CHAPTER SEVEN

T'Pol and Hoshi had been given food and water, and T'Pol had been surprised to find that her own refreshments were vegetarian. Hoshi fell on the food voraciously, having had nothing for more than 14 hours. T'Pol was altogether more suspicious of the kindness shown.

"I don't think it would be wise to consume the food, Ensign."

Hoshi stopped with her mouth full, her eyes widening in alarm. She swallowed nervously as she looked at the tasty morsels set before her.

"D-do you think it's poisoned?"

"Not necessarily, but it may well be drugged. There would be no logic in attempting to poison us. If they wanted us dead, I suspect we would already be so. However, they may have an alternative purpose for keeping us detained."

"But when we arrived yesterday, they gave us lovely food, and it was fine. I'm really hungry, Sub-Commander; do you really think it might be drugged?"

"I have no way of knowing for certain, Ensign, but for myself, I will take only the water. Vulcans can survive without food for many days. If you must eat, try to avoid the meat."

Hoshi stared at the plate as if expecting it to bite her, but she really was almost faint with hunger. Avoiding the meat, she nibbled cautiously on the vegetables. T'Pol sniffed delicately at the pitcher of water before pouring them both a glass each. It tasted as water should and she drank deeply, enjoying the sensation of the cold liquid quenching her thirst.

She was concerned for their well-being, especially that of the captain and her fellow officers. For herself, she had a feeling of unease as she thought back over the conversation she had had with Ardl and Gil. They had spoken of 'breaking' her, and no matter what way she addressed the phrase, it still filled her with foreboding. Drinking some more water, she settled into a comfortable yoga position, and resolved to meditate.

Hoshi looked on, enviously. "Sub-Commander, do you think you could teach me that? I think if I don't get something to help me relax, I'm going to explode."

T'Pol regarded the nervous human sharing her cell. "Please sit, Ensign Sato. The thought of being in a confined space with an exploding companion is undesirable."

Hoshi looked at her in awe. "That was a joke, wasn't it?"

"Indeed, Ensign. But please sit and I will teach you the rudiments of relaxation. We must endeavour to remain calm, for we don't know what lies ahead."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Six large, angry men had been brought out from the first cell and were armed with clubs and shields. Their wrists were still manacled, awaiting the arrival of their opponents. The assembled crowd hissed and bayed for the spectacle to begin, too much time was wasting. The guards looked at each other grimly.

"A wild bunch in today. Reckon they'll not be satisfied unless there's blood spilled, and soon."

A second guard agreed. "The newcomers haven't been fed. What chance will they stand against these six?"

"That's not for us to worry about. We should just be glad it's not us, and you know what happens around here if you step out of line. Don't go getting a conscience; it's not good for your health."

More guards entered the arena, bringing with them the three Enterprise officers. Their shackles were removed and they were handed the same types of weapons.

"Put up a good show, humans. Just remember, the chancellor has your women."

Violent shoves sent them propelled towards the centre of the arena, as their guards made a delicate withdrawal to the edge, close enough to deter any idea of escape. The crowd sensed the commencement of the entertainment and whooped as one. The three men looked incredulously at the scene before them, sensing the primal blood lust of not only the crowd, but also of their six opponents. Jon looked in concern at Trip, trying to stand erect, but obviously in some discomfort.

"Stay between Malcolm and me, we'll try to shield you as much as possible."

"Watch your own back, Cap'n; I'm not an invalid, yet!"

Jon knew his friend's pride wouldn't let him stay back, but the man couldn't hide the wince of pain that holding the heavy club was causing. They stood with their backs towards each other as the six men were released from their restraints.

"These guys could give the Suliban a run for their money. What I wouldn't give for a phaser right about now," Trip voiced what they were all thinking.

They took up a defensive stance as the fighting began. Their opponents seemed in a hurry to complete the exercise as they came in fast, cudgels swinging wildly.

Malcolm, ever the tactician, recognised that this wasn't a match against men with skills as fighters, but really just the survival of the fittest. For all their brute strength, the Solanese could be beaten, with a little careful manoeuvring.

He swung low, bashing the knees of his first attacker, successfully avoiding the swinging club. The second man had more success, catching him with a numbing blow to his left shoulder. If he hadn't had his hand looped through the strap of the shield, Malcolm would have dropped it from his suddenly nerveless fingers. As it was, it might be some time before he got any feeling back into his arm, anyway.

The pain changed his stance to offensive as rage grew within him at the injustice they were facing. As an aggressor, he was smaller and quicker than either of his two adversaries and nipped in below their cudgels, delivering crippling body blows to each man's unprotected solar plexus. They toppled to the ground, completely winded.

He turned to see how his comrades were fairing: Jon had the fighting instincts of an alley cat and was doing quite well, considering the odds. He had felled one of his opponents and was holding the other off with his battered shield. Malcolm finished the struggle with a blow to the man's unprotected skull, and then whirled to the commander's side.

Trip's breathing, like their own, was laboured and his face was pale in spite of their exertions. Blood flowed freely from his left eyebrow and his club had fallen from fingers which refused to work. A blow to his shoulder drove him to his knees and he tensed himself for the final lowering of the club that would herald the end. He was startled, therefore, to see his two attackers falling, one after the other, to the earth on either side of him as Jon and Malcolm came to his aid. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Jon placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder.

"Stay down, Trip, catch your breath. We don't know if that's the end, yet," he whispered urgently in his friend's ear. Trip didn't need a second telling; he wasn't sure if he could stand, anyway.

The three men watched warily as guards approached and gathered up the clubs and shields. Other guards surrounded them as the fallen six were dragged from the arena. Ardl addressed the humans from his seat on a raised dais.

"Very impressive, gentlemen. I see you know how to defend yourselves. You'll make worthy opponents for your next challenge, but that's not just yet. You can rest and eat. Tomorrow, or the next day, I'll have a surprise for you."

"I want to see Sub-Commander T'Pol and Ensign Sato," Jon demanded, as he and Malcolm helped Trip to his feet.

The engineer swayed alarmingly between them and Malcolm barely managed to keep him upright as his own left arm wasn't co-operating.

"In good time, Captain. For now, be happy that you've all survived the first round. Take them back to their cell, but leave them unchained and feed them."

The three weary officers trudged out of the arena as six more Solanese were being brought in and prepared for battle in an attempt to satisfy the lust of the crowd. During their own fight, Malcolm had barely heard the crowd, but he was sure they'd been howling for blood. The roars faded into the distance as they were led back to their cell, and as the door closed behind them, each man sank exhaustedly to the floor.

TBC