Chapter 10
"I can't stand this anymore," Lt. Reed said as he paced the bridge, "we don't know what's going on down there and it's scaring the bloody hell out of me."
Everyone kept their eyes on the Lieutenant, awaiting their orders on how to retrieve their crewmembers.
"Hoshi?"
"Sir, there's no way to contact the surface unless we were to go down there ourselves." The Ensign said with frustration.
"All right," Reed said, "I guess that's just what we're going to have to do."
* * *
"I-I can't believe she's really gone." Trip said as he fiddled with a loose string of his cot. His eyes were glossy.
"They just-shot her," He snapped his finger, "just like that," Trip shook his head, "evil Nazi bastards."
Archer looked over at Barik who sat in a corner. The man wasn't afraid to cry. And he did so openly. In his hand, there was a small, wilted tamika. Barik had asked to be left alone. Everyone respected his method of mourning and let him sit alone in his corner.
"I didn't know either of them," Loupa said, who was leaning on his elbows on the cot, "but I'm sure they were real nice gals."
"Thanks, Loupa." Archer said.
"I wonder what the Vulcan afterworld is like?" Trip remarked.
Archer said, "I'm not sure if they have one. T'Pol never mentioned anything about one that she believed in."
The rest of the barrack was almost asleep. Archer and the rest of his group now all had their own cots. The decimation had taken quite a few lives from their barracks. Archer had heard from Trip that the prisoners were randomly chosen from a line that Trip had been part of. Innocent prisoners. Though, Archer was sure that everyone here was innocent. Anyway, Trip was lucky. It was a small line and they had chosen every other prisoner to be executed. But that still wouldn't change the fact that one of his crewmembers was dead.
Archer sighed. "The Vulcan High Command is gonna have my ass for this."
Archer felt kind of bad for saying that, but it was true. And it took his thoughts away from the memory of T'Pol's expression when she realized she'd been shot. She didn't hold back emotion. Tears streamed down her face as she slid ungracefully to the muddy ground. The decimation went on for a few more minutes, but Archer didn't watch. He only stared at his Science Officer lying on the ground with her eyes still wide open, staring back at her captain...the captain that had failed her.
* * *
This Vulcan had thought herself to be too sophisticated to believe in something as impractical as an afterlife. But, perhaps, she was wrong.
T'Pol strained to open her eyes. But, strangely, she felt she didn't want to. Her stomach had an excruciating throbbing to it. And she dare not touch it. T'Pol tried to roll over to her other side. The mattress she was on was cold and clammy at the touch. T'Pol suddenly felt something wet under her hand. T'Pol attempted to open her eyes again. She only looked at her hand. It was covered with a very dark bluish substance. But the smell was so familiar. The smell of blood. T'Pol glanced down and gasped in horror at the woman underneath her. The same dark blue liquid dribbled out of a hole in the woman's head. T'Pol turned to her other side and saw a man, dead, staring up at her. T'Pol sat up with extreme pain. She was laying on top a mass of bodies. T'Pol, despite the pain, hurriedly rolled off the bodies and fell to the dirt floor. She cried out in pain from landing on her wound. T'Pol quickly realized that she was in an old, small, wooden shed. Obviously used for disposing of bodies.
"Look! One's alive!"
T'Pol sat up, with a hand at her wound, and saw three men, in pedestrian clothing, staring down at her. One of the men was holding a girl in his arms and he was shaking his head. T'Pol narrowed her eyes. The girl was Vian. Her skin was gray and her eyes wide with fright, but she was dead. T'Pol brought her attention back to the men before her.
One of them knelt down and gently pried T'Pol's hand from her wound. He winced when he saw it.
"You're lucky. Looks like another couple of centimeters and it would've damaged your internal organs."
"I thought it already had." T'Pol said.
She was surprised by the sound of her voice. For she sounded like her grandmother, as raspy as her voice was. She tried to gather saliva to moisten her throat, but none would come forth.
"Are you a doctor?"
A small smile curved the man's lips. "Of a fashion, yes."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"Do you see any Nazi soldiers here inspecting their dead to make sure they really are dead?"
T'Pol glanced around the room. "No."
"Then I guess you should trust me. Besides, they could come back at any time to take you and the rest to the furnace to be burned. Water?"
"That would be most appreciated."
The man handed her a pitcher. T'Pol brought the cool liquid to her lips and thought she'd never tasted anything as delectable as this. She drank the water in large gulps and didn't put the pitcher down for quite some time.
T'Pol handed the pitcher back to the doctor when she was done.
"My name is Gerib, and you?"
"T'Pol."
"I've noticed your clothes are still in pretty good condition, how long have you been at the camp."
"Three days," T'Pol watched the other man gently put Vian to the ground, "she had also been here for three days."
Gerib turned in the direction of T'Pol's gaze. "Did you know her?"
"We had become companions. I had even fought a guard who was bringing her to decimation," T'Pol paused, "only to have her still being killed and myself put in a just as fatal condition."
Gerib shook his head. "It's not your fault. You could've fought every officer from your barracks and she would've still been put in the decimation."
"She was fifteen years old. She should have lived. But she didn't."
Gerib bit his lip, and then changed the subject. "We should go. I don't think there's anyone else-"
"We got a live one!" One of the men said.
Gerib spun around and hurriedly inspected the woman in the man's arms. From where T'Pol could see, the woman was in critical need of medical care. She'd been shot twice. Once in her chest, and the another in her shoulder.
"We need to get her to the camp immediately," Gerib said, "Get her on the stretcher. Looks like the bullet punctured her right lung. Get T'Pol on a stretcher too. I doubt she'll be able to walk."
* * *
A cool breeze caressed T'Pol's face. The Vulcan breathed in deep the sweet aroma of the tamika that lay growing somewhere in the jungle. T'Pol opened her eyes and stared at the wicker roof above her. Her Vulcan ears could pick up the high pitches of a bird in the distance. Despite her wound, T'Pol felt the best she ever had in a long time.
Gerib had once again mentioned that she was lucky and that her wound would be almost completely healed in one week. But, T'Pol wasn't about to wait an entire week to help her fellow officers.
T'Pol sat up in her bed and glanced over at the woman in the other cot. They were able to extract the bullets and drain the blood from her lung. She was healing nicely, though she'd be bedridden for quite some time. Only one other person was in the medical room, a small girl of around eight with a fever. The girl would often have small seizures in the middle of the night, and a nurse was posted at her bed during the night.
T'Pol stretched her arms and grabbed hold of the walking stick one of the villagers had carved for her. T'Pol had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but Gerib was also adamant and told her, as doctor's orders, to use the stick. But, to T'Pol, it was troublesome and an annoyance.
T'Pol used the stick to help her out of the bed, and she limped a bit to the doorway. Outside the door, it was a picturesque scene of children playing and adults chatting happily.
"T'Pol, I see you're getting back on your feet quickly!"
Ja'an, one of the men who was with Gerib when they found T'Pol, stepped up in front of T'Pol and pat her on the back. T'Pol stumbled forward a little bit. Ja'an brought a hand to his mouth.
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!"
T'Pol cocked an eyebrow. It was not difficult to realize that Ja'an was a klutz. Constantly tripping over things, knocking things over. But his gifts as a surgeon were exquisite, just as long as he didn't drop his scalpel, which would happen on more than one occasion.
"No need to apologize, Ja'an."
Ja'an twitched his hands nervously. "Well, Gerib just wanted me to come over to see how you were doing."
"I am fine," T'Pol inhaled deeply, sniffing the air filled with the smells of breakfast being cooked, "I would like to eat, though."
Ja'an put his hands up. "Say no more, my dear, you shall have a feast like no other!"
"I will require only minimal amounts of rations. I was fed well last night."
"Don't be silly! All the people of our village eat well! Come! Come with me, please!" Ja'an put his arm out, but T'Pol gracefully ignored it and hobbled along on her walking stick.
* * *
Trip heaved his shovel into the drying mud. It was still clumpy and moist from yesterday's rain. Trip then felt a welcoming breeze and smelled the scent of a distinctive flower. Trip tried to remember the name of a specific flower Barik had shown them. What was it, a tamka? Tamaka? Tamika. That was it. Trip remembered the powerful, lovely scent of the delicate flower, and it hurtfully reminded him of Vian. Anger boiled inside the chief engineer. The kid had no right to die. Trip silently cursed that Colonel-what's-his-name. Cursed him for being so evil and cruel, especially to an innocent child.
Trip suddenly thought about Earth's Holocaust. How many men, women, and children died for no reason at all? Trip remembered what T'Pol had said about the Nazis thinking they were greatly superior to the Jews. How could someone have the gall to murder so many people because of their own prejudices? It was sick. And it's exactly what was happening on this very planet.
Trip's anger encouraged him to work harder. The guards seemed to be happy with this.
"Did you hear about those missing prisoners from the deceased cabin?" Trip heard two officers behind him talking to each other and he listened carefully.
"Ja. They think it's the Karthanians who 'rescued' them," the officer grunted, "those fools think they can save the world."
"No kidding. What's a few wounded prisoners to them," the guard sighed, "how many were missing?"
"Two, I think. That's what I heard anyway. Never can trust those furnace workers."
"Hm, you're right. Just can't trust anyone who burns up dead people for a living," The officer shivered, "creepy fellows."
"Working hard, I see, gentleman."
Trip recognized the icy voice belonging to Commander Lee. She sounded particularly happy.
"Herr Offiziers, I suggest you two get back to work, now."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Trip smirked. It was nice to see someone else getting in trouble for a change.
"Und you, Mr. Tucker."
Trip stopped digging and he turned his head slightly to face the young commander. The malicious woman walked up to Trip and stood above him, glaring. Trip stood to meet her height.
"Yes?"
The woman hesitated and she bit her lip. For the first time since Trip knew this woman, she seemed to be acting, "playful."
"Come with me, Mr. Tucker. I would like to show you something."
Trip's eyes widened. "Uh, ma'am, I think I'd be much more useful, well, uh," Trip pointed to the spot he stood, "here."
The chief engineer hated it when he stuttered, but there wasn't much he could do about it. This evil and wicked woman was coming on to him and he wasn't about to let it go any further.
"Just, follow me, you imbecile. I have a proposition for you."
I bet. Trip thought.
"Really, ma'am. I'm pretty sure I know what you're doing and," he chuckled, "I'm not really all that interested."
Trip wasn't sure why he said that. He'd seen this woman kill a man just by kicking him in the head. And all he did was roll his eyes. But Trip took a horrible chance and picked his shovel up, thrust it into the dirt and went back to his job.
Lee knelt down next to Trip and he stayed motionless. Lee was so close; Trip could smell the soap from her hair. Lee whispered into his ear.
"You have no idea what you've missed." Lee stood and walked away.
Trip stayed in that same position staring at the ground before him for more than two minutes.
* * *
"Come, T'Pol, please, eat more!"
"Thank you, Ja'an, but I am quite satisfied." T'Pol put her glass down and removed the napkin from her lap.
The day had grown warm, but not unbearable as it had in the camp, especially in the barracks. But Gerib still kept a fan in the medical hut for the patients. At first, T'Pol thought the fan was primitive and naïve, but she soon learned to appreciate the cool breeze it offered.
There was a small table in the middle of the room were T'Pol was served her breakfast. She'd done what she promised and did not eat much regardless of Ja'an's persistent proposals that she eat more.
"I am anxious to make a plan to rescue my companions." T'Pol said.
Ja'an choked on his drink. "What did you say?"
"My captain and chief engineer are still at the compound. I must get them out."
Ja'an shook his head one too many times. "No, no, no, no, no. What, are you crazy?!"
"Excuse me?"
Ja'an laughed nervously. "We can't take anyone from the compound! It's impossible! It's suicide! Besides, you're not completely healed to-"
"I'm am not exceedingly concerned about myself. I am only worried about my companions."
"I'm sorry, T'Pol, it's just not permitted! No one can get into or out of that camp unless escorted by one of the guards!" T'Pol narrowed her eyes. "Really."
Ja'an nodded.
"Ja'an, I have an idea, you're welcome to help me or not."
* * *
To Be Continued.
"I can't stand this anymore," Lt. Reed said as he paced the bridge, "we don't know what's going on down there and it's scaring the bloody hell out of me."
Everyone kept their eyes on the Lieutenant, awaiting their orders on how to retrieve their crewmembers.
"Hoshi?"
"Sir, there's no way to contact the surface unless we were to go down there ourselves." The Ensign said with frustration.
"All right," Reed said, "I guess that's just what we're going to have to do."
* * *
"I-I can't believe she's really gone." Trip said as he fiddled with a loose string of his cot. His eyes were glossy.
"They just-shot her," He snapped his finger, "just like that," Trip shook his head, "evil Nazi bastards."
Archer looked over at Barik who sat in a corner. The man wasn't afraid to cry. And he did so openly. In his hand, there was a small, wilted tamika. Barik had asked to be left alone. Everyone respected his method of mourning and let him sit alone in his corner.
"I didn't know either of them," Loupa said, who was leaning on his elbows on the cot, "but I'm sure they were real nice gals."
"Thanks, Loupa." Archer said.
"I wonder what the Vulcan afterworld is like?" Trip remarked.
Archer said, "I'm not sure if they have one. T'Pol never mentioned anything about one that she believed in."
The rest of the barrack was almost asleep. Archer and the rest of his group now all had their own cots. The decimation had taken quite a few lives from their barracks. Archer had heard from Trip that the prisoners were randomly chosen from a line that Trip had been part of. Innocent prisoners. Though, Archer was sure that everyone here was innocent. Anyway, Trip was lucky. It was a small line and they had chosen every other prisoner to be executed. But that still wouldn't change the fact that one of his crewmembers was dead.
Archer sighed. "The Vulcan High Command is gonna have my ass for this."
Archer felt kind of bad for saying that, but it was true. And it took his thoughts away from the memory of T'Pol's expression when she realized she'd been shot. She didn't hold back emotion. Tears streamed down her face as she slid ungracefully to the muddy ground. The decimation went on for a few more minutes, but Archer didn't watch. He only stared at his Science Officer lying on the ground with her eyes still wide open, staring back at her captain...the captain that had failed her.
* * *
This Vulcan had thought herself to be too sophisticated to believe in something as impractical as an afterlife. But, perhaps, she was wrong.
T'Pol strained to open her eyes. But, strangely, she felt she didn't want to. Her stomach had an excruciating throbbing to it. And she dare not touch it. T'Pol tried to roll over to her other side. The mattress she was on was cold and clammy at the touch. T'Pol suddenly felt something wet under her hand. T'Pol attempted to open her eyes again. She only looked at her hand. It was covered with a very dark bluish substance. But the smell was so familiar. The smell of blood. T'Pol glanced down and gasped in horror at the woman underneath her. The same dark blue liquid dribbled out of a hole in the woman's head. T'Pol turned to her other side and saw a man, dead, staring up at her. T'Pol sat up with extreme pain. She was laying on top a mass of bodies. T'Pol, despite the pain, hurriedly rolled off the bodies and fell to the dirt floor. She cried out in pain from landing on her wound. T'Pol quickly realized that she was in an old, small, wooden shed. Obviously used for disposing of bodies.
"Look! One's alive!"
T'Pol sat up, with a hand at her wound, and saw three men, in pedestrian clothing, staring down at her. One of the men was holding a girl in his arms and he was shaking his head. T'Pol narrowed her eyes. The girl was Vian. Her skin was gray and her eyes wide with fright, but she was dead. T'Pol brought her attention back to the men before her.
One of them knelt down and gently pried T'Pol's hand from her wound. He winced when he saw it.
"You're lucky. Looks like another couple of centimeters and it would've damaged your internal organs."
"I thought it already had." T'Pol said.
She was surprised by the sound of her voice. For she sounded like her grandmother, as raspy as her voice was. She tried to gather saliva to moisten her throat, but none would come forth.
"Are you a doctor?"
A small smile curved the man's lips. "Of a fashion, yes."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"Do you see any Nazi soldiers here inspecting their dead to make sure they really are dead?"
T'Pol glanced around the room. "No."
"Then I guess you should trust me. Besides, they could come back at any time to take you and the rest to the furnace to be burned. Water?"
"That would be most appreciated."
The man handed her a pitcher. T'Pol brought the cool liquid to her lips and thought she'd never tasted anything as delectable as this. She drank the water in large gulps and didn't put the pitcher down for quite some time.
T'Pol handed the pitcher back to the doctor when she was done.
"My name is Gerib, and you?"
"T'Pol."
"I've noticed your clothes are still in pretty good condition, how long have you been at the camp."
"Three days," T'Pol watched the other man gently put Vian to the ground, "she had also been here for three days."
Gerib turned in the direction of T'Pol's gaze. "Did you know her?"
"We had become companions. I had even fought a guard who was bringing her to decimation," T'Pol paused, "only to have her still being killed and myself put in a just as fatal condition."
Gerib shook his head. "It's not your fault. You could've fought every officer from your barracks and she would've still been put in the decimation."
"She was fifteen years old. She should have lived. But she didn't."
Gerib bit his lip, and then changed the subject. "We should go. I don't think there's anyone else-"
"We got a live one!" One of the men said.
Gerib spun around and hurriedly inspected the woman in the man's arms. From where T'Pol could see, the woman was in critical need of medical care. She'd been shot twice. Once in her chest, and the another in her shoulder.
"We need to get her to the camp immediately," Gerib said, "Get her on the stretcher. Looks like the bullet punctured her right lung. Get T'Pol on a stretcher too. I doubt she'll be able to walk."
* * *
A cool breeze caressed T'Pol's face. The Vulcan breathed in deep the sweet aroma of the tamika that lay growing somewhere in the jungle. T'Pol opened her eyes and stared at the wicker roof above her. Her Vulcan ears could pick up the high pitches of a bird in the distance. Despite her wound, T'Pol felt the best she ever had in a long time.
Gerib had once again mentioned that she was lucky and that her wound would be almost completely healed in one week. But, T'Pol wasn't about to wait an entire week to help her fellow officers.
T'Pol sat up in her bed and glanced over at the woman in the other cot. They were able to extract the bullets and drain the blood from her lung. She was healing nicely, though she'd be bedridden for quite some time. Only one other person was in the medical room, a small girl of around eight with a fever. The girl would often have small seizures in the middle of the night, and a nurse was posted at her bed during the night.
T'Pol stretched her arms and grabbed hold of the walking stick one of the villagers had carved for her. T'Pol had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but Gerib was also adamant and told her, as doctor's orders, to use the stick. But, to T'Pol, it was troublesome and an annoyance.
T'Pol used the stick to help her out of the bed, and she limped a bit to the doorway. Outside the door, it was a picturesque scene of children playing and adults chatting happily.
"T'Pol, I see you're getting back on your feet quickly!"
Ja'an, one of the men who was with Gerib when they found T'Pol, stepped up in front of T'Pol and pat her on the back. T'Pol stumbled forward a little bit. Ja'an brought a hand to his mouth.
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!"
T'Pol cocked an eyebrow. It was not difficult to realize that Ja'an was a klutz. Constantly tripping over things, knocking things over. But his gifts as a surgeon were exquisite, just as long as he didn't drop his scalpel, which would happen on more than one occasion.
"No need to apologize, Ja'an."
Ja'an twitched his hands nervously. "Well, Gerib just wanted me to come over to see how you were doing."
"I am fine," T'Pol inhaled deeply, sniffing the air filled with the smells of breakfast being cooked, "I would like to eat, though."
Ja'an put his hands up. "Say no more, my dear, you shall have a feast like no other!"
"I will require only minimal amounts of rations. I was fed well last night."
"Don't be silly! All the people of our village eat well! Come! Come with me, please!" Ja'an put his arm out, but T'Pol gracefully ignored it and hobbled along on her walking stick.
* * *
Trip heaved his shovel into the drying mud. It was still clumpy and moist from yesterday's rain. Trip then felt a welcoming breeze and smelled the scent of a distinctive flower. Trip tried to remember the name of a specific flower Barik had shown them. What was it, a tamka? Tamaka? Tamika. That was it. Trip remembered the powerful, lovely scent of the delicate flower, and it hurtfully reminded him of Vian. Anger boiled inside the chief engineer. The kid had no right to die. Trip silently cursed that Colonel-what's-his-name. Cursed him for being so evil and cruel, especially to an innocent child.
Trip suddenly thought about Earth's Holocaust. How many men, women, and children died for no reason at all? Trip remembered what T'Pol had said about the Nazis thinking they were greatly superior to the Jews. How could someone have the gall to murder so many people because of their own prejudices? It was sick. And it's exactly what was happening on this very planet.
Trip's anger encouraged him to work harder. The guards seemed to be happy with this.
"Did you hear about those missing prisoners from the deceased cabin?" Trip heard two officers behind him talking to each other and he listened carefully.
"Ja. They think it's the Karthanians who 'rescued' them," the officer grunted, "those fools think they can save the world."
"No kidding. What's a few wounded prisoners to them," the guard sighed, "how many were missing?"
"Two, I think. That's what I heard anyway. Never can trust those furnace workers."
"Hm, you're right. Just can't trust anyone who burns up dead people for a living," The officer shivered, "creepy fellows."
"Working hard, I see, gentleman."
Trip recognized the icy voice belonging to Commander Lee. She sounded particularly happy.
"Herr Offiziers, I suggest you two get back to work, now."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Trip smirked. It was nice to see someone else getting in trouble for a change.
"Und you, Mr. Tucker."
Trip stopped digging and he turned his head slightly to face the young commander. The malicious woman walked up to Trip and stood above him, glaring. Trip stood to meet her height.
"Yes?"
The woman hesitated and she bit her lip. For the first time since Trip knew this woman, she seemed to be acting, "playful."
"Come with me, Mr. Tucker. I would like to show you something."
Trip's eyes widened. "Uh, ma'am, I think I'd be much more useful, well, uh," Trip pointed to the spot he stood, "here."
The chief engineer hated it when he stuttered, but there wasn't much he could do about it. This evil and wicked woman was coming on to him and he wasn't about to let it go any further.
"Just, follow me, you imbecile. I have a proposition for you."
I bet. Trip thought.
"Really, ma'am. I'm pretty sure I know what you're doing and," he chuckled, "I'm not really all that interested."
Trip wasn't sure why he said that. He'd seen this woman kill a man just by kicking him in the head. And all he did was roll his eyes. But Trip took a horrible chance and picked his shovel up, thrust it into the dirt and went back to his job.
Lee knelt down next to Trip and he stayed motionless. Lee was so close; Trip could smell the soap from her hair. Lee whispered into his ear.
"You have no idea what you've missed." Lee stood and walked away.
Trip stayed in that same position staring at the ground before him for more than two minutes.
* * *
"Come, T'Pol, please, eat more!"
"Thank you, Ja'an, but I am quite satisfied." T'Pol put her glass down and removed the napkin from her lap.
The day had grown warm, but not unbearable as it had in the camp, especially in the barracks. But Gerib still kept a fan in the medical hut for the patients. At first, T'Pol thought the fan was primitive and naïve, but she soon learned to appreciate the cool breeze it offered.
There was a small table in the middle of the room were T'Pol was served her breakfast. She'd done what she promised and did not eat much regardless of Ja'an's persistent proposals that she eat more.
"I am anxious to make a plan to rescue my companions." T'Pol said.
Ja'an choked on his drink. "What did you say?"
"My captain and chief engineer are still at the compound. I must get them out."
Ja'an shook his head one too many times. "No, no, no, no, no. What, are you crazy?!"
"Excuse me?"
Ja'an laughed nervously. "We can't take anyone from the compound! It's impossible! It's suicide! Besides, you're not completely healed to-"
"I'm am not exceedingly concerned about myself. I am only worried about my companions."
"I'm sorry, T'Pol, it's just not permitted! No one can get into or out of that camp unless escorted by one of the guards!" T'Pol narrowed her eyes. "Really."
Ja'an nodded.
"Ja'an, I have an idea, you're welcome to help me or not."
* * *
To Be Continued.