to find, to see what her reaction was to it. It would be the simplest way to find out if she were spying on him. Archer decided to let her read it. He stood, calling, “Come on, Port. Let’s hit the hay.” Archer exited the shuttle pod with Porthos trotting beside him. When the door of the shuttle bay closed, Kerql stepped around the shuttle pod, watching the door for a moment. She walked into the shuttle pod, finding the conversation. Her finger lightly tapped a control on the phase rifle and with sudden decisiveness, pushed the control. The weapon whined to life as she left with wide, silent steps. # Archer undressed and tossed his clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed. From a duffel bag he laid out a pair of clean civilian clothes and pulled out a towel and soap. He walked to the bathroom door and stopped, looking back at the room door. Archer walked over to the controls, locked the door and then disappeared into the bathroom. Archer draped the towel over a bar, looking the shower over. It appeared clean and had a small mirror attached to the wall. Archer sat his soap on a shelf and started the water. He glanced at the door before stepping into the warm water. # Kerql stood outside the quarters, holding a device up to the door. In it she watched Archer’s skeleton move around the room, undress, lock the door, and get into the shower. She moved the device to the door. She saw Porthos’ skeleton on the bed. Kerql sat the device on the floor and tapped the door controls. The door didn’t open. One handed she pulled the cover off and ripped wires from it. She mashed two exposed wires together and the door slid open. Porthos hopped off the bed and trotted up to greet her. Kerql watched him without any expression. When she didn’t attempt to greet or pet him, Porthos returned to the bed, watching her. Kerql walked into the bathroom, moving until she had a clear shot at Archer. She lifted the gun, looking through a scope that revealed Archer’s internal organs. She aimed at his beating heart. Her finger slid around the trigger, prepared to pull back. Kerql stopped, noticing Archer had become stock-still. She looked around the sight, watching him, but he didn’t move. A determined look came over her face and she looked through the scope again, lining up the shot. But when her finger started to pull the trigger, her hand began to tremble and she couldn’t shoot. Kerql lowered the weapon. A rivulet of soap ran off Archer’s shoulder and her eyes followed it over the hard curves of his body to the floor. Kerql turned and walked away, resting the weapon on her shoulder. # Archer watched Kerql in the mirror in the shower with his heart pounding in his ears. There was nowhere to run, she’d caught him when he was most vulnerable. Archer forgot to breath until she turned and walked away. His knees began to shake and then gave out. He sank to the shower floor, hugging himself. ‘They were right. She is an assassin. I’ve got to think of something!’ Archer buried his face in his hands, realizing he hadn’t been this scared in a long time. Back to chapter 1 Continue to chapter 3

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