Everything that belongs to Paramount will be returned to Paramount.

DAY FIVE – Alpha Shift

Archer and the bridge crew stared in shock at the shuttlepod twirling on itself, obviously dark and empty of any life forms, its charred port side and the gaping hole where its door had been slowly rotating up on the viewscreen again and again.

"Travis, get the grapple."

"Aye, aye, sir." At least Travis had something to do, all Archer could do was wait. "I've got it, sir!"

"Good man. Trip, you're with me. Hoshi, ask Phlox to join us."

Phlox entered Shuttle Bay One right on their heels. They surrounded the shuttlepod, approaching its burnt and dented side with drawn phase pistols. Not that Archer thought phase pistols were required, given the state of the shuttle, but Reed had finally ground them all down about security. Except Reed wasn't there, was he? Archer's jaw set. He stepped into the shuttlepod, visually checked the damage and walked out, calling to Phlox "Doctor, see what you can find."

Archer turned to Trip. "All the cabinets have been ripped open, there is nothing left, no safety equipment, nothing. And of course, the merchandise is gone, too."

"Do you think it was random?" Trip asked.

Archer squinted hard at the shuttlepod, as if perhaps it could tell them the story of what had taken place. But the shuttle remained silent. He shrugged "Hard to tell. It does seem quite a stroke of luck that someone would just have chanced upon a tiny shuttlepod in the immensity of space at the exact moment it was carrying its weight worth of gold in rare minerals."

Trip started walking to the shuttle, stopped, came back, started towards the shuttle again, reminding Archer of a caged animal. Phlox pocked his head out of the shuttlepod at that moment, saw Trip pacing and exchanged glances with Archer. "Perhaps if we analyze the scorch marks?" Phlox deflected.

Archer jumped at the opening. "The residue should tell us who was firing." Archer started "T'Pol -" then closed his eyes. Where was T'Pol when you needed her? "Who's replacing T'Pol?" he barked at Trip and Phlox. Of course, they had no idea. Because their CO had not thought to call for replacements. Archer strode to the nearest intercom "Archer to Bridge. Hoshi?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Find out who the next senior crewmembers are in Science and Security, have the security member come to the bridge, send the science one to Shuttle Bay One."

Archer turned back to Trip "Work with them, see what you can find out."

In short time, Trip had determined that the shuttlepod engine's had been fried by enemy fire before the pod was boarded but that the door had been blasted afterwards, but then he already knew that at least one of the occupants had not been surrendered to the vacuum of space, Phlox found traces of blood in the cabin that were too sparse to have come from an injury and must have resulted from a fight, and the science ensign left to analyze the residue in the scorch marks, Trip helping him carry the sample boxes out of the shuttle bay. Archer waited until he had left, then turned to Phlox. The doctor knew what he was going to ask before he even did. "The traces were Vulcan blood, Captain" he said. Archer was glad he had waited.

He stared at the shuttlepod. Today was the day they were supposed to meet up with Reed and T'Pol after their supply mission to Thanat III. Two days to get there, two days to come back, one day to conduct the negotiations and get the stuff. It had seemed like such a brilliant move at the time, saving Enterprise five full days of travel for what was still at heart routine supply mission. Perhaps he should have insisted harder they take a couple of MACOs with them, but Reed had pointed out that if they were attacked in space, the MACOs would do little else than add to the body count. And as far as being on the planet, he and T'Pol were armed and could defend themselves, and the MACOs presence might be counterproductive to clinching the deal, after all trading hubs in the quadrant were not exactly known as places of law and order. Archer wished that there had been MACOs aboard, perhaps they would have rendezvous-ed as planned.

Or perhaps there would just be another two crew members to lose sleep over.

xx

"Klingons, sir"

"Klingons?!" in that area of space? What would Klingons be doing so far away from their quadrant. All of a sudden, Archer thought back to the marauders. It was not inconceivable that a loose band of Klingon mercenaries, for lack of a stronger word, had found the shuttlepod an easy prey.

"Thompson -" what was the man's name already?

"Udaru, sir"

"Sorry, Ensign Udaru. What does the Vulcan database say about piracy in the quadrant?"

The young man bent on his scanner while Archer repressed a sense of annoyance. Udaru shouldn't have been waiting for him to ask. Figuring it would take longer than the few seconds T'Pol would have spent, he turned back to Reed's replacement "Any idea what weapons they used?"

The young woman nodded "yes, sir. They used a lower grade of phase canons. Not the kind of material you would typically find on a Klingon vessel. More likely purchased in an outpost, possibly illegally."

Now that was a clear and complete answer. Possibly sensing he was being shown up, Udaru looked up from his scanner. "Sir, according to the database, there are loose bands of Klingons and Orions in the sector. The Orions look for slaves, and the Klingons look for merchandise. They sell any crew members on the ships they loot to the Orions."

Peachy, Archer thought in the silence that suddenly settled on the bridge. Now all they had to find out was where the Klingons or Orions took his people.

He looked over at Trip, who was walking over to the captain's chair. "Any idea where T'Pol is?" Archer whispered. He knew that the two were bonded and he had seen on occasion T'Pol be able to tell where Trip was. But Trip shook his head. "I am not a telepath. All I can say is that she is alive."

Archer looked back at the screen, frowning. Well, that was a start.

DAY 6 – at night

The figure materialized in a shimmering of light, then darkness fell again on the forest. T'Pol crouched in tense expectation, trying to discern elements of the landscape under the feeble glow of the single moon. She could make some darker mass among the greys surrounding her. Traveling far was not an option, the lighter grey of jagged outcrops rising nearby meant she could easily step off a ledge into an abyss. She started hobbling towards the darker shades, reasoning that her white jumpsuit would be better hidden there. Fifty yards, then one hundred yards, and the darker mass became a grove of trees. She crouched behind a tree trunk, as close to the ground as she could.

A second beam of light materialized right where she had been standing a few minutes before, and coalesced into another humanoid shape. This time the figure seemed to be seeing more easily, and looked right and left, seeking something. Then a voice called, not loudly enough to reverberate very far "T'Pol?"

T'Pol breathed in relief. That was Lieutenant Reed. She got up and stepped away from the tree. She could not see him but was confident that he could see her and would walk to her. As predicted, a couple of minutes later, he was standing by her side. She could hardly see his features. "I overloaded the transporter before I beamed down," he quickly said. "They'll need a shuttle to come down to the surface. That won't be until tomorrow, because of the night."

She nodded, then thinking perhaps he could not see her do so, said "We need to find a hiding place before tomorrow morning. Can you see around you?"

Reed looked at her in surprise "Of course, the moon is out. Why, can't you?" he added, wondering.

"Vulcans have very poor night sight" she replied. "I am unable to see much right now."

Reed nodded, then realizing she could not see it, said it out loud "No worries, I'll be your copilot." Putting motion to word, he looked around him and went on "We're on what seems to be a somewhat flat grounds on the slope of what could be a mountain or a steep hill. The area where we are is only a few hundred square yards wide. We can choose to go down the slope or up the slope."

"Let's go up the slope, their expectation will be that we went down."

"Agreed." Reed nodded again. People's first reaction was to go down, away from the mountain, and that's where the Klingons would assume they went. He eyed her cautiously "Are you ok to walk?"

"I'll be fine." T'Pol replied. Reed didn't say anything. He was dubitative she would be. He knew that the dark strikes and stains on her white uniform were blood. The Klingons knew humans to be a frail species, so they had taken their anger and frustration out on her rather than him, repeatedly. Reed had heard the sounds of the beatings, amid the repeated warnings 'not her face, not her face'. They were going to sell them to the Orions and needed to keep their merchandise seemingly blemish-free.

They proceeded, he leading the way, mindful to stay within a yard or so at most, so she could see him and follow. They had walked another five hundred yards, slowly, as the brush was getting thicker ahead of them, when without a sound she literally folded behind him. Fortunately, he heard her and was at her side in an instant. "What's wrong," he asked, crouching at her side. She was trying to catch her breath, arms wrapped around herself, hands clutching at her sides. "...rib..." she hissed between two gasping breaths.

"Let me see". Calling on his first aid and all his field experience, Reed gingerly prodded along the side she presented, quickly feeling the end of the broken rib pointing beneath her skin. He knew what to do but it was going to hurt. He got in position, apologizing for the physical contact, got ready and warned her "Brace yourself" at the exact same time he yanked hard and reset the rib. A trick he had learned in Section 31. There was a sharp cry, quickly extinguished. He allowed her a few minutes to recover, then asked "Ok now?"

T'Pol nodded. "I should be ok" she said and got back up again.

They forged ahead, more slowly as the ground progressively got uneven. Reed had to be careful where he stepped, mindful that the Vulcan behind him would follow in his footsteps, and careful to find the most secure footholds. He stopped when the ground dipped suddenly, or they would have stepped into a brook gently flowing downhill. "We'll follow it upstream," whispered Reed. He wasn't sure why he whispered, there was nobody else around but various animals hooting and screeching their way through the night. "The safest would be to actually walk in the water," he added in a normal voice that sounded way too loud in the silent environment "so that their animals can't smell us".

T'Pol looked at him sharply, or where she thought his face was, but they really didn't have much choice. "Agreed" was all she said.

The water was cold, very cold, and the footing was treacherous. They each fell to one knee or the other at least a dozen times, until they finally came to a wall of stone from under which the water bubbled. Reed looked up at the huge mass of the boulder in front of him, he couldn't even tell where the top was. By his estimate, they had walked long enough that they were well beyond the point where any kind of hound would pick up their scent, canine or otherwise. He worked his way up the embankment, then turned and helped T'Pol do the same.

Reed considered. They were half-wet, which in the case of one Vulcan female was not good at all as the water was cold and the air getting colder, she was hurt in spite of her declaration otherwise, Reed could tell by the way she moved, devoid of her usual grace, they were both exhausted and famished, and they had just escaped from a bunch of rabid Klingon pirates. They needed shelter, and fast, before dawn came.

T'Pol must have been thinking along the same lines, for she seemed to answer his thoughts, saying "There may be natural shelters if we keep going up." Reed nodded, praying she was right. He looked up, trying in the glow of the moonlight to find the best path to negotiate the rising slope, and stepped forward.

In the end, what they found was not much of a shelter, but it would suffice, as T'Pol had said. It was a natural lean-to created when one giant boulder fell on top of another, a thin and narrow triangular wedge open on both sides but so narrow that it would take much luck, or lack of luck, for anyone to see them, too narrow for them to do much else but sit and wait. But sitting idly was a great deal better than anything they had done lately. And when Reed realized T'Pol was starting to shake from the cold, he wordlessly got up, and went to sit behind her, apologizing for the contact while claiming the logic of it, and then she was sitting between his legs and he had his arms around her, and the ensuing warmth lulled him to sleep with his head against the rocky wall while her head rested against his chest.

Fortunately, the black-hulled shuttle that flew over the forest when the sun rose was never angled so as to glimpse in between the rocks. Instead, the Klingons that stepped onto the downhill flats with their targs followed the tracks left by the two escapees until they reached the brook and, kicking the whimpering hounds who were confusedly running in place where the tracks disappeared at the edge of the stream, took broad strides downstream, calling the targs after them, contentedly certain they would soon find the fugitives.

And when the warming sun woke Reed and he saw the black triangle of the shuttle downhill, he hurriedly woke T'Pol up and they snuck out of the nook and worked their way to the other side of the hill, hidden from sight by the vegetation that grew all the way to the boulder line, until they reached a spot where they could see and not be seen, and they waited for their enemy's next move.

And when the Klingons walked back up several hours later, angry and cursing, lashing at their targs and firing haphazardly at anything that moved, Reed was there to watch them stomp in place and disgustedly check their useless scanners until one, then all of them, gave a guttural scream that shook the leaves of the forest, before they got back on the shuttle and left.

And they realized they were alone on an alien planet, with just the clothes on their backs and no way to alert the Enterprise.

Reed was starting to hate away missions.

TBC

This started as a small short story but I got such great thoughts from readers on the last story about different plot options that I decided to keep it somewhat loose and see if it evolves along different paths.