Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.

Notes: Another story focusing on two of my favorite characters, Hoshi and Malcolm. Hoshi's linguistic skills are needed to unravel a conspiracy, but there are others who want to possess those skills for their own goals. [In other words, Hoshi and Malcolm get put through the wringer. Again. LOL.]

Ensign Bernhard Mueller belongs to Volley. :) Crewman Trieste and Ensign Birkenwald are my OCs. [From "Boomer Bust" and "Five Weddings and a Funeral for my Sanity".]

Please R&R. Thanks.

Rating: T

One

As soon as they'd received the distress call, Enterprise had swung into full rescue assistance mode. Malcolm Reed always marveled at how the crew moved smoothly into their assigned roles. Doctor Phlox and Crewman Cutler recruited volunteers to help set up triage areas in the cargo holds. Ensign Mayweather pushed the warp engines to their limit to shave hours off their arrival time. Commander Tucker outfitted all the available shuttlepods to carry as many refugees as possible.

Malcolm kept a vigilant eye on the sensors, just in case the ones who attacked Trianara Four returned to finish the job. Yet his gaze kept straying across the Bridge to Ensign Hoshi Sato. The communications officer's musical voice echoed in the tense silence of the Bridge, a calm anchor of normalcy in an emergency situation.

"I'chala hasterti ki'evaratu ," she said. "Ee'lai bharti na p'truiash kr'aiova." Hoshi listened to the reply, then nodded. She glanced over at Captain Archer and said in English, "Captain, the Trianarans have gathered all of their most serious injuries in their university hospital. Doctor Va'nai asks us to tell Phlox that they're setting up multiple trauma stations."

Archer nodded at her from the center seat. "Acknowledged, Ensign. Any word from the Kikuron Rescue Group on their ETA to Trinara? I thought they'd said they'd get there before us."

Another flashing light on her console attracted her attention. "I think they're sending us a communique right now, Captain. Give me a moment."

Archer nodded again, then a corner of his mouth went up in grim humor. "The KRG always had good timing."

Travis, at the helm, made a sound of agreement. "They always have, Captain. It's always amazed me how their rescue teams get to the scene before anyone else."

Hoshi pressed the earpiece into her ear and this time, her replies took on a different kind of music. "Sh'rru bi orka-uiappt, typrltu ksahai no..." All conversation ceased as she switched dialects and languages with ease, from the gentle rhythms of Trianaran to the more strident, gutteral tones of Kikuron.

Malcolm privately marveled at her remarkable talent for languages, how she could stop in mid-sentence in one, then flow smoothly into another. He noticed how her expressions changed as she did so. Now her brows were knitted together, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together in intense urgency. Hoshi's entire posture stiffened like a cadet on a review march, shoulders squared, back straight. Malcolm mused whether or not she was aware of how her body language had changed.

She is like a chameleon, he thought. Showing many faces to the world, but reserving her true face to a select few. The thought brought a dry smile. That certainly sounds most familiar, doesn't it? Malcolm quickly stifled the smile as she turned back to address Archer again.

"Their ETA is forty minutes Captain. They're sending three medical frigates and five support ships."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows and commented, "They're not sparing any reserves for this mission."

Travis glanced at him and shrugged. "Better to have too many medical resources than too few, Lieutenant."

"True," Malcolm admitted.

Trip Tucker's voice interrupted them on the comm. "Tucker to the Cap'n."

Archer hit a button on his chair. "Go ahead."

"Cap'n, we've got Shuttlepods One, Two, Three, and Five all prepped and ready to go. Phlox is checking over the medical supplies now. If you could spare Travis, I'd like him to pilot one of the shuttles."

Travis looked over at Archer at the sound of his name, and the captain nodded at him. "I'll send Travis down as soon as we get into orbit, Trip."

"Thanks, Cap'n. Travis, is there anyone else you want to pilot the other shuttles?"

Travis thought for a moment. "Crewman Trieste, for sure. Lieutenants Bailey and Foster, and probably Crewman Saldoti as well."

"Thanks, Travis. Send 'em down when you're ready. Tucker, out."

Archer nodded at Travis and a bright smile came over the Ensign's face. Malcolm couldn't help but smile as well; the captain had just indicated that he trusted Travis's recommendations. It would surely boost Travis's confidence in himself and his decisions.

He looked over at Hoshi, who wore a proud smile herself. The happy glow in her eyes reflected Travis's own. That glow lit up her entire face, and Malcolm silently thanked the captain for boosting their morale, even in the middle of a tragedy.

Archer turned to Hoshi. "Wake up Crewman Trieste and the others and notify them they're on standby for shuttlepod dury."

"Aye, sir." She turned to do so with cool efficiency; Malcolm listened at the professional tone as she called Trieste and the others. Again, the nuances in her voice changed according to the situation. Again, Malcolm thought the comparison to a chameleon was remarkably apt.

The captain's order broke into his musings. "Lieutenant, I want you to organize security teams for our medical personnel. We don't know who attacked the Trianarans and I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Aye, sir," he replied. He nodded at Archer with approval; in the past four years, Archer had become less cavalier about security protocols, and Malcolm thanked whatever Deity that had made him see sense. Granted, the captain still tended to go into some situations with his usual impulsiveness, but at least he'd gotten better at consulting with Malcolm about it.

Malcolm paged Ensign Bernhard Mueller, his second-in-command to have the security teams meet in the shuttlebay. Then he nodded at his relief officer to take his place at the Tactical station. Before he left he Bridge, he caught Hoshi's smile of encouragement. Despite the smile, he saw the worry in her eyes, and he felt a corner of his mouth turn up in reassurance.

Be careful, Malcolm, she mouthed silently.

He gave her a slight nod. I will, love, he mouthed back. Her smile was the last thing he saw before the lift doors hissed closed.

"It came out of the middle of nowhere, Lieutenant. We weren't expecting to be attacked in the middle of the luncheon hour." Marshal Kyran Subronn shook his head as he struggled to coax information from the planet's shattered defense computers. "Whoever did this knew exactly how to disable our defensive shield and knew where to shoot."

Malcolm nodded grimly. "Which means someone sent that information to your attackers."

Subronn huffed angrily. "My security forces are loyal, Lieutenant. They would never do such a thing."

"Perhaps so, but it still means someone compromised your planetary security."

Before Subronn came up with another retort, a calm voice interrupted, "I believe I may be able to provide a partial answer to that question, gentlemen."

Malcolm hid his relief as he turned toward the main computer terminal. "Commander T'Pol?"

The Vulcan pushed buttons and an image came up on the screen. A few areas were missing, but the majority of the information was still intact. T'Pol gracefully got up from her seat and came up to Malcolm and Subronn, placing her hands behind her back. "It appears that the individual shielding around your karecite mines went off-line several minutes before the first concentrated attack, Marshal. Here, here, and here."

Subronn's mouth dropped open in utter shock. "That-that is impossible! Only a handful of people know the shielding codes for the mines, and they are all loyal to me---"

"You're sure about that?' Malcolm asked him darkly. "It appears that your security codes have become general knowledge, Marshal Subronn."

The Trianarian's knees buckled under him, and only Malcolm's reflexes saved him from a spill onto the floor. T'Pol immediately called for a medical team, as Malcolm helped Subronn to a chair. Subronn gave him a weak smile.

"Forgive me, Lieutenant, but this is quite a shock to my system. I've trained most of my security forces myself, and the thought of one of them betraying me like this..." Subronn shook his head, "...is most distressing."

"Understandable," Malcolm said, with a hint of sympathy. He tried to imagine if Mueller or Birkenwald or any other member of his Armory team giving classified information to the enemy and shivered. After the shock, he'd be angry as hell, and Subronn appeared to be quickly getting there.

"The karacite mines are your livelihood, are they not?" T'Pol asked Subronn. "They provide most of the income for your planet's trade."

"Yes," Subronn answered hoarsely. "The karacite is used for a number of purposes. Energy generation, medicines, communication relay systems...it is valuable to us."

"Apparently, it's become a valuable commodity to others as well," T'Pol said. "Will it be possible to access the operation reports from the mines?"

Subronn nodded. "Of course. I will provide any information you require." He glanced apologetically at her and Malcolm. "Although they will be encrypted, and then the original files will be written in the mining caste's dialect. The official reports will be in the formal language, but---" The marshal smiled grimly, "---I doubt any incriminating evidence will be in those official reports."

Malcolm looked over at T'Pol. "Ensign Sato could translate those original reports, Commander."

Subronn gave him a skeptical glance. "Your communications officer? I believe she only knows the administration caste's dialect. The mining caste uses a tradespeak that bears only a hint of similarity."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Ensign Sato is qualified to do such translation, Marshal. Her expertise could provide us with valuable clues in the identities of the saboteurs."

"Indeed. I have confidence in her abilities to help us, Marshal."

Subronn opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. "Very well. If she is willing to assist us, I am grateful for it."

T'Pol gave Malcolm a significant look. "Inform Captain Archer that we are in need of Ensign Sato's skill set, and ask whether or not she can be spared for this investigation."

"Of course, Commander." He inclined his head to Subronn. "Excuse me, Marshal."

"Lieutenant." As Malcolm turned to make the call to Enterprise, he heard Subronn ask T'Pol, "Is this officer truly as skilled as you say?"

He couldn't help a proud smile as T'Pol replied, "Very much so, Marshal. Very much so."