§ 2 §

It was Soval who found his tongue first and broke the stunned silence.

"Commander, Lieutenant," he said, quickly recovering his Vulcan control. "May I ask what you are doing here and why you are interrupting a private meeting in such a… forceful way?"

He might have looked unperturbed but his voice had the slightly higher pitch of annoyance, if not trepidation. Trip shared a meaningful glance with Malcolm, who had lowered his pistol and seemed eager to bolt out of the door again. Trip didn't want to waste any time either, but was intrigued by Soval's presence on Vegor 2.

"I might ask you the same thing, Ambassador," Trip replied coolly. "At least as far as the first part goes."

Trip wondered briefly how much he should tell the man. He had never totally trusted Vulcans, and this one in particular, who had more than once seemed openly eager to see Enterprise grounded.

The person with Soval had taken a few of steps back into a darker corner of the room and turned away from them, his body language conveying the firm intention to keep out of the conversation, in fact to remain as much in the background as possible. He was a tall humanoid, and from the little Trip could see, had rather indistinct features but the bearing of a person of importance. Trip did not recognise his species.

Suddenly Malcolm spoke.

"We ought to go, Commander," he murmured in a low voice that said more than the words let through. Trip shot him a questioning glance and read a request for caution in the Security Officer's eyes.

"You owe me an explanation," Soval said firmly. "I insist to know why you have broken in here in such a fashion."

"You aren't by any chance sayin' you're curious…" Trip retorted with a challenging grin. "Sorry," he added a moment later, quickly reshaping his features to seriousness. "We made a mistake." He was about to leave when a sudden thought stopped him in his tracks. "But maybe you oughtta tell me where I can find you – in case I wanted to. Our scanners must be malfunctionin', because they didn't pick up any signs of Vulcan ships in orbit…"

Soval looked as uncomfortable as a Vulcan might allow himself to be. "I'll contact Enterprise myself, if needs be," he said.

Trip bit his lip, not liking the reply. A little voice told him he should make sure he knew where to find the Ambassador. "What if I need to get to you?" he asked, knowing the question was a bit more revealing than he would have liked.

Soval narrowed his eyes. "Then I suggest you leave me one of your communicators," he said in his flat voice.

Trip clenched his jaw, weighing his options. He could see Soval would not give him any alternative, and he had no time to argue with him. He turned to Malcolm, hand outstretched; Reed met his eyes and smirked unhappily, but unzipped his arm pocket and handed him the device.

"Thank you, Commander," Soval said, receiving the object from Trip. He blinked once. "A logical decision," he added.

Trip felt Malcolm's hand on his arm. "Commander, we really must go now," Reed repeated with restrained urgency. A moment later they were racing to their shuttlepod.


"I asked the traffic controllers, and the vessel on which T'Pol and the Captain left is Felesian," Hoshi informed Trip as Travis readied the shuttlepod for lift-off.

"Who the hell are they? Ever heard of them?" Trip asked, plopping down in the co-pilot seat.

Hoshi's brow knit imperceptibly. "I think I came across the name once," she replied. "It might be in the Vulcan database. I'll check first thing when we're back."

Trip reached for the comm. link. "Tucker to Enterprise."

"Go ahead, Sir," Hoshi's replacement replied.

"We are returning to the ship, will be dockin' in…" He glanced at Travis, who mouthed 'fifteen'. "…Approximately fifteen minutes."

"Understood."

"Is Müller on the bridge?" Malcolm asked, before the link was cut off.

"Sir?" Müller's bass voice replied.

"As of this moment nobody is to try and hail me through my communicator."

There was a puzzled pause which lasted but a second.

"Aye, Sir."

"Are you keeping an eye on that vessel?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. It left the planet's atmosphere a few minutes ago."

"Don't let it out of sight. Reed out."

The shuttlepod lifted and Malcolm, who had been standing, almost lost his balance. He stumbled to a bench and dropped to sit on it mumbling a soft curse. Trip turned to the sound and took a moment to study his friend, knowing all too well what must be going on inside him. Not that it was difficult to guess - his own guts were in knots. But taking in Malcolm's rigid posture and taut face – gaze glued to the floor – Trip mulled there was really no mistaking his friend's feelings.

Reed no doubt felt the weight of responsibility and quite badly, and Trip winced at the thought that this time it couldn't be argued that he had indeed reason to. Trip wanted to know what had happened on the planet, why the generally self-assured Security Officer had wavered; but this was neither the place nor the moment for questions. And although the memory of Reed's fateful hesitancy stirred feelings of irritation deep inside him, Trip made an effort to stifle them. He knew it would be a mistake to let them have the better of him. A confrontation with Malcolm was not going to help them in the rescue mission that lay ahead. This was no time to place blame and pull apart, but rather to work together.

As if aware of Trip's close scrutiny, Malcolm roused himself from his thoughts and raised his eyes. They were stormy, just as Trip had expected. Malcolm opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, and Trip shook his head lightly, sending him a silent message. Explanations could wait. He watched to make sure Reed had received it then turned to Travis.

"How much longer till we dock?" It was a stupid question, Mayweather had told him five minutes ago that the flight back would take fifteen minutes; but Travis, bless him, didn't underline it and just answered, "Ten minutes, Commander."

"The person with Soval…"

Trip turned again to Malcolm's veiled voice. The Lieutenant had a concentrated expression on his face.

"I wasn't able to get a good enough look – only got a glimpse of him when I burst in, before he withdrew into that dark corner – but something about him struck me as strange," Malcolm continued. He averted his gaze briefly, before shooting a questioning look at Trip. "Have you noticed anything?"

Trip frowned. "Not really, but his behaviour was sure suspicious… Is that why you cautioned me against tellin' Soval more?"

"Yes. Something was not right in that room." Malcolm pursed his lips and tilted his head, then wondered in a throaty voice, "Why is a person of Soval's importance on Vegor 2, and why was the person he was meeting with trying to hide his identity?" He smirked. "And how did Soval get to Vegor in the first place, if there are no Vulcan ships in orbit? Besides, if he didn't get here on a Vulcan ship, why is that?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't trust telling him anything before we get a clearer picture of what is going on."

Trip heaved a tense breath. "As soon as we are on board Enterprise we'll go after that vessel and try hailin' them. Hoshi, I count on you bein' able to communicate with these Fel… Fel…"

"Felesians," Hoshi filled in. "I'll get into the Vulcan database right away, Sir. But even if their language is not in there, I'll do my best."

"Four minutes to docking," Travis announced.


Archer grimaced as he groggily floated towards consciousness, letting out a low groan: there was a bitter taste in his mouth and his head hurt, a vein in his temple throbbing painfully with every heartbeat. He knew, unfortunately, that these were not the after-effects of a drink too many. The memory of the alien injecting him with that painful substance was still lingering in his mind, no matter how befuddled this felt at the moment. Well, he might not have clear thoughts, but he still had his life, for which he had seriously feared in the brief moments before losing consciousness.

He made to raise a hand to massage his forehead, and found that he could not. Tied. He cracked his eyes open. Pitch dark. "T'Pol?" he croaked out. Silence. Another groan, this one containing also a good deal of aggravation, escaped his lips.

Slumped on a cold metal floor of some kind, all he could hear was his own breathing, ragged and loud. Actually… He held his breath. A low-pitched background noise was also there… the buzz of engines. They -- he must be on a ship. Yes, he could feel the familiar vibrations.

With a determined effort Archer forced himself to a sitting position, squeezing his eyes tight as fireworks erupted in his skull. Immediately he felt his body weaken, and he doubled over, the pain, the darkness and the sudden nausea rising in his throat teaming up to make him lose his balance. Once again, he fell to the floor, on his side. The metal flooring was cold against his temple, a blessing for his aching head, so he just lay there, spent.

Things had happened so damn fast. Don't they always, when they take a turn for the worse? he mulled grimly.

T'Pol had looked so at ease on that planet. Archer made a conscious effort to relax his tense muscles, and let the memories wash over him.

They had watched Travis and Hoshi disappear through the crowd towards a section of the compound lined with food stalls, engaged in cheerful conversation. Archer had suddenly envied their easy and companionable friendship, and asked T'Pol, out of the blue, if she minded him keeping her company. She had arched a graceful eyebrow, in that characteristic way of hers which he had grown so fond of, and told him that she had no particular objective in mind and he may escort her if he so desired. Archer had smiled at the unerring formal wording of her reply, and she had raised also her second eyebrow, latching her hands behind her back.

They had roamed the ground floor, Archer enjoying watching her closely. He had tried to do so unobtrusively, but he had definitely been less interested in the stalls and merchandise themselves than in T'Pol's almost imperceptible reactions to them. It had become a game for him to try and figure out the feelings that ran behind her deep, dark eyes and porcelain features. For he knew they were there, not so buried as she made them out to be, not so carefully kept in check as she may want them. It hadn't taken him so very long to find out, either. He could still remember one of the first times he had recognised that in T'Pol. They had been visiting that Akaali village, looking for the source of the energy readings they had detected from orbit, and he had told his Science Officer that he'd remain behind to question Riann, the Apothecary. The woman had offered him a cup of tea, and as T'Pol was leaving to return to Enterprise she had murmured to him 'enjoy your tea'. The ribbing, the subtle humour had been clear; and also a touch of jealousy, which had thoroughly pleased Archer's ego.

In the compound on Vegor 2, T'Pol had casually led them to a line of stalls where cuts of cloth were sold. Some were made of material the like of which Archer had never seen. Thin and light, vivid colours blended into each other to form random patterns of fascinating beauty. He had reached out to touch one bolt, intrigued by its alien texture, and had been surprised to see T'Pol hesitantly do the same, obviously giving in to another one of those oh-so-human emotions - curiosity. Archer remembered thinking that women, no matter of what species, all seemed to be attracted by fabrics and articles of clothing. He had cracked a joke, saying a dress made of such thin material was not going to leave much to the imagination, and T'Pol had given him one of her trademark replies, saying 'she failed to see the logic in looking at someone and trying to imagine what was under their garments'. They had walked away with Archer laughing softly and explaining to her that it was definitely not because of any logic that people did that.

A moment later a gun had been pointed at T'Pol's temple, and a stout man had held her with her back against him, pressing his left arm against her neck. Archer had been petrified as the alien shouted excitedly in his unintelligible sibilant jargon. T'Pol's face had been impassive, but her wide eyes had been darker that usual.

Damn, Archer silently cursed as worry for his SIC made his heart clench. He shifted a little so as to move his throbbing temple to a cooler piece of flooring. What the hell did that man want with them? He had dragged T'Pol away, and Archer had followed him, not sure the attacker wanted him to, but both afraid to make the wrong move and unwilling to see his Science Officer disappear in the clutches of a terrorist. And then, after they had left the crowded central plaza, two other aliens had joined them. A hypospray had been emptied into his bloodstream, pain instantly shooting through his head, and all had turned dark.

Archer cracked his eyes open, staring off at nothing.

And now he was here.

TBC