Eleven

It turned out that the money was, in fact, precisely why Travis wanted to get back to Enterprise.

While looking through the Thelasian archives, he’d found (to his surprise) an entry on Horizon. A badly outdated entry, one that listed the ship’s top speed as warp one point five, its captain as Paul Mayweather (Paul Sr., Travis’s father, dead almost a year now), but did, in fact, make reference to a petition filed on Morianne more than a decade earlier. The problem was, only a ranking office of the S.S. Horizon could access those records. So Travis needed to find his family’s ship. And to do that…

“I need to be back on Enterprise,” he finished explaining.

Before the captain could respond, Hoshi interrupted.

“We might be able to find a com station down here,” she said. “In fact, considering the extent of the Thelasian trading network, you might even have a better chance of finding Horizon through their facilities.”

“Then they’ll know what he’s up to,” Reed interjected. “Better off doing the search through a secure network.”

“How secure can any network be around here?” Hoshi asked.

Malcolm nodded. “True enough.”

“People.” The captain stopped in the middle of the street. “All interesting points, but you ignore two things. Number one, we’re supposed to be at this reception in just a few hours. So if we’re going to take advantage of the governor’s generosity…”

“I don’t really need to go shopping for something to wear, sir,” Hoshi said. “My mother sent a dress to me for my birthday last year. Very formal. I’m sure it would be appropriate.”

“And number two,” the captain continued, ignoring the interruption, “Trip really needs the shuttle back on board Enterprise. So if you want to go, Ensign…”

“Aye, sir.”

“Good. Then you’re dismissed. Tell Trip I will speak with him after the reception.”

Another nod, and Travis left them then. The three of them then split up, each taking a handful of the credit chits Sen had given them, making plans to rendezvous back at the guest quarters in another hour. It took Archer longer than that, though, to find something he thought suitable: first, he was recognized by an assembly delegate who began badgering him on the importance of safe travel corridors, then he got completely turned around and wandered down a portion of the Prex that was given over to currency speculators. Then he ran into Malcolm-who he suspected might have been following him the whole time-who promptly began haranguing the captain for permission to bring one of the MACOS, or even Chief Lee, planetside to help with security, given that Sen’s intentions were now-more than ever-suspect. Eventually (after a few futile minutes spent trying to convince Reed that his worries were misplaced, that nothing untoward was going to happen tonight at the reception, there were simply going to be too many people there), the captain ordered Malcolm to go find himself something suitable to wear.

Archer waited until he was gone, and then continued his own shopping, at last finding something that not only looked appropriately formal but fell within his price range.

He returned to the guest quarters to find Hoshi waiting for him, as excited as he’d seen her in a long while.

“You found something good?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “A private language database. Bought seven new languages for the UT, including one with conditional verb forms. Conditional verb forms.” She shook her head in amazement. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The language is called Vendorian, and apparently the people- “

“Vendorians, yes. Interesting. But I was asking about the party. If you found anything to wear?”

Hoshi frowned. “Well…”

The captain shook his head. “You’d better get back out there then. The reception starts in another hour and a half.”

Hoshi didn’t move. She cleared her throat. “The thing is, sir, database access time was quite expensive.”

“How expensive?”

She smiled weakly.

“You spent all the chits?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s that dress my mother bought me. I was thinking I could have that beamed down.”

The captain sighed. “All right. Let’s see what we can do.”

But it wasn’t as simple as all that. They had to have clearance to use their transporter beam. Had to talk to the right people, and Archer couldn’t find Prian to smooth the way. The person he was speaking to told the captain to stand by. Time passed.

A chime sounded.

“That’s the door,” Hoshi said. “I’ll get it.”

She did. The captain overheard talking, and then the sound of the door closing.

Hoshi came back carrying a box. There was a note on the top of the box.

“It’s addressed to me,” she said, reading off the card. “Hoshi Sato. Compliments of Governor Sen.”

Hoshi opened the box. She reached inside and pulled out a single piece of red cloth, which she held up in the air.

“It’s fabric,” she said. “Some kind of stretchy fabric.”

“I think it’s a dress.”

“It’s too small to be a dress.”

“It’s a dress.”

“Probably another piece in here,” she said, and started digging around in the box.

There wasn’t though. Just a pair of ridiculously high heels.

“It’s not a dress,” she said again.

“Go try it on,” Archer said.

“Sir…”

“Present from the governor,” he said. “We don’t want to insult the governor.”

She sighed, and went into the room she’d been assigned.

Five minutes on, by Archer’s reckoning, she hadn’t come out.

“Everything okay in there?”

Silence.

“Hoshi…”

The door opened, and the first thing that registered on Archer’s consciousness was that it was a small piece of fabric indeed.

The second thing was that his communications officer was a very attractive woman. He’d known that intellectually, of course, but it hadn’t really struck him before. It struck him now.

Like a ton of bricks, it struck him.

Hoshi looked at him, and then down at the ground.

“I don’t feel comfortable,” she said.

“You look wonderful,” Archer told her.

She glanced up at him and smiled.

Archer returned the smile, remembered who had given her the dress, and frowned.

Right then the door to their quarters opened, and Reed walked in, holding up a box.

“Found something that looks remarkably like an old-style Navy dress shirt. Now some might think this a bit too flamboyant, but my feeling is, when you’ve got it…”

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Hoshi.

“… flaunt it,” he said. “Your mother bought you that?”

She glared. “No, my mother did not buy me this.”

He looked even more confused. “You bought it?”

“No!”

“It’s a present from the governor,” Archer supplied.

“Sen.”

“Yes, Sen.”

“Governor Sen.” Reed still looked confused. “Why is he buying Hoshi a dress?”

The captain was wondering that himself.

“Why don’t we get changed,” he suggested, “and go find out?”

She didn’t have to wear the dress, Archer had told her. If she was uncomfortable (which, of course, she was). But Hoshi could read between the lines of what the captain was saying. Sen would be insulted if she didn’t. And the captain wanted Sen in an expansive, joyous mood. A talkative mood. Insofar as such a thing was possible. So she wore the dress. And let her hair down. She looked like a different person. Ready for a party. The captain looked ready too: he had purchased something akin to an old-fashioned tuxedo, with a vest instead of a coat jacket, an open-collar shirt. He looked, Hoshi thought, dashing. As for Malcolm…

Well, his “Navy dress shirt” was blue and white, as garishly loud as she’d expected, and if he gave her any more grief about her outfit… she was going to give it right back.

The reception was being held at the solarium. An elegant-sounding word, which (Hoshi knew) was derived from the Latin, originally referring to a Roman water clock, circa second century