T'Pol stared, wide-eyed, hand drawn back protectively from the sudden horror it had somehow evoked.
Then her eyes flickered and her mind raced, seeing it all and taking it all in instantly. Understanding in only a moment exactly what had been done here. What she had done.
And still she was shocked, all the more, and for exactly and precisely too long. She saw him struggle...and his throat convulse...before she was able to react.
The Deltan was dead. The wire, attached there to the leather collar at Trip's neck...
She stepped and snatched at it, ripping it from him. The cuffs, holding him to the bed...reaching and taking them, pulling...snapping the chains away.
He scrambled already, fingers fumbling at his neck to slap the dermal electrodes away. Then digging madly at the evil strap around his neck and on his chin.
She took it and broke it, throwing it absently behind her.
He choked and gagged, trying to launch himself up and off the bed. She helped him...tried to help him...he pushed her aside, stumbling past desperately...
He didn't make it to the bathroom. He fell to his knees only two staggering steps away, vomiting already. A gout and splash of blood and bile on the floor before him where he kneeled now. Choking, gasping and groaning.
And crying, keening. Shaking from it.
She was there, at his side, instantly. Holding him up, holding him too her. Still horrified at what had been done here. What had been done to him.
What she had done.
He reached for her, desperately. Gripping her tightly enough to hurt. Crying uncontrollably, trembling.
She...didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to do about this.
She could only hold him to her. Hold him away from everything that had happened here, close to her where he was safe.
And there was the subtlest slithering movement from the bed.
T'Pol turned to look, over Trip's head where he trembled and cried and shook at her chest. The Deltan's body twitched on the bed. Impossibly, as she'd nearly decapitated her with that one furious yank against the wire around her neck.
Black smoke erupting suddenly, from Tali's eyes and mouth...and the great gash of her throat...flashing with sparks of crimson deep within the roiling mass of it. Arcing up like a black snake to coil at the ceiling for a moment.
Looking down on her, T'Pol knew. Watching, filled with sadistic glee at the sight.
Darting and flowing out the door of the room and gone with barely a breath of sound.
Trip suddenly stopped crying. Suddenly tensed, hard as a rock under her hands. His breathing somehow slow and deep again.
Pulling away from her...moving unsteadily to take his feet again...
"Trip..." She breathed, looking up at him, alarmed and shaken.
He glanced back for a moment, looking down on her from where he stood, swaying slightly to keep his balance. Looking down where she still sat on the floor.
His eyes as black as the coldest night.
And he struggled, she saw. Even as she scrambled back a little, preparing to take to her feet now as well. He struggled, muscles tense and jaw tight.
She took to her feet quickly, stepping away, her eyes wide and wary. Watching him, terrified for him.
Of him, perhaps. A little.
She struggled herself as well, trying to regain control again. Trying to understand what was happening...
Trip lost whatever struggle he waged, throwing one hand out toward the wall of the room with an almost violent flail of his arm.
And the wall exploded. Blasted away by whatever unseen rage he level at it. Launched out in a great mass of violent debris, out over the street and the parking lot beyond.
That other hand coming for her then, reaching out to grab her...without touching her at all.
Something snatched her into the air, spinning her wildly. She was disoriented immediately, knowing only that she moved and far too fast, too madly to follow. One single, short memory of that fateful night decades ago, in Trip's nursery, flashing through her mind. That night when the demon, the same one she'd just witnessed leave Tali, she now knew, had thrust her into the wall in the exact same manner.
That was this. It was the same power again.
One brief sensation of the night air rushing across her skin before she impacted. Something hard smashing into her back.
Or, rather, her back smashing into it. Something that gave way beneath her, almost breaking completely before finally molding itself somewhat around her. Her breath knocked out of her, still disoriented, unable to focus her eyes for a moment.
And when she did finally...the building itself loomed before her then. The southern wall of the Starfleet Cadet dormitory. One great hole punched out of it, up on the fifth floor.
He'd thrown her from the room. Tossed her out, into the air over the parking lot.
She struggled, catching her breath in a great gasp, coughing helplessly. Pushing away from the thing that tried to hold her now. The roof of some vehicle she'd landed on, collapsed almost completely around her. She was almost too numb from the trauma of it all to find her way free.
Finally turning over with one desperate effort, to grab frantically around her. Pulling herself out and free again, to fall across the forward hood of the car and slide helpless to the concrete below.
Laying there for a moment more, on her back, trying to catch her breath enough to move again.
To go back.
Find him, help him.
Laying there still, too numb and dizzy to move again...when the rest of the building began to explode in flames above her.
Room by room, window by window, one after another until her sight blurred again and she passed out.
Starfleet emergency response lived up to its name, responding quickly and on the scene in minutes. Fast enough that medics were on hand, attempting to assess her by the time she stopped crawling and regained her feet again.
Caught her breath finally, found her balance again. Focused her eyes and oriented on the building enough to identify the front door, where it stood open now.
They were on hand to stop her as well, when she tried to stagger back in, ignoring her protests and her insistence that she had to reach him.
Finally getting through to her that the building was too dangerous to enter. That firefighters were already arriving and that rescue efforts would begin in moments. She would only get in the way, become a casualty herself.
She could do nothing. Only collapsing to her knees again, meters still from the front door. Kneeling there, overwhelmed, forcing the firemen and rescue teams to work around the crazed Vulcan woman on her knees in the middle of the street.
Kneeling there, watching and waiting. Until she was certain he was lost. That no miracle would occur here that he might emerge from the flames and collapsing debris. No rescue officer would appear with him under their arm, oxygen mask to his face, with a minor burn or two.
She knelt and waited in despair, until she knew that he wouldn't walk out of that to return to her.
But he did.
And his eyes were hard and cold as he stepped out of the burning building. The place where all his dreams and the normal life he'd managed to claim for himself had once resided.
Where his lover now lay dead, by the twisted mind of a demon and by her own ignorant, irrational hand. Friends and classmates, hopes and dreams, burning around and behind him in effigy. An evil, bloody, burning gravestone marking the death of it all.
T'Pol could only stare as he walked out of the building, rescue officers and firemen darting around him, most of them abandoning the place themselves.
His eyes dead and empty, but no longer black now. She watched and he didn't look at her when he came to stand over her.
He looked back up at the dormitory, cold and hard now, and he watched it burn.
Carl Roacher came around to the side cargo door of the truck, pulling it open to root around in the cooler there on the seat. Digging around a bit, looking for that last ham and cheese sandwich.
They'd been out here for hours already, walking the length of the field, scanning everything. Deep geoscans, trying to figure out just what the hell happened out here. Half the damned salt mine had just collapsed in on itself, for no apparent reason.
Mr. Cairns was just about beside himself, so there'd be no going home until they had some answers here.
It was frustrating, though. It's not like the company was ever going to reopen this mine, at least not anytime soon. They'd been sitting on the thing for decades now. They might sell it, maybe. Someday, if it ever looked like they could make some kind of profit on it. And of course the damned thing just collapsing in all over the place like that didn't help that. They'd have a hard time pawning it off now, since whoever picked it up next would just have to go through all the trouble of excavating...
But, damn. Still. They'd been out here all night. The sun was about to come up, for crying out loud.
Billy and Hanson were still out on the north end of the field. Rodriguez walking up now to get himself something from the cooler and Rico over there, sitting on the generator already munching down.
Because, yes, damn it. They'd be out here another few hours before they'd be able to honestly say they'd done all they could to figure this out. And that there was just no figuring it out. So might as well take a break...
Carl sighed to himself, fetching out that ham and cheese sandwich he finally found. Unwrapping it, doing his best to console himself with the fact that they were making time and a half here. So there was that, at least.
He had the sandwich halfway to his mouth before he noticed.
Rico was up on his feet, whatever he'd be chowing down on dropped to the ground in front of him. Standing there, hands kind of out from his sides a little, just shaking.
Like...he was getting electrocuted or something.
Carl dropped his own sandwich at that. His first thought...Rico had been sitting on the generator...
But, no. He wasn't sitting on it anymore. He was standing there, convulsing, on his feet beside it. And that big cloud of black smoke whirling around in the air in front of him...
He'd already dashed around to the back of the truck, to come around and race over there, but the smoke was suddenly just gone. It almost seemed like it had drawn right into Rico, maybe...like, into his face...but that didn't make any sense.
Rico was just standing there now, not shaking anymore...
Rodriguez had already got to him before he could, so Carl stopped short at that. Just staring over, a little confused. Wondering it he'd really seen anything he just saw.
He'd been up all night, scanning the field, so maybe he was hallucinating...?
"Hey, Rico!" Rodriguez said, concerned. "You alright?"
He'd come to a stop, too, just like Carl. A few meters away, apparently not sure either at what he'd just seen.
Rico turned his head to look over at Rodriguez.
Smiling, kind of...creepy like.
"Why, I'm just right as rain." He said, smoothly.
Carl opened his mouth to say something. Maybe to say something about the smoke and how he'd just been standing there looking like he was having a seizure on his feet just a second ago...
That turned into a wordless yell instead. A yell of startled surprise at the big, black cloud of smoke curling in behind Rodriguez. Just coming out of nowhere, out of the darkness, right up behind him.
Come out of nowhere...fast...
Carl yelled again, wide-eyed.
"Rodrig-...!"
That was all he had time for. The long cord of smoke struck Rodriguez right in the back, splitting up and curling around him...right into his face...right into his mouth...
In just a second. Not even a damned second!
Rodriquez jerked and convulsed for a quick moment, as the smoke just poured right into him. Until it was all gone and he was just standing there...just like Rico a minute ago...
Carl stumbled back, suddenly terrified and not even really clear on what the hell was going on. But Rico...he looked over at Rico, partly to be sure he'd seen what had just happened too...and partly because he was still half sure the same thing happened to him a minute ago.
Rico was looking over at him, smiling.
And his eyes were black. Pitch black. Not just the pupils but everything. His whole eyeball, looked like.
Carl turned and ran. Didn't even think about it. He wasn't thinking at all. He just did it, turned and started running.
Maybe making some kind of terrified sound as he did, but he wasn't sure and certainly wasn't paying attention to that sort of thing. He was all about getting the hell out of there.
Made it a couple of meters before something snatched at his feet and knocked him down. And whatever it was didn't let go. It started dragging him.
Dragging hard and fast, across the open ground. Right past the trucks into the brightly lit area in between, beneath the big field light. Carl was already screaming just from that, never mind how getting dragged that hard and fast across the ground hurt like hell.
Whatever had dragged him turned and flipped him over on the ground, face up. A sudden pressure sitting right over him, on his stomach and legs and arms. So he couldn't move.
Just laying there, terrified and gibbering a little, right at their feet. Rico and Rodriguez, both looking now at him, smirking.
Carl gasped and startled when Billy suddenly appeared.
Flying through the air, wailing, to land with a thump right next to him. And something must have reached out and grabbed him, too, because he suddenly flipped over on his back and started whimpering and struggling.
Hanson walked up, coming right in between Rico and Rodriguez. They even stepped aside to make way for him.
And his eyes were black too, Carl saw. As cold and black as the two others.
Rico look down between the two of them, then frowned out at the air around them.
"Where is Lilina, Jahi?" He frowned.
"She's running a little late, apparently." Hanson sneered.
Rodriguez growled. "She's starting to piss me off. She loses Bobby and then gets ganked by the Tuckers in a damned alleyway. If you ask me, she's proving a little useless."
Rico snorted. "Sure. And where's your pet, Lamia? Oh! That's right, she got her head blown off..."
"Well, where's yours, bitch?" Rodriguez sneered. "She blew her own head off..."
"Shut up!" Hanson snapped.
They shut up.
Still glaring at one another, but at least not confusing him any further with all that...craziness they'd just said.
Beside him, Billy suddenly decided to speak.
"What...what the hell...?" He stuttered, terrified.
"I said...shut up." Hanson repeated, looking over at him.
Rico snorted again.
"Well, we've got two." He said. "She can pick one when she gets here."
Rodriguez gestured over at Billy.
"That one's cute." He said. "The other guy's a fatty..."
Hanson snapped his fingers.
And Billy suddenly caught on fire.
All of him. All at once, blazing like he'd been dunked in burning oil.
He started screaming immediately. And so did Carl, eyes bulging out of his head, screaming over at him.
"That's what she gets for being late." Hanson said. "She can have the fat guy."
Carl kept screaming, long after Billy stopped. Right up until another one of the horrible, roiling cords of smoke came rushing in across the field to hover over them all.
Looking down on him, he somehow knew.
Hesitating, looking down at him, where he screamed hysterically. While Hanson and Rico and Rodriguez just laughed.
Then falling down on him, like some impossible nightmare...
They had to slip away quietly before anyone could think to cordon off the area. Begin questioning people, reviewing security recordings, discover the bodies in the parking lot and realize there must be a connection.
It would take days before her contacts could clean up the worst of the mess. Step on police bulletins, arrest warrants and detainment orders. Obscure their identities, shuffle them about, lose them. Until the various law enforcement organizations weren't looking for them anymore. At least not specifically.
They made use of a local contact in San Francisco, crashing a safe house there for the rest of the morning. Trip said nothing the whole time, unresponsive and withdrawn.
She cleaned him up as best she could. Changed his clothes from the things she'd bought him before, still in the back of the cargo bug. Tried to comfort him and reach him, but he sat and said nothing. Shying away from her touch enough that she couldn't bring herself to make the attempt any longer.
Eventually forced to sit and wait herself, watching over him until the morning hours passed. But he only sat and stared, overwhelmed and broken.
Until at last, as noon approached, he slept.
She touched him one last time then, when he couldn't shy away. Brushing his hair from his forehead while he slept before taking up vigil next to him to meditate.
His leaving roused her to awareness again, an hour later, in time to see him walk out the door.
She followed.
And this thing was all too familiar to her.
He spent several minutes at the cache in the trunk of the bug, checking the weapons and gear. Performing routine maintenance, she could see, despite the fact the lot was completely open to the public. Anyone could walk by and notice the vast array of deadly weapons on display.
But he didn't care, she knew. Like his father before him, he cared now for very little.
He sighed lightly when she finally came to stand beside him, looking over at him, rather than watching from the door of the hotel room any longer.
Looking over, waiting for him.
He took a slow breath before speaking, as if unsure he still knew how. And his voice did rasp a bit.
"Called command a little while ago." He said, flatly. Emotionlessly. "While you were meditating."
Not what she'd expected him to say, if she expected anything at all.
"You called them?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "Resigned my commission."
Her heart...caved at that. Her every unrealized fear here falling suddenly upon her.
She was devastated, just that easily. With only those few words.
"Trip, no..." She breathed.
"They're all dead." He said, coldly. "'Cause I was just fooling myself. I never should have been there. This is where I'm supposed to be."
She held her breath a moment, suppressing the pain and despair. Until she could speak again.
"Trip, we can...there must be a way..."
"It's not a big deal."
"No..."
He tossed the rifle he'd just checked into the cache, grabbing the collapsible compound bow next.
"Had an idea," He said, looking it over carefully. "A while back. Never worked on it. Iron demanifests spirits and hurts demons, partly cause it's a conductor. Spiritually and physically. So iron plated arrows, with the right inscription, micro-etched on the shaft..."
"Trip, please..."
"...you could immobilize a possessed host, just like your dagger or holy wood. Hell, theoretically, with a little kava'kel root and Surok's seventh ho-rah let'theiri..."
"Trip..."
"...maybe even banish them right to the pit..."
"Trip, stop!" She insisted.
He sighed, pausing for a moment.
Then tossed the bow into the trunk.
"We're gonna to go see Dusty." He said, firmly. "Alright?"
A question, yes, but his tone brooked no dissent. He would leave her and go himself, she knew.
She had been here before.
Long ago, with his father. Exactly here, where she stood now.
With Trip now.
She tried to suppress her despair, but it showed through anyway. Cracking her voice when she spoke.
"Very well." She said, quietly. And what else was there to say?
He slammed the trunk closed.
"Come on." He said, flatly. "We've got a lot of work to do."
He left her there, standing at the rear door of the cargo bug. Standing there, staring at everything she'd just lost. All her hopes for him, all his unrealized dreams and goals.
All of her own as well. Everything Charles had promised her, if she only stepped away and led Trip out of this life. All of it lost, and so much more besides.
But, of course.
She'd allowed herself to be tempted away. Led astray, yet again. And she'd lost everything now, yet again. Not only that but Trip as well, he'd suffered the same. They'd lost everything, both of them.
There was nothing left for them.
