Bridge
Archer's face is tense as he nods at the screen, "Proceed!"
"We're starting transportation," Lieutenant Reed's voice comes back over the intercom.
"On screen!" Archer barks. He doesn't even have to, Reed's already on it.
The bridge waits in awed silence. But the screen stays dark. Crewmembers look at each other in dismay. Phlox walks in, strides to the screen and stops, looks back at Archer with a puzzled look on his face.
"Trip, what's with the vidfeeds?!" Archer snaps at the man standing next to him. That may not quite be Trip, but the engineer's in there somewhere and he's the one who figured out the screen thing.
"Interference from the transportation," Trip replies calmly, "Give it a few more seconds."
Almost as if on cue, the screen turns a dull grey. It takes another few seconds before they can make out an image in the dull haze. It's the fuzzy white square of the biobed, in the middle of what looks like a cavernous hall. Archer squints, "Any way we can make this brighter?" Brighter, clearer, sharper, anything but this misty mess.
"This is the optimal setting, Captain. Remember we are capturing the pulsar wave interference created by the alien being, hmm?" Phlox answers from where he's standing close to the screen.
Archer sighs inwardly, focuses again. The image looks clearer now, he can make out the body on the biobed. There's a deeper shade there. A shadow. He realizes with a start he's looking at the alien coiled inside T'Pol. He thins his lips. "We did what you wanted, you've got to release her," he tells Trip. They have a deal.
Trip's staring at the screen. "The Realm of the Unassigned," he says softly, almost longingly. There's a catch in his voice.
Archer shoots him a look, his gaze hard. Is he still connected to the alien? How can that be? He flips on the intercom, "Archer to transport."
"Sir?" Comes the disembodied voice of Malcolm.
"You have a visual?"
"Full visual, Sir!" Malcolm confirms. That's code to let him know Malcolm's ready to fire, the full fire power of Enterprise at his fingertips. The alien better not try anything.
"Captain! The music's stopped!" Hoshi calls out. Indeed, the bridge is silent for the first time in a long time. "They're everywhere!" Travis exclaims in turn. Hoshi's mouth is open in a silent 'oh'. The entire bridge crew is staring in amazement.
Archer squints forcefully at the screen. Nothing. Finally he sees it. There are dark shadows all around, the walls of the huge hall are covered with them. He blinks, tries to adjust his eyes, make each individual blot, but there's too many of them, perhaps thousands, even millions. Who knows how far this hall expands. "Are those aliens?" he asks. It's a rhetorical question if there ever was one.
"We are geodids," Trip answers, as if that explains everything.
"That's not what I was asking, Tr—" Whatever he's going to say next is drowned by another cry, this time from the junior at Travis' side, "Look at those!"
The bridge crew all direct their gaze to where he's pointing. Once again Archer can't see it. The whole thing's starting to wear thin. "Bougard?!" he growls.
"On the ground, Sir! They're on the ground!" Bougard excitedly replies.
Archer doesn't have to look too hard this time. The shapes on the ground belong to the three-dimensional realm he's more comfortable with. They're much larger, weird-looking figures that remind him of something he's seen in antique book. Half the size of a man, they're lying lifeless on the ground or hunched against the wall, heads bent, beaks almost touching the ground.
"Are they dead?" he whispers to Phlox.
"They're alive, Captain," he doctor counters. He's squinting at the screen, arms crossed, "Hmm, these look remarkably like the skeleton from the alien ship." He pauses, "If they were covered with muscles and skin, that is."
"Are these the aliens from the planet?!" there's an edge in Archer's voice. The mystery is increasing. He doesn't like increasing mysteries. They usually bide no good for Enterprise.
"I'm not sure, Captain," Phlox replies. "Based on the interaction between E'Shara and the alien, there is another species, ... the enreps... I don't know about the..." he hesitates, "...aliens... on the ground."
Trip nods, "They are hosts. With us they become enreps."
Archer shoots him a look. 'With us'? "You're not an enrep?!" he demands to know.
Trip blinks in surprises, "It's me, Trip!" He hesitates, scowls, his gaze turns distant, "Not..." a whisper of sadness feels the bridge, "... an enrep. I am Unassigned." Everyone on the bridge turns to stare at him.
Archer's starting to feel queasy trying to make sense of what's going on. "I need to talk to the enreps!" he demands.
Trip has a faraway look, "Why?" he asks, his voice hoarse.
Archer scowls, "You are holding my First Officer hostage. I want her released." And using his Chief Engineer as a messenger. But one thing at a time.
Trip shakes his head ruefully, "It is not yet time. She will be released when I find a host."
Another clue. Perhaps. "You're the alien?" Archer asks.
"We are all aliens," comes the answer.
Archer'd slam his fist on his armrest but he can't afford to let his feelings show. "I brought you here, now release my First Officer!" he says again, forcefully.
Phlox prevents any further retort. "Look, the geodid!" the doctor calls out. "It's moving!"
Everyone turns to the screen. The shadow in T'Pol's head is moving. They see it uncoil slowly, so slowly, then slide out... It is now covering her face - can she still breathe? It's all over her face, her mouth. Then it starts inching down her neck. Ever so slowly, too slowly. Finally it's off her face. Archer realizes he's been holding his breath, takes in a gulp of air. The shadow keeps moving, now sliding down towards her breasts. Why can't it just get off her at the neck? Archer wonders. As if it heard the Captain, the shadow turns at the junction with the shoulder, slides off. It is off her!
"Transport her back!" Phlox shouts.
"No!" Trip shakes his head, "Not yet." He turns to the Captain, his tone pleading, "Not now. Soon."
Archer's hand hovers over the com, and stays there.
"Captain?" Malcolm's voice resounds on the bridge. He's been monitoring the situation from the transport room.
"Maintain visual, Lieutenant," Archer answers. He checks the clock. He'll make sure not much time goes by.
On the screen, the shadow is gliding on the floor, a small puddle of nothingness that squeezes and relaxes into forward progress. It is painstaking progress. The shadow skirts several of the aliens with a beak. Then it makes a bee line to an alien sitting against the wall. The alien doesn't react, it hardly seems alive. They watch as the shadow creeps up to it, then slowly make its way up, clearly aiming for the long beak. Finally it gets there and squeezes through one of the air holes. The shadow has disappeared.
Archer glances at the clock. Three minutes since last time.
The beaked alien suddenly stirs and gets up on unsteady legs. It flaps its wings, once, twice, three times, points its beak at the sky. There's a raucous cry all the way to the bridge, and then it lifts off. They track the winged alien as it makes a graceful curve towards the ceiling of the cavernous hall. It loops in tighter concentric circles and disappears into what looks like a long tunnel or a chimney, as if sucked upward by an invisible eddy.
Silence falls on the bridge. On the biobed T'Pol curls into a fetal position. "Now!" Phlox hollers.
"Now!" Trip shouts. He falls to the floor like a disarticulated puppet. Phlox rushes to his side. He nods in relief at Archer, Trip is still alive.
"Malcolm, transport her back!" Archer shouts into the com. "Medics!" he hears Hoshi yell in the background.
In the transporter room, Lieutenant Reed's jaw is set, his fingers deftly pressing the controls. If he were made of softer stuff, he'd pray to get T'Pol back and that she's fine. But he's not made of softer stuff, his mind is focused on the controls next to his left hand, the ones that will unleash a barrage of torpedos and weapons of all kinds against the alien planet. That's all he can allow himself to focus on, lest he start praying.
xxx
Bridge
The turbolift doors close on Phlox and the gurney. Archer's keeping his focus on the planet. He still has to make first contact. God only knows he has questions for them, so many questions. All he wants is a simple 'hello'.
A barrage of painful noise suddenly emanates from the planet. Hoshi winces, pulls the earplugs off quickly.
"What is it, Ensign?" Archer asks.
"I think you'd better listen for yourself, Captain," she replies. Sound erupts all over the bridge. They all wince and cover their ears at the noise.
"Shut the com!" Archer yells, fingers pressed into his ears.
"I can't! Haven't opened a com!" Hoshi shouts back, squinting. Next to her, Travis lets go of the controls with one hand, trying to shield his eardrums. The ship lists slightly, an alarm rings at the sudden diversion from orbit.
Archer looks around through a curtain of red. The sound is unbearable, sirens erupting in every cell of his brain. He needs to get his ship away. "Evasive maneuvers!" he yells, "Travis, get us out of orbit!"
The young pilot clings to his console, trying to block the nerve-shattering noise long enough to input the commands. Enterprise lurches, seems to be peeling away like an anchor. Not one of his most elegant moves but who's counting when there's a starship level of decibels drumming to your head?
The sound's hardly abated.
"Warp one, Mr. Mayweather!" Archer shouts again.
Travis would gladly go to warp five, anything to get away from this ruckus. But if the Captain said Warp One, that's what the Captain gets.
On the screen, the planet looks like a large basketball. The noise is still there, but now just above talking level. It's obvious they haven't solved the issue, just made it a little bit better.
Archer's sitting with his jaw set. He's not going anywhere until he hears T'Pol's back to normal. And Trip. In the meantime, he's still clinging to the hope of a first contact. Eventually, he will come to realize that there was no hope of that happening, that the aliens chased them away and that he will never have the answers he yearns for. Eventually. But right now, he's not ready to give up that hope.
xxx