CHAPTER FIVE

Jon was the first to regain consciousness, if being in a sea of pain could accurately describe being conscious. Every part of him hurt and he struggled to remember what had happened. Squinting open bruised eyes, he took in their grim surroundings. Puzzled as to why he insisted in keeping his arms in their present uncomfortable position, he looked up and saw that his hands were manacled to chains set into the wall. He pulled experimentally on the chains, but they refused to give.

Glancing to his right, he saw Trip and Malcolm similarly restrained. Malcolm was moaning softly, an indication of awakening. Trip was still out cold. Both men looked like they'd encountered a bunch of very angry Klingons. Jon winced as he took in their battered appearance, knowing full well that he would match them, bruise for bruise. Malcolm groaned a little louder before slowly catching his breath and painfully squinting open his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Malcolm, can you hear me?"

The lieutenant cautiously turned his head towards the source of the familiar voice and glanced across the still form of the chief engineer, meeting his captain's questioning look. He shook his head to clear it, and immediately wished he hadn't bothered. Surprised to find that it was still attached to his neck, he risked a few more words.

"Captain Archer…sir, are you alright?"

Jon gave a soft chuckle in spite of their situation. Malcolm's response was so typical of his English reserve, always concerned for others over his own well-being, and uncomfortable with anyone showing him compassion.

"I'll survive, Malcolm. I don't think anything's broken. How about you?"

Malcolm tentatively flexed his limbs before replying. "The same, Captain. I don't think there's any serious damage. I wonder why the commander isn't round, yet."

"Trip's always a bit slow to come round after being knocked out. Give him time."

Malcolm nodded his head, carefully, remembering that the last time he'd moved too vigorously, his head had nearly come off.

"Yes, if I recall on Risa…" he stopped, horrified that in his woozy state he'd been about to disclose something that neither he nor Trip wanted as common knowledge, of how they'd been lured into a basement by two lovely female aliens who'd morphed into ugly males and mugged them. They had never explained to the crew exactly why they'd returned to Enterprise with serious headaches and no clothes apart from their regulation underwear. Rumours and speculation had bounced around the ship for too many a day. He looked cautiously at the captain's face, but if he had picked up on the half sentence, he wasn't showing it. Malcolm reached out with his left leg and managed to touch Trip's right foot.

"Commander, waken up."

Both men smiled in relief at the responding soft moan, but it took several minutes of encouragement before the engineer's blue eyes were fully open.

"Aw no, not again!"

"Welcome back, Trip. How do you feel?"

"Just great, Cap'n. What happened, did we crash the shuttle?" Trip closed his eyes in pain as he attempted to shift to a more comfortable position.

Malcolm tried to recall the events before they'd blacked out. "The last thing I remember was feeling as if my head was about to explode. They must have hit us with a sonic grenade." A sudden realisation struck him. "Sir, Ensign Sato's not here."

Jon looked into the darkened corners of their cell before accepting that the words were accurate.

"Ok, that might be a good thing, although I'd rather we were all together. If she's been lucky, she'll have been spared the beating. Trip, have you anything broken?"

Trip had been squirming in an attempt to ease his aching body, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth.

"Ya remember how I busted my ribs on that last away mission? Well, no prizes for guessin' where I'm hurtin' most."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Phlox checked the chronometer in the shuttle for at least the sixth time since T'Pol had left. He'd watched, covertly, as she had entered the building behind the chancellor, but as she hadn't returned, he speculated that things had gone pear-shaped, as his human crewmates were fond of saying.

He gathered the hooded cloak around him, and clutching his med kit, stepped out into the still evening air. Considering his options, he decided against a frontal approach of the chancellor's residence, favouring instead, to circumvent around the perimeter, taking special note of the barred windows.

'Of course, that could be a simple defensive protection against robbery, but somehow I think not!' he communed with himself.

Stepping cautiously up to the first window, he reached through the bars and rubbed the grimy glass just enough to let him see inside. The room was currently occupied by a dozen or more males, most likely indigenous to the region, all manacled by one wrist, whilst with their free hand they tore at the food before them. Phlox thought of wild animals as he watched, fascinated. These men didn't match the civilised picture of modern day Solan, seeming much more like the planet's barbarian past.

Hearing footsteps, Phlox shrank into the shadows, his heart beating a tattoo against his ribs. He wasn't really cut out for this type of skulking around, but he was determined to discover the fate of the missing crew. As the footsteps faded, he moved stealthily on to the next window, peering cautiously in. The three male occupants of the room wore slightly grubby, but still recognisable Starfleet uniforms.

"Ah, Captain, gentlemen, excellent. And now I need to locate the ladies."

Moving further around the building, Phlox located a third barred window. This one was much higher up, and he had to strain to be able to see in, but when he managed, he was relieved to see T'Pol and Hoshi unfettered and unharmed.

"What do you think you're doing?" the voice behind him startled him and he almost stumbled. Thinking quickly, he turned, wearing his most disarming smile.

"I was just curious to know what lay behind such a well-fortified window." He had to squint against the bright light being shone directly into his face.

The demanding voice continued, the tone no kinder. "Who are you and where are you from?"

"I'm Phlox and I'm a Denobulan," he spoke truthfully.

"We have no contact with your planet. What do you want here? Bring him inside, the Chancellor will want to question him."

Phlox's heart sank as his arms were enthusiastically seized and he found himself being marched through the very door the sub-commander had disappeared into. But he kept his slightly unnerving smile plastered to his face, relieved that as yet, no-one had thought to search amongst the shrubbery under the first window. If they had, they'd have found his Starfleet issue communicator, med kit and phase pistol.

Chancellor Ardl inspected the newcomer with barely concealed mistrust. He looked questioningly at the perimeter guards who had brought the fellow in.

"What's this about?"

"We found him trying to see through the windows, Chancellor. He claims he's a Denobulan."

"The name's Phlox," the doctor acted the genial innocent, extending his hand. Ardl ignored the gesture.

"Well, friend Phlox, unless you can give me a satisfactory answer as to why you wanted to see through the window, you'll get the opportunity to view the room from the inside."

Phlox's mind had been whirling with plausible excuses during the short walk through the house. He had always thought that honesty was the best policy; the more lies you told, the better memory you needed to have to stop from tripping over them.

"Forgive me, I'm a collector of exotic pets. Naturally, when I saw the barred windows, my curiosity got the better of me. I hadn't been able to reach the window and was just on the point of looking for something to raise me higher when your men interrupted me. So tell me, what exciting creatures do you have that you need to lock them up? Perhaps we could do a trade. I've some very interesting items in my collection, and really, no harm's done."

The senior guard had listened to the stranger's explanation, his instinct telling him that the man wasn't being entirely honest. He stepped up to speak quietly into the chancellor's ear.

"I can't be sure, Chancellor, but I'd swear he's lying. I'd say he got a good look inside that room."

"Let's not take any chances. Put him in with the three men. He may or may not be from the ship, but until I know differently, he is not to be trusted."

Phlox found himself surrounded by burly guards, the very idea of him being a threat mildly amusing, even under the present awkward circumstances. The escort stopped before a hermetically sealed door, and a card was swiped through the lock to open it. He found himself propelled into the room and the door was quickly sealed behind him.

Through the gloom of twilight, the three officers could still make out the shape of their CMO. Jon found his voice first.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not cut out for this cloak and dagger stuff, Captain. I travelled down with the sub-commander…"

"T'Pol's here?" Trip interrupted.

"Indeed, Commander, just next door with Ensign Sato, to be exact. I must say they are in better condition than all of you." He tut-tutted as he looked from one to the other. These three men were his most commonly recurring patients, and it seemed that once again they were in need of his ministrations. "Apart from the obvious bruises, are any of you injured?"

"Trip's ribs are hurting, Doc. Is there anything you can do for him?"

Phlox crossed to kneel in front of the engineer and gently prodded his ribcage with exploring fingers. He watched his patient's face for an indication of where the injury was, and spotted the almost imperceptible tightening of Trip's eyes before he stifled a gasp.

"The same place as the last time, Commander. What am I going to do with you? I'm afraid there's nothing I can give you apart from medical advice: get plenty of rest and avoid all strenuous activity for the next seven days."

TBC