Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise or any of the regular characters, and
I'm not making any money from this story.
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 4: Abandonment
Day 3: 1700 hours
Trip sat with his back pressed hard against the wall of his cell. The cold from the hard stone was the only thing that felt good against the raw, burnt skin of his back. He held very still because he had discovered that if he moved, the stone rubbed against the blistered skin and it hurt terribly.
Trip hoped again that T'Pol wasn't being held somewhere by these aliens. She was tough, sure, but she wasn't invulnerable. She was right after all, he thought in disgust. It was foolish to have gone to this planet in the first place, and he was a fool for insisting on it. If--when--they ever made it back to Enterprise, he was going to owe her one hell of an apology.
The beeping sound of the door lock disengaging startled him. Four of the aliens swarmed in, followed by a fifth alien pushing the gurney.
Trip sprang to his feet, ready to fight. He noticed that the final alien had not closed the door behind himself. As the two lead aliens closed in to take hold of his arms, he twisted away and dashed toward the open door.
The fifth alien realized too late what was happening. By the time he lunged sideways to stop him, Trip was already out the door and sprinting down the hallway.
After about fifty meters, the hallway came to a Y intersection. Trip hesitated. Behind him he could hear the sounds of running footsteps coming closer. Without time to think it through, he chose the left branch at random.
The running footsteps were close behind now. Trip took a right at the first intersection he came to, then several more rights and lefts to throw off his pursuers.
After several moments the footsteps faded and he slowed down to a jog, breathing heavily and trying to keep his weight off his injured right knee. He finally had a moment to look around himself and discovered he was completely lost. Shit, he thought. What now?
Closed doors lined both sides of the hallway, with writing that was completely undecipherable. Maybe his communicator was in one of those rooms, he thought. Of course, it would probably be impossible to find it.
He decided his best bet was to try to get to the surface. If only he could find that damn elevator . . . but he had no idea which direction it might be. Maybe he'd have more luck finding some clothes.
The doorhandles were shoulder height. Trip tried one of the doors and discovered it was locked, as were the next two. He continued trying doors along the corridor without any luck.
Suddenly he heard the sound of running footsteps again, along with muffled shouts. He backed into a doorwell where he hoped he would not be quite so visible. The shouts came closer.
Trip pressed his back against the door. If anyone came down that particular corridor, he would quickly be discovered. Without thinking about it, he reached up over his shoulder and tried the doorhandle. To his astonishment the door swung open with a quiet creaking sound.
He backed into the room and closed the door, holding the handle so the latch wouldn't make any noise. The lights in the room were off, but he could hear strange scratching and snuffling sounds in the darkness.
Trip blinked for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could make out animal cages lining the walls with large dark shapes moving around inside. Stealthily he made his way to the back of the room, hoping to find another exit.
On the back wall of the room he spotted the outline of another door. He tried the handle but it didn't open.
The pounding footsteps and shouts were very close now, right outside the room. Keeping a cautious eye on the door, Trip backed up toward the wall. After two steps his heel connected with something hard. A second later there was a crash of glass breaking.
Instantly the animals in the cages began to screech loudly, jumping up and down and flinging themselves against the bars in outrage at the intrusion.
"Shh!! Be quiet!" Trip hissed at them. The animals continued to howl eerily, even louder.
Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Picking up a large piece of broken glass to use as a weapon, Trip scurried into a hiding place between two cages just as the door was flung open and the light flickered on. A group of white-suited aliens piled in and began searching between the cages.
When they were almost upon him, Trip made a break for it. He easily slipped past the first group. A single alien guarded the door, with a stick in his hand that Trip remembered from previous encounters.
Trip faked to the right, then left. The alien dove at him. As Trip started to sidestep back toward the right, his right knee collapsed under him and he fell.
He quickly rolled and came up again to find that the aliens had him surrounded. When one of the aliens moved in with his stick, Trip slashed at its sleeve with the shard of glass. The suit decompressed with a hiss as the sharp edge sliced through fabric and skin underneath. The alien grabbed at its arm with a muffled cry of pain. Bright turquoise blood oozed through its fingers.
Another alien advanced on him and Trip slashed at that one too but missed. Two of them jumped on him while the one he had cut jabbed him in the right knee with an electricity stick. Trip cried out as the current surged through the injured muscles.
An alien grabbed each of his limbs. "What's wrong with you people!" he shouted as they dragged him, kicking and squirming, toward the gurney. "Let me go!!"
The aliens placed him roughly on his back on the cold metal table and secured his wrists and ankles with the tough plastic restraints. Trip continued to squirm, ignoring the pain as the restraints cut into his skin, and yelled, "Stop it, please! Why are you doing this?"
The aliens didn't respond. As soon as he was completely restrained they rolled the gurney down the hall to the other room, the place where they had hurt his back. The eerie wailing of the caged animals followed him down the corridor.
When they had entered the room, the aliens untied his left arm, stretched it out to the side and retied it to a metal post about half a meter away. Trip turned his head a few centimeters to watch, curious as to what they would do next.
One of the aliens spoke, and this time Trip could see the speaker standing by his left side adjusting something above his arm. Another alien wrote on a paper, then picked up a marker, drew a line across Trip's arm halfway between the elbow and wrist, and wrote something next to the mark.
A third alien with what looked like a videocamera leaned in close to his arm, then panned up to get a shot of the one adjusting the equipment.
From Trip's other side a voice spoke, the same alien that had been speaking while they hurt his back. The others all stood back expectantly.
One of the aliens flipped a switch and suddenly a weight dropped onto Trip's arm, hitting precisely on the line the aliens had drawn. Trip screamed in pain as the bones shattered under the impact.
Day 4: 0200 hours
Hoshi sat in the dark in her quarters and stared at the flickering images on her computer screen. She had asked to have the televisual signals from the planet sent to her quarters so she could concentrate without distractions, and hopefully interpret the language which so far had confounded their translation matrices. She had been watching the signals for several hours with little success.
The alien on the screen, apparently some sort of news announcer, moved her hands frequently while she talked. An image of a river appeared on the screen behind her, with fish-like creatures jumping in and out of the water. The announcer's left hand moved downward sharply with open fingers closing into a fist, almost like grabbing something from the air.
Hoshi focused intently on the announcer's mouth. The sound she made was in the back of her throat, maybe a uvular fricative. Hoshi wrote down the phonetic symbol for the sound, X, and frowned at it. So far she had only been able to discern about six different consonant sounds, all produced in the back of the mouth or the throat, which was not nearly enough for a living language. No wonder their computer was having a difficult time translating it.
Hoshi took a sip of her tea, which had gone cold. The picture behind the woman changed to show some sort of animals in cages. The camera zoomed in on the face of one of the animals, and the woman made the downward air- grabbing hand movement again.
"Computer, stop!" Hoshi leaned in closer to the screen. "Replay last ten seconds, half-speed."
On the screen, the woman's blue-furred hand slowly moved downward, fingers closing into a fist. Hoshi copied the movement.
"Of course!" she cried out excitedly. "I've got it!"
Day 4: 0700 hours
Trip huddled in the corner of his cell cradling his broken arm against his chest. His breathing was harsh with pain. He had no idea what time of day it might be or how many hours might have passed since he had been brought here. He knew that if he didn't get water soon, probably in the next twenty-four hours, he would most likely be dead from dehydration. His throat felt like it was on fire. He was already beginning to feel weak and disoriented, and his pulse was racing.
The growling of his stomach had died down to a dull ache, and his back didn't hurt much anymore, although it was starting to itch terribly. At the moment the only sensation that could hold his attention for more than a few seconds was the agony from the shattered bones in his arm.
Trip shifted position just a little, and gasped as the pain radiated up from his wrist to his shoulder. He looked down again at the three lines across his lower and upper left arm, each marking a place where the weight had broken the bones.
He bit his lip as he gingerly probed the swelling with his fingertip. Why were these people doing this to him? They must be monsters to torture him like this.
Trip slowly turned his right hand over and examined the palm. Although he hadn't noticed it at the time, when he had slashed at the aliens with the piece of glass, he had also cut his own palm open. Dark red blood still seeped from the wound. He could see bits of glass embedded in the cut, but with his other arm useless he was unable to pull them out.
Suddenly the door beeped again and slowly swung open. Trip shrank back further into the corner and threw his good arm up over his head. "No, please," he whispered hoarsely.
QoRa~ obediently followed First Scientist Xu'~ into the alien's cell, RaB# close on her heels with a zapstick held tightly in his hand.
"Hold its arms," Xu'~ ordered sharply. RaB# darted around qoRa~ and seized the alien's injured arm, which caused him to scream in pain. QoRa~ hesitated.
"Assistant, the other arm!" Xu'~ barked. QoRa~ moved in and took his right arm, holding it almost gently. The alien wriggled away, so she grabbed it again more firmly.
"Stretch the arm out, Assistant!" qoRa~ did as she was told, carefully avoiding eye contact with the alien. She knew that if she saw his eyes, read the terror there, that she would not be able to go through with it.
Xu'~ pulled a hypodermic needle out of her pocket and uncapped it with her teeth. The alien began to struggle more fiercely when he saw it, so Xu'~ helped qoRa~ hold the right arm while she jabbed the needle in and slammed the plunger home.
As soon as she pulled the needle out, they released the alien and he fled back to his corner, cradling his injured arm and moaning softly in pain. QoRa~ clenched her teeth together. She felt incredible shame for what her people were doing to this creature.
QoRa~ turned to go, but RaB# lingered, staring at the alien with his zapstick raised. QoRa~ knew he was angry at the alien for cutting him during his escape attempt. He had been complaining about it for hours.
RaB# muttered something under his breath that qoRa~ couldn't make out. Without warning he took a step forward and thrust the point of the zapstick into the alien's broken arm. The alien let out a strangled cry of pain.
RaB# took a step back and spoke again. This time qoRa~ could hear him say quietly, voice filled with hatred, "I'll enjoy cutting you open after you're dead, you alien monster. If it were up to me I'd slit your throat right now."
From behind her qoRa~ heard Xu'~ chuckle drily. "You'll get your chance soon enough, RaB#. I don't think it'll survive much longer."
Xu'~ led the little processional back out the door and into the observation room, where she swiveled the videocamera toward the alien. Within a few moments the alien began to gag, then retch violently. As there was obviously nothing in his stomach, he didn't actually vomit, just continued to dry-heave for several minutes.
Xu'~ nodded in satisfaction. "Continue to run the videotape," she said, rising to her feet. "Make careful notes of any changes. Let me know if it loses consciousness." Xu'~ left the room with a smug smile on her face, with RaB# following close behind.
QoRa~ sat in the darkness staring at the alien, who had curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around his midsection. She adjusted the camera to zoom in on the creature's face, which was contorted in pain.
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.
Day 4: 0730 hours
"Bimodal?" Captain Archer said with a frown. "Do you mean like a bimodal syntax?"
"No, Captain," Hoshi explained patiently. "I mean the language is bimodal. They use both oral and manual modes of communication. Watch this. Computer, play recording."
On the briefing room viewscreen the alien announcer appeared and began to speak, moving her hands rapidly.
"That's what they look like?" Archer asked incredulously.
"Rather like overgrown teddy bears," Malcolm said with a grin.
T'Pol frowned at him disapprovingly. "Lieutenant, from what we are able to ascertain they are at least 3 meters in height and weigh over 200 kg."
"Computer, pause." Hoshi said. "Did you see that downward movement of the hands? That was a manual supplement to the spoken word. That particular sign means 'animal'. There are different signs for each category of noun, and for every other part of speech. I still don't have them all sorted out."
"Can you program the translation matrix to read these signs?" Malcolm asked.
Hoshi shook her head. "Unfortunately our translation matrix was designed for spoken languages. It probably could be reprogrammed, but--"
"But what?" the captain prompted.
Hoshi bit her lip. "The only one who could do it is Commander Tucker, sir." She sat heavily in her chair and stared down at her hands.
"Were you able to interpret any of it?" T'Pol asked after a moment.
"Yes, about half."
"Were there any reports of a captured alien?"
Hoshi frowned. "No, there weren't. I didn't even think about that. There was one report of mysterious lights over the southern continent, at least I think that's what they said."
"Can you learn enough of the language to make yourself understood?" the captain asked.
"I--I think so."
"Captain, it would be foolish to attempt a rescue mission at this point," T'Pol said quickly. "We have no idea where Commander Tucker might be or even if he is still alive."
"What do you want me to do, T'Pol?" the captain asked with anger glinting in his eyes. "I'm not going to abandon him down there."
"Can we disguise ourselves as natives?" Malcolm jumped in.
"As I mentioned, the average adult of their species stands over three meters tall, Lieutenant. A disguise would have to duplicate that height," T'Pol responded.
"The doctor can work something out for us," said Archer.
"Where will you go?" T'Pol asked. "That land mass is approximately the size of North America, with numerous cities and population centers. How do you propose to find one human in such an enormous area?"
"Proverbial needle in the haystack," said Malcolm.
"We have to try," said Archer firmly. "T'Pol, keep scanning for Trip's comm signal. Malcolm, Hoshi, let's go to sick bay. Dismissed."
Malcolm and Hoshi filed out the door. Archer started to follow, but T'Pol stepped in front of him.
"You are putting your crewmembers at risk, Captain," she said quietly.
Archer looked her in the eye. "I can't leave Trip behind, T'Pol. You know that."
T'Pol held his gaze for a long moment, then inclined her head slightly. "I understand. Please be careful."
Archer nodded silently. T'Pol stepped back and allowed him to proceed out the door. He turned left and headed down the corridor toward sick bay.
Day 4: 2100 hours
Trip lay on his side in the corner of his room with his good arm wrapped around his midsection. He had been coughing up bright spots of blood for at least an hour, but his stomach was finally starting to settle down a little now. He still felt shaky and feverish, however. He licked his lower lip, which was cracked and bleeding.
When the door opened again, Trip just groaned quietly. He didn't have the energy to fight anymore. Besides, who cares what they do to me now, he thought. I'll be dead in a few hours anyway.
Three white-suited monsters came toward him, light reflecting off the faceplates of their helmets. They took hold of his right arm and held it out straight. Another needle plunged into the skin, then the monsters released him and left.
Trip rolled over onto his back, carefully holding his broken left arm against his body, and struggled to sit up. His vision was starting to get blurry and the lights hurt his eyes. Slowly the light seemed to get brighter and brighter until it dissolved into a swirl of mad colors. Trip blinked again several times in confusion, and finally squeezed his eyes shut.
His eyes flew open when he heard the beeping of the door lock again. He felt like he was pinned down, like he couldn't move.
The door slowly swung open and the gurney rolled through by itself. The door swung shut again with an echoing clang of metal on metal.
On the gurney lay an unmoving form covered by a white sheet. Trip stared at it for several minutes. The form was tantalizingly familiar.
With enormous effort Trip struggled to his feet. He took a halting step toward the gurney, then another until he was standing beside it, looking down at the sheet-covered form with growing horror.
Trip put out a shaky right hand and slowly drew back the sheet. The top of a head covered in smooth dark hair appeared. He bit his lip and pulled the sheet back a little further until he caught sight of a delicately pointed ear.
Trip dropped the sheet with a gasp and staggered backwards. No! Oh, God, she's dead, he thought frantically. He stumbled back to his corner, drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He felt like he couldn't breathe. She couldn't really be dead, could she?
Slowly Trip lifted his head just enough to see the gurney. The sheet had slipped down a bit further and he could see her face, unmoving, tinged with gray, clearly lifeless.
The door lock beeped again. When the door swung open, another familiar form was standing there.
"Captain?" Trip whispered uncertainly. Archer took a step into the room and the door clanged shut behind him.
"Hello, Trip," Archer said with a slight smile, taking several steps closer.
Trip struggled to his feet and stood trembling. "Captain! Are you takin' me home?"
"I'm sorry, Trip."
"S-sorry? 'bout what?"
"I came to say goodbye." Archer took a step backwards.
"No!! Don't leave me here!"
"I have to go now." Archer's form was growing dimmer.
"No, Captain, please!! Don't leave me with these monsters!" Trip limped toward his friend, reaching out desperately.
"Goodbye, Trip." The captain's voice sounded faint, as if coming from far away. Before Trip's eyes Archer's form continued to fade until it disappeared completely.
"No!!" Trip screamed with the last of his voice. He doubled over and sank to his knees in the middle of the floor. "No, please, come back," he cried hoarsely. "Come back. . ."
The room was completely silent. Trip turned to find that the gurney bearing T'Pol's lifeless body was also gone. He stumbled back to his corner and pulled his knees up to his chest again.
Trip buried his face in his arm. His shoulders began to heave as hoarse sobs were wrenched from his lips. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered, wiping the tears from his face with his right hand. "Please. . ."
~*~*~*~*~
Warning: This is another not-so-nice story. I tried to write a happy story but I didn't like the way it was coming out, so I wrote this one. Be prepared for some pain (hopefully not on the reader's part, however!).
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 4: Abandonment
Day 3: 1700 hours
Trip sat with his back pressed hard against the wall of his cell. The cold from the hard stone was the only thing that felt good against the raw, burnt skin of his back. He held very still because he had discovered that if he moved, the stone rubbed against the blistered skin and it hurt terribly.
Trip hoped again that T'Pol wasn't being held somewhere by these aliens. She was tough, sure, but she wasn't invulnerable. She was right after all, he thought in disgust. It was foolish to have gone to this planet in the first place, and he was a fool for insisting on it. If--when--they ever made it back to Enterprise, he was going to owe her one hell of an apology.
The beeping sound of the door lock disengaging startled him. Four of the aliens swarmed in, followed by a fifth alien pushing the gurney.
Trip sprang to his feet, ready to fight. He noticed that the final alien had not closed the door behind himself. As the two lead aliens closed in to take hold of his arms, he twisted away and dashed toward the open door.
The fifth alien realized too late what was happening. By the time he lunged sideways to stop him, Trip was already out the door and sprinting down the hallway.
After about fifty meters, the hallway came to a Y intersection. Trip hesitated. Behind him he could hear the sounds of running footsteps coming closer. Without time to think it through, he chose the left branch at random.
The running footsteps were close behind now. Trip took a right at the first intersection he came to, then several more rights and lefts to throw off his pursuers.
After several moments the footsteps faded and he slowed down to a jog, breathing heavily and trying to keep his weight off his injured right knee. He finally had a moment to look around himself and discovered he was completely lost. Shit, he thought. What now?
Closed doors lined both sides of the hallway, with writing that was completely undecipherable. Maybe his communicator was in one of those rooms, he thought. Of course, it would probably be impossible to find it.
He decided his best bet was to try to get to the surface. If only he could find that damn elevator . . . but he had no idea which direction it might be. Maybe he'd have more luck finding some clothes.
The doorhandles were shoulder height. Trip tried one of the doors and discovered it was locked, as were the next two. He continued trying doors along the corridor without any luck.
Suddenly he heard the sound of running footsteps again, along with muffled shouts. He backed into a doorwell where he hoped he would not be quite so visible. The shouts came closer.
Trip pressed his back against the door. If anyone came down that particular corridor, he would quickly be discovered. Without thinking about it, he reached up over his shoulder and tried the doorhandle. To his astonishment the door swung open with a quiet creaking sound.
He backed into the room and closed the door, holding the handle so the latch wouldn't make any noise. The lights in the room were off, but he could hear strange scratching and snuffling sounds in the darkness.
Trip blinked for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could make out animal cages lining the walls with large dark shapes moving around inside. Stealthily he made his way to the back of the room, hoping to find another exit.
On the back wall of the room he spotted the outline of another door. He tried the handle but it didn't open.
The pounding footsteps and shouts were very close now, right outside the room. Keeping a cautious eye on the door, Trip backed up toward the wall. After two steps his heel connected with something hard. A second later there was a crash of glass breaking.
Instantly the animals in the cages began to screech loudly, jumping up and down and flinging themselves against the bars in outrage at the intrusion.
"Shh!! Be quiet!" Trip hissed at them. The animals continued to howl eerily, even louder.
Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Picking up a large piece of broken glass to use as a weapon, Trip scurried into a hiding place between two cages just as the door was flung open and the light flickered on. A group of white-suited aliens piled in and began searching between the cages.
When they were almost upon him, Trip made a break for it. He easily slipped past the first group. A single alien guarded the door, with a stick in his hand that Trip remembered from previous encounters.
Trip faked to the right, then left. The alien dove at him. As Trip started to sidestep back toward the right, his right knee collapsed under him and he fell.
He quickly rolled and came up again to find that the aliens had him surrounded. When one of the aliens moved in with his stick, Trip slashed at its sleeve with the shard of glass. The suit decompressed with a hiss as the sharp edge sliced through fabric and skin underneath. The alien grabbed at its arm with a muffled cry of pain. Bright turquoise blood oozed through its fingers.
Another alien advanced on him and Trip slashed at that one too but missed. Two of them jumped on him while the one he had cut jabbed him in the right knee with an electricity stick. Trip cried out as the current surged through the injured muscles.
An alien grabbed each of his limbs. "What's wrong with you people!" he shouted as they dragged him, kicking and squirming, toward the gurney. "Let me go!!"
The aliens placed him roughly on his back on the cold metal table and secured his wrists and ankles with the tough plastic restraints. Trip continued to squirm, ignoring the pain as the restraints cut into his skin, and yelled, "Stop it, please! Why are you doing this?"
The aliens didn't respond. As soon as he was completely restrained they rolled the gurney down the hall to the other room, the place where they had hurt his back. The eerie wailing of the caged animals followed him down the corridor.
When they had entered the room, the aliens untied his left arm, stretched it out to the side and retied it to a metal post about half a meter away. Trip turned his head a few centimeters to watch, curious as to what they would do next.
One of the aliens spoke, and this time Trip could see the speaker standing by his left side adjusting something above his arm. Another alien wrote on a paper, then picked up a marker, drew a line across Trip's arm halfway between the elbow and wrist, and wrote something next to the mark.
A third alien with what looked like a videocamera leaned in close to his arm, then panned up to get a shot of the one adjusting the equipment.
From Trip's other side a voice spoke, the same alien that had been speaking while they hurt his back. The others all stood back expectantly.
One of the aliens flipped a switch and suddenly a weight dropped onto Trip's arm, hitting precisely on the line the aliens had drawn. Trip screamed in pain as the bones shattered under the impact.
Day 4: 0200 hours
Hoshi sat in the dark in her quarters and stared at the flickering images on her computer screen. She had asked to have the televisual signals from the planet sent to her quarters so she could concentrate without distractions, and hopefully interpret the language which so far had confounded their translation matrices. She had been watching the signals for several hours with little success.
The alien on the screen, apparently some sort of news announcer, moved her hands frequently while she talked. An image of a river appeared on the screen behind her, with fish-like creatures jumping in and out of the water. The announcer's left hand moved downward sharply with open fingers closing into a fist, almost like grabbing something from the air.
Hoshi focused intently on the announcer's mouth. The sound she made was in the back of her throat, maybe a uvular fricative. Hoshi wrote down the phonetic symbol for the sound, X, and frowned at it. So far she had only been able to discern about six different consonant sounds, all produced in the back of the mouth or the throat, which was not nearly enough for a living language. No wonder their computer was having a difficult time translating it.
Hoshi took a sip of her tea, which had gone cold. The picture behind the woman changed to show some sort of animals in cages. The camera zoomed in on the face of one of the animals, and the woman made the downward air- grabbing hand movement again.
"Computer, stop!" Hoshi leaned in closer to the screen. "Replay last ten seconds, half-speed."
On the screen, the woman's blue-furred hand slowly moved downward, fingers closing into a fist. Hoshi copied the movement.
"Of course!" she cried out excitedly. "I've got it!"
Day 4: 0700 hours
Trip huddled in the corner of his cell cradling his broken arm against his chest. His breathing was harsh with pain. He had no idea what time of day it might be or how many hours might have passed since he had been brought here. He knew that if he didn't get water soon, probably in the next twenty-four hours, he would most likely be dead from dehydration. His throat felt like it was on fire. He was already beginning to feel weak and disoriented, and his pulse was racing.
The growling of his stomach had died down to a dull ache, and his back didn't hurt much anymore, although it was starting to itch terribly. At the moment the only sensation that could hold his attention for more than a few seconds was the agony from the shattered bones in his arm.
Trip shifted position just a little, and gasped as the pain radiated up from his wrist to his shoulder. He looked down again at the three lines across his lower and upper left arm, each marking a place where the weight had broken the bones.
He bit his lip as he gingerly probed the swelling with his fingertip. Why were these people doing this to him? They must be monsters to torture him like this.
Trip slowly turned his right hand over and examined the palm. Although he hadn't noticed it at the time, when he had slashed at the aliens with the piece of glass, he had also cut his own palm open. Dark red blood still seeped from the wound. He could see bits of glass embedded in the cut, but with his other arm useless he was unable to pull them out.
Suddenly the door beeped again and slowly swung open. Trip shrank back further into the corner and threw his good arm up over his head. "No, please," he whispered hoarsely.
QoRa~ obediently followed First Scientist Xu'~ into the alien's cell, RaB# close on her heels with a zapstick held tightly in his hand.
"Hold its arms," Xu'~ ordered sharply. RaB# darted around qoRa~ and seized the alien's injured arm, which caused him to scream in pain. QoRa~ hesitated.
"Assistant, the other arm!" Xu'~ barked. QoRa~ moved in and took his right arm, holding it almost gently. The alien wriggled away, so she grabbed it again more firmly.
"Stretch the arm out, Assistant!" qoRa~ did as she was told, carefully avoiding eye contact with the alien. She knew that if she saw his eyes, read the terror there, that she would not be able to go through with it.
Xu'~ pulled a hypodermic needle out of her pocket and uncapped it with her teeth. The alien began to struggle more fiercely when he saw it, so Xu'~ helped qoRa~ hold the right arm while she jabbed the needle in and slammed the plunger home.
As soon as she pulled the needle out, they released the alien and he fled back to his corner, cradling his injured arm and moaning softly in pain. QoRa~ clenched her teeth together. She felt incredible shame for what her people were doing to this creature.
QoRa~ turned to go, but RaB# lingered, staring at the alien with his zapstick raised. QoRa~ knew he was angry at the alien for cutting him during his escape attempt. He had been complaining about it for hours.
RaB# muttered something under his breath that qoRa~ couldn't make out. Without warning he took a step forward and thrust the point of the zapstick into the alien's broken arm. The alien let out a strangled cry of pain.
RaB# took a step back and spoke again. This time qoRa~ could hear him say quietly, voice filled with hatred, "I'll enjoy cutting you open after you're dead, you alien monster. If it were up to me I'd slit your throat right now."
From behind her qoRa~ heard Xu'~ chuckle drily. "You'll get your chance soon enough, RaB#. I don't think it'll survive much longer."
Xu'~ led the little processional back out the door and into the observation room, where she swiveled the videocamera toward the alien. Within a few moments the alien began to gag, then retch violently. As there was obviously nothing in his stomach, he didn't actually vomit, just continued to dry-heave for several minutes.
Xu'~ nodded in satisfaction. "Continue to run the videotape," she said, rising to her feet. "Make careful notes of any changes. Let me know if it loses consciousness." Xu'~ left the room with a smug smile on her face, with RaB# following close behind.
QoRa~ sat in the darkness staring at the alien, who had curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around his midsection. She adjusted the camera to zoom in on the creature's face, which was contorted in pain.
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.
Day 4: 0730 hours
"Bimodal?" Captain Archer said with a frown. "Do you mean like a bimodal syntax?"
"No, Captain," Hoshi explained patiently. "I mean the language is bimodal. They use both oral and manual modes of communication. Watch this. Computer, play recording."
On the briefing room viewscreen the alien announcer appeared and began to speak, moving her hands rapidly.
"That's what they look like?" Archer asked incredulously.
"Rather like overgrown teddy bears," Malcolm said with a grin.
T'Pol frowned at him disapprovingly. "Lieutenant, from what we are able to ascertain they are at least 3 meters in height and weigh over 200 kg."
"Computer, pause." Hoshi said. "Did you see that downward movement of the hands? That was a manual supplement to the spoken word. That particular sign means 'animal'. There are different signs for each category of noun, and for every other part of speech. I still don't have them all sorted out."
"Can you program the translation matrix to read these signs?" Malcolm asked.
Hoshi shook her head. "Unfortunately our translation matrix was designed for spoken languages. It probably could be reprogrammed, but--"
"But what?" the captain prompted.
Hoshi bit her lip. "The only one who could do it is Commander Tucker, sir." She sat heavily in her chair and stared down at her hands.
"Were you able to interpret any of it?" T'Pol asked after a moment.
"Yes, about half."
"Were there any reports of a captured alien?"
Hoshi frowned. "No, there weren't. I didn't even think about that. There was one report of mysterious lights over the southern continent, at least I think that's what they said."
"Can you learn enough of the language to make yourself understood?" the captain asked.
"I--I think so."
"Captain, it would be foolish to attempt a rescue mission at this point," T'Pol said quickly. "We have no idea where Commander Tucker might be or even if he is still alive."
"What do you want me to do, T'Pol?" the captain asked with anger glinting in his eyes. "I'm not going to abandon him down there."
"Can we disguise ourselves as natives?" Malcolm jumped in.
"As I mentioned, the average adult of their species stands over three meters tall, Lieutenant. A disguise would have to duplicate that height," T'Pol responded.
"The doctor can work something out for us," said Archer.
"Where will you go?" T'Pol asked. "That land mass is approximately the size of North America, with numerous cities and population centers. How do you propose to find one human in such an enormous area?"
"Proverbial needle in the haystack," said Malcolm.
"We have to try," said Archer firmly. "T'Pol, keep scanning for Trip's comm signal. Malcolm, Hoshi, let's go to sick bay. Dismissed."
Malcolm and Hoshi filed out the door. Archer started to follow, but T'Pol stepped in front of him.
"You are putting your crewmembers at risk, Captain," she said quietly.
Archer looked her in the eye. "I can't leave Trip behind, T'Pol. You know that."
T'Pol held his gaze for a long moment, then inclined her head slightly. "I understand. Please be careful."
Archer nodded silently. T'Pol stepped back and allowed him to proceed out the door. He turned left and headed down the corridor toward sick bay.
Day 4: 2100 hours
Trip lay on his side in the corner of his room with his good arm wrapped around his midsection. He had been coughing up bright spots of blood for at least an hour, but his stomach was finally starting to settle down a little now. He still felt shaky and feverish, however. He licked his lower lip, which was cracked and bleeding.
When the door opened again, Trip just groaned quietly. He didn't have the energy to fight anymore. Besides, who cares what they do to me now, he thought. I'll be dead in a few hours anyway.
Three white-suited monsters came toward him, light reflecting off the faceplates of their helmets. They took hold of his right arm and held it out straight. Another needle plunged into the skin, then the monsters released him and left.
Trip rolled over onto his back, carefully holding his broken left arm against his body, and struggled to sit up. His vision was starting to get blurry and the lights hurt his eyes. Slowly the light seemed to get brighter and brighter until it dissolved into a swirl of mad colors. Trip blinked again several times in confusion, and finally squeezed his eyes shut.
His eyes flew open when he heard the beeping of the door lock again. He felt like he was pinned down, like he couldn't move.
The door slowly swung open and the gurney rolled through by itself. The door swung shut again with an echoing clang of metal on metal.
On the gurney lay an unmoving form covered by a white sheet. Trip stared at it for several minutes. The form was tantalizingly familiar.
With enormous effort Trip struggled to his feet. He took a halting step toward the gurney, then another until he was standing beside it, looking down at the sheet-covered form with growing horror.
Trip put out a shaky right hand and slowly drew back the sheet. The top of a head covered in smooth dark hair appeared. He bit his lip and pulled the sheet back a little further until he caught sight of a delicately pointed ear.
Trip dropped the sheet with a gasp and staggered backwards. No! Oh, God, she's dead, he thought frantically. He stumbled back to his corner, drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He felt like he couldn't breathe. She couldn't really be dead, could she?
Slowly Trip lifted his head just enough to see the gurney. The sheet had slipped down a bit further and he could see her face, unmoving, tinged with gray, clearly lifeless.
The door lock beeped again. When the door swung open, another familiar form was standing there.
"Captain?" Trip whispered uncertainly. Archer took a step into the room and the door clanged shut behind him.
"Hello, Trip," Archer said with a slight smile, taking several steps closer.
Trip struggled to his feet and stood trembling. "Captain! Are you takin' me home?"
"I'm sorry, Trip."
"S-sorry? 'bout what?"
"I came to say goodbye." Archer took a step backwards.
"No!! Don't leave me here!"
"I have to go now." Archer's form was growing dimmer.
"No, Captain, please!! Don't leave me with these monsters!" Trip limped toward his friend, reaching out desperately.
"Goodbye, Trip." The captain's voice sounded faint, as if coming from far away. Before Trip's eyes Archer's form continued to fade until it disappeared completely.
"No!!" Trip screamed with the last of his voice. He doubled over and sank to his knees in the middle of the floor. "No, please, come back," he cried hoarsely. "Come back. . ."
The room was completely silent. Trip turned to find that the gurney bearing T'Pol's lifeless body was also gone. He stumbled back to his corner and pulled his knees up to his chest again.
Trip buried his face in his arm. His shoulders began to heave as hoarse sobs were wrenched from his lips. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered, wiping the tears from his face with his right hand. "Please. . ."
~*~*~*~*~