CHAPTER NINE
They had made good time to Hensa with no signs, as yet of the vessel, which had attacked them, and had just entered standard orbit when Hoshi spoke.
"Captain, we're being hailed."
"From the planet?"
"No sir, from a ship."
They hadn't detected any vessels on their approach. John's eyebrow rose in a fair facsimile of his Science Officer's. This cloaking technology might prove to be their downfall.
"Ok, put it through, and somebody find that ship!"
Malcolm touched a few buttons on his console, checking the sensor array for anomalies, and the enemy vessel suddenly appeared. It was much larger than Enterprise, and his sensors picked up heavy armaments.
"They could blow us out of the sky, Captain!" Malcolm whispered. John nodded grimly. He would have to be as diplomatic as all of his Starfleet training had ever prepared him for.
At first, the dialogue coming through was unintelligible. The view screen showed an alien, seated on what appeared to be the bridge of his vessel. His appearance was mostly humanoid with a few minor alterations: he possessed no ears, making the smoothness of his head seem strange, and his skin was a normal pink but scaly, and his eyes were a vivid green shade.
"Hoshi, are you getting anywhere with a translation?" John asked.
"Yes sir, just about got it."
Suddenly the foreign words manifested themselves into understandable English. John took a gap in the alien's diatribe to put in his own two cents' worth.
"I'm Jonathon Archer, captain of the earth exploration vessel Enterprise."
"Captain Archer, you are in violation of Hensaran space. My sources also tell me that you are in possession of rebel intelligence information, which I demand that you hand over immediately."
John had guessed that Trip's time-bomb might indeed be rebel information, but now wasn't the time to be getting into the pedantics about who had the rights to the facts. He just hoped this man wasn't of the 'shoot first, ask questions later' brigade. He signed to Hoshi to block the transmission, and turned to T'Pol.
"You and Malcolm stop off at the quartermaster's and see if he's got your costumes ready. Transport to the surface and find Mendos, and get him up here with his blasted code. I'll try to stall these guys for as long as I can."
^*^*^*^*^*^
The away team had been on Hensa for 20 minutes now, twenty minutes during which they had managed to avoid coming into contact with any figures of authority. Their quartermaster had kitted them out in reasonably accurate clothing, and if they kept their heads covered by hoods and their eyes down, they could pass as Hensaran from a distance.
The alien on the space station had given them the co-ordinates of Mendos' house, but he wasn't home. T'Pol took in the unsophisticated dwellings, and observed that any citizens she saw passing nearby seemed poorly clad. She deduced that this was where those who had fewer possessions would reside, and it seemed to be in keeping with the image of rebel fighters, struggling to overcome oppression. She and Malcolm moved away from the door, unaware that they were being scrutinised from the shadows.
T'Pol brought out her communicator from the folds of her cloak.
"Captain, we have failed to locate Mendos at these co-ordinates. We will continue to look for him. What is your current situation?"
"We're still talking, or maybe that should be 'arguing', because we're not getting anywhere, fast. But on the plus side, they haven't opened fire…yet."
"This appears to be a relatively primitive society, Captain. Perhaps, if you were to re-calibrate the ship's sensors, your protagonist might not be as formidable as he appears. They may be hoping to intimidate you into handing over your information by having you believe they can out-gun Enterprise."
"Ok, keep looking and keep in touch."
T'Pol was stowing away her communicator when she heard a startled 'Oh!' from Malcolm.
"Er, Sub-Commander, we have a situation here."
T'Pol's eyebrow rose as she took in the lieutenant's rigid stance, and the two aliens standing very close to him. One had a weapon pushed against Malcolm's side. As she debated her next action, a third alien approached her from behind, pressing a weapon into her back. The far from gentle prodding indicated the direction the two officers were to take and they found themselves herded into a dimly lit room.
"Who are you looking for, strangers?"
"A friend asked us to locate a man named Mendos. We've come a long way expressly to see him." T'Pol kept her voice flat and unthreatening.
"Why do you want to see the doctor? You're not from around here, your accent is wrong."
Malcolm rolled his eyes as he wondered what they'd make of his clipped English vowels.
"No, we're from…out of town…but we have a friend who's sick, and we were told that Dr Mendos could help him."
The three Hensarans exchanged looks of caution.
"Tell us who sent you here to find the doctor, or we can't help you."
Malcolm was all for telling them nothing, but T'Pol remembered Commander Tucker hanging onto life by a thread, and knew that time was against them.
"We do not know his name, only that he made contact with us on a space station, and directed us here. Our friend is in dire need of the doctor's assistance. Our journey took so long, he's dying."
The aliens debated silently for a moment before one of them crossed the room and opened a door set into the corner.
"Come on out, Doctor. I think they're from Fisan. Perhaps all isn't lost after all."
A small, stooped Hensaran emerged from the other room, blinking suspiciously at the newcomers.
"Where is the information Fisan gave you? Is one of you the courier?"
"Comm…our friend who's sick is your courier. The implant is making him ill. We were told you had the key to safely remove it. Please collect it and accompany us, there is no time to waste." T'Pol seemed less in control than usual, Malcolm thought, as he listened to her monotone speech. He'd begun to notice a subtle change in the sub-commander when Trip's name was mentioned.
He was brought out of his musings by the dry sarcasm of the small doctor.
"I'm not about to leave with total strangers. What kind of fool do you take me for? You could be working for the Establishment for all we know. The courier must come here."
Malcolm lost his patience. "The courier, as you're so fond of calling him, is on life support because of your blasted implant. He can't come to you, so 'the mountain's going to have to go to Mohammed'. Now please hurry. If this information's as important as we've been led to believe, important enough to risk a man's life over, I suggest we get going."
Mendos drew himself up straight to seem taller. "You talk of risking one man's life! We're all risking our lives every day, trying to free our people from this despotic regime. This information that your friend has will help to save thousands of lives."
"NOT IF IT IMPLODES!" Malcolm was on the verge of striking someone, anyone.
"Agreed, you have a point. It would be a shame to lose the information now. Where is your landing craft?"
T'Pol thought the lieutenant was restraining himself remarkably well, considering that he spent as much time as he did with their volatile chief engineer. But even she acknowledged the harshness of Mendos' words as he spoke of the tragedy of the lost information, rather than the tragedy of losing their friend. She took a deep breath to control her anger.
"We had to transport to the surface, our vessel is being confronted by a Hensaran ship." She activated her communicator and hailed the captain.
"We have located Dr Mendos, Captain. If you are able, might I suggest that you transport us up?"
"Hold on, T'Pol, we're a little busy here. They're charging weapons…sorry, Sub-Commander, we'll have to get back to you."
TBC
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