CHAPTER TEN

T'Pol didn't know what was ailing her, but the fact was that something was most definitely amiss. She had been annoyed with herself for having lost her temper with Ensign Sato that morning. It wasn't anything new to have one of these illogical humans ask a foolish question, but usually she ignored the banality of it all.

Today was different. Today, she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to scream, to lash out and…hit something. This alarmed her more than she cared for, as she'd always had such control over her emotions. Now that control was slipping from her grasp and she didn't know why.

She drank thirstily from the pitcher of soothing, refreshing water, and wondered briefly where Sato had been taken. When the guard had come for her, T'Pol hadn't cared enough to attempt to prevent it. She'd sat, lethargically, in her corner, jealously guarding her supply of water, and if the guard had smirked at her, she didn't notice.

A sudden flash of memory broke through her haze and she remembered that the captain and the others were prisoners, and anger stirred in her belly. How dare this arrogant chancellor imprison them all like animals? He would have to be taught some manners.

Her sharp hearing detected footsteps approaching the door, and she rose from her squat to stand behind the closed door. Hoshi was being returned to her cell and was ushered into the room by one of the guards. T'Pol's hand scythed down onto his unprotected neck, felling him with a single blow. The violent act felt good to her raw nerves, much more satisfying than a Vulcan nerve pinch. Hoshi cried out in surprise as Ardl stepped up behind T'Pol and stunned her with a phaser.

He spoke down to her crumpled form. "Impressive progress, Sub-commander, I think you're just about ready." He turned to the terrified woman in front of him. "Hoshi, my dear, you'll enjoy tomorrow, lots of fresh air, good company…and a fight to the death."

He left Hoshi stooping over T'Pol's unconscious body, and as one door was locked, another was opened. He stepped into the cell as Jon looked up.

"Today's 'entertainment' was hardly what I'd call 'games'. That was sheer barbarism out there, not sporting achievements." Jon's face was livid with anger.

Ardl nodded, grinning. "It may not have proved very entertaining to you, Captain, but if you'd listened to the people, you'd have known that I keep them happy, just the right side of open aggression. Sporting greatness was our way for a while, but there were those amongst us who hankered after the old ways, of luring the unsuspecting to our games, and having them provide our fun. It's so much less effort, don't you agree?"

"Is that what you've planned for the sub-commander?" Malcolm spoke cautiously, wary of antagonising the chancellor.

"All in good time, gentlemen. For now, rest and recover from your exertions. I must admit that you fared better than I'd expected."

Jon was through with polite conversation. "I want to see T'Pol. Where is she?"

Ardl's face took on an air of innocence as he spoke truthfully. "She's right across the hall, with Miss Sato. She's…sleeping at present, but quite alright, I assure you."

"I want to see her for myself, or let that doctor who treated us see her."

"There's really no need, and in good time you'll all be together again, believe me."

Ardl looked perplexedly at Trip's still form, lying quietly on his side, taking no part in proceedings.

"What's wrong with Commander Tucker? I expected his usual amusing threats of what he was going to do to me, etcetera, and etcetera."

Jon hoped Ardl wouldn't insist on rousing the engineer; Trip had passed out from the narcotics Phlox had given him, his face white with pain. In an attempt to deflect the chancellor's attention, he tried to engage him in conversation about their immediate future.

"He's just tired, after today. Can you blame him? So, what surprises have you got in store for us tomorrow? More fun and games to satisfy your blood lust?"

Ardl slowly raised his gaze from the man on the floor. "Yes, Captain, more of the same, because you all put on such a good show today. You're our peoples' new champions, and they won't be satisfied unless you put in a repeat performance."

"Why such an uneven match?" Malcolm asked, ever the tactician. "Surely one-to-one combat would be fairer, and of more interest?"

"Newcomers have to survive the opening round, in order to prove themselves. Today, you did, and so tomorrow the odds will be slightly different. Instead of fighting three against six, it will be four against six. And for Commander Tucker's sake, I hope he's up to putting on a show. We don't carry dead weights around here…either he fights, or he's retired…permanently. Sleep well, gentlemen."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Trip wakened painfully to the harsh light of morning. He was stiff and cold and more than a little cheesed off with their hospitality.

"I think we should demand our money back, this place isn't all the brochure cracked it out to be," he muttered, trying to sit without jarring his arm. His ribs didn't feel too good, either.

"How are you feeling, Commander?" Malcolm crossed to crouch in front of him. Trip looked at his friend's own collection of bruises.

"About as good as you look, Malcolm. This has been some party. Did I miss anything last night?"

Jon spoke from the window where he'd been trying to see out. "Our genial host stopped by, made some comment about there being four of us today. Probably forced some poor sap into fighting on our side. How's your arm?"

Trip didn't even attempt to flex his fingers; the pain was enough to tell him everything he wanted to know.

"Not so good. I'll be ok with the left, but the right's not gonna work. Maybe I'll just 'phone in sick."

"Wish you could, Commander, but they don't do sick leave around here. Just don't let Ardl see that you're hurting. He has a rather permanent retirement package for anyone not up to scratch."

"Charmin'! Ok, I guess I'm goin' without a shield, then. I can only hold one thing, an' if I've gotta fight…"

"Stay between Malcolm and me, we'll try to protect you as much as we can. I just wish they'd let us see T'Pol."

"Yeah, somethin's queer about the way he got her down here. D'ya think she's ok, Cap'n?"

Jon shook his head, words being merely empty platitudes.

They all looked up as the door opened and the guards signalled for them to stand.

"What, no last meal for the condemned men?" Trip asked as he struggled to his feet.

"You had that last night. Today, if you want to eat, you have to win."

The three men were shoved onwards towards the arena. They could see another prisoner being held, presumably restrained like they had been, before, but he was surrounded by guards, and the hood over his head seemed cruelly excessive.

"He must be very violent if he needs all that security around him. Sure hope he's the one fighting with us," Jon mused, as they were handed their clubs and shields.

Trip reached his left hand out for the club and ignored the proffered shield. "Nah, you keep it, I got one of those yesterday," he grinned, giving off a bravura he certainly didn't feel. He had a bad feeling about today; somebody wearing hob-nailed boots was walking over his grave, and not paying due respect!

A fanfare brought the roar of the crowd to silence and all eyes swivelled to where Ardl stood to address them.

"Citizens, today is a special occasion. For too long we've nursed an unresolved hatred against an unseen foe from our history. We've let it eat away at us, with no opportunity to do anything about it. These three humans unwittingly gave us that opportunity. Observe…"

At his signal, the hooded prisoner was unveiled and the guards stepped back to let everyone see a shapely female form.

"T'Pol!"

The name fell from four pairs of lips. The three officers stood, aghast, taking in the almost feral look in the Vulcan's eyes. Her hair was unkempt, her face smudged with grime; but it was her eyes which sent a chill into their hearts. This wasn't the calm, oh so in-control Science officer they knew.

'I always wanted to see her control slip, but not like this,' Trip sighed to himself.

The fourth pair of lips to gasp her name belonged to Hoshi. She'd been taken from their cell and brought before Ardl, who had leeringly informed her that she was to be his companion during the spectacle.

"Don't think so! Get yourself some other arm candy, I'm more particular about who I'm seen with," she'd scoffed, revelling in her new self-assuredness. Ardl had deflated her pride quicker than bursting a balloon.

"Such a feisty little one, but don't forget I've got your friends. Play nice with me and I'll treat them well; play hard to get and you'll not like the results."

So now she found herself forced to be by his side, the very closeness of his body causing the bile to rise in her throat. She hoped the others would understand why she was there, but now, as she looked at the sub-commander, she shivered.

Jon, Trip and Malcolm stood close to each other, looking in dismay at the almost unrecognisable figure of their Vulcan colleague.

"Boy, does she look mad! I'm glad she's on our side," Trip muttered.

"I'm afraid that's not quite accurate, Commander. Technically, she's on our side in as far as she's still a crew member, but T'Pol doesn't know that at present."

The three men whirled at the familiar voice, and took in Phlox's slightly battered, manacled appearance. He was being led towards them by two guards, and as he was being untethered, he gave them an explanation.

"After I left your cell, last night, Ardl had me brought to him. It seems he suspected me all along, but it amused him to give me enough rope, I believe the expression is 'to hang myself'. He's mentally ill, you know, quite the egomaniac. He told me all about how he'd lured the sub-commander here on her own in order to capture her. It seems he's lived for the day when he could get his hands on a Vulcan to experiment on."

"How exactly is he experimenting?" Malcolm asked, worriedly.

"He's added performance-enhancing drugs to the food, for some people. Not, I might hasten to add, for you. But as T'Pol's naturally suspicious nature and vegetarian tastes warned her against the food, he laced their drinking water."

"But why would he want her to have something which might help her to overpower her captors?" Jon wasn't sure if he was following this, correctly.

"It helps them to lose their inhibitions, make them more susceptible to suggestion. In Ensign Sato's case, as she's by nature a pacifist, it made her more daring, vocally. In the case of the sub-commander, it has unleashed her emotions. And now she's pitted against us."

"But surely we can get through to her?"

"I'm not sure, Captain. Chancellor Ardl has been telling her lies about us to fuel her growing anger. As far as the sub-commander is concerned, her entire family has been wiped out…by us! The emotion unleashed in her heart is that of revenge."

Ardl was speaking again. "Today is a fight to the death. In a delicious irony, the Vulcan is pitted against her crewmates, and will be forced to kill them. Afterwards, when the effects of her conditioning have been withdrawn, she will then have to live with the knowledge that they died by her hand. The guilt will be delicious to observe. Let the entertainment begin!"

TBC