As the World Falls Down
a Star Trek Enterprise fanfiction
by George H.
29 June 2002 - 5 November 2002

CHAPTER ONE: A Disenchanting Dinner

A two-tone chirp off the nearest wall woke Captain Jonathan Archer, who was contently sleeping in his bed with Porthos curled at his feet. The sound was followed by another trill, and only then did his prone form let out a groan as he rolled over and reached up, blindly groping along the wall with his hand until he found the communicator switch. "Archer," he managed, his voice thick with sleep.
"Captain," came T'Pol's dry voice on the other line. Jonathan sat up and rubbed his eyes, blearily looking at Porthos, who returned the sleepy gaze.
"What is it?" he asked, swinging his feet over the side of his bed and stretching as best he could with one hand on the wall.
"We've picked up a distress signal emanating from the orbit of a relatively near by planet," the Vulcan Sub-commander answered. "We've already altered our course to intercept."
Archer rubbed his eyes, wondering what it was about this little call that T'Pol needed to awaken him for. "Good, good," he murmured. He cricked his neck and finally straightened, opening his eyes completely. "What's this all about, T'Pol?"
"The crew of the stranded vessel is insisting on speaking to the Captain. I informed them that you were unavailable, but they insisted." T'Pol's methodically monotone voice was uninspiring to Archer this early in the morning.
"I'm on my way."

A very short time later, the doors to the turbolift opened on the bridge to reveal the captain of the ship Enterprise. He was dressed in his uniform and looked rather bright eyed and bushy tailed despite the odd hour of the night and the fact that he had just been awoken a few short moments before; Archer knew how to clean up and fast. He straightened his flightsuit as he stepped around the console and came up to stand beside T'Pol. His eyes, however, were not on the Vulcan beside him, but instead on the viewer screen in front of him, where the face of an alien was projected far larger than life. Archer nodded and stepped forward.
"My name is Jonathan Archer I'm the Captain of this ship. My Sub-commander here tells me she picked up a distress signal from your vessel. How can we help you?"
The man on the viewing screen sat back in his chair to appraise Archer, and the captain of Enterprisefound he didn't like the scrutinizing eye he was given. After all, hadn't he just been awoken out of his sleep to respond to a distress signal put out by these people? He wasn't too keen on letting them play him like a puppet. He was happy to help them with their problems, but he wasn't going to be pushed around.
"I am Tsul of Jaar," the man said. He seemed to sense Archer's annoyance at his attitude so he backed off, lacing his fingers together in a steeple as he spoke. "Our engines seem to have gone offline. We do not have parts to replace. Perhaps you can help?"
Archer looked to Hoshi for a moment, but the translator was not at her station. Then he remembered it was the middle of the night and most of the crew was asleep. Which brought up an interesting issue. "I'm sure my men can help you with that, Tsul. What was it that you needed to see me for, that my Sub-commander could not suffice?" he questioned. Tsul's eyes darted to T'Pol with little appreciation and then fixed back on Archer. Jonathan was struck by the eye's yellow colouration and felt a chill creep up his spine. He shook it off as Tsul spoke.
"We have little regard for womens in charge positions," he answered curtly, looking at T'Pol blatantly. "We did not know if she was trying to trick us into sabotage!" Jonathan smiled at him coolly and nodded.
"I can assure you and your crew neither myself nor any members of my crew, T'Pol included, are interested in sabotaging your ship. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration."
"Yes, yes, that is what your woman 'Sub-commander' said too, but your starship has great weapon capability so how can we know she does not lying to us to gainer our trust?" Tsul said smartly. Jonathan casually scratched the back of his neck.
"Well you have my word that we will not harm your people or your ship. We just want to help. If you'll send over specifications on your ships engine, I'll have my Chief Engineer get right on it. I'm sure we can fix your problem in no time."
"Thank you, Captain Archer. I transmit information now," Tsul nodded to a member of his crew visible in the background of his ship as only a blurred figure. Archer nodded in return, and the transmission ended. He stretched a little and looked back to T'Pol.
"Well that went well," Archer said, but was met only with T'Pol's flat gaze.

Several hours later Archer and Tucker were briskly walking down the corridors together with T'Pol flanking them, all headed in the direction of the shuttlepod bay. Trip had been briefed on the alien ship's faulty engine, but he was unable to offer any suggestions on how to fix the problem without getting his hands on the engine itself. "Getting' kinda wary of bein' invited down t'all these dinner parties after rescue missions, sir," Trip said as he cast a glance to his friend and captain.
Jonathan just smiled and kept his eyes looking forward as he replied. "I think it's rather nice that so many alien cultures all feel fit to thank us in a similar way. It seems to be a real universal tradition, this dinner-repayment." He cast a glance over his shoulder at T'Pol, as if looking for agreement, but although the Vulcan met his gaze, she did not make any comment towards the conversation. "Excluding, of course, those alien cultures in which eating in public is considered very bad form," he added softly under his breath.
"Yer sayin' that after our dinner meeting with the likes of Zobral?" Trip countered, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.
"Now, now that was a different matter entirely. Zobral sabotaged his own ship to get us to repair it so he could convince me to help his side of his planetary war."
"I know. Y'don't have to tell me. I was there remember? Some dinner that turned out t'be. Between eating," Trip pulled back a little and gestured in the air, "th' 'essence of the male'," he cast a sharp glance over at Archer, "and getting dehydrated near t'death, I reckon I won't go on any more planetary leave with new alien friends who want to share dinner with us for a long while yet."
"You fail to presume that such indelicate foodstuffs could be served to you on board an alien vessel," T'Pol said in her monotone voice from behind. Trip cast a tired look over to Archer and shook his head.
"She's got a point, Cap'n. All the same, I reckon I'll sit this one out down in their engine room."
"Suit yourself, Trip," Archer said with a wry smile and raised his hand to open the door that lead into the shuttlepod bay. He turned back to T'Pol, who was practically standing at attention outside the door. She looked at him, waiting for instructions. "Have Travis keep orbit with the ship. I don't imagine this will take longer than a few hours, so be on stand by."
"Yes, sir," T'Pol answered. With that, Archer nodded and went into the bay himself. He caught up with Trip who had already opened the door to the shuttle, retrieved his tool case and was now standing outside the pod, looking at it thoughtfully.
"Having second thoughts about shuttlepod travel Trip?" Archer asked and the man in question blinked and looked to his captain with a smile, then back to the shuttle.
"Nah. No fear of shuttlepods Cap'n. I did all right on my trip to Risa, and hey, I was never happier to see a shuttlepod than when we got picked up by T'Pol after spending that night in the desert. No sir, just reminiscin' I reckon. Spent a lot of time in one of these things. Just sayin' a little prayer that I don't have t'spend as long with you in one as I did with Malcolm."
"Well it seems to me you and Malcolm became good friends after that incident," Archer commented, entering the shuttle and moving towards the pilot seat. "So it seems it wasn't all bad." Trip fixed Archer's back with a flat unimpressed gaze for a few seconds then clambered in after him, setting his tool case aside and sealing the door.
"Yeah, we get along all right now I suppose, so long as he's not tryin' t'encroach on my space in Engineerin'. Still think he's a stuffy little guy though," he commented and added offhandedly, "Ships sealed and ready for take off, sir." With that, he made his way to the navigator chair behind the captain. "Still, I'd've much rather buddied up to Malcolm some other way than freezing our butts off without any oxygen."
Archer chuckled lightly as he began the take-off procedures, his hand touching the comm. as he looked at Trip. "Shuttlepod two, ready for take off," he said into the air, and T'Pol's voice came back to them.
"Opening shuttlebay doors now."
The doors beneath them began to swing open, and the shuttle shifted with the gravity release. Trip checked the instrument measurements and privately shook his head at the easy way Archer laughed off the events he and Malcolm had endured in shuttlepod one. It would be a mistake to say that he and the captain hadn't faced their own near death experiences together, since they had, quite a few times since Enterprise had been launched, but never to the point of such despair as he had had to face with Malcolm. After all, they had thought Enterprise had been destroyed. He hadn't admitted it to Malcolm during the flight, wanting to be optimistic instead of accepting death, but he hadn't had much hope of being rescued either. That was the main reason he had never rubbed in Malcolm's face the fact that they had survived.
"Trip, fire up the engine."
Trip shook himself out of his reverie and nodded, moving to comply as was needed. Soon the little shuttle's engine flared to life and they were zipping away, out from underneath the belly of Enterprise, heading for the diamond-shaped silver ship in the distance.

"It is a many pleasures to meet you, Captain Archer and Commander Tucker. Please, find comfort on our vessel," Tsul said with a flourishing gesture towards the corridor they were in, which apparently lead to the rest of the ship. "My staff has prepared great meals for your enjoyment! Come, come!"
Trip backpedaled a moment and shook his head, not even bothering to look at his captain for permission to refuse. "Now, beggin' your pardon, Mister Tsul, I don't mean t'be disrespectful in the least, but I just had me a big helping of Chef's pot roast and I don't think I could eat another thing! I just want t'get the engines fixed up for y'nice and pretty like, so if you don't mind, could y'maybe get one of your staff t'show me t'engineerin' instead?"
Tsul exchanged glances with Archer before laughing heartily. "Well, so be it! I never have met a man so eager to help strangers before that he would pass up Jaar meal!" He clapped his hands twice and a slender woman arrived. She wore flowing maroon robes and was considerably smaller than Tsul. "Show commander to the engineering!" he commanded, and the woman bowed and led Trip off.
Trip offered a wave over his shoulder as he departed, following the woman. "I'll keep my communicator on. See ya, Cap'n!"
They rounded a corner and Trip took to studying the inside of his ship and the woman who was leading him towards engineering. "So, y'work in engineerin'?" he asked as he turned another corner after her. The woman didn't reply, and Trip wondered if his universal language translator had gone offline suddenly. He'd managed to understand Tsul well enough moments ago though, so that didn't make sense. "Is the engine room big then?" When he again received no reply from the woman, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and spun around.
Trip's hands went up in a harmless gesture, and his eyebrows followed suit. "Hey, hey, sorry. Easy now." The woman straightened, and her eyes darted down the halls. "Just askin' a simple question."
"I . . ." She looked at him, then down the halls again, as if to see if anyone saw her talking to him. "I just lead. Do as Tsul says. I don't do the engine." She turned to lead him again.
"So you're just a hired hand to show people around on the ship?" Trip asked, his brows narrowing. He got a bad feeling about this. It didn't help to remember how poorly these people had treated T'Pol upon first contact.
"Hired?" the woman echoed.
"Yeah, you know: paid to perform a service," Trip countered quickly.
She bowed her head and laughed softly while she shook it. "Oh no. It is my birthright to do this for Tsul. Payment? What a silly thing. I am just a woman."
Trip's eyes narrowed further in displeasure. "So you're a slave, basically."
"I don't know this meaning, 'slave', but I must hurry you to the engines or they will flog for lateness! Come! Follow please! No more questions!" With that she picked up her robes and scurried off down the hall. Trip bit his tongue and followed her, fighting down the urge to turn around and demand that the captain fix the way this woman was being treated. He had to remember they weren't here to change these people's culture, just to fix their engines.

"Archer to Tucker, come in," came the sound of Jonathan Archer's voice over the open communicator link. Trip, who was tightly wedged between two coils and covered in greasy black lubrication, cursed. "Commander Tucker, come in," repeated the voice.
"I hear you Cap'n, and I'm tryin' t'get t'the phone, just hold your horses," he wiggled around and after a little twisting, slid out from between the coils and reached for his communicator. "Tucker here, sir," he replied, wiping a hand over his brow and smeared dark streaks across his face.
"Something the matter?" Archer asked, concerned over the delay.
"Nah, sir, just got myself a bit wrapped up in my work and took a bit of extractin' t'get t'my communicator," Trip answered truthfully.
"I see. How goes the repair work?" Archer inquired.
Trip leaned back against a bulkhead and scratched the back of his neck. "Can't say for sure, sir. It'll probably take two, maybe three more hours?"
"Well, keep me posted. I'm heading back to Enterprise. Apparently T'Pol found some quirk in our power uplinks. I'll send the shuttlepod back over when you're done."
"Okay," Trip said, but before ending transmission added, "Hey Cap'n?"
"Yes, Trip?"
"How was dinner?"
There was a pregnant pause and then Archer's steady voice answered, "Sometimes, I wish I were a engineer."
The communication ended with Trip's hearty laughter. He pocketed his communicator and moved to go back to work.
Trip ducked his head to start back into the space between the coils, but stiffened at the sound of a click behind him. He pulled back, turned around and came face to face with Tsul aiming a firearm at his face. Trip's eyebrows shot up in alarm, but he couldn't offer any sort of defense. "You should have come to dinner with us," Tsul said in his thick voice, his tone darker than before. "Get up," he commanded and stepped backwards enough that Trip could find his feet. Tsul never once let the firearm waver from Trip's face.
"What's this all about?" Trip started, not comprehending why just his reluctance to eat dinner with this man would be grounds for killing him. If it wasn't eating in front of the Kreetassans it was not eating in front of the Jaar! "Have you told Cap'n Archer about this yet?"
Tsul hissed, and the firearm's nozzle started to glow. "Silence! You do not speak without permission!" Trip stiffened and decided to submit. Whatever misunderstanding there had been, he was sure the captain would get him out of it in the end. He let Tsul turn him around. Another slave woman came at Tsul's call and bound Trip's wrist together behind him with thick, tight cording. He was then paraded down the corridors to the bridge.
Trip was stood in front of the bridge. He looked quite a sight indeed, what with being covered from head to foot in engine grime, with his hair tousled and his hands tied behind him. Tsul set two male armoury guards up on either side of Trip, both holding firearms at the ready. Trip knew better than to protest his treatment and simply stood still as he watched Tsul sit down in the captain's chair.
"Raise the shields and target the warp core," Tsul stated with a wave of his hand. The officer behind him snapped to and began the procedure.
"They hail us, sir," another officer further away on the bridge stated. Tsul straightened his robes then sat straight in his chair, careful that both he and his prisoner could be seen from the viewing screen.
"Put them through," Tsul said. The black view screen in front of Trip suddenly was filled with the view of Enterprise's bridge. The center of attention, was T'Pol, sitting on the edge of the captain's chair. Archer was nowhere to be seen, but Trip had no doubt that wherever the captain was, he was on his way to the bridge now.
Tsul hissed softly to see T'Pol in the captain's chair again. Trip found he did not like the look the Vulcan gave to him as her eyes swept over the Jaar vessel; he knew she was already blaming him for screwing up and getting into this predicament, and Trip hated her in that moment for her incorrect assumptions. "Explain your actions Tsul of Jaar," T'Pol demanded. The initial hail was to be an inquiry on the raising of shields and targeting of weapons, but now Trip's life was clearly at risk, and that became the priority.
Trip tore his eyes off T'Pol and looked to Travis, who seemed brave but wary, then to Malcolm, whose face was unreadable and tense. "You insult us for the last time, woman," Tsul growled.
"We apologize for violating the traditional and cultural standards you uphold. I assure you however, I would not be speaking to you if the captain was on board our ship. I am certain you realize that he is still onboard your vessel."
"You were very unwise to send both captain and first officer to me. Now what have you to bargain with but your crews lives?" Tsul sneered at T'Pol across the channel.
T'Pol inclined her head ever so slightly. "I have no desire to negotiate with you," she began.
"And neither do I," Tsul interrupted, "for we do not negotiate with womens. We shall release your captain shortly, but not before we execute this first officer in repayment for the insults we have endured."
Trip's back stiffened as he heard the words. From the corner of his eye he saw the guards on either side of him flipping what appeared to be safety locks off their firearms and lowering them to bear at him. He wanted to get out of this but didn't know how to, or how he had even gotten into this predicament. Tsul's eyes lowered to look at Trip, so he could enjoy the execution first hand.
"Then negotiate with me!"
Tsul looked up at the bridge displayed before him intensely. Both T'Pol and Travis had turned in their seats and were looking at Malcolm, who had sprung to his feet. He now moved out from behind his console, approaching the viewing screen. "After Commander Tucker, I am next in command," he stated with a slight nod to T'Pol. He positioned himself in front of her. "If you want a man to negotiate with, then negotiate with me."
Tsul laughed heartily at Malcolm's stance, and with a faint wave he bid his guards to lower the weapons they had trained on Trip. Tsul rubbed his chin, seeming almost excited at Malcolm's interference. "And what would you negotiate with, Third in Command?"
Malcolm squared his shoulders and although he wanted to look over his shoulder to get some sort of reading from T'Pol on what he was doing, he had to assume that anything was better than killing Trip right off. Malcolm clenched his fists at his sides and lifted his chin. "What is it you want?"
"The death of your commander," Tsul answered curtly.
"Let's settle this without having an execution involved." Malcolm was tense and nervous and it was all he could do not to look at Trip as he tried to negotiate for the engineer's life against this seemingly uncaring alien.
"Without death, you ask?" Tsul said and his eyes darted back to T'Pol. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully a moment then leaned back in his seat. "Very well then." He pressed a few buttons on his console and grinned brightly. "Our scans show there is a large percentage of womens on your vessel. Hand them over for our services, and we shall let your commander go freely."
Malcolm's eyebrows narrowed. "That's an unacceptable exchange."
"Oh? And why is that? I feel it very generous. One man is easily worth one hundred womens," Tsul answered, smiling brightly, "and you have less than fifty".
"Perhaps in your culture this is so, but women are equal to men amongst our people, and that exchange wouldn't be fair."
"A life for a life then?" Tsul jeered, drumming his fingertips on his armrest. "Yours perhaps, in exchange for his?"
Malcolm was aware that Trip's head jerked to look at him sternly, as if trying to use his eyes to convince the lieutenant not to agree to that exchange. Malcolm, although he did not look for it, was always ready to accept death. He straightened even taller and inclined his head slightly. "I'll accept that trade," he said without a waver in his voice.
Tsul got to his feet and began to laugh. "You are a brave yet foolish man," Tsul said chidingly. He raised his hand, flattened his palm out and then struck downwards. "Perhaps not brave enough." His hand slapped his thigh and as soon as the clap sounded, the guards on either side of Trip turned and fired their weapons.
Trip didn't even have a moment to brace for the impact of the assault. One of the guards hit him in the stomach and the other in the throat. He doubled over and barely felt his knees hitting the deck before he toppled and passed out into a sea of blackness and pain.
"No!" Malcolm surged forward when Trip had fell, and now his hands gripped tightly to the back of the helmsman's chair. After Malcolm's cry faded all that could be heard was the dark laughter from Tsul, who now presided over Trip's prostrate form.

To be continued . . .

Special thanks to DNash for being my awesome beta-reader.