Renaisterre
By Lieuten Keen
Chapter 14
Village Arena
Day Five: Mid-morning
The whipping tail knocked Tucker backward over the railing. He landed hard on his backside and the wind was knocked out of him. He was inclined to lay there for a bit while tiny birds fluttered in circles around his head, but screams began to pierce through the raging headache to his consciousness. Rolling to his feet, he ignored the dull ache in his forearm and started running, trying to make his way back to the main portal. He had to get back inside and help his friends.
Instead he ran straight into the challenging stance of the large creature Andie had dubbed Androcles. The male animal opened his slavering jaws and roared. Trip didn't skip a beat; he just slid to a halt and changed direction, running away from the entrance to the arena. Arrows zinged through the air with a sharp hiss, but none made contact. They didn't seem to be meant for him. People were screaming around him and pushing him thither and yon.
Every time Trip paused to look back over his shoulder to judge the possibility of heading back he saw the great carnivorous beast pursuing and he urged his tired legs to run faster. His course took him through the village and up the slope. Those few people that were still outside took one look at him and scrambled to close doors and secure window openings. Tucker rightly guessed that Androcles was following him.
A stitch attacked his sides and he gasped for breath. His head was pounding and he had a feeing that shallow gash on his chest had broken open to seep down his already dirty uniform. He could hear a roar behind him, coupled with evenly spaced thunder. He risked a glance backward; the thunder belonged to lightly hoofed creatures that were not dissimilar to horses. Their riders were bearing down on him and drawing blades and putting arrow to string. They were going to catch him at any moment and he just didn't have the strength to put forth any more speed. In fact, he was about to lose the momentum he already had.
From the periphery charged Androcles, moving faster than the horses could run. One giant leap took him right over the top of one steed, toppling the rider closest to Tucker to the ground. The horse screamed and fled in the opposite direction. Rather than face down the angry animal, the humanoid also scrambled to his feet and fled. It was the same with the second cavalryman. One swipe at the hindquarters caused the rider to cling for dear life to the suddenly retreating steed even though the claws had merely scratched his flank.
The third rider rose up on his stirrups, taking careful aim with a bow. From this distance he would fire his missile before Androcles could turn. Trip stopped running and picked up a pretty hefty rock. He figured he owed the carnivore this much for covering his escape. The rock sailed through the air and knocked the rider sideways. His boot caught in a loop on the saddle and the lathered horse was unfettered to turn and flee, dragging his rider along the ground.
As Trip stood in place with his chest burning with the effort of trying to fill his lungs with air and his legs as wobbly as gelatin, he waited for the end. He waited for Androcles to turn and take his animalistic rage out on the closest human. Salty sweat dripped into his eyes and his vision blurred. One sleeve wiped at the sopping mess and when he regained his sight, he saw the beast prowling several meters away. Obviously Androcles didn't want to come any closer to the human than the human wanted him to do.
Trip took a cautious step forward in the direction of the village and his friends. Androcles growled and lowered himself into an attack crouch. The engineer immediately stopped his progress. In a moment when Androcles did not advance, Trip took another step, this time in the direction of the forest and the steep hills that would take him back to Starfleet Hollow.
Androcles sat back, swishing his thick tail, but not growling. Tucker took another step toward the tree line and Androcles put one paw forward, waiting until Tucker took a third step before putting his weight on it.
"So you're gonna walk me home?" Trip panted, feeling the head rush of the fading adrenaline. He didn't want to turn his back on the wild animal, but he had no choice. The terrain was dangerous and unfamiliar and he had to watch his step. As he faced the trees and began his march he prepared to feel those sharp claws sink into his unprotected shoulders. He waited for those dripping teeth to chomp through the sinew and bone. He waited for the fetid breath full of dead things to overcome his nostrils indicating that the creature was too close, but nothing came. When he turned back around, the large animal was nowhere to be seen.
Invisible attackers only made him more nervous. Unconvinced that there was nothing he could do, he took one, two, three steps back toward the village but stopped when a roar could be heard inside the tree line, but not far away. He retraced his steps back to the forest and there was no more noise.
"I guess I'm goin' home," he sighed. It wasn't such a bad idea; he was injured and he would need backup to break into that fortress and rescue his crewmates. He'd been far from home for nearly two days and he remembered the rough terrain very well, having traversed it in both early morning daylight and late night shadows. His stomach growled and he consoled himself that there would be emergency ration packs back at camp.
On second thought, maybe it wouldn't be so good to get home; the thought made him snort.
From this vantage position it took him more than an hour to get back to the place where the rogue's had built their campsite and every step made him wince in pain. Halfway there he heard an faint explosion and the ground trembled a little. Trip would have turned back to see what misery had occurred, but a faint growl from a nearby thicket put end to that plan. Worry creased his forehead, and he soldiered on. Cradling his arm made his path harder to follow, but extending it made his eyes water. He consoled his heavy heart with the thought that one little laser coupled with a syringe of bone paste would set him up right as rain.
A rustling leaf to his left made him halt. Immediately he ducked his head and tried to blend in with the thin vegetation here. He knew good and well that not everything in the forest could be trusted, and he didn't have any kind of weapon. For once he hoped like hell that Androcles was not too far away.
There was another rustle. A dry stick snapped, probably under a considerable weight. Trip crouched down and wrapped his hand around a branch he found on the ground. It wasn't much bigger than a switch, but it would have to do. The rustles were closer now. Springing unbidden to mind was the thought that maybe Androcles had young'uns to feed and that's why a strange and primitive animal had driven him away from the others; feeding off the weakened member of the herd, so to speak. Trip swallowed, although the act made his dry throat hurt. He readjusted his grip on the switch, guessed which direction the threat came in and jumped out of the bushes, hoping to scare the other person into forgetting to attack.
For the second time in as many days, Trip came face to face with the muzzle of a gun; this time a phase rifle held with murderous intent by Sergeant Mackenzie. She looked as surprised to see Tucker as he was to see her. From behind him there came the sound of a cracking twig. The engineer whirled around to find there had been a second gunman slipping up behind, and he'd never even heard Corporal Woods until it was too late.
All three sighed with relief when the shock wore off. Although Trip's relief waited until both the phase rifles were lowered.
"We've been looking for you, sir," Mackenzie started reproachfully. "You've been missing."
"Where's the captain?" Woods inquired eagerly. "And the doctor?"
"And the lieutenant," Mac added, looking sternly at Woods until he fell silent.
"Long story," Trip sighed, bracing his arm against his side as his drive disappeared now that he was being rescued and the mild fracture in his forearm started to ache again. "There's only two of you? We need to get back to camp. T'Pol will need to send reinforcements."
"In a minute," Mac told him, noting his cradled arm. She knelt down and pulled out her medical kit and Trip nearly groaned with joy at the simple pleasure of technology when she used a medical scanner to determine his injuries. He thrilled in the bliss of a hypo-spray filled with painkillers. Then he indulged the sweet happiness of a canteen full of fresh water, even if the water had been chemically treated in order to be drinkable and still tasted vaguely dirty.
"She only sent two of us because the rest are guarding camp," Woods informed him. "There are man-eating beasts out here."
"Don't I know it," Trip grumbled.
Once Tucker's arm was restrained in a simple brace, the trio rose to their feet. Trip felt well enough to be the first one to turn back toward the village. "We gotta get our people outta there."
"You're not going anywhere, Commander," Mac put up her hand to forestall any future arguments. "The only place you're going is back to the Hollow to report to Commander T'Pol. You're the only person who really knows what's happening and you should be the one to give the report. Woods, you retrace the commander's trail. Keep an eye on that village and keep track of our crew. Remain invisible. Do not interact with anyone without orders from above."
"Yeah I got it, boss," Woods waved away her warnings. "Look but don't touch. It'll be tough to communicate with the Hollow with our communication channels down."
"I got an idea about that," Trip sighed. "Let's get started." Although he thought he was feeling better, he nearly fell to the ground with the effort of trying to stand. Not only was he exhausted and hungry, he was also injured. The painkillers helped, but his headache still pounded away like the percussion section in a marching band.
Mac grabbed his good arm and pulled him to his feet where he swayed slightly. "Can you do this, sir? I can bring back a medical team."
"I'm fine," Trip announced. "Let's go." Leaving felt wrong, but he was in no condition to stay. He just hoped that Archer's penchant for getting out of trouble was still intact.
The pair started off into the woods, leaving the corporal behind to get comfortable. Trip hoped that Androcles would appreciate that the young man was not his enemy and leave him alone; but at the same time he realized he'd lost track of the carnivorous beast. The ktirya could be anywhere. It was going to be a long and worrisome journey back to civilization
Starfleet Hollow
Day Five: Late Afternoon
T'Pol regretted ever stepping outside of her domicile when she heard yet another commotion in camp, this one coming from the Medical Tent. For just one moment she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, willing herself to release the frustration and to absorb all the calm she could muster before heading over to see what was the trouble. It was not the first argument she'd interrupted today and she was certain it would not be the last.
Crewman Cutler and Ensign Black were arguing and their voices were carrying loudly enough to be heard through the thin walls.
"You were nowhere to be found so I took the initiative!" Liz's voice could be heard.
"I was in the head!" Ian's voice countered. "And it doesn't matter! You're just a crewman! You're not qualified to dispense medication!"
"I am also a scientist and I can follow the directions left by the doctor!"
"The doctor isn't here and I'm in charge!"
"Actually I am the senior officer in charge," T'Pol broke in, stepping out of the weak light into the dimness of the tent. Both arguers turned to look at her with surprise. "Will one of you tell me in a quiet voice what is the problem?"
"I just...!"
"She's totally...!"
"I said quietly!" T'Pol's voice rose a bit on that last word and both med-techs stopped and looked at her in surprise. It hadn't quite managed to be a shout, but for the Vulcan it was an extreme reaction. The commander struggled to regain that calm she had gained before entering. "The quartermaster has a pair of shovels to spare and there is a section of ground that needs a hole. Perhaps one of you would be willing to begin again."
Liz and Ian glanced at one another with trepidation before Ensign Black took the initiative. Beginning with a stern look at his coworker, he stated, "I caught Cutler preparing to administer medication to a patient when she has no authority to do so. She's just a Crewman."
Cutler fumed but kept a civil tone. "Ensign Black was late in administering the medication prescribed for the patient by Dr. Andie. I can follow directions to fill a hypo-spray!"
Full lips pressed together with displeasure. "So you decided to argue about your individual ranks rather than tend the patient in your care?" T'Pol's eyebrow arched, leaving the ends to point accusingly at the quarreling pair.
"Um..." Black shuffled his feet. Cutler remained silent.
"Treat the crewman," T'Pol directed. "Then you will each find a shovel. I will oversee operations in the Medical Tent until you have finished digging." There was a sudden tickle at the back of her neck as though a strand of hair had fallen out of place. With her short bob, that was unlikely so she did her best to ignore it.
The med-techs snuck another worried glance. Ian still had blisters from the last hole-digging session he'd engaged in, and Cutler was not eager to join Club Mud, as the others had come to jokingly refer to it.
Their punishment came to a halt with the sudden and delirious barking of the captain's beagle. The prickling on T'Pol's neck grew more pronounced and she restrained the urge to run a hand over the area to search for that stray hair. Ensign Sato poked her head into the tent and looked at the first officer as Porthos continued to leap and tug on the end of his leash. "Sergeant Chang says someone's coming," she told T'Pol simply. The previous outburst of the Vulcan was still fresh in her mind and she was concerned that there would be another flare-up of temper from their leader.
"Indeed," T'Pol responded evenly. She turned to stare piercingly at Black until he jerked his attention back to the medical pad handed to him by Cutler and began preparations for the hypo-spray. Only then did she duck under the flap and stand in the substandard air of the alien world. The sounds of discreet coughing caught her ears. The crew's health was suffering; they needed their doctor back. Andie must be located and retrieved.
Chang was standing on top of a pod, with his phase pistol lowered as he spoke into his communicator. He glanced down at the Vulcan before holstering his weapon and leaping agilely to the ground. "Mackenzie's on her way, ma'am," he told the Vulcan when he was close enough to lower his voice and exercise futile hope that his words wouldn't carry in the suddenly silent grouping. "She's got the commander. Woods stayed behind to observe."
T'Pol's world sudden swirled around her. A heavy weight lifted from her shoulders and she felt that she could breathe much easier. He was coming home. The slight irritation on the back of her neck flattened out and disappeared.
"Commander?" Chang repeated, looking at her with concern. She hadn't been aware that she'd made a sound until he repeated her name.
"Is he injured?" she inquired, hoping she sounded distant. "Will he require medical attention?"
"Mac says that he's got..."
Chang's voice trailed away, although she continued to be aware of his words. They sounded like they were coming from so far away. Unconsciously she smoothed the soiled uniform she wore over her hips, although it was too snug to really wrinkle. She stepped to the sergeant's side as he moved to intercept the incoming pair. Moving outside the confining circle of pods and tents allowed her to breathe easier still, as though the circle of housing had also cinched off the air to her lungs. It seemed to take them forever to arrive, but when they did it was worth the wait.
Commander Tucker was like a dream, looking just as disheveled as when she'd seen him in her white space, but his eyes were open, exposing the blue of a summer sky and his grin was just as warm as sunshine. T'Pol could feel goose flesh puckering her skin, but she fought against her urge to run to him and throw her arms around him and taste the salty skin of his neck. His good arm was slung around the MACO's shoulder while the other was wrapped in a sling. He noticed the crowd waiting for him and stood a little straighter as they passed through the final group of trees and entered the clearing.
She had to say something to him. They were all waiting for her to say something. It had to convey the responsibility of her station and hide every physical urge her body was demanding from her.
"You're late, Commander," she spoke at last. "You missed your required check in."
"Sorry 'bout that," he panted, looking at her with dazed surprise. "Couldn't be helped."
"Take him to the Medical Tent," she added, falling in step behind them. Chang went back to his duties and the trio headed for the exam pod.
As though their argument had never happened, Ensign Black performed a scan of his condition and Cutler quietly brought the supplies he requested. Tucker's wounds were bandaged and a plate of food was fetched from the Chef. Trip told everything he knew to the first officer in between bites and then he accepted another hypo from Black, who gained a permissive nod from the Vulcan before administering the sedative. Tucker's eyes grew heavy and he lay back on the bunk. A blanket was pulled up over his chest and he was allowed to sleep.
From the doorway, T'Pol issued further directions to the medical staff to refrain from gossiping about his condition to the crew and to the MACO's to send reinforcements to Corporal Woods. The first officer took one long last look at the weary engineer, fighting the visceral urge to run her fingers over the rough stubble on his chin. The inclination disturbed her; she was still technically a married woman even if her union was all but over. Drawing a deep breath, T'Pol left the man to his rest and headed out of the Medical Suite to make two stops: one to encourage the pair working on the Escape Pod Project and the other to speak with the Communications team per Tucker's hasty suggestion.
The Watch Tower:
Day Five: Evening.
They said that the simple things in life were free, but then whoever said that had never had to pay so dearly for a bath, Archer thought. He sunk deeper into a stone tub full of hot water and sighed with relief. All it had taken was the complete discharge of his personal freedom and a couple of stern looks at that damned doctor to find this moment of tranquility. He considered it an even trade at the moment.
Andie had taken to her newfound status as the Chosen One with the same ease she seemed to take to everything. She had returned to the villagers and spoken a few words of encouragement to them before pulling out her medical kit and performing a few procedures on those who would accept. She mended the wound in the shoulder of the archer she had wounded with her knife. She offered a few creams and powders to the somber crowd of the village, which most had taken with circumspection. A rider had returned, scraped and nursing a twisted ankle. And she tended the wounds on Nelek's body that had occurred in the forest while he told anyone who would listen that he had seen her perform miracles, although the child-like man was careful not to reveal where he had seen the magical feats. While she worked, she hummed; a fact that caused the villagers who heard it to stand with their mouths agape and slightly fearful looks in their eyes. Andie was right about that; their reaction to music was just as weird as their reaction to water.
Although only a handful of the forty or so villagers had opened their arms to the Chosen One, Lady Sadiré had not been pleased at their welcome, even if she controlled her displeasure with effort. When she decided that Lady Andrea had played her part long enough, she called for a carriage to take them to the Watchtower. The road from the village was narrow and sharp but when they came around the final corner, the solid stone walls rose above them quite impressively.
Hidden from most views, the walls had been carved straight from the stone of the mountain. There were no signs of seams in the outer wall. They passed through a double set of metal gates into a plain courtyard. A few lean-tos were seen at the foot of the wall. They passed through this outer ward beneath a smaller gateless archway and into the simple beauty of the inner courtyard. Directly ahead of them and built into the steep mountain wall was a long building that the carriage driver referred to as the Great Hall. Smoke poured invitingly from the rooftop chimneys. The stone walls on either side of the inner curtain contained windows, indicating that the living quarters were part of the barricade. A modest garden grew in the corner, near where Archer guessed was the galley.
Everything about the figure-eight shaped dwelling said sturdy and defensible. Even Malcolm had nodded with approval. Sheer rock walls rose on two sides of the castle, making it impossible to ambush. A steep, straight drop on the other side refused access to climbers. And the narrow road at the front made siege difficult.
There were only slightly more than fifty persons to be seen wandering around inside the Tower walls; and their attention was almost entirely on the now flowing waterfall that leaped out of the wall and dropped into a deep well, disappearing under the foundation of the fortress before tumbling again down the steep decline on the other side. Andie nudged Reed with a questioning look and he shrugged. They had no way of knowing if this river of water was the same they had ridden with such recklessness last night. It seemed likely that it was but neither had seen the fortress or the smoke from the chimneys in their morning hike.
Rooms had been offered to them in the barracks that lined the vertical plummet. They were led to a pair of richly decorated quarters. Jon and Malcolm had been offered the room that overlooked the sheer drop with its new waterfall; Malcolm had made a joke about not being concerned with robbers as much as spiders climbing the vertical rock wall. Lady Andrea had been given the room across the hall, overlooking the inner courtyard. Malcolm had sighed with relief, stating it would be difficult for her to slip away in the middle of the night, and perhaps that was Sadiré's plan all along.
The captain had pushed the lieutenant toward the bathtub first, citing odor issues, but really he just wanted to soak at his own leisure without worrying about whether or not Reed would have time to clean up by the time Jon wanted to get out of the water. Once Reed had dressed in the pants and tunic offered by their reluctant hostess, he had indicated a need to circle the fortress and check out their accommodations and Archer had let him go with relief. His joy and gratitude at being clean and warm was suddenly interrupted by a disturbance next door. It was with a heavy heart that he left the warm cocoon of his bathwater and threw on some clothes in order to investigate.
Andie was, of course, the cause of the disturbance. She was still soapy and damp but shrieking at the two women who had been assigned as lady's maids. "I want it back and I want it now!"
"You're mad, you are!" one of the females accused.
For once the doctor was pleased to see the captain. "Excellent! You guard the door and I'll strip search the thieves until they return my articles!"
The servants didn't know who to shrink from first; they wound up shifting away from both humans.
"Is a strip search necessary?" Jon asked tiredly.
"Yes! They're stealing my stuff and I want it back!"
"Perhaps you've misplaced it!" cried out one of the women. She was dressed in a simple but elegant gown in a shade of lavender that might indicate she was a maid of their hostess. Her throaty voice was pinched with nerves.
"I didn't misplace anything!" Andie insisted with a dark glare.
"Innit that what you seek?" inquired the second woman with a voice as rough-hewn as her countenance. The apron over her plain gown, coupled with the silver tray on the foot of the bed, holding a steaming teapot and a delicate mug indicated her service in the mess hall. She was pointing to a flat gray square lying on the velvety coverlet next to the first maid. Lying next to it was another recognizable gizmo.
Andie snatched up the pad and the medical scanner, flicking the button on the pad and checking the contents without losing her stern frown. "Which one of you took it out of my bag?"
"Andie," The captain interjected. "You have your things back now. Maybe we could let the women go?"
Her chin jutted out in a mulish angle. "Fine, but remember this, ladies: The next time something goes missing, I won't conduct an investigation. I'll just assume you came back to finish the job and I will find you. And I will not be pleased."
Archer stepped aside as both women fled through the open doorway. He shut the portal behind them. "Was that necessary?"
"Yes," she insisted, flicking off the pad and relaxing just a bit.
"Maybe you did just misplace your things," Archer pointed out.
"No, I didn't," She insisted, putting both items back in her carry-all.
Archer had to admit that it was unlikely that Andie had misplaced anything. All the items she carried had its own place in her well-organized bag and it was unlikely that something had just fallen out. "Our stuff must seem like magic to them. It's understandable that they'd be interested in it."
"Well they don't have to take it without asking," Andie held her ground.
"I doubt they'll do it again," Jon noted, looking directly at the doctor for once then turning his attention to the ceiling. "Um, Doctor? You want to finish your bath?"
"Sure," she murmured, standing with her hands on her hips and staring at the bed. Clearly she was trying to figure out how they had taken the item and then how they returned it without her notice. She didn't move and the captain was forced to clear his throat.
"Er, Andie? Do you have a robe or something?" He continued to stare out the glass-paned windows instead of at the women to his left.
Andie looked down and noticed as though for the first time that she was undressed. She'd been in her bath when she noticed the flap of her satchel unlatched, and she'd tossed a drying cloth around her as she interrogated the women. Obviously it had fallen down somewhere. She bent over and picked it up, sending a few specks of water and soap soaking into the wooden floor. Before stepping back into her bathwater, she shot another glance at Archer. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just skin, you know. Same as yours," she pointed out.
"Your skin is not the same as mine," He muttered, lightly touching the teapot and looking around the room at anything that was not his doctor.
"Is that why you're blushing?" she teased, sinking into the dissipating bubbles. She ducked her head under the water to rinse her hair and he held his answer until she sputtered to the surface again.
"Did your father ever teach you about modesty?"
She pursed her lips and pondered. "Yes he did but he also said that the human body is beautiful and nothing to be ashamed of." Picking up a small cloth and a bar of soap, she scrubbed quickly at her skin. "How's your body, by the way? Your ribs still giving you trouble?"
"I'm fine," he answered, feeling the ache intensify as if his bones knew they were being talked about and wanted to make themselves known.
"You're not fine," she told him. "You need to restrict your physical activity. Right now your bones are just cracked; if they break I don't have the resources to fix them, and it could lead to more serious issues. You should inform your tactical officer. He should know about your injuries before he plans an escape."
He refused to be drawn into a debate about it, and wandered around the room instead of answering. "Malcolm filled me in on what you've been up to. He said you found the guy I asked you to find."
"He's a king. Did you know that?"
"He was just a guy who needed help," Archer stated softly. "Will he be okay?"
"Too many ifs and maybes to tell," she admitted. Andie didn't sugarcoat it. "I didn't have time to create a specific medicine so I gave him a dose of general anti-venom. If he's not allergic, if they continue to treat him as directed, if he doesn't get an infection, if there isn't some unforeseen something, then he might possibly be fine." She listed the things that could go wrong matter-of-factly.
"I wish you hadn't broken in like thieves," he remarked.
"There wasn't time to go through the front door," she answered shortly feeling her temper rise.
"Thanks for going anyway," he reiterated. He didn't want to concentrate on why it was so important to save this one old man, who hadn't really wanted assistance in the first place. It was just something that needed to be done. That king hadn't reminded him of Emory in the least. Nope, he didn't. For a moment he considered taking a nap before dinner.
"I didn't realize I had a choice. Tucker told me I was summoned."
Archer couldn't decide if he liked her blunt way of speaking or if he would prefer that she defer to him. He didn't feel like wondering about that either. They had much bigger fish to fry; namely how to get out of this dangerous situation. "Your room is nicer than ours," he noted.
"It's not nicer; it's just crowded with stuff," she retorted, making splashy sounds behind the folding partition that shielded the bathing area from prying eyes. There was a four-poster bed set between two windows. There was a table and four chairs for dining, along with a settee and another pair of chairs near the fire. There were several free standing wardrobes pressed against the walls, containing garments and blankets and other odds and ends. All of the items were of good quality, even if they were well-worn with age and somewhat fragile to touch.
"We just have a bed and a couch," he murmured, looking around. It was like taking a walk through a historical museum, except in this museum you could touch things. There was also a bathtub in his quarters, like the one in Andie's. It was made from the same gray stone as the castle walls and was deep enough to sit fully immersed in water. Jon had been surprised that a turn of a lever on the wall had presented not just cold water, straight from the falls, no doubt, but also a lever that poured out steaming hot water. A round button plugged the drain at the bottom. It was as close to a modern bathtub as he'd ever seen. And it was here in this monument to history. He shook his head to clear it as he heard more splashy sounds coupled with a bare foot slapping down on the floor. He silently marveled at the fastest bath he'd ever known a woman to take.
The knock at the door had them both pausing in their actions. "I'll get it," Archer offered. He opened the portal to find Lieutenant Reed on the other side, who tried not to look surprised that the captain was answering. "Come on in," Jon gestured with one hand.
Malcolm stepped inside and looked around, catching a quick sight of Andie as she pulled fabric over her head. He caught Archer looking at him with a knowing grin.
"The doctor says the human body is a beautiful thing," Jon teased.
"The doctor would certainly claim to know, sir," Reed responded. He lowered his voice in order to keep the doctor from listening. "We are surrounded by steep cliffs on all sides, sir. Nobody can get in or get out except through the front gates.
"Well, that's just stupid," Andie snorted, coming around the partition while pulling a small comb through her tangled wet hair. "Even mice know enough to have two entrances!"
"These people clearly don't," Malcolm retorted sharply, annoyed at being overheard. "We're stuck here for as long as they continue to buy your story of being the Chosen One, so be careful. There's no way out."
"Wasn't my story!" Andie sassed back, tossing the comb down and shaking her hair out to catch the heat from the fireplace. "Which one of you sweet young cupcakes wants to play lady's maid?" She demonstrated her need by struggling to reach the open bindings on her gown.
"What happened to your maids?" Reed inquired.
"Don't ask," the doctor snorted.
Reed snuck a hopeful look at Archer, who grinned devilishly back. Clearly the captain was not gong to be the 'sweet, young cupcake.' Malcolm stepped forward and started to pull tight the lacings on the side of her bodice underneath her arms. Underneath he could see the edges of a gray chemise. The kirtle itself was made of periwinkle silk with plum ribbons lacing the edges together to fit the bodice to the body. The sleeves opened up at the elbow, allowing the fitted sleeves of the chemise to be seen underneath. Malcolm laced those delicate ribbons as well. Over the top of both layers went a sleeveless surcoat in gunmetal gray, embroidered with wine-colored threads and decorated with beads. It laced together just under her bosoms; Andie managed those ribbons without aid, to Malcolm's relief. When she was finished she looked like a lady who belonged in the medieval court.
The effect was somewhat spoiled when she sat down, hiked up her skirts and started pulling on her heavy black work boots.
"Andie!" the captain weakly protested, nodding at the matching gray slippers
"I can't very well strap my knife to my thigh! I'd never get to it under all these skirts!" Andie protested. "So it stays in my boots and my boots stay on my feet! Otherwise it gets tucked into my bosom and everybody will notice it there!" She stood up with a huff and looked at both men, who struggled to remain composed and not look like they were laughing at her. "You look nice," she noted with some surprise before disappearing behind the thin folding partition again.
Archer was dressed in a bliaut of deep purple that brought out the green of his eyes. Underneath the wide skirt of his tunic he wore gray knickers and a pair of tall black boots. Reed wore a black doublet over a white linen shirt and a dark pair of trousers. The somber colors set off his dark hair and pale skin. He had also managed to raid an armory somewhere and sported a long sword fastened on one hip and a dagger with a jeweled hilt tucked into his waistband; both of which were somewhat hidden under his cape which swirled around his calves. He offered the dagger to Archer and waited for the doctor to return.
She reappeared a short time later, fussing with the fitted sleeves which looked bulkier to Reed. The lieutenant didn't say a word, just held out her heavy cloak until she turned so he could rest it on her shoulders. The rich purple of the borrowed cloak emphasized the strawberry streaks in her hair that had been coiled up into a messy knot and secured with a black ribbon. "Let's get this dinner over with," the doctor sighed heavily. Archer opened the door and followed his crewmen through it.
Starfleet Hollow
Day Five: Evening
He'd been dreaming a lot lately. He also supposed that wasn't unusual. The shrink who'd evaluated everyone who came back from the Expanse said that re-entering society might be hard and he could expect things like strange dreams and feelings of isolation. He just wasn't sure these were the kinds of dreams that shrink had intended.
There was a log cabin that seemed familiar. He'd been here recently. That pretty woman in the floral bonnet wanted to see something. They turned on a monitor. In the dream world the use of electricity in this primitive society didn't seem strange. The monitor replayed the last couple of days, speeding through the events that he could remember like a movie on fast forward. There was a fight with men on horseback and then another scuffle in the forest. There was a prison and an earthen fighting ring. He was running and his chest hurt. That large animal snarled out of the dark and pounced; his heart pounded with fear. The woman in the bonnet reached out a hand and brushed her fingers over his sweaty forehead and he stopped being afraid.
Trip Tucker woke up slowly, feeling weightless and slightly dreamy. It took time for reality to sink back into his tired consciousness and he lay quietly, feeling the deep cold taking precedence over the warm summer sky of his dream, feeling the aches outweigh that weightlessness of the dream, and hearing far-off sounds cutting into his personal memory. He was fully awake now, feeling the hard cushion of the medical bunk and smelling wood smoke and hearing the distant murmur of human voices that were so different from the scratchy sounds of the alien inhabitants.
There was no point lying abed when there's work to be done, his mother always said, usually just before she shooed her children out the door on a beautiful Saturday morning and started cleaning. Trip took his mother's long ago advice to heart and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, shivering a little in the chilly air. His chattering teeth must have alerted someone.
A head poked through the door. "Good evening, Commander," chirped Liz Cutler. "Stay where you are. I've got something for you." She ducked back out of his sight and he wiped a hand over his face, trying to release the sense of comfortable disquiet that the dream had wrought. When she returned, she had her arms full. Liz set down an empty basin and a clean pair of underthings. She pulled a towel from around her shoulders and a sliver of soap from her pocket. Lastly she deposited a pair of gray coveralls, the plain ones that were kept for the lower decks, on a shipping case that was being used as a table. "Commander T'Pol has instructed you to bathe before joining her for dinner. She'll wait so take your time." Before Tucker could say anything else, she slipped away again, this time returning with a steaming pot and a hygiene kit. She deposited them in front of Tucker with a smile before exiting again, closing the round door as she went.
Tucker could now see the Vulcan letters left on this side of the door by a heavy marker. He couldn't read them, but he could recognize the handwriting. He pondered the reasons the doctor might be defacing the walls in here, as he poured the hot water into the basin and determined, during his sponge bath, that she must have done it just before he told her to hurry up when he took her away from all this at the captain's orders. No wonder T'Pol hadn't looked too concerned at his absence, he mused. He still thought it was strange that that Archer had just taken off in the night. The captain hadn't said anything during their adventure but Trip could tell he was upset about something. He'd known the man too long to be taken in with his authoritarian tone saying he was fine. There was nothing to do about it now; not until they could rescue the captain from whatever fire he'd fallen into this time. The best way to do that was with a shuttle pod or a transporter pad, and the only place to find those things was on board his ship. And the only way to get back to the ship was to redefine gravity and propulsion systems and then take on about a thousand sharp-toothed critters determined to eat him before he succeeded in pulling a miracle out of his ass.
In other words he had a lot to do and he couldn't afford to rest any longer. He finished pulling up the zipper on the plain uniform and shoved his feet into his well-worn boots. Somebody had washed and polished them, he noted, feeling somewhat better to be spotless in spite of his chilly cleansing. His face was free of stubble and his teeth had been cleaned and he couldn't smell his own body odor any more. His stomach rumbled though and he opened the door, pulling his blanket around his shoulders in lieu of a thermal jacket. He nodded at Cutler and started across the campsite.
Hoshi Sato fell into step with him. "You're going to dinner with T'Pol?" she inquired, tugging on Porthos' leash.
"Yeah, I've been summoned," he answered with a weary smile.
"T'Pol's been a little tense lately," Hoshi informed him, lowering her voice to avoid being overheard. "Keep an eye on her and tell me what you think. Maybe I'm just imagining things." The linguist pretended to glance around the camp as though carefree in order to hide the depths of her concern in the fading daylight.
"Sure," Trip agreed, thinking that the Comm. officer sounded a little on edge too. "What do you mean tense?"
"She's been...Oh, you'll know it if you see it," she skipped over the explanation. "It's good to have you back, Commander." Her smile was noticeably brighter as she squeezed his good arm in comradely fashion before peeling off and heading for the Mess Tent.
Tucker was left alone to knock on the hull of the escape pod. He'd been in T'Pol's quarters on board Enterprise many times, but it was a different thing to enter her private quarters while in plain view of every pair of curious eyes on board. He snuck one last look around the encampment and thought he caught the same look of apprehension on several faces that he'd seen on Hoshi's. Then again, maybe they were just gossiping about the private meeting between the commanders. The quick command to enter cut short his perusal.
Inside he found there was only one small lamp lit, casting shadows on the walls. The space was very confining when he stepped inside, but the solid walls almost guaranteed that they could speak freely without being overheard. Two trays were waiting on the bunk. The female rose gracefully to greet him when he entered and she gestured at him to take a seat at the end of the bunk. There was no place else to put your feet up. Trip sat on the end of the bunk, with his back against the wall, and she sat at the other end of the mattress in similar fashion. They both placed their trays on their laps and exhaled in relief at the heat that was offered by the warm plates.
"You're looking better," T'Pol began, tasting her broth. He had been beaten several times but they hadn't done any permanent damage. The team in the Medical Tent had told her that, as had her meditative dreams.
"I have some ideas on how to get us out of this," Tucker told her without preamble.
His voice was very serious when he spoke and she responded with the same gravitas. "I would really like to hear those ideas," she confirmed.
The engineer devoured his dinner while waving his fork around to emphasize points to his attentive companion. There was something about this meeting that tickled the back of Trip's mind, something he'd seen recently or maybe something he'd dreamed. He'd been dreaming a lot lately. Shaking his head to brush away the most recent dream with the mysterious bonneted woman who wanted to walk through his psyche, Tucker slid straight into the discussion of how to use Andie's high-octane liquor and the broken walls of the pods that were damaged in the fall to outline his plan. She acknowledged that Hess and Truax had taken up work on the Escape Pod Project and had some interesting ideas. As the hour grew later, talk drifted into the events of the past few days, although T'Pol left out her brief flare of temper and Tucker skimmed over the beatings he'd suffered. It was a more pleasant meal than either had shared in some time, and the simple act of social graces was very soothing.
"We will begin in the morning," T'Pol determined when the last of their meal was consumed.
"I don't think we have a moment to lose," Trip protested. It was hard to feel urgent when he was warm and comfortable with a stomach fuller than it had been in a couple of days, but he had to do it. It had nothing to do with how he missed their companionship or the simple pleasure of being with her. It was all about the job. He had to get back to work, sooner rather than later.
"You've suffered some injuries," T'Pol informed him. "You will rest in order to maximize your abilities. You will begin in the morning." She was quiet but firm. The thought that somebody beat the gentle engineer made her seethe, and seething was not normal. It took extra concentration to keep her respiration steady and even.
"I'm fine!" he protested. It was the same thing the captain had said, and the same thing that Andie said whenever anyone asked about her. He could recognize that it would not be an effective term. "I didn't know you cared," he retorted with a small smile.
"I do," the Vulcan admitted.
Trip was surprised to find his mind making the matrimonial connection in the context of those two words. He'd stood by her at her wedding to another man. Suddenly the walls were too close as the rituals of dating became apparent in their platonic working dinner. "I'll see you in the morning then," he scooted off the bunk. He didn't see anything different about her demeanor; Hoshi must have been off the mark. Although that seemed unlikely as Sato was very perceptive.
"Bright and early," T'Pol agreed solemnly. She watched him go as she sat alone in her temporary quarters. Things would be different between them when they got back on board the ship. Things would be more like normal then. Normality was good, she told herself. She rose to return her tray to Chef.
The Watchtower
Day Five: Evening
There was only one exit in the corridor outside their rooms. There was a door at the end of the hall which led out onto an uncovered portion of walkway. At the end of the balcony was a set of stone stairs that led down into the courtyard. The main entrance to the Great Hall was in the middle of the building. Thankful for the heavy cloaks they all wore, each huddled inside their layers in the chilly evening air as the last of the day's meager light leeched out of the world and turned the giant gorge they overlooked into a valley of blood.
"What do you think? About a thousand meters?" Reed guessed, leaning far out over the edge and trying to peer through the gloom to the bottom.
"Don't fall down," Captain Archer cautioned. "I don't think we have the medical supplies to put you back together again if you tumble off."
"I wouldn't make that bet, sir," Malcolm denied, although he straightened up. "I'm certain that Dr. Andie has a host of medical instruments tucked up in her sleeves."
"A lady doesn't go to dinner armed to the teeth," Andie demurred, looking out at the sharp rock formation, looking for the moment, extremely delicate.
"You're not a lady; you're a doctor," Reed teased her.
"Good of you to notice," she snorted easily, dismissing her delicate face. She tore her gaze from the dizzying height at which they stood and turned to look at the sheer rock wall that rose on the other side of the fortress. Water spilled forth in a twinkling cascade from an unseen opening under their feet. "The water level's really dropped. They must have built this fortress directly on top of a rushing river."
"The river's dried up," Jon noted idly.
"Or else the aqueduct was sealed off," she countered. She knew that Reed had already filled Archer in on their escapades while she was busy with the villagers.
"I see you are finally dressed. Is it customary to keep your hostess waiting?" inquired a petulant voice. The trio turned to find Lady Sadiré waiting at the top of the stone stairs. There was no telling how long she'd been standing there listening in on their conversation.
"We were admiring the view," Archer filled in carefully.
"It is the best view of the entire valley," she admitted, seeming pleased at his compliment. "Don't you agree, Lady Andrea?" she demanded of her rival.
"It is very pleasant," Andie agreed, lifting her chin high. "Thank you for the borrowed gown. I hardly had to make any alterations."
"Alterations?" Sadiré looked offended. She brushed away the expression and replaced it with one of sweet concern. "I trust your man had time to make a complete survey of my castle?" She looked hard at Reed.
"Of course he did," Andie replied easily. There's not much to it. This castle is very quaint. It reminds me of my father's summer home on the banks of the Lake Kai. It was small...but charming."
"Your father's residence was near a lake?" Sadiré queried. There was something in her glittering eyes that told Andie she'd said something wrong. The strange reactions of the inhabitants where water was concerned might be an indicator.
"It's much different now, of course," Andie demurred vaguely. "You are lucky. Your stronghold must be very easy to heat in the winter."
"You have not seen my entire fortress. My Great Hall is bound to impress you. It's the oldest in the entire world. Shall we make our way to dinner?" Sadiré gestured with one arm. Her smile was tight, but she seemed determined to be gracious.
"May I escort you, my lady?" Archer offered his arm.
For a second Sadiré looked at it as thought it might be a snake, but that pleasant grin stretched across her features wiping away her hesitation. "You are very gallant, my lord," she accepted, placing her hand gingerly on top of Archer's.
"Lake Kai?" Malcolm pressed lightly.
"Oh, those summer nights!" Andie fanned her face with a dramatic sigh of delight.
"Be careful not to offer so many falsehoods that you can't keep track of them all," he warned her. "The best lies are the ones that are grounded in truth."
"I always tell the truth," Andie told him solemnly. "I am the Chosen One." She couldn't repress the giggle that the statement engendered.
Malcolm offered his arm to Andie with a mischievous grin, and she snorted playfully as she accepted it. They followed the other pair down the stairs, with Andie cursing mildly at the tricky maneuvers necessary to keep from tripping on the long hem of her skirt, and Malcolm stifling giggles at her clumsiness.
The Great Hall was all that its name implied. It was a large rectangular room, devoid of most of its furniture but sporting three fireplaces. Tapestries were hung along the walls to keep out the chill of the day, as well as to add artistic variety. Several guards loitered around the vacant areas. They looked curious at the newcomers, but nobody approached the humans. A U-shaped table had been set on a dais near the kitchen and Sadiré led her party in that direction. Andie forced Malcolm to dally, gazing at all the hangings and making Sadiré wait.
"What interesting tapestries!" the doctor exclaimed. Her voice echoed in the nearly empty room. "The simplicity of their stitching promises greatness when the seamstresses grow experienced!"
The Imminent Queen's teeth ground together at the backhanded compliment.
Archer shot the doctor a look meant to quell her attitude. He didn't know how successful he was; she continued to dawdle.
"What are you doing?" Malcolm hissed in her ear.
"Encouraging some smack talk," she whispered back. "Maybe she'll say something interesting."
"Maybe she'll kill you right now instead of possibly later," he reminded her.
Her lips puckered out in a precious pout. But she allowed him to urge her down the length of the room, and to pull out her chair. Lady Sadiré sat with her back to the kitchen, and overlooked the length of the hall. Andie sat to one side and wound up staring at a large tapestry on the wall. Reed pulled up a seat across from her; from there he could see both the entrances into the room. Archer sat next to Andie with a heavy sigh. Once they were seated it became obvious that Sadiré had placed her seat just an inch or two higher, in order to look down on her dining subjects. The mild power play just made Andie itch to smack her. She took her frustration out in other ways.
"This is your impressive hall? I was expecting something grander. This room is practically barren."
"The Watchtower was widely known for its hospitality, its imposing views and its immaculate tapestries." Sadiré looked way down her nose at Andie.
"That one's hung crooked," Andie noted, nodding at the hanging directly ahead of her.
"There's nothing wrong with that tapestry!"
"I'm sure the child who made it was very gifted."
My mother began that tapestry!" Sadiré bit out.
"It's very nice, Lady Sadiré," Jon Archer interjected, scowling the doctor. "She was very talented. Andie does a bit of sewing in her spare time too, when she doesn't let her mouth run away from her!"
"You allow your men to speak of you so inappropriately?" Sadiré taunted.
Andie shrugged. "I let his mouth run wild. His application of intellect often amuses me."
Jonathan choked on the mouthful of wine he'd just sipped but managed to swallow it before ejection could send it back across the table.
Malcolm hid his grimace behind a goblet and tried to figure out if Andie was in more danger from the woman on her right or the captain on her left. He didn't think Archer would be consoled that Andie was picking on someone else for a change. It seemed she made the time to attack all titled persons in her vicinity.
The first plates were brought from the adjacent kitchen by a familiar looking woman. She placed heavy gold plates in front of her visitors and shuffled back to the kitchen, her coarse face set in a permanent scowl. Sadiré lifted her silver service and dug into her meal.
"I'm surprised you do not employ a food taster," Andie commented, toying with her slab of meat gingerly. "That's very brave! My father was so powerful that somebody was always trying to poison him. You are so lucky to feel so safe in your own kingdom."
Sadiré squeaked in outrage, rising to the bait that she was unimportant in her own community.
Malcolm paused with his food halfway to his mouth wondering if that would be the remark that caused their hostess to plunge her dinner knife through the doctor's body.
The dark-haired woman set down her knife and turned a stern visage to her unwanted partner. "It is unfortunate that your father is not here to instill a sense of discipline in your men. Are you not at all concerned with the one that got away?"
Andie waved away the question indolently. "He'll turn up."
"Perhaps sooner than you expect!" Sadiré admitted brightly.
"Perhaps." Andie sniffed something on her plate and made a face before setting it down, refusing to please the woman by inquiring further, and, in fact, digging just a little more at her way of life. "Do all of your people seek your consent before taking actions on your behalf?"
"Nothing happens without my knowledge!" boasted the dark-haired woman.
"So it's you I should speak to about your maids pilfering my things while I bathed? It's a shoddy leader to allow her servants to behave so viciously toward guests."
"Nobody pilfers in my house!" The lines of anger were deepening the crevices around the woman's mouth.
"I caught them at it. I told them I would punish them if it happened again, but clearly it is you to whom I should direct my unhappiness."
"I thought ruffians in the forest took all your worldly possessions. You should not have anything left of value," Sadiré pointed out through clenched teeth.
"My things belong to me. Only I can authorize their usage, no matter how paltry their intrinsic value." Were the circumstances different, Malcolm would swear she sounded bored. Andie actually looked down at her hands and picked at debris under the fingernails.
"Pity you don't take such interest in your fleeing man," Sadiré taunted her again.
"He'll turn up," Andie insisted. "He always comes back to me."
The refusal to question the meaning of Sadiré's words annoyed her. "Perhaps he'll turn up soon. I have sent several hunters after him on your behalf."
That snapped Andie out of her apathetic tone. "If he's harmed, you will answer for his injuries," Andie threatened lightly.
"I don't allow people to get away from me that easily!"
"He got away from me, not you," Andie pointed out.
There was a clatter at the door. Another familiar woman, this one in purple silks, came running up to the table to whisper in Sadiré's ear. The Queen nodded and the servant slipped back, wringing her hands and looking rather ill.
Andie considered Sadiré, who seemed quite happy to pick up her service and begin to dine. Frankly Andie would rather cut her tongue out than ask that atrocious woman what had happened. Instead she turned her attention to the woman who had been attempting to take her data pad less than an hour ago. "What is your name?" she demanded imperiously.
"Her name is Berthelde," Sadiré answered, looking like she'd just swallowed canary instead of whatever game decorated her plate. "She is my personal servant."
"She is one who was pilfering my things earlier," Andie huffed. "It seems that not only do you secrete thieves in your house, but they work quite closely to you!"
"Do not be concerned with my staff," Sadiré just about purred. "You should be more concerned with the impending arrival of King Galen's envoy."
"Who in the what?" Andie blinked.
"King Galen's envoy has just left the Renaisterre Castle and will arrive shortly. I'm surprised that you did not sense their coming with your special powers, oh Chosen One."
The doctor leaned in quite close. "I think you and I both know that my distinction as the Chosen One is something that you have placed on me and not something that is mine."
"Yes," The woman was quite pleased now. "Don't forget that all the power that you have comes from me. You will treat me with the respect due me as the future queen or you will find your usefulness and your life at an end."
Whispers had spread through the group of men that were scattered throughout the Hall. Captain Merwyn finally appeared through the door and approached the table, looking quite ill at ease.
"My lady, I was summoned," the soldier explained, not knowing whether to look at the dark haired women or the blonde and causing Sadiré to seethe with frustration at the division.
"An armed escort arrives from the castle. Prepare the Tower for aggression." That was the only explanation that the glittering-eyed woman got out before the Great Hall emptied. Men loitering around the fireplace at the other end scurried out the door, followed by Merwyn. Only the foursome remained seated at their table.
"I see they hang on your every word," Andie drawled with laughter.
Malcolm sprang to his feet. He had almost taken a step when he heard Andie's words. He changed direction and wound up kneeling at her feet. "My lady? May I?"
The doctor seemed amused. "Yes, yes! Go play with the others!" She waved him away as Reed took off. She turned her head to the captain. "You may follow him if you wish," she offered generously.
"I'm afraid my attempts at intellect might amuse them," Archer grumbled.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," she grinned. Archer shoved back his chair and stomped toward the portal. Andie shoved her chair across the floor with a sharp squeaking sound. "Are you coming, Lady Sadiré?"
Sadiré pouted, pushing her food around with her utensil. "They will sort it out."
"Do you always leave matters of state to someone else to sort out? No wonder your people came looking for me."
With a screech, Sadiré pushed aside her plate and shoved back her chair. She was forced to scurry in order to overtake Andie before they exited the double doors and headed out the door to see what fresh hell waited.