Critical Position

"What can you give me, Trip?"

"Five days at impulse, or almost two days at Warp One. After that-"

"Dead in the water?"

Trip nodded, giving Jon a small smile of acknowledgment at his own oft quoted phrase.

Jon turned his attention to his other bridge officers. "Okay. Hoshi, start broadcasting a general greeting. If you get any response, tell them we're looking to trade, seeking extra supplies, then let me know. I'll take it from there. T'Pol, we know this region of space is fairly populated—see if you can pick up anyone on long range sensors, and find out whatever the Vulcan Database has on inhabited worlds this sector.

"Travis, let's stay on this heading—impulse only, unless another one of those ships turn up—then run like hell. Malcolm, have your people on tactical alert in case T'Pol does pick up something. I want the hull plating charged and weapons on line the minute we see anything…although I'd hope they'd think twice about attacking us again."

They had been attacked without provocation moments after Enterprise's sensors had picked up the other vessel. There hadn't even been time to hail the other ship.

The first volley had hit the cargo bay containing their store of extra plasma. The hull breach had sucked everything out into space. The battle had raged for several tense minutes and in a last ditch effort at saving Enterprise from destruction, Malcolm had sent a well placed torpedo to ignite the floating plasma containers just as the alien vessel was in close proximity to them.

The resulting explosion had destroyed the other ship, leaving nothing to be recovered.

Seven days later, it was still a mystery as to who had attacked them and why.

Engineering and armory teams worked around the clock to seal the breach and bring damaged systems back on line. There had been several injuries, one crewman with severe burns over thirty percent of his body when the battle had started a fire in engineering. But he had remained at his post and vented the plasma to prevent a core breach, and Trip had pulled the young man out before sealing the area and discharging the oxygen to extinguish the flames. Phlox said the man's chances of recovery were good, and that the scarring would be kept to a minimum.

But now, there was nothing left to do. Repairs had been made and it was just a matter of replenishing their plasma supply. They had been heading toward this sector in the first place, Starfleet asking them to investigate reports that several planets had raw and refined materials that they shared in common.

Now, it was just a matter of finding someone willing to trade.

Jon studied the devastated chessboard, his king checkmated by a pawn and a knight.

Which, incidentally, were the only two pieces Malcolm had left.

He looked at his lover, who was trying hard not to smirk. And failing miserably.

"That was suicidal."

"It worked." Malcolm's grin grew wider as he swallowed down the last of his scotch. Jon poured them another shot, tipped his king over, and then saluted his beloved. They tapped glasses, tossed back their drink and Malcolm rose.

He planted a gentle kiss on Jon's lips. "Since I won, I suppose I get what I want tonight," he said, his voice husky and a little smug.

"Yeah, you do…that's our agreement." Jon couldn't suppress his smile. Or his own smug tone. He congratulated himself again on suggesting Malcolm teach him to play chess. It made losing much more enjoyable.

Malcolm pulled Jon up, nibbling along Jon's neck, nuzzling him, working his way up to trace light kisses across Jon's face. Malcolm took him by the hand and led him to their bed. He pushed Jon down on his back, and with a lazy deliberation, began to remove Jon's clothing.

Jon laid back and enjoyed the attention Malcolm lavished on every part of his body his lover slowly revealed.

And when Malcolm finally made love to him, he sighed in contentment, delighted that Malcolm had won again.

***

"What do you have, Hoshi?" Jon moved forward to the blank view screen while listening to the alien language over the speakers.

Hoshi had her head tilted to one side, hands flying over her console making minute adjustments to the universal translator. Bit by bit the words were becoming recognizable as Hoshi corrected logarithms and made her own interpretations. Jon was again amazed by her unerring ability to pick out individual words and with an instinctive skill, organize them into a formal structure, programming the UT on the fly.

Her hands continued to work her board as she listened to the language streaming in, answering Jon with a slightly preoccupied air. "They call themselves the 'Manisu'. They claim intentions of non-action and inquisitiveness, welcomed to you for trading, hard items or culture for your…our…necessities and diversion." She deciphered the language as it came in, using the words in a stilted manner, adjusting the UT to recognize each new syntax usage, programming it to flow smoother.

She paused in her work only long enough to give Jon a brief look. "I'm pretty sure they claim to be peaceful and curious about us, and look forward to trading for whatever we need—we can give them goods or information." She cocked her head again to one side and spoke haltingly in the language. The aliens replied and she smiled, correcting herself, and spoke their tongue again. "We have visual if you like."

"Screen on."

They were fairly human looking, aside from the three eyes and three arms. But other than that, there wasn't much difference.

The UT kicked in and Jon went through his standard greeting. Ten minutes later they had an invitation and coordinates to a planet, although it wasn't listed in the Vulcan Database. But it was only two and a half days at impulse and there was an assurance that warp plasma was available for trade.

A half hour later Hoshi reported what they wanted in exchange for enough plasma to completely restore Enterprise to their previous cache.

"Games?" Jon's puzzlement was clear.

"What kinda games?" Trip asked with some suspicion.

"Anything. Board games, word games, even sports…they want a data base of all the games known on Earth, complete with their rules and history," Hoshi replied.

"Are you sure, Ensign?" T'Pol questioned. She sounded a bit skeptical.

Hoshi looked at T'Pol, her expression and voice confident, but Jon could tell she was a touch peeved.

"Absolutely, Sub-Commander."

"Don't give them any gaming information on Ancient Rome or the Aztecs, or any other games that end in the death of the players," Malcolm said. "Our luck they'll want a demonstration, then stick the away team in an arena whilst they set the local equivalent of lions on us…"

Jon joined the laughter at Malcolm's remark, but when they sent the information, he made damn sure that no mention of Earth's bloodier games were made.

***

Jon hated when Malcolm's paranoia was right.

He and Trip sat with their hosts, looking down on a chessboard. A life size chessboard. With living beings as the pieces.

And two of his officers were on the board.

The Manisu had them over a barrel. Actually several barrels. Of plasma.

Just one game, that's all, they said. Then Enterprise could have all the plasma they wanted if Jon won. Or get blown out of their orbit if Jon purposely lost or refused.

They had been fascinated by chess it turned out.

Of course, they had changed the rules a bit.

The chessboard was the same. Sixty-four squares, same alternating pattern of black and white. The movements of the pieces would be the same, they explained. Same goal—play until checkmate or stalemate.

But they had made one little alteration.

Instead of automatically attaining the square, the pieces would fight for the position, the victor either successfully defending or winning the square.

It made it more exciting, they said.

It made Jon sick to his stomach.

None of the pieces on the board were Manisu. They were beings from different worlds. Jon saw a Tellerite and a Nausicaan, but he was unable to identify most of the others.

Except of course, his own people.

They were dressed in solid white, Jon's color. Hoshi occupied the queen's square, her hair elaborately braided, white flowers making a wreath around her head, her outfit conforming to every shapely curve. She looked scared, but holding up well, and Jon could see her effort to remain calm.

Malcolm was on the end, in the rook's position, one slender unbroken line of pure white, his garb clinging tightly to his body. He had a pissed off expression on his face, frustration and anger mixed.

Being white, Jon was given the first move in accordance with the conventional rules.

His opening gambit was standard, a pawn from that front line of eight smaller beings all stout yet well muscled and all of the same species, and moved him forward two squares.

The Manisu player mirrored his move.

Jon directed his king's knight to move out, an extra layer of protection for Hoshi.

The Manisu moved another pawn, challenging Jon's.

Jon had no choice. His piece would be confronted no matter what, and if his games with Malcolm had taught him anything, it was to play offensively. He signaled his pawn to occupy the opposing pawn's square and the battle began.

The beings were evenly matched, a melee of black and white, fighting with their bare hands. Fists and feet flying, the beings battered each other, seeming to relish the brawl.

Jon's piece lost, knocked unconscious and Jon was relieved that the man was still breathing as he was dragged away. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, he hoped.

Although he had misgivings when a force shield of some sort enveloped every other piece on the board as soon as the battle was joined. It didn't interfere with their movements, for Jon could see Hoshi turn away from the fight, her face a bit pale.

Malcolm had been examining the wide white bands encasing his wrists, as everyone on the board was wearing, apparently the source of the field. He had started when the field hummed to life, but other than that, Jon noticed that his beloved's composure remained calm.

Jon wasn't too sure of how his own composure would remain as the game wore on.

The Manisu moved his knight out, now four squares in front of Malcolm.

It wasn't a threat to his lover and the Manisu's pawn's forward movement was stymied by Jon's knight.

Jon and the Manisu traded moves and pawns, the pieces fighting it out hand to hand until one or the other was beaten to unconsciousness. Then the Manisu moved his bishop, threatening Jon's other rook.

Again the fields flared about all the other pieces and a chime sounded, confusing Trip and Jon. But apparently the pieces had been well briefed, for the rook and the bishop took off at full run toward the wall along the opposite side of the room.

Two panels slid back but Jon couldn't see what lay within the recesses.

Jon's rook reached inside first and withdrew a club and lunged at the bishop. The Manisu's man barely had time to withdraw his own club before Jon's man was upon him. They traded blows, each swinging their weapon with a savage force.

Jon's rook prevailed. The bishop was hauled away, bloody and insensate, but still alive. Jon's rook returned to his square, palming away a trickle of blood from a gash on his face.

The same thing happened again when the Manisu's knight challenged Jon's bishop.

Only this time the weapons were different.

The first arrow from the black knight hit one of Jon's pawns, and bounced off the man's field, much to Jon's relief. His bishop sent a volley back at the knight, using Hoshi as his shield. Hoshi ducked instinctively as an arrow flew toward her and it hit her field, ricocheting off, the tip broken. Jon's bishop shot again, hitting the knight in the shoulder, sending the man to the ground. The bishop ran forward, another arrow fitted in his bow and aimed at the knight's chest. They froze, and looked toward their Manisu player.

"The square is yours," the alien conceded, and the wounded knight was led from the board.

The game continued for a few moves, battles against pawns fought with only bare fists, while the higher ranking pieces had to race to retrieve whatever weapon was revealed.

Eventually Jon moved his pawn, the one on his king's side and in front of his other knight, out two spaces. This left his bishop the freedom to move, and to lure away any threats to Hoshi.

As soon as he'd done it, Trip let out a hiss of frustration.

When the Manisu moved his remaining knight, Jon saw why.

The black knight, a large being, his skin seeming to be naturally armored, had Jon's bishop and rook—Malcolm—forked. And Jon couldn't move either of them.

Malcolm turned around and looked at Jon with exasperation. It was a classic move to eliminate the rook without endangering your piece, however, in this skewed battle, it set up the knight to take the bishop, then allowing him to jump back out on the next move to checkmate the King. Unless Jon had the nerve to have Hoshi attack the alien.

Malcolm was hemmed in, unable to move, pawn in front of him and knight to the side. There was nothing he could do for Malcolm, so Jon moved his King's pawn, escape room for his king, and for Hoshi.

The Manisu moved his knight onto Malcolm's square.

The fields hummed to life, the chime sounded and Malcolm and the knight dashed to the wall.

Malcolm made it to the wall first and withdrew a long leather plait with four stone-like objects attached to each strand. He looked at it for a moment, puzzled, then ran back to the board, desperately trying to figure out the unfamiliar weapon. He shot a look at the black knight, who had claimed his matching weapon and was swinging it.

Comprehension dawned on Malcolm's face. He began to swing the leather around his head, like a South American bola, while the black knight swung his off to the side. The knight let his fly first and Malcolm managed to evade it, and the knight quickly moved between the black pieces, reeling the weapon back to him quickly.

Malcolm anticipated the knight's escape path and released his weapon, hanging onto the very end as the knight had done. His aim was true and it wrapped around the knight's neck, and Malcolm yanked hard, pulling the other man down to the ground. Malcolm lunged at him, getting behind the knight and using the tightly wound leather to pull the man to his knees. Malcolm had him in a stranglehold, his foot on the man's weapon, making it impossible for the knight to use it.

Malcolm froze and eased off, looking up at Jon's opponent.

Jon had been playing well, losing few pieces and the Manisu studied the board in silence.

The alien shook his head slightly. "Continue. Try harder, Knight."

The knight looked a bit shocked and Malcolm seemed startled as well. Then the knight twisted in Malcolm's loosened grip, grabbing Malcolm's ankle and pulling the armory officer down.

Malcolm growled, angry at himself as he grappled with the knight. He tightened the leather, choking his opponent, ignoring the man's flailing fists. The knight's struggles eventually slowed, his body becoming lax and Malcolm removed the strap.

Jon saw Malcolm check the man, and the look of relief on Malcolm's face told Jon that the alien was still alive.

The black knight was removed from the board and Malcolm returned to his successfully defended square, little worse for wear.

Jon moved Malcolm's pawn out, to give his lover room to maneuver if threatened again.

The game continued, Jon playing conservatively, attempting to guide his pieces to victory.

***

Jon's elation at his knight's defeat of the black rook was short lived as the game took a turn for the worse. Jon quickly lost four more pieces, the Manisu taking advantage of Jon's reluctance to use his crewmen.

Malcolm had been studying the opposing forces, sizing up each alien. He sidled over to the very corner of his square and got Hoshi's attention.

Hoshi listened as Malcolm explained his tactics. She listened even more carefully as he told her exactly what she needed to do to win the square.

She could do it. She knew it and gave him a confident grin and a nod. Of course she could do it; he'd been training her after all.

Malcolm turned to stare at his lover, willing Jon to look at him. But Jon was deep in thought, slipping into a defensive mode, trying to win the game without the use of his queen and rook. He couldn't endanger his crew.

Malcolm caught Trip's eye instead, signaling him and then pointing at Hoshi.

Hoshi unleashed a flurry of small hand gestures—American Sign Language, which she knew Trip knew; he'd talked about his nephew enough.

Trip nudged Jon, who had just lost his other rook. The game was at a standstill for a moment so that the blood could be mopped from the game board.

Trip saw Jon's clenched jaw, the tension in his friend's body. That last confrontation had been brutal and he could tell Jon was feeling the responsibility for his piece's grave injuries. He quickly explained Malcolm's strategy to checkmate their opponent.

"No. It's too dangerous," Jon whispered, his tone empathic.

"Hoshi can do it. It's just a pawn, Cap'n. Malcolm thinks she can take him."

"She's safe where she is. Something could go wrong," Jon protested.

"Yeah, but you don't have much of a choice. You're down too many pieces to get through this without taking a chance. Malcolm thinks you'll be checkmated in seven moves if you don't try it his way."

Jon shot Malcolm a look. His lover was speaking in hushed tones to Hoshi, his graceful hands illustrating something. He saw Hoshi smile and nod, confidence shining from her face.

"She can do it, Jon," Trip whispered.

"And then what? That leaves Malcolm up against the King."

They both looked at the immense Nausicaan occupying the black king's square. He looked bored, never once having been moved from his secure refuge.

"Well. He'll have a weapon," Trip said, trying to sound optimistic.

"So will the Nausicaan," Jon countered angrily.

"Who else are you going to put up against him? Your bishop?" Trip pointed out.

They looked at the spindly alien who was Jon's bishop. He looked so fragile that Jon thought Porthos could take him down with just a playful leap.

Before Jon could argue the point, the Manisu player called for the game to continue.

Jon pondered the board, looking for another plan of attack. Which didn't involve either Hoshi or Malcolm. He blew out a breath in frustration.

There was none.

With trepidation, he signaled Hoshi to take the King's knight's pawn.

Hoshi was moving before the sound of the force fields died away. She let out a mighty cry, startling Jon and Trip. She rammed into the pawn, twisting him around as she grabbed the alien's arm, catching him off guard. She flipped him over her shoulder and followed up with a knee drop.

To the poor man's groin.

The pawn curled up in mewling agony.

Jon and Trip paled in empathy with the pawn.

Malcolm, uncharacteristically, gave a bloodthirsty whoop of victory.

"Sorry," Hoshi said sweetly to the suffering pawn as he was dragged away. She turned to Malcolm. "Who said, 'It is always better to sacrifice your opponent's men'?"

"Savielly Tartakower," Malcolm replied and she beamed at the look of admiration on his face. She gave Malcolm a quick wink before regally taking the square she had won.

The Manisu countered with a move that took out Jon's remaining knight.

Jon moved his bishop, setting up the ruse. It lured the Manisu to capture the pawn who was no longer under Jon's bishop's protection, opening up his King, tantalizing his opponent with a weakness in Jon's front line. The Manisu pounced at the chance, moving his queen. On Jon's next turn he signaled Hoshi forward to a square where she was safely out of the way.

It also covertly tightened the noose.

The Manisu studied the board for a long time, long enough for the knot in Jon's stomach to grow. Did he see the trap? Had Jon overlooked something his opponent was planning?

When the Manisu finally moved, Malcolm's head snapped toward Jon, ignoring the battle between Jon's other bishop and the Manisu's queen. It didn't matter who won, the bait had been taken. Jon saw the nervous anticipation in his lover's manner as Malcolm readied himself.

The Manisu's queen won easily. Jon's bishops weren't the most combative of species. Jon was perversely relieved that the weapon was a vicious looking spear and the queen merely used it as a staff to sweep the feet out from under the bishop, then pointed the tip at the downed alien. Jon conceded the square quickly and the bishop was escorted away, unharmed.

Jon's opponent smiled; his queen's next move would checkmate Jon's king and he leaned back in his chair, delighted.

Jon signaled Malcolm forward and his beloved trotted to the end of the board, his final destination clear now that the Manisu's queen was out of the way, impotently ensconced on Jon's bishop's former square, unable to assist in the defense of her king.

"Check," Jon said and the Manisu made a soft sniffing sound of surprise.

His opponent's King couldn't move forward. That would place him in check with Hoshi and the Manisu thankfully hadn't modified that rule.

The Manisu made the only other move possible open to him.

Which meant Jon had to move Malcolm into position for checkmate and challenge.

Gritting his teeth, he did just that.

***

The chime sounded and Malcolm dashed to the wall. The slot opened and Jon saw the look of dismay cross his lover's face. But Malcolm shoved his arm into the opening without hesitation.

And withdrew a broadsword about a meter in length. It was heavy as well, if Malcolm's two-handed grasp was any indication. The Nausicaan King had no such trouble welding it and charged Malcolm.

It was a battle of brute strength and power against speed and cunning, the Nausicaan easily using one hand, each blow staggering Malcolm as he parried.

But Malcolm was the quicker of the two, dodging and evading most of the Nausicaan's wild swings and scoring a slash or two against his slower opponent.

The Manisu cheered each thrust and parry, finding the battle exciting.

John found the battle nerve wracking.

Malcolm ducked as the Nausicaan swung out, trying to decapitate him. Their blades connected repeatedly, sparks flying, each strike driving Malcolm backwards. Another clang of steel and the force of the Nausicaan's blow sent Malcolm to his knees in front of the alien.

Jon and Trip rose as one and several Manisu grabbed them, restraining them from hurtling over the side to help their crewmate.

So Jon didn't quite see what happened. The next thing he knew, the Nausicaan was bellowing in pain, clutching his crotch, his sword hanging limply in his hand, forgotten.

Malcolm tore the sword from the man's loose grip, then rose quickly and viciously kicked the man, toppling him. He stood over the downed Nausicaan, sword tip against the hollow of his throat, and looked up at the Manisu player, sweating and disheveled, panting hard, waiting.

When Jon found his voice he said, "Checkmate," and tried to look apologetic.

The Manisu player nodded and rose, waving a dismissing finger at his friends holding Jon and Trip. They were released and he walked over to Jon and bowed. "Checkmate. Well played, Captain Archer. The plasma is yours. Thank you for an entertaining game."

"Entertaining!" Trip sputtered, and Jon elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.

"Yes, it was entertaining. Thank you for the plasma. We'd like to get it transported up as soon as possible," Jon interjected smoothly, glaring at Trip. God forbid they'd ask for a rematch. Or re-tool another innocuous game. He'd hate to see how the Manisu would reinvent Dodge Ball.

"Of course, Captain." Their host, smiling pleasantly, waved for the dispersal of the living chess pieces.

Malcolm withdrew the sword from the Nausicaan's throat at Jon's nod. He graciously offered his hand to the man to help him up.

The alien took it, rose, and then punched Malcolm in the face.

***

"Ow!" Malcolm batted Jon's hand away and grabbed the ice pack Jon held. "I can do it myself," he said crossly as he gingerly held the pack to the side of his face. His other hand was occupied with holding a similar ice pack to the back of his head where it had impacted the marbled floor with a reverberant smack.

"Still hurt?" Jon asked, trying to sound sympathetic. But after listening to Malcolm bitch for the last half hour in decon, after he regained consciousness of course, about the Nausicaan's unsportsman- like behavior, his questionable and rather rudely speculated upon ancestry, and winding down with a few choice words disparaging the man's personal hygiene, Jon had decided that since Malcolm's cognitive functions and verbal skills were still working, he was just fine.

"'Course it still hurts. Pillock," Malcolm growled.

"Shithead," Jon fired back.

They both grinned. Jon leaned forward and took the ice pack away from Malcolm's face to inspect it. "Well, at least the swelling's gone down a little." He gave his lover a quick peck on the lips. "But it's your own fault. It wasn't very sporting of you to nail him in the groin with the pommel, you know. No wonder he clocked you."

"You don't thump someone once the fight's over and they're helping you up," Malcolm said, a touch petulantly. "And it wasn't my fault. It's Hoshi's. The way she took that pawn out…she was bloody fantastic, don't you think?"

Jon laughed. "She has a 'bloody' fantastic teacher," he said and kissed Malcolm again. Malcolm responded with enthusiasm and Jon definitely knew he was okay.

Jon broke the kiss. "Hey. Speaking of teaching—time for a rematch."

He tapped the chessboard and Malcolm groaned. "I think I've had my fill of chess for the day, love."

"Oh, so you're forfeiting the game, hmmm?"

"Just postponing it."

"Nah, sorry, it's a forfeit. You know what that means—" Jon carefully eased Malcolm down onto the bed. "It means I finally win. And since I won, I suppose I get what I want tonight."

Jon slowly began to strip Malcolm of his clothing. As Jon's mouth ranged lower, Malcolm closed his eyes and sighed.

"Remind me to lose more often, Jon."