Disclaimer: Star Trek Enterprise is the property of Paramount Pictures, not mine.

Chapter 1

The Andorian Incident

"Crewman?"

"We have heard stories, sir, that it might not be safe." The Security crewmember answered nervously, probably picturing himself as a heap of bloody goo, down on the planet.

"I have heard the same stories. Now get up here," the Chief of Security Lieutenant Reed exasperatedly replied.

Lieutenant Reed had his own misgivings about beaming into a potentially hostile situation, based only on a set of extrapolated coordinates. Coordinates confirmed by several independent sets of calculations, but still extrapolated from data that was not complete. But he was not about to show these misgivings to his subordinates.

The coordinates are correct, he repeated the sentence like a mantra. Otherwise, this is going to be over quickly and quite messily, Reed thought sardonically. He was not squeamish – years with the Section had seen to that, but even the Section was not keen on squishing their operatives into particle stream and then reassembling them when the time and place came. Not yet, anyway.

"Coordinates set?" he asked their Communications officer, who continued to eye the transporter console as if it was going to bite her hands off at any given moment.

"Aye, sir."

"Then energize. Before we change our minds," he ordered, allowing himself to project a small measure of sarcasm into his voice, however unbecoming it was of an officer.

The re-materialization was a relatively quick process, though it still left something to be desired – at least in Malcolm's opinion. He downright loathed the feeling of lightheadedness it left him with.

The world suddenly tilted and the floor rushed towards him. He didn't feel the need to cushion his landing at all.

A strange lassitude was rapidly engulfing him.

"Malcolm!" he heard Trip shout dimly, almost lost in the white noise that was suddenly filling his ears. There were spots of blackness in his eyes, erratically moving back and forth, obscuring the Chief Engineer's face. Frantic face. Something was wrong.

"Give me your tourniquets! Now!" Captain Archer shouted desperately at the two paralyzed Security crewmen, staring at their immediate superior sprawled on the floor, heavily bleeding. "Tourniquets!"

One of the men broke out of his paralysis, frantically pawing at his arm pocket, drawing out the old-school military-style tourniquet that Lieutenant Reed insisted everyone in the Security and Armory detachments carry at all times.

It slipped from his hand.

Archer grabbed it from the floor, opened it and put it on Reed's left leg above the knee, frantically tightening it and praying to the God that his Chief of Security had not lost more blood than he could afford.

Meanwhile, the second crewman got his tourniquet out and was tightening it on a stump of Reed's right arm, hands shaking, but determined to close off the artery spurt.

T'Pol was green in the face, looking more than slightly nauseated, but her hands were firmly closed around the other arm, fingers deep in a mangled mass of muscle and blood that used to be the left arm.

The Andorians stormed in, the door hitting the wall.

"What is…" Even the Andorian commander looked momentarily shaken by the carnage he barged in on.

Archer ignored him, gingerly tilting the ashen face of his Chief of Security towards him.

"Malcolm, do you…"

The Andorian commander grabbed him by his shoulder and roughly pulled him back, Archer's back hitting the rough wall behind them.

"Explain this, pink-skin."

Archer ignored the alien, his eyes riveted to Reed.

Reed's eyes were half-mast, full of pain and not comprehending what was happening around him anymore. There was more blood making its way from his nose and mouth, light bright red and full of bubbles.

Merciful God, not his lungs as well.

The moment of quiet had not been timed well.

The whole room could hear the bubbling wheeze that was not followed by laborious inhale. The mutilated body, minutely shaking from shock and pain, stilled.

The surviving Andorians were never able to describe properly what happened after that.

The human male, who was held against the wall by Commander Shran, went berserk. He charged the Andorian, incapacitating him efficiently. The other men took down the other Imperial Guardsman – permanently. Same fate was visited upon the rest of the landing party in short order, shocking even the volatile Andorians.

That day on P'Jem, Starfleet earned itself a name among the Imperial Guard.

Author's note: I have been expanding my Star Trek education and watched Enterprise recently. During the watching, I realized that Lieutenant Malcolm Reed could be read as sort of having a death wish/very intimate relationship with Death in all its forms. From there, my imagination ran free.

I also currently don't have any beta reader, so all the mistakes are mine – feel free to point them out.

I am not a medical professional, so the injuries were researched online and then described to the best of my ability.

The title translation: I serve unto death. I don't speak nor understand Latin at any great level, so I was reliant on an online translator. If anyone can offer a proper translation, I would be grateful.