xxx
Trip
The Vulcans had efficiently sorted and catalogued men and machines. On one side the dead I'Shlins and Vulcans lay next to each other, a lot less of the Vulcans, on the other side, the wounded were separated between those to be tended or left to their own device, weapons had likewise been sorted and triaged after the battle.
Trip couldn't seem to escape a sense of grave foreboding, like a threat looming from the sky, and he kept looking up from time to time as if waiting for something to materialize. He heard Soval limp towards him. The hunters had been none too pleased by his display of the hostages, letting him know with feet and fists how much they took umbrage. They were all lucky the hunters had been routed before they could take away their leader and most cunning commander.
Trip turned to the older Vulcan, answering him before he could inquire further. "We have eleven light riders, fifteen usable rifles, and all of the heavy weapons though not much ammunition." Most of it the hunters had spent on stripping the gully of its vegetation.
Soval nodded. "Some of the wounded need immediate attention. I don't expect the hunters will be back today but their number will increase with the next foray."
"Perhaps they'll accept this as Vulcan territory." Trip realized as soon as he said it that the joke fell flat.
Soval eyed him closely. "Can you tell T'Pol's whereabouts?" He had learned from Trip's reaction to the re-awakening bond that Humans didn't have much understanding of the effects of a bond. Trip unconsciously stared at the sky, gripped again by the same sense of foreboding. Soval noted his agitation. "Are you troubled?" he asked.
Trip sighed. "I don't know, it doesn't make sense. We routed the hunters and I should feel relief. But instead I just have this sense of anxiety. Perhaps because I don't know how much longer we can hope to hold them off." They had lost some rebels and a handful were wounded. But the hunters, even if their ranks had been decimated, could go and get more people and the Vulcans couldn't.
Soval nodded slowly. Trip was unaware of it but he was reacting to the bond. T'Pol was geographically close and once re-awakened the bond would not be denied. It led to two conclusions, both unsettling. The first was that T'Pol was not in control. There could be a number of reasons. The second was based on the fact Vulcans did not emote. Their reactions were purely an effect of the situation. If Trip was feeling a sense of foreboding, T'Pol must be facing uncomfortable odds.
He chose not to say anything.
Trip suddenly grabbed his head with both hands, breathing heard. It was over in an instant but his eyes had grown wide. "They're hurting her!" He shouted. Soval could only stare at the Human in sorrowful sympathy. Trip started at a run for where they held the weapons, stopped as he realized he wouldn't know where to go, any thoughts of rescue upended on the shoals of reality. He came back to Soval, his face a mask of sorrow. He walked past and came back, striding to and fro like a tiger in a cage, hitting one hand with a fist, turning and turning, but forever faced with the fact there was nowhere to go. The bond had been re-established and neither partner was exerting control.
Soval closed his eyes and his mind to the emotional upheaval. He couldn't let the plight of the one detract from the safety of the many. As he stared at the ground at his feet, he grieved for the Human's upcoming loss. And for his.
xxx
Makrtradr
The tall I'Shlin grabbed her by the shoulder, neglecting to retract its razor claws and T'Pol bit back a yelp of pain. Makrtradr had to keep himself from protesting, he hated to see merchandise blemished through rough handling. But there would be no selling her. She was about to be killed in the most atrocious manner, it didn't matter much if there was some bruising from unkind touch.
Myfiudun dragged the captive to the other side of the compound, throwing her against the wall and kicking her into submission. She sunk into a ball at the bottom of the wall, minimizing the surface available for further kicking. It didn't help much, Myfiudun was in a state. The aliens had all of the hunters' heavy weapons and most of their crafts. This one would pay for their collective sin and this was just the beginning.
Makrtradr couldn't help thinking that the best outcome would be if the council forces got involved and helped wrangle the aliens back, save what they could of the weapons and the equipment. Pride would lead the remaining hunters to a total loss. It didn't matter anymore that the shame of the failed hunt would forever bow the scruff of the hunters. Not only failed but they'd be trounced and beaten, and lost many good men in search of an elusive prey. It would forever be known in hunting lore as Makrtradr's Great Failed Hunt.
As if in answer to his unspoken thoughts, dark riders cut off the light of the suns. Shading his eyes from the glare Makrtradr looked on as a squadron of Council forces landed in the compound. The hunters were all surprised, their ears laid back in challenge, looking at the security forces as one looks upon an intruder, why did they came and what did they plan? Myfiudun gave a last kick and strode over, chest bombed in command stance, demanding to know what was going on. Makrtradr saw that in the back the alien was still conscious but wisely not making her presence known.
A shimmer was seen beside the Council forces and an alien appeared, like the one with hair the color of Ishlin eyes, though his wasn't. Makrradr looked at him nervously, wondering if he had came to exact revenge. The presence of the security forces along this new alien did not promise anything positive.
The captain of the Council forces looked around the compound, frowning. He finally walked to him, summons in hand. "I am Captain Kwa'durn, You were told to suspend all hunt, that the aliens were now property of the Council. There should be twenty-five aliens here, but I only see one, and she is not even one of the twenty-five."
Archer glanced at the humanoid alien against the wall, a woman with longish hair, dressed in some kind of pelts, barefeet and feral. His gaze would have brushed over her but he had a feeling she was someone he'd known before. He made a mental note to check it out later. His entire attention was on Kwa'durn. He needed to make sure the universal translator was picking up all the subtleties of communication.
Makrtradr tried to explain to Kwa'durn how the order had come late, the hunt was already underway, and he was not aware of the cease and desist until he got back to the compound. All the while knowing he wasn't being believed. He saw the taller alien with he rounded ears narrow his eyes at him. Based on his experience trading he could tell the tall alien was not pleased. Soon he was talking into his communicator. Then he stopped and stared at Kwa'durn.
"Enterprise has found biosigns a couple of hours from here, both I'Shlins and Vulcans."
"I will send transports. We will bring them back here." Kwa'durn replied. Archer nodded. The I'Shlins had been very clear about not relinquishing control of their people or the aliens. Enterprise, and unbeknownst to the I'Shlins, the Nahr, had agreed to go along in consideration of how significant the I'Shlin concession had been given their feelings about Sighting. At least until circumstances warranted rushing in and grabbing everyone themselves. But all indications were that nothing was going on, or that whatever had happened, had happened. Kaiidth, as the Vulcans said.
"My people will go with yours. The Vulcans will be wary of a group of I'Shlins coming at them from the sky."
Kwa'durn eyed Archer thoughtfully. "Very well."
Archer would much rather have sent Enterprise teams directly to where the Vulcans were, he would much rather have been leading them himself, but Kwa'durn and he were stuck waiting at the compound, unofficial hostages to each other's good faith.
xxx
Trip
The sounds could not be mistaken and Trip thought of Soval accusingly. He had said the hunters would not be back the same day, obviously mistaken. Of all the things that a Vulcan would finally be wrong about, it had to be today of all days and about being attacked.
Trip swore in frustration and exhaustion, he couldn't re-do another battle, none of them could. Even though the Vulcans didn't complain, there was something in the way they held themselves that Trip had tongue-in-cheek named the 'floppy-ear syndrome'. They were not up for another fight.
He took off at a trot towards the battery, perhaps he could find some rounds not yet fired, enough to anchor a strategy. Soval was already there and looked up when Trip arrived. The psionic transmission from T'Pol had abruptly stopped and Soval had reassured him it meant only that T'Pol had finally set up her blocks, that if anything bad had happened to her it would feel much worse.
"We need to set up for a fight" Trip told him. The Vulcan didn't answer, he didn't even move, his whole being focused on the sounds. "These are not our hunters." Trip looked at him as if he'd sprouted another head. First, that he would be able to tell the hunters from others on the basis of distant engine noises, second that he wouldn't be slightly more worried. The Vulcan looked back at him with equanimity. "This new commander is knowledgeable. We need to wait."
Wait they did, in tense silence, at least for Trip. Then from the sky, black rectangles approached, a dozen-strong, too many for the Vulcans to hope fight. Trip understood what Soval meant. There was nothing for them to do. The rebels were hidden in the brush trees along with the battery, ready for a last sortie. The two of them stood immobile as the black rectangles landed one after the other at the edge of the gully. Each was a four-man transport, there must be fifty hunters in there. Trip tightened his hold on his rifle. He would go out fighting.
The ships had landed in a diamond formation. Soval and Trip waited. The lead ship's door opened and two shapes walked out. Only two. Their arms were held up in the air showing they were unarmed. Trip noticed Soval didn't relax the hold on his rifle. The two figures came over slowly. Trip was having a hard time recognizing the I'Shlins, the heat from the transport exhausts made their shapes tremble and indistinct. It was either the heat or the effects of starvation. He noticed Soval didn't relax the hold on his rifle.
The two shapes walked to where he was standing, arms still held up high. One of the I'Shlins he had never seen the likes of before, small and dark haired, his skin without mottling. Trip didn't lower his rifle. The I'Shlin stopped in front of him. "Trip, don't you recognize me? It's me, Malcolm!"
xxx
Makrtradr
The doors to the compound opened and stretchers came in, at least fifteen. Makrtradr looked on as a strange-looking alien, another one yet again, walked between two stretchers, insistently talking to Kwa'durn. He was some kind of doctor. The stretchers with I'Shlins were whisked to the infirmary and those with Vulcans remained in the compound. The strange being was guiding other aliens, all Humans, in administering care, his voice rising above the mounting din.
The doors opened again and another group walked in. Limping ahead was the grey-haired alien followed by a group of tired-looking Vulcans. The strange-looking doctor ran to his side but the grey-haired alien wouldn't be swayed. He stayed rooted to where he stood, taking in every detail of the compound, minutely saluting the Human captain when he saw him. Kwa'durn walked to the older man, whose entire behavior talked of leadership and battlefields and glory dearly earned. He saluted him and received a nod in return, military man to military man, they each knew the worth of the other.
Kwa'durn then came over to Makrtradr, his entire body language one of disdain. Wealthy scions pretending to be real men, good only so long as the prey was soft and scared, they had botched this operation in a manner worthy of textbook fame. He would make sure the lore reflected that the aliens hadn't used Sighting, to make the pain and shame of the hunters even greater. He would release the hunters, they could crawl back to their lairs with their tail beween their legs, but Makrtradr was going straight to jail, as the instigator and for contempt of Council. When the hunters' families were done with him, he'd be lucky if he'd have one scruff hair left to use as a toothpick.
xxx
Archer
Archer had been standing by the doors, watching the stretchers and Vulcans stream in, when he finally saw Trip cross the threshold to the compound. Archer saw Trip's face lit up and he waited for the engineer to come over and give him a warm embrace.
And stood rooted in place when Trip instead bypassed him with hardly a perfunctory "Good to see you, Captain" and made a straight beeline to where the feral woman sat cross-legged against the wall. He saw Trip go to his knees and look at her silently, thin and gaunt, long hair unkempt, a visual match for the scruffy and overly thin Trip. The engineer slowly bent his head towards her as if he going to kiss her or wanted to share some other private message, forehead inches from her face. She raised a hand and laid it on the side of his face, like a soft embrace. Trip in turn palmed her face in his hand. When she inclined her head to follow his hand, Archer saw for the first time the pointed ear and it hit him like lighting that he had planned to check it out later and that the woman was T'Pol.
Archer turned to Soval in astonished shock and surprise and realized upon seeing the older man that it was no surprise and he already knew. Archer looked again at the couple finally putting two and two together. 'He shares Sighting with another'. He wasn't sure how he felt about the discovery but if Soval of all people could bear it, there was really nothing to do but go along with it.
xxx
Trip
It had been a silent flight back from the gully, Trip still in shock that the I'Shlins were in fact Reed and Phlox. He was silent in a corner of the transport, looking at the landscape, picking out the place where they'd first hid, where they'd first killed. He'd insisted to let the others go first, Vulcans could turn on a dime but Humans needed more time to process stuff.
The transport landed outside of the compound. The doors opened and Trip almost stepped back, would they really have him volunteer to go inside, perhaps to be kept prisoner again? But there was no other way and he soon crossed the threshold. In the middle of the courtyard stood Jon. And then he saw her. A smile lit his face and before he even knew it he was on his way over. She looked so different, like someone he'd never seen before. He went to her side and fell to his knees. She looked up at him. She blocked the bond but he could tell she'd been waiting.
All he wanted was to hold her, squeeze her, erase the months of solitude. He suddenly remembered what she had said, the place she was in that he couldn't pronounce, realized that was the same noise the hunters made when they told them about a promised land at the end of the hunting. He bent her face towards hers, wanting to kiss her, wanting to tell her that she was safe and he was hers.
She put her hand on his face and the bond lit up in his mind like a thousand suns. He cupped her face in turn. There was no need to talk. They both sat there in a silent embrace.
xxx
T'Pol
Her mind was still abuzz from the effects of the I'Ph'Lis when Myfiudun delivered the first kick. The pain took her breath away, but as he gave way to his anger the accumulating pain chased away the last fog of the I'Ph'Lis. Suddenly she could feel the bond, and when Myfiudin stopped his frenzy to go check with the council forces, she quickly rebuilt her shields, anxious to protect Trip from any psionic bleeding.
After that, she waited, prone against the wall, not bothering to make her presence known to Archer or any of the others, there was only one person she was waiting for. Finally the doors opened on someone with hair the color of Lidlbeut's eyes. She couldn't take her eyes off him. Just waiting.
He saw her as soon as he stepped in, in a moment making his way over, mindless of anyone standing between her and him. And then he was at her side, on his knees, and she could see through the three-day beard how scrawny he had become and the weight of long weeks alone. He bent his head as if to kiss her, he bent his head as if to whisper what could not be expressed. She welcomed his face in the cup of her hand, her fingers lightly finding the psionic centers, her soul reverberating with the reclaimed joinder. He returned the caress, his fingers blindly stroking around her psionic points, the touch of his skin like a long-lingering kiss.
And then Phlox was at their side, scanning her, frowning. He took a hypo and quickly injected her, took another hypo and pushed it against her chest. "I'll call a stretcher," he said.
"I can walk." T'Pol objected.
"I want you in Sickbay." Phlox countered
"I'll walk her there." Trip quickly defused the burgeoning stand-off.
Phlox looked up and nodded. It would free up the stretcher for another. "See that you do." He went to the next wounded. Trip helped T'Pol up. She took a step and winced. Before she could control the pain he had scooped her in his arms.
"I can walk." She reproached, not as forcefully.
"And I can fly" He replied. She quickly gave up the fight, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Walking hurt almost as much as breathing. She had been right to think that everything would be better once she found Trip.