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"Code of Honor"
by Lady Rainbow

Rating: PG-13
Pairing: R/S
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, don’t make money off ‘em.
Notes: This is the last chapter. Like “Boomer Bust”, this story sets up what happens in the next story. The Enterprise crew is reunited and Asagawa issues Malcolm a challenge that will set other events into motion.

The “Code of Honor” trilogy continues with “Absolute Power” and will conclude with “Blood Ties”.

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Eighteen

Malcolm had to admit that the formal Starfleet uniform fit Travis well. Its jacket was tailored for Travis’s broad chest and shoulders, with a coil of gold braid over his right shoulder and the rank pips of a full Lieutenant on the collar. Rhianna Mayweather wore a dark blue dress and a straw sunhat, while Paul chose a green silk shirt with his ever-present Boomer vest and slacks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Malcolm,” Rhianna commented.

The formal CSF uniform was a bit too gaudy for Malcolm’s tastes, but he only shrugged in reply. The door to the hangar bay opened and Hoshi and Philippe stepped out. Philippe wore his formal EdML robes, while Hoshi a kimono of peach silk. The various folds and drapes hid her early pregnancy well, but now that Malcolm knew what to look for, he was astounded he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I suppose we should get going,” said Phlox from the door of Dante’s shuttle. “I’m sure that there will be many people pleased to see you all.”

“As usual, the doctor is correct,” Philippe commented. “Allons-y!

They all clambered into the shuttle, with Travis at the helm and Malcolm in the co-pilot’s seat. Hoshi slipped into the communications station with practiced ease as the rest found seats. With a sure hand, Travis guided the shuttle out of the bay and towards Vega.

Asagawa’s fortress hadn’t changed much...structurally, yet the atmosphere was much different than when Tanaka had been in control. The forbidding gray stones were draped in colored silk banners depicting every Consortium and Starfleet, as well as the personal flags of the many Boomer ships represented here. Ribbons decorated every column and pole on the property. The Asagawa grounds were abloom with color; Malcolm thought it rivaled Cochrane Commons or EdML’s Matre de Soileil for ornamentation.

“Obviously, Asagawa isn’t as inhibited as her cousin,” Rhianna observed.

“Probably to distance herself from Tanaka,” Malcolm added. “She wants to show everyone that she isn’t Sumiko Tanaka and that no one should convict her on guilt by association.”

Paul gave him a sharp look. “You sound as if you’re defending her.”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Paul,” Malcolm reminded him, “but if Asagawa has any hand in illegal activity, be assured that I will make sure justice is done.”

Paul looked like he wanted to say more, but quieted when Rianna looked at him. Travis, Malcolm noticed, kept his eyes on his flying and didn’t take part in the bickering. Malcolm caught Hoshi’s expression of concern; his wife glanced over at Paul and her eyebrows knitted in thought.

A man in Asagawa’s Incorporated colors directed Travis to an empty landing pad. Asagawa had kept her cousin’s private granite landing pads, but they were nowhere as pristine as they had been on Malcolm’s last visit here. Travis set the shuttle down and powered off the engines.

“Good flying as usual, Travis,” Malcolm said. The younger man only nodded in response. He helped Malcolm crack the hatch open and proceeded Paul and his mother out into the bright Vegan sunshine. Immediately, Malcolm felt a wave of dizziness and gripped the edge of the hatch.

“Malcolm?” Hoshi whispered. “Are you all right?”

“Temperature change,” he whispered back. “It must be the height of summer here now.”

“Here, take my arm. No one will object to Commandant Reed being gallant towards his wife.” Her joking tone masked her worry, and before Malcolm could object, she’d threaded her arm through his. He laughed softly and allowed her to lead him.

“Over here,” Rhianna called. “It looks more like an outdoor festival than a trade conference.”

Rhianna was right; Asagawa had set up tables for both Colonial and Terran food and drink, and singers and dancers did their routines at elaborately decorated stages. People of all sizes, shapes and colors milled about, eating, laughing and talking at high speed. Malcolm’s eyes widened at this seemingly security nightmare, but Phlox directed his attention to the castle ramparts. High above the crowd were Asagawa guards in white and green kimonos.

“Malcolm,” Hoshi said quietly and inclined her head to indicate the plainclothed security personnel that blended in with the normal crowd. His eyes widened as he recognized some of Ju’reel’s people and Ravi’s in the security forces. They seemed to get along, at least until Malcolm took a closer look at the sideways glances and the deliberate attempts to stay out of each others’ way.

Apparently, the CSF wasn’t the only one woefully unprepared for joint missions with others. An idea formed in Malcolm’s mind, one that had been brewing since Albert Allemande had admitted the CSF’s shortcomings. He decided to consult Captain Archer and his father before saying anything, though.

“Missus Mayweather!” Jonathan Archer’s voice boomed over the courtyard. Enterprise’s captain quickly crossed the gap between them in a few steps and took Rhianna’s outstretched hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Captain.” She smiled and nodded at him, then took a step back to allow Travis and Malcolm to greet him. Archer raised an eyebrow at Malcolm’s expression, then it settled into a wide grin as Archer realized that he knew the secret.

He watched as Trip Tucker enfolded Hoshi in a huge bear hug and T’Pol addressing Paul in her calm, measured Vulcan tones. T’Pol wore Vulcan robes, sandy-brown with gold designs at every hem. The Vulcan looked absolutely stunning; she rivaled Hoshi in elegance and grace.

“Sounds like we gotta catch up,” Trip said to Malcolm. “Got some new specs for ya for the cannons...one that’ll leave my engines untouched as far’s power consumption goes.”

Malcolm snorted good-naturedly. “Do tell, Mister Tucker, how did you ever manage that?”

“Good old fashioned engineerin’.” Trip replied. “And I ran into your Lieutenant Dumond a few hours ago. Sounded like she’s got the Alpha Centaurian contingent under control. You’ve got a good aide there...she wanted to know when you got in. I think she really wants to talk to ya.”

“I’ll find her at the earliest opportunity. Thanks, Trip.”

“And how’s the little mama?”

Malcolm’s grin widened as he watched Hoshi chat with the Andorian representative in rapid Andorian. “She’s doing remarkably well. And when were you lot going to inform me on these kinds of events?”

“Figured you’d find out sooner or later. You’re an investigator, after all.” Trip chuckled and then sobered. “Seriously...we didn’t want you to worry, with everythin’ going on. Hoshi wanted things to settle down a bit before she told ya. She did tell ya, right?”

“Not exactly. I overheard her talking with Philippe and...” he shrugged. “Well. I don’t believe she knows I know.”

“Turnabout is fair play, huh?” Trip said. “Speakin’ of, I see that Philippe and Paul are doin’ OK. You holdin’ up?”

Malcolm nodded, though the nausea rolled in his stomach. “Fair enough, though I never remembered Vega being this humid.”

“Like Florida in August,” Trip agreed. “Yeah, don’t blame you for bein’ uncomfortable. Poor Johannes nearly fainted as soon as his feet hit the tarmac. Treesal joked that it should be her that faints if the wind changes direction.”

“Treesal’s here? Does Phlox know?”

“Yeah, Cap’n told him. Don’t think Phlox’s too thrilled, but Treesal’s struck me as bein’ rather single-minded, like her mother. Denobula has a stake in what happens here too, Malcolm. This is kinda like one huge galactic meetin’. I just hope some good comes out of this.”

“As do I.” Malcolm saw a blur of black-and-white and spotted Oneko standing next to Hoshi. The avatar meowed and hissed something; Hoshi bent down and patted her. A set of chimes rang over the crowd and everyone’s attention was caught on the slim woman on the main rampart of the stone mansion.

“Welcome to Vega, my guests,” announced Lady Michiko Asagawa. The head of Vega’s Consortium addressed the audience with all the manner of a queen to her subjects. “Please, feel free to enjoy the food and the festivities. Tomorrow will be time enough for the serious business. Your respective representatives possess the agendas for the trade talks; we are eager to meet all of you and address your concerns.”

Asagawa raised her head and her dark eyes bore into Malcolm’s. “I pledge on my honor that we will find a solution to the various disagreements that plague us. Terran, Colonial, Boomer...it matters not the colors we wear, but what we can bring to strengthen our position among the stars. I will take every suggestion seriously...as well as every potential threat to that solidarity. I am not foolish to assume full responsibility for that protection...I am open to any assistance from anyone.”

A roar of applause interrupted her speech and Asagawa allowed it to run its course. A slight smile passed over her lips as she gazed at Malcolm, and he returned the stare evenly. An unspoken challenge passed between the two of them, one that Malcolm found himself looking forward to.

Oneko hissed at the proud figure high above and raised a paw with her claws unsheathed.

“Indeed, Oneko,” Malcolm murmured. “This shall be an interesting game, indeed.”


Back to Part 17

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