Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Enterprise characters, and I'm not making any money from this story.

Warning: This is another dark story. Contains implications of sexual assault.


And Justice for All

Chapter 1: Out of the frying pan

"Ain't this great, Malcolm? Three days shore leave and nothing to do but sit around and relax, soak up a little sun . . ."

"Bloody boring, if you ask me," Malcolm replied. He pulled his hat down farther over his eyes to block out the sun which was finally heading toward the western horizon. He swore he could feel his skin burning. "This would be a lot more fun if we had some company. I only agreed to come with you because you promised we would meet some of the lovely locals."

Trip looked around the outdoor bar where they were seated, scanning for some likely prospects. A group of three women walked toward them and he got ready to put on some charm, but they veered off at the last minute and headed toward a group of men sitting at a table nearby. All of the men of this planet, Aslandia, seemed to be huge, standing at least a head taller than Trip, and making Malcolm look like a midget by comparison. Trip sighed. How could they have a chance with such competition?

"They could at least provide a little shade." Malcolm grumbled. "How are you supposed to enjoy your drink when you're burning alive?"

"Quit grousing, Reed. Here comes a lovely local right now." A lone woman approached the bar where they were sitting and settled herself on the barstool beside Malcolm.

"Hello, boys," she smiled. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Both Trip and Malcolm returned the smile. Their prospects had suddenly turned for the better.

"No, Ma'am. We're from the Starship Enterprise, from a planet called Earth. I'm Commander Trip Tucker and this sourpuss is Lieutenant Malcolm Reed."

"I'm delighted to meet you. I am Aliana." Her reddish curls bobbed as she bowed her head slightly in what apparently was the local tradition.

After a few minutes of pleasant conversation, Aliana said, "It's so noisy in here. What do you say we continue the conversation at my house? It's just around the corner."

Malcolm and Tucker exchanged glances. They didn't want to get themselves into another predicament like they experienced on Risa, but this seemed to be an offer that was too good to pass up. Besides, what could one lone woman do to them?

"That sounds like a great idea." Tucker answered after a moment. "Ok with you, Malcolm?" The other man frowned, then grunted in assent.

"Excellent. Follow me." Together they trooped out of the bar, Malcolm and Tucker jockeying for position as they went.


Captain Jonathon Archer sank back into the comfortable deck chair on the patio of his hotel room and sighed. With a cold glass of lemonade close at hand and his new book on his lap, he was ready to take full advantage of his shore leave to do what he had been intending to do on Risa: read and relax. He promised himself he wouldn't let anything stand in his way this time. He would finish that book before he returned to the ship, or die trying.

After taking a sip of his lemonade, Archer opened the hardcover of the book and sniffed it appreciatively. Nothing smelled as good as a new book, even an old classic like this one. He flipped to the title page and read "Gulliver's Travels" with a smile. It was going to be a great three days.


"That wasn't so bad, huh Malcolm?" Trip asked as they left the woman's house, about an hour after they had entered it. The woman had been nice enough and they were both still in possession of their clothes, so the engineer was ready to chalk it up as a successful encounter.

No, I suppose not," came the reply. "Now if we can just make it back to the hotel before it gets dark. . ." Malcolm started walking faster until Trip, despite his longer legs, practically had to jog to keep up with him.

"I don't know what you're so worried about. T'Pol just said things can be 'unpredictable' after dark. It's not like we're going to get murdered or anything. Will ya slow down a little, please?"

With a snort of disgust, the lieutenant slowed his pace just enough for Tucker to catch up. "I for one tend to take the sub-commander's warnings seriously. And so should you. You got us into trouble last time when you impetuously followed those two women into the cellar."

"I seem to remember you being right behind me on that one."

"I was only doing my duty as head of security. I couldn't let you walk into a potentially dangerous situation without backup."

"Ha! What a load of-"

By this time the two men had entered their hotel, which was attached to the bar they had been sitting in earlier, and were approaching their rooms.

"Good night, Commander," Reed said abruptly and entered his door, closing it behind him.

Tucker stared after him for a moment, then sighed. "Why do I bother?" he asked himself as he entered his room. He tossed the room key on the dresser and collapsed on the bed, feeling as if all the energy had suddenly been drained out of him. Maybe he had had a few too many drinks at that woman's house. What was her name again? Oh, yeah-Aliana. Alien-a, he mused sleepily. Gorgeous hair. Nice smile too. Hmmm-too bad she seemed to prefer Malcolm. Trip shifted his weight-there appeared to be something in his jacket pocket. He shoved his hand in and dragged the object out. The word "scarf" floated through his mind, but he couldn't make sense of it, and he felt remarkably little curiosity about how it might have gotten into his pocket. He let the object slip from his fingers to the floor and returned to his musings. Maybe she'll come back tomorrow. . . maybe she'll bring a friend. . . With that happy thought, Trip drifted off to sleep, not even bothering to change into his pajamas.

It seemed like only moments later that Trip was awakened by a loud banging on the door. He slowly pried his eyes open and then closed them again to block out the bright sunlight pouring in the window. Must be morning, he thought fuzzily. The banging continued insistently, louder, and accompanied now by an unfamiliar voice shouting, "Open up!!" and then "Police! Open the door!"

With an effort, Tucker worked his way to his feet. Police? What the hell? He stumbled toward the door. Just before he opened it, he heard a voice that was unmistakably Malcolm's exclaiming "I don't know what you're talking about!"

As soon as the door opened, five huge men in dark green uniforms swarmed through. Two of them grabbed and handcuffed Tucker while two more began haphazardly searching the room. The fifth blocked the doorway. "Commander Charles Tucker of the Starship Enterprise, you are under arrest for the murder of Aliana Rodrigo, wife of First Administer Giro Rodrigo," he stated calmly.

"What!!??" Tucker exploded. The two policemen tightened their grip on his arms as if afraid he might bolt at any second. "What are you-that woman- she-she's married?" he finished in confusion.

"Yes, and now she is dead," the officer replied. "And you killed her."

"No, she-she was alive-we didn't do anything . . ." Tucker's voice trailed off as the two men dragged him out into the corridor, away from his accuser. The last thing he heard was "Search the room well, men. We don't want to miss anything that could help convict these off-worlders of this heinous crime."


"I'm telling you again, she was alive when we left. We didn't kill her." Over four hours of interrogation, Malcolm's voice had become louder and more clipped, more-British-with every denial. His accusers were obviously losing patience with him.

"Then why were you seen running from the murder scene?" the investigator, Dimoc, asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"We were trying to get back to the hotel before dark. We didn't want to get mugged."

"Oh, you mean a big strong man like you is afraid of being mugged?"

Malcolm studied the man and decided that comment was intended as sarcasm, so he folded his arms and didn't respond.

"Tell me again what happened."

"I've told you. We met the woman at the bar. She invited us to her house. We had a few drinks, made small talk for about an hour, then we left."

Another man entered and whispered something in Dimoc's ear, then stood beside the door with hands behind his back. The detective smiled, crocodile-like.

"Would it surprise you to learn that your companion is telling us a different story? He just made a full confession. In fact, he told my partner here that you killed her while he watched."

Malcolm jumped up from his chair. "That's a lie! Commander Tucker wouldn't say that!" he shouted.

As quick as a cheetah the second detective grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. His massive fist connected with Malcolm's cheekbone, banging the back of his head into the concrete. Stars danced in front of his eyes.

"That's enough, Gordo," Dimoc said with a wave of his hand. To Malcolm he said, "You can still make a deal. Tell us the truth."

Malcolm looked the man right in the eye. "I have told you the truth," he replied unblinkingly.

Sneering, the detective nodded to Gordo, who was still hovering in the background. "Let's show him how we treat murderers on this planet." Gordo advanced on Reed, snarling.