Chapter 3
Trip felt like a kid in a candy store as he looked over the various components used as experiments in the progress of building the final warp engine.
Yarra picked up a piece. "This was from our sixth attempt. As you can see, the metal twisted before achieving a speed that would create the warp bubble."
Trip looked over the piece. "Looks like it was part of something bigger. The metal is lightweight, I assume you figured a lighter material would help make the vessel go faster."
Yarra nodded. "That was the thought at the time, but we now know to depend more on boost rather than weight."
Trip shook his head. "Actually, you might have been on the right track. While boost and speed plays a very important role, weight does factor into the equation. You just have to find the right balance."
Yarra smiled. "I think we accomplished that, don't you?"
Trip nodded as he chuckled. "I guess I could agree with that statement, although you still have a lot to learn."
"You could help us with that, you know." Yarra stated in a tone that Trip recognized as one he had used many times as a child, when he tried to get his older brother to give him the answers to homework assignments. It now dawned on him that maybe this was the reason why Vulcans viewed humans as children.
Trip shook his head as he chuckled at the comparison, using the words that Pat had said to him many times. "You won't learn anything unless you find the answers for yourself."
Yarra nodded. "You're right, we have to figure this out on our own."
Trip looked over to another table, seeing an abandoned device, he moved to get a look at it. "What's this?"
Yarra sighed. "One of my failed experiments. I was trying to create a long range communication device so that when Vekta launched, we could speak with Geetha while he piloted. It didn't work."
Trip studied it for a moment. "Hmm. I think you just didn't have enough power to your signal. Do you mind if I play around with it and see if I can get it working?"
Yarra nodded. As they worked together, Trip used Enterprise as a communication source to transmit. After some time, a little progress was made, and while the signal was weak and faint, it was transmitting.
"I'm going to try and give it a little more juice. How mad will you get if it blows up?" Trip smirked.
Yarra let out a laugh. "If only you knew how much equipment I've blown up over the years. Give it your best, Trip."
Trip opened the casing and exposed the circuits. As he went in with a tool, an electrical arch sparked, his ring acting as a conduit to complete the current. Trip jerked his hand back, shaking it in an attempt to stop the tingling and pain.
"Let me guess. You guys still use alternating current in electrical devices."
Yarra looked confused. "Well… yes. Don't your people?"
Trip shook his head as he took off his ring and put it in his pocket. "Not for over a hundred years. I guess I should've asked before I started to mess around with these wires."
Yarra tilted her head to the side. "What was that you removed from your finger? Does it have a purpose?"
The corners of Trip's mouth twitched. "It's called a ring." He pulled it out of his pocket to show it to Yarra. "Some rings are worn simply for fashion, uh, like decoration. This type however, when worn on the third finger of the left hand signifies a person is married."
He could tell by Yarra's expression that she didn't understand. "Um… married. Betrothed to another person. Mated?"
Yarra's eyes lit up. "Oh! I see. And do you take your mate on your ship with you?"
Trip chuckled as he started to work on the device again. "I'm married… uh mated to Captain Archer, so I guess you could say that."
Suddenly Yarra's expression turned fearful as she quickly stood, backing away from Trip. Trip's brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" He asked.
Yarra ran to the opposite wall, pulling on a device and holding it to her ear. "Yes! I need help quickly! He's diseased! Yes, of course I'll make sure he stays here until you come for him, but hurry!"
Trip furrowed his brows as he watched Yarra replace the device on the wall. "Diseased? What are you talking about? I'm not sick."
Yarra scoffed. "They all say that. Now you just stay right there until the guards come for you. They'll take you to the facility, and it will be over with before long."
"What will be over with? I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Trip said as he took a step towards Yarra.
Yarra shrieked. "Just stay away from me, I don't want to get any of your filth on me! They say it's not contagious, but I'm not willing to take that chance. Stay away!"
Trip held his hands in front of him in surrender as he stepped back. "Ok, ok, calm down. I'll stay on my side of the room, but I sure wish you would tell me what's going on."
The door opened as armed guards stepped in. "Is this the one?" A tall muscular man asked Yarra.
Yarra nodded. "Yes, he's the one. He admitted to me that he's diseased, him and his Captain."
"Now hold on a minute! I never said anything like that! What is wrong with you people?" Trip yelled out.
Suddenly, Trip felt a searing, painful shock run through his body. His eyes rolled up as he collapsed to the floor, groaning from the pain before losing consciousness.
§§§
Jon sipped at the cool, refreshing drink. "This is very good. What did you say it was called?"
Fraia smiled. "We call it Jarrguam. It's made from the juices of a fruit that grows on tall trees. It is very special, as the trees produce the fruits only once every 3 seasons. It is reserved to serve only on special occasions, or to highly respected guests."
Jon tipped his head. "I'm honored that you have shared this rare treat with me. I'm sure T'Pol will find a tree that produces fruit only once every 3 seasons interesting. Do you think she will come across any of the trees in the area she's studying?"
Fraia shook her head. "No, the area your Commander T'Pol is currently studying is too dry. These trees typically grow in the valley and woodland areas of our planet where there is a more consistent supply of rain and water areas. We do have a couple of these trees that were planted in our city garden, and I do believe they are in the season to flower and produce fruit, if you'd like to see them."
Jon smiled and nodded. "I'd like that very much. You won't mind if we take some scans, maybe collect a few small samples for study? Of course, Lieutenant Reed will need to accompany us, he is kind of my shadow, y'know."
Fraia smiled in understanding. "I expect that Lieutenant Malcolm will join us, I too have a shadow whenever I leave the confines of the building."
Jon chuckled. He had explained that the proper address is rank and surname, but the people continued to address the crew by rank and given name. He wasn't sure if this was their custom, they simply didn't understand or if it was their expression of humor. In any case, Jon was becoming accustomed to it.
He grinned at Malcolm. "There you go. Now you'll have someone to chat with while we visit the garden."
"Smashing, sir." Malcolm muttered sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.
The door to the office abruptly opened as guards entered with weapons drawn. Fraia scowled at them. "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded.
From the corner of his eye, Jon could see Malcolm start to reach for his phaser and shook his head at him in a silent order to stand down.
One of the guards stepped forward. "Excuse us ma'am, but we need to take your guests into custody. One of them is sick."
Fraia stepped away from the pair, glaring at Jon. "Sick? With what? What kind of illness have you brought to our world?"
Jon shook his head. "None of us are sick. Before coming here, our doctor gave each of us an exam and we are all clear of any contagions."
The guard huffed. "Changlor syndrome can't be detected by a doctor's exam. Commander Charles admitted that both he and Captain Jonathan are affected. You both need mental treatment."
Jon's mouth dropped open in shock. "Excuse me, what! Mental treatment? What are you talking about? What the hell is changlor syndrome?"
Fraia was visibly angered by what she had just learned about her guest. "Yes, of course take them to the treatment facility… all of them. How dare you bring your disgusting disease to our planet? First you try to befriend us with promises of helping us to explore the universe, what's next? You integrate yourselves into our society then infect our children with your disease? Is this how you conquer an entire planet?"
Jon clenched his jaw. "Conquer your planet? We have a ship in orbit that can destroy any target we want. If we were conquerors, it would have been done already. I don't know what this illness that you're talking about is, but I can assure you that we were cleared of any viruses before coming down here. If you're claiming this… illness as some sort of mental disorder, then I would assume that you're intelligent enough to know mental disorders aren't contagious. If this has something to do with my problem, then I will remind you of your son's problem."
Fraia glared at Jon. "How dare you compare my son's alcohol issues with your… your… disease!" She turned towards the guards. "Take them out of here!"
As Jon and Malcolm complied with the guards, Jon questioned. "I still don't understand what's going on. What's changlor syndrome?"
The largest guard spun, hitting Jon hard in the stomach with the butt of his rifle, causing Jon to double over, groaning as he clutched at his stomach. "Shut up and keep moving!" The guard spat out.
Malcolm lunged towards the guard. "Now see here!"
Before Malcolm had a chance to get to the guard, another hit Malcolm in the head with a small baton. Malcolm momentarily saw stars and his surroundings began to spin as he stumbled backwards.
"Leave my officer alone!" Jon shouted.
He grabbed at Malcolm, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders. "Are you ok? Malcolm? Malcolm?"
Malcolm rubbed at the sore spot, slowly nodding. "I think so, sir. Just rung my bell a bit, but I'll be fine. Are you ok?"
Jon slightly chuckled. "He hit me any harder and I would've puked. I'll survive. Let's just not give these guys anymore hassle. We'll figure this out."
"Deal." Malcolm mumbled out as he gave the offending guard a hard glare.