Chapter One

One Year Ago.

Trip sat alone in his quarters on his bunk thinking. It had been one week since he had been released from sick bay, but he still felt sick. Most of his burns and scars were healing, but he was still having headaches and ringing in his ears. His vision was blurred and his back was simply put, killing him. Dr. Phlox had said that the broken back would take longest to heal, and that he may still experience pain and discomfort in it that may never completely go away. But, Trip had no recollection of how his back had come to be broken, nor the circumstances surrounding his rescue. Some of his memories were intact, and they were deeply disturbing. Others, however, he had totally repressed.

Jon and Malcolm had been beside themselves with worry and guilt while Trip was missing. He had been gone for over five weeks, abducted by a species unknown to anyone so far. The Lisyrians were a violent, angry, brutal race of sadistic aliens that were about eight feet tall, with lion-like heads and faces. They were very strong and mean, so much so they made the Klingons seem like boy scouts. They killed for sport and occasionally ate the flesh of other species.

What had saved Trip from certain execution was his knowledge of engines, repair skills and creativity in solving problems. He also amused them as they had never seen anyone like him. So, they had enslaved him, put a collar around his neck and placed him in a cage. He was beaten and tortured to keep him in line. When he was finally rescued, he was near death, wanted to die. He even thought about committing suicide more than once over the last three weeks since he had been back on Enterprise, but he kept coming up with reasons not to do it.

The question was now, whether to stay or go. Trip had told Captain Archer that he was no longer fit to serve on a star ship, or perhaps even to work at all. All he wanted to do now was to go home. He couldn't handle the fear, the pain, and the images in his mind of his torture as well as others. The smell of death haunted him.

He had been taken on an away mission on a small planet near Coridian called Sorazons. Enterprise had visited the planet and delivered supplies and medicine to their government. Trip was there helping to make repairs to their generator that powered their main city. The Lisyrians had raided the city, destroyed the power plant and took the workers for slaves and food. Trip was taken along with them.

Enterprise had searched and pursued the Lisyrians, following every possible lead for several weeks. By the time Enterprise found them, it was not a minute too soon. It took Enterprise, the Andorian ship Kumari, along with two battle cruisers from Krios Prime to defeat the massive Lisyrian ship that had been terrorizing that area of space for several months. Four hundred, twenty three slaves of various species had been rescued. Trip was one of them.

Now he was back on Enterprise and while he was healing from his physical injuries, he was mentally, a mess. Captain Archer had told Trip to take a few days to think about whether he really wanted to end his career. Trip had told him he would do so, but he really couldn't see staying. He was too much of a wreck. He lay there on his bunk and slowly drifted off to sleep.

He was on that god-forsaken Lisyrian ship. He was serving the beasts their dinner. It was some live, some half-dead tiny dog looking creatures. Trip had to work very hard to keep from crying and throwing up. He had shackles on his ankles and wrists and a collar around his neck. He wore little more than a loin-cloth adding to his humiliation. He already had a series of fresh and healing bruises on his back where he had been whipped every three or four days. His feet hurt from being forced to walk across hot coals as entertainment for the Lysirians. They found him to be an amusing little creature.

At first they didn't know whether to kill him and eat him or to make him a slave. He was so puny and little. Most of their slaves were large robust species; some of their own people who had fallen from grace or who had committed crimes, some Orions, Nausicans, even Klingons, along with the Sorazonians. There were also species Trip had never seen before.

He poured their foul drink into large cups as they swallowed the swill that looked and smelled like sewer water. He winced and gagged as they devoured their meals. One of them heard him wince.

"Hey, slave!" he shouted and reached and grabbed Trip by the throat. As uncivilized as they were, they had a universal translator since there were so many species on the monstrosity they called a ship. It was more like a floating city with over 1,000 people on it. "You wouldn't be disgusted by our dinner would you?" he snarled. Trip tried to shake his head no. The creature threw him across the room. "For that you get 20!" he shouted, then beckoned for the guard to come over with a whip.

"No, no, please!" Trip cried out. "I'm sorry… it won't h-happen again!" But the guard grabbed him and threw him over a bench and chained him down. He drew back his whip and begin to beat Trip as he cried out with each blow. The whip accidently hit him on the side of the face and cut a long scar which started to bleed. The head Lisyrian jumped to his feet.

"I told you never to touch his face! Never to mess up his pretty face! Now look what you've done!" he screamed, "You've ruined it!" With that he leapt upon the guard and started beating him. Several others jumped in, beating him and ripping the guard apart. Trip watched in horror. He lay there bleeding and crying, wishing he was dead.

Suddenly, three Lisyrian women came in and picked him up. They took him to the infirmary and began to clean and dress his wounds.

"Make sure that scar on his face is properly treated and that it heals completely," one of the lionesses said.

"What about the eyes?" another one asked. "What's wrong with his eyes?"

"Master Klegg has already assured us that if anything happened to his eyes or his face, we would surely be put to death."

"I think he is hurting and perhaps sad," the third lioness said. "I have noticed before that his eyes leak whenever he is disciplined or sometimes when he is alone in his cage."

"There, there, Beautiful One," she said using the name he had been given as she brushed his hair back. "It is alright. I am Vendria, a physician. My assistants are Kaatia and Malvek. We will take care of you for a time. We will tell the Master that it will take 3 to 4 days for you to be better and back to your duties."

"Yes, dearest," the Kaatia said. "We will dress your wounds, keep you clean and warm, and feed you good food, at least for a few days."

"L-let me d-die…" Trip all but mumbled. "Please, have mercy, I-I can't do this anymore… I just want t-to die."

"No, no, no," Vendria said. "If you die, we will all die. We must treat you, and treat you we will; you must live Beautiful One."

"Oh dear," Kaatia said, "he is leaking again."

Trip jumped up from his bunk so fast he fell out of the bed onto the floor. He was panting, almost hyperventilating. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it would burst from his chest. Then he realized, he wasn't dreaming. He was there! He was actually back there on the ship where he had lost everything. He pulled himself up from the floor, still in his Starfleet blue underwear. He stumbled into the hallway. He had to get away, where he was going he didn't know, he just knew he had to get out before his heart exploded or he lost what was left of his mind.

He stumbled down the corridor watching as it got longer and longer. He saw faces and heard voices but nothing was coherent to him. He covered his ears to block out the noise, that is, everything but his own screams. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. He felt hands touching him as he keeled over, then fell to the floor. The darkness consumed him.

Two Hours Later

"How is he?" Captain Archer asked Dr. Phlox, looking down at the sleeping engineer. T'Pol followed closely behind Archer.

"Resting comfortably," Phlox replied, "thanks to my hypo spray."

"Is there nothing more you can do for him doctor?" T'Pol asked.

"I am doing all I can, but he is in pretty bad shape."

"But, he is going to get better?" Archer asked. "I mean, he hasn't been able to talk about what happened to him on that alien ship, but from what some of the others told us, and from what we were able to piece together…" Archer shuddered at his own thoughts and words. T'Pol shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She had actually interviewed some of the victims on the Lisyrian ship. She had been appalled by the carnage.

"Yes Captain. Mr. Tucker was treated horrendously, enslaved, beaten, tortured, made sport of, humiliated, Phlox said."

"How could anyone be okay after that?"Archer spat.

Suddenly Trip began to stir. Both Phlox and Archer moved toward the bio bed. He jumped and looked around as if frightened.

"No! No!" he shouted, cowering from the two men standing over him. "I didn't mean anything by it! Please don't punish me!" Archer and Phlox grabbed his arms as he tried to fight them off.

"Doctor," T'Pol said as she handed him a hypo spray and moved to the side of the bed where Phlox stood.

"Trip! Trip!" It's me, Jon! You're safe, you're on Enterprise!"

"Calm down now Commander. I don't want to have to sedate you again," Phlox said.

"Commander," T'Pol said, grabbing hold of Trip's arm as Phlox adjusted the hypo spray. "It is alright Commander. We are your friends, we will not hurt you," she said in a soothing voice. After a few more moments Trip stopped struggling. He looked at Jon and T'Pol and let out a long sigh. They let go of him and he fell back on the bed.

"I could have sworn… I was back… back… on that that alien ship…" he choked out. "I could see it… s-see them. Smell the filth, the blood… death… death all around! No, no, no no, don't punish me again! Stop, please stop! I won't disappoint you again, I swear it!" Trip cried out, then let out a sob. Phlox depressed a hypo spray against his neck, and Trip quickly drifted off to sleep again. Phlox then turned to look at Archer. The Captain just looked at the floor.

"Take care of him," is all he said, then turned and left sick bay.

"Captain wait," T'Pol called after him. Archer stopped and turned to face her. "You wish to help the Commander?"

"Of course I do."

"Then there may be a way. On Vulcan there is a procedure called the Falara. It is a process whereby one's mind is purged of negative thoughts, memories and emotions associated with an event." Archer considered this for a moment.

"How do you know something like that would work on Trip, being a human?"

"I don't. But Captain, Commander Tucker is in great turmoil and emotional distress. He cannot function, and while I would find it unfortunate to see him have to leave the ship, I doubt that he is fit for duty."

"For a minute there T'Pol I thought you actually cared," Archer snapped.

"I do care Captain. Commander Tucker is an excellent engineer and officer. He is also… a friend. I would hate to see his career jeopardized or end because of his current state. However, it would be even more distressing to see him loose more of himself, his brilliant mind, if we, his colleagues, and his friends do not face reality and allow him to continue serving in a sometimes stressful and dangerous environment. He needs our help and our protection. Being in denial about his condition would not afford him that." Archer looked away for a moment.

"You're right T'Pol, sorry…"

"No need to apologize Captain, my feelings were not hurt." Archer smiled a bit.

"Can you get me some more information on this purging process?"

"Yes Captain," she nodded and walked away. Archer watched her go, then looked back at sick bay. He blew out a long sigh, as he walked away. Sometimes he really didn't like being out in space.