TITLE: Fataliter
AUTHOR: plumtuckered
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Drama/Adventure
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. I also borrowed the monitoring station idea from the series.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place just after "Proving Ground", but before "Azati Prime". This is more or less a "filler" story since it takes place in between several episodes. There is a heavy emphasis on the friendship between Archer and Trip, a relationship that, in my little world, has been gaining strength "off camera". Also, I stretched the timeline out quite a bit in order to make all the events fit.
Thanks in advance to those of you who read this! Any comments, positive or otherwise, are most welcomed and appreciated!
Fataliter – adv., according to fate (Latin)
PART ONE
Dr. Phlox pressed the door chime for the third time and waited; still no response. He took a deep breath then keyed in his medical override code, pressed his thumb against the pad, then watched as the door to the captain's quarters slid open.
The Denobulan stepped hesitantly into the darkened room. "Captain?"
"Not now, Phlox."
Nonplussed, Enterprise's medical officer continued forward. "I think now is as good a time as any, Captain," he said.
Jonathan Archer sat up on his bed and squinted at Phlox through the gloom. "I'm doing my job, Doctor. I'm being the good Starfleet captain during the day so let me have the evenings to myself, all right? Is that too much to ask?"
"You are indeed doing your job and very well, I might add. But I'm not here as your doctor, Captain. I'm here as your friend."
Archer stood up slowly and stepped over to his view port. He ran a hand back through his short-cropped hair and sighed. "I miss him," he said. "But hey, we're on our way back to the Xindi testing ground, aren't we? I turned the ship around and left him just like a good commander is supposed to do, right? Put the good of the many ahead of the good of the few or in this case, the one?" He laughed without mirth. "I'm a great commanding officer, aren't I Phlox?" The laughter stopped. "But not much of a man."
Phlox moved tentatively to the captain's side. "You had no other choice," he replied quietly.
"Right, no other choice," Archer repeated sadly. "I could've left T'Pol in command, taken a shuttle out to look for him---."
"Captain."
Archer waved his hand. "I know, I know. The very survival of my world is at stake here and that's what I keep telling myself every single minute of every single day." He looked over at Phlox. "But Trip was my best friend, Phlox. And now he's gone."
"There's no proof the commander is dead."
The captain nodded. "Not yet. But how long can he survive in that shuttle? And how long can that shuttle survive in that anomaly field?" Archer shook his head. "T'Pol still doesn't know why the Trellium-D didn't work."
"Commander Tucker is very resourceful, Captain. Don't give up on him so easily."
Archer snorted derisively. "Easily? You think I'm giving up on him so easily? There's nothing easy about the way I'm feeling, Phlox. The man I love like a brother is more than likely dead and I'm just sitting----." His voice quivered. "Damn it, Phlox. I had to leave him behind."
Phlox took the captain's elbow and guided him to the bed then helped him to sit. He waited until Archer had calmed then sat on the bed at his side.
"When this damned weapon is destroyed, I'll come back for him even if it's only to retrieve his body," Archer managed then he inhaled deeply. "He was family to me, Phlox."
"I know."
Archer sighed. "Trip's been at my side for almost ten years." He exhaled a shaky breath. "He's the only reason I haven't lost myself on this mission, Doc. He's always been my touchstone."
"I'm not sure this will help but I know for certain the commander felt the same about you, Captain. He loved you---loves you just as you love him," Phlox replied. "I don't believe I've ever seen two people more loyal to each other than you and Commander Tucker." The doctor eyed the captain. "As I said before, he's quite resourceful. Don't give up on him."
The captain lifted his chin from his chest and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why did I ever agree to let him take the shuttle out to that sphere? We'd already gathered plenty of data for T'Pol from the other ones. And she told me she was getting strange readings from that anomaly field. Why didn't I tell Trip no?"
"As I recall, Mr. Tucker insisted," replied Phlox gently. "Something about not knowing it was identical without seeing it for himself?"
Archer sighed again. "He's gone, Phlox and I can't turn the ship around and head off to search for him. I have to complete this mission." He looked down at his hands. "Trip's really gone."
The captain stood and moved back to his view port and not for the first time, Phlox wondered if the man had finally reached his breaking point.
Day fifteen, Jon thought numbly as he sat down in his chair on the bridge. Ten days since he'd ordered the search for Trip abandoned, since he'd ordered his friend to his possible death. Jon swallowed hard. He was on duty now, captain of the first deep space Earth vessel, his world's only hope of survival. He straightened his posture, lifted his chin and looked out at the streaking stars.
"Captain," said Ensign Hoshi Sato. "We're being hailed, sir."
Jon looked at the young woman. "Hailed? By whom?" he asked.
Hoshi shook her head in confusion. "The Andorians, sir."
"Shran," Jon spat. He stood and exhaled a long breath then nodded at his communications officer. Only a moment passed before Commander Shran's blue countenance appeared before him.
"Captain Archer," Shran said evenly. "I wish I could say it's good to see you again."
"What do you want, Shran. I thought you were turning tail and heading home."
The Andorian's lips tightened. "If you recall, our last encounter left my ship all but inoperable."
"I don't have time for this, Commander. I can't spare anyone to help with your repairs."
"I've already attained all the help I need, Pink Skin."
"Then what do you want?"
Shran's face softened. "I have something that belongs to you."
Jon furrowed his brows in confusion.
"We came across an abandoned shuttle thirteen days ago. I believe it belongs to you?"
"Abandoned?" asked Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.
Shran's gaze moved to the armory officer. "Abandoned, Lieutenant," he replied. He looked at Jon again. "I am willing to return your property."
Jon nodded but could not find his voice to respond. Abandoned.
The Andorian's lips curled into a gentle smile. "I would also like to return something else that belongs to Enterprise. I'm sending you our coordinates."
"Shran," Jon blurted but the blue face disappeared. He looked at Hoshi. "Get him back, Ensign!"
Hoshi shook her head. "He's not responding, sir."
"Captain," said Sub-commander T'Pol. "I've received some coordinates. They're less than three light years away."
"Set a course, Travis," ordered Jon.
"Aye, sir," replied the young helmsman. "Captain, do you think they have--- do you think they found---?"
"Let's go find out, Ensign," Jon managed. For the first time in days, the captain felt hope.
Malcolm stood tense and at the ready at his captain's side as the airlock light turned green. He pressed the controls and the door slid open to reveal Commander Shran. The Andorian stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded at both T'Pol and Malcolm before his eyes settled on Archer.
"Where is he?" asked the captain. "Where is Trip? Please tell me you have him, Shran."
Shran nodded and his cold blue eyes warmed. "He's on my ship, Captain, but before you're pink skin gets too flushed with excitement, there's something you should know."
"Is he hurt?" asked Malcolm.
"Mr. Tucker's physical injuries were not severe, Lieutenant. My ship's physician was able to treat him."
"Then let me see him," Archer demanded. He took a step to move around the Andorian but Shran grabbed his arm. "Let me see him, Shran!"
"He doesn't remember any of you, Captain."
Archer stopped. "What?"
"Four days ago, we came upon an alien vessel. We hailed them, asked them for help with our repairs. They refused," Shran explained. He squinted his eyes briefly at the memory. "They were not a hospitable species, unlike you pink skins," he continued with a hint of sarcasm. "So in keeping with procedure, we scanned their vessel. Lieutenant Talas detected a human bio-sign and we managed to transport Mr. Tucker off their ship. Thankfully, our weapons were not damaged in our little encounter with Enterprise so Talas disabled their engines before they could raise shields." He looked up at Archer. "You have no idea how surprised I was when I discovered it was the good Mr. Tucker we'd saved."
"You said he doesn't remember us," interjected T'Pol, her voice tight with controlled patience.
Shran dipped his head. "The last thing he remembers is his promotion to lieutenant in your Starfleet, Captain."
Archer gasped audibly. "That was ten years ago."
"I'm sorry. Somehow they managed to strip him of his personal memories but leave his technical skills intact. He helped us with our final repairs."
Malcolm shook his head in confusion. "So he doesn't remember anything that's happened in the last decade?"
"That's right, Lieutenant. My doctor and I told him what we could, that he was Chief Engineer on Enterprise, a commander in Starfleet." The Andorian took a breath. "We didn't tell him about the attack on Earth or about his sister."
"Trip," breathed Archer.
Malcolm glanced up at his commanding officer as realization hit him. "Captain," he whispered. "He won't remember you."
Archer closed his eyes briefly.
Jon opened his eyes and looked down at Shran. "I want to see him."
The Andorian nodded. "Talas is bringing him up from engineering. He should be here momentarily."
"You said he'd been hurt?"
"There were signs of abuse, bruises, burns, needle tracks, but my doctor was able to treat them."
"Thank you, Shran," Jon said softly. "Thank you for saving him."
Shran smiled. "I always liked Commander Tucker, Pink Skin," he replied.
Jon's eyes moved from the Andorian to the young man who suddenly appeared in the airlock doorway.
Trip looked exhausted and scared but he stepped forward quickly and stood at attention. "Commander Charles Tucker reporting for duty, sir," he announced briskly. His eyes met Jon's then his head tilted. "Aren't you Commander Jonathan Archer? Henry Archer's son?"
Jon's heart broke. "I'm Captain Archer now, Trip."
"Sorry, sir."
The captain patted Trip's arm. "It's okay."
The engineer looked slightly startled at Jon's touch but he remained standing straight and tall.
"I'm Sub-commander T'Pol, Commander," said the Vulcan science officer. "Welcome home."
"A Vulcan on a Starfleet vessel?" asked Trip incredulously. He shook his head in bewilderment. "I apologize, Sub-commander, but a lot must've changed over the last ten years for Vulcans and humans to be serving together."
"Indeed, Mr. Tucker," replied T'Pol.
"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed," said the armory officer. He extended his hand. "You've been sorely missed, Commander."
Trip took Malcolm's hand. "Thanks, Lieutenant," he replied then he looked back at Jon. "I know I've served with you all for three years but I can't remember---I'm trying but----," his voice faltered and he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead.
"Are you alright?" asked T'Pol.
Trip nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a headache, is all."
Jon bit his lip. He had Trip back and that was all that mattered, he told himself firmly.
"Captain, perhaps Mr. Tucker should see Dr. Phlox?" offered T'Pol.
Trip visibly blanched. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get settled in my quarters then take a tour of the ship, see engineering."
"T'Pol's right, Trip," replied Jon. "Let's have Dr. Phlox take a look at you. Maybe there's something he can do."
Trip looked at Shran then back at Jon. "Dr. Kavoc already looked at me, Captain. I've gotten a clean bill of health."
"I'd like Phlox to----," began Jon.
"No," Trip blurted suddenly. "Sir, I don't want to see another doctor. I'd just like to get back to my life." He lifted one hand to his head and gently rubbed at his temple. "Or at least what's left of it."
Jon reached out and squeezed Trip's arm. "Alright," he said gently. "T'Pol, would you and Malcolm walk Trip to his quarters? I'd like to talk with Shran for a minute."
"Of course," replied T'Pol. "Commander?"
Trip looked at T'Pol then at the Andorian. "You're not leaving, are you?"
Shran smiled slightly. "Not just yet, Mr. Tucker."
Jon watched as Trip walked away with Malcolm and T'Pol on either side of him then he turned back to Shran. "I'd like Dr. Phlox to have all the medical records you have on Trip."
Shran nodded then looked back at Talas who stood silently behind him. "Have Kavoc come up. I think it would be good if he talked with their doctor face to face."
"Yes, Commander," replied Talas. She turned and disappeared from view.
"I want to know exactly what happened to Trip, Shran. Everything."
Phlox read the last sentence of the medical file then looked up at the Andorian doctor. "Evidence of torture," he hissed.
Kavoc nodded. "I believe that the commander's memories are still there, they've just been forced into a room somewhere in his mind."
"And the door to that room has been locked," finished Phlox.
"Yes. Whenever I've tried to get him to remember, the headache flares up. He also seems to be having trouble sleeping." Kavoc sighed. "I'm hoping with time, Doctor, his memory will return but for now---."
Phlox tapped the data padd against his palm. "All this for slave labor," he muttered. "And I'm sure this species believes it's civilized." He took a deep, calming breath. "I thank you for treating the commander's injuries, Doctor, and for sharing your findings with me."
"I truly wish I could've done more," replied Kavoc.
Trip stood in the center of his quarters and looked around.
"So nothing seems familiar?" asked Archer from where he sat on Trip's bunk.
"Nothing," replied the engineer. "Like I told the sub-commander and lieutenant earlier, I don't recognize this room." He pointed at the diver's helmet on top of his storage locker. "I remember that but only because it's from my granddad. He gave it to me when I turned eighteen."
"I know," Archer replied.
Trip looked at the older man askance. "Lieutenant Reed said that you and I were friends and that we met just after I got my lieutenant's pip."
Archer nodded. "That's right. Did he say anything else?"
"Just that we were close," Trip replied. He stepped over to his desk and picked up a picture in which he appeared side by side with Archer. "I'm sorry I don't remember."
"It'll come back, Trip," said the captain. He appeared at Trip's elbow. "That was taken at Jupiter Station, just after you'd won big in a poker match." Archer chuckled at the memory. "Those were good times."
Trip smiled. "We do look kinda happy, don't we? It's so strange to see myself here with you, to know that we were close friends, but not be able to remember any of it." He put the picture down then picked up the photo of his sister, Elizabeth. "I guess I should contact my family," he continued. "My folks are both still alive, aren't they?"
Archer hesitated. "You're folks are fine," he replied.
Trip swallowed hard. "But," he prompted with sudden trepidation.
The captain took the picture from Trip's hand and set it back on the shelf. "I didn't want to have this discussion with you yet but I guess I have no choice."
"What is it? What's happened, Captain?" asked Trip, unable to hide the fear from his voice.
Archer took Trip's arm and guided him to his bunk. "Sit down, Trip. This isn't going to be easy."
"Hey, you're scaring me here, sir," Trip replied as he sat.
The older man knelt in front of him. "Several months ago, a species called the Xindi attacked Earth," he began. "They used a weapon, killed millions of people from Florida to Cuba."
"Oh, God," breathed Trip as he felt his stomach knot. He held Archer's eyes. "Florida?"
"Your sister was killed, Trip. I'm so sorry."
Trip shook his head. "That can't be right," he said with conviction. "She's living in Georgia with my folks, going to architecture school in Atlanta."
"She WAS going to school in Atlanta," corrected Archer gently. "When she graduated, she went back to where you grew up."
"No," Trip choked. He stared at Archer in dismay. "No."
The captain placed his hands on Trip's knees. "I'm so sorry, Trip."
The engineer shoved Archer away then stood and hovered over him. "You're lying to me! This is all some kind of game, isn't it? Another way to hurt me, to make me do as I'm told!"
Archer struggled to his feet. "No, Trip." He grabbed the commander's upper arms. "You've got to believe me, this is no game."
Trip pulled away from the captain's grip. He desperately searched his memory for any hint that what this stranger was telling him was the truth.
A sharp pain lanced through his head and he put his fists against his temples. "Sonofabitch," he gasped. He heard Archer calling for someone on the comm. system then he felt the strong hands on his arms again. Trip tried to wrench away but the grip was firm and unrelenting.
In his mind's eye, he could see Lizzie so clearly. "She's not dead," he muttered. "She's in Georgia going to school." He could feel his legs shaking and his vision started to darken. The pain raged making him feel suddenly sick to his stomach. She couldn't be dead, he repeated over and over, it was all just a trick.
Then Trip felt something cold on his neck and the pain faded from existence, leaving only a cold, dark fear that he'd heard the truth about Lizzie. The strong hands pulled him into a fierce embrace just as the tears threatened to fall.
CONTINUED
AUTHOR: plumtuckered
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Drama/Adventure
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. I also borrowed the monitoring station idea from the series.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place just after "Proving Ground", but before "Azati Prime". This is more or less a "filler" story since it takes place in between several episodes. There is a heavy emphasis on the friendship between Archer and Trip, a relationship that, in my little world, has been gaining strength "off camera". Also, I stretched the timeline out quite a bit in order to make all the events fit.
Thanks in advance to those of you who read this! Any comments, positive or otherwise, are most welcomed and appreciated!
Fataliter – adv., according to fate (Latin)
PART ONE
Dr. Phlox pressed the door chime for the third time and waited; still no response. He took a deep breath then keyed in his medical override code, pressed his thumb against the pad, then watched as the door to the captain's quarters slid open.
The Denobulan stepped hesitantly into the darkened room. "Captain?"
"Not now, Phlox."
Nonplussed, Enterprise's medical officer continued forward. "I think now is as good a time as any, Captain," he said.
Jonathan Archer sat up on his bed and squinted at Phlox through the gloom. "I'm doing my job, Doctor. I'm being the good Starfleet captain during the day so let me have the evenings to myself, all right? Is that too much to ask?"
"You are indeed doing your job and very well, I might add. But I'm not here as your doctor, Captain. I'm here as your friend."
Archer stood up slowly and stepped over to his view port. He ran a hand back through his short-cropped hair and sighed. "I miss him," he said. "But hey, we're on our way back to the Xindi testing ground, aren't we? I turned the ship around and left him just like a good commander is supposed to do, right? Put the good of the many ahead of the good of the few or in this case, the one?" He laughed without mirth. "I'm a great commanding officer, aren't I Phlox?" The laughter stopped. "But not much of a man."
Phlox moved tentatively to the captain's side. "You had no other choice," he replied quietly.
"Right, no other choice," Archer repeated sadly. "I could've left T'Pol in command, taken a shuttle out to look for him---."
"Captain."
Archer waved his hand. "I know, I know. The very survival of my world is at stake here and that's what I keep telling myself every single minute of every single day." He looked over at Phlox. "But Trip was my best friend, Phlox. And now he's gone."
"There's no proof the commander is dead."
The captain nodded. "Not yet. But how long can he survive in that shuttle? And how long can that shuttle survive in that anomaly field?" Archer shook his head. "T'Pol still doesn't know why the Trellium-D didn't work."
"Commander Tucker is very resourceful, Captain. Don't give up on him so easily."
Archer snorted derisively. "Easily? You think I'm giving up on him so easily? There's nothing easy about the way I'm feeling, Phlox. The man I love like a brother is more than likely dead and I'm just sitting----." His voice quivered. "Damn it, Phlox. I had to leave him behind."
Phlox took the captain's elbow and guided him to the bed then helped him to sit. He waited until Archer had calmed then sat on the bed at his side.
"When this damned weapon is destroyed, I'll come back for him even if it's only to retrieve his body," Archer managed then he inhaled deeply. "He was family to me, Phlox."
"I know."
Archer sighed. "Trip's been at my side for almost ten years." He exhaled a shaky breath. "He's the only reason I haven't lost myself on this mission, Doc. He's always been my touchstone."
"I'm not sure this will help but I know for certain the commander felt the same about you, Captain. He loved you---loves you just as you love him," Phlox replied. "I don't believe I've ever seen two people more loyal to each other than you and Commander Tucker." The doctor eyed the captain. "As I said before, he's quite resourceful. Don't give up on him."
The captain lifted his chin from his chest and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why did I ever agree to let him take the shuttle out to that sphere? We'd already gathered plenty of data for T'Pol from the other ones. And she told me she was getting strange readings from that anomaly field. Why didn't I tell Trip no?"
"As I recall, Mr. Tucker insisted," replied Phlox gently. "Something about not knowing it was identical without seeing it for himself?"
Archer sighed again. "He's gone, Phlox and I can't turn the ship around and head off to search for him. I have to complete this mission." He looked down at his hands. "Trip's really gone."
The captain stood and moved back to his view port and not for the first time, Phlox wondered if the man had finally reached his breaking point.
Day fifteen, Jon thought numbly as he sat down in his chair on the bridge. Ten days since he'd ordered the search for Trip abandoned, since he'd ordered his friend to his possible death. Jon swallowed hard. He was on duty now, captain of the first deep space Earth vessel, his world's only hope of survival. He straightened his posture, lifted his chin and looked out at the streaking stars.
"Captain," said Ensign Hoshi Sato. "We're being hailed, sir."
Jon looked at the young woman. "Hailed? By whom?" he asked.
Hoshi shook her head in confusion. "The Andorians, sir."
"Shran," Jon spat. He stood and exhaled a long breath then nodded at his communications officer. Only a moment passed before Commander Shran's blue countenance appeared before him.
"Captain Archer," Shran said evenly. "I wish I could say it's good to see you again."
"What do you want, Shran. I thought you were turning tail and heading home."
The Andorian's lips tightened. "If you recall, our last encounter left my ship all but inoperable."
"I don't have time for this, Commander. I can't spare anyone to help with your repairs."
"I've already attained all the help I need, Pink Skin."
"Then what do you want?"
Shran's face softened. "I have something that belongs to you."
Jon furrowed his brows in confusion.
"We came across an abandoned shuttle thirteen days ago. I believe it belongs to you?"
"Abandoned?" asked Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.
Shran's gaze moved to the armory officer. "Abandoned, Lieutenant," he replied. He looked at Jon again. "I am willing to return your property."
Jon nodded but could not find his voice to respond. Abandoned.
The Andorian's lips curled into a gentle smile. "I would also like to return something else that belongs to Enterprise. I'm sending you our coordinates."
"Shran," Jon blurted but the blue face disappeared. He looked at Hoshi. "Get him back, Ensign!"
Hoshi shook her head. "He's not responding, sir."
"Captain," said Sub-commander T'Pol. "I've received some coordinates. They're less than three light years away."
"Set a course, Travis," ordered Jon.
"Aye, sir," replied the young helmsman. "Captain, do you think they have--- do you think they found---?"
"Let's go find out, Ensign," Jon managed. For the first time in days, the captain felt hope.
Malcolm stood tense and at the ready at his captain's side as the airlock light turned green. He pressed the controls and the door slid open to reveal Commander Shran. The Andorian stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded at both T'Pol and Malcolm before his eyes settled on Archer.
"Where is he?" asked the captain. "Where is Trip? Please tell me you have him, Shran."
Shran nodded and his cold blue eyes warmed. "He's on my ship, Captain, but before you're pink skin gets too flushed with excitement, there's something you should know."
"Is he hurt?" asked Malcolm.
"Mr. Tucker's physical injuries were not severe, Lieutenant. My ship's physician was able to treat him."
"Then let me see him," Archer demanded. He took a step to move around the Andorian but Shran grabbed his arm. "Let me see him, Shran!"
"He doesn't remember any of you, Captain."
Archer stopped. "What?"
"Four days ago, we came upon an alien vessel. We hailed them, asked them for help with our repairs. They refused," Shran explained. He squinted his eyes briefly at the memory. "They were not a hospitable species, unlike you pink skins," he continued with a hint of sarcasm. "So in keeping with procedure, we scanned their vessel. Lieutenant Talas detected a human bio-sign and we managed to transport Mr. Tucker off their ship. Thankfully, our weapons were not damaged in our little encounter with Enterprise so Talas disabled their engines before they could raise shields." He looked up at Archer. "You have no idea how surprised I was when I discovered it was the good Mr. Tucker we'd saved."
"You said he doesn't remember us," interjected T'Pol, her voice tight with controlled patience.
Shran dipped his head. "The last thing he remembers is his promotion to lieutenant in your Starfleet, Captain."
Archer gasped audibly. "That was ten years ago."
"I'm sorry. Somehow they managed to strip him of his personal memories but leave his technical skills intact. He helped us with our final repairs."
Malcolm shook his head in confusion. "So he doesn't remember anything that's happened in the last decade?"
"That's right, Lieutenant. My doctor and I told him what we could, that he was Chief Engineer on Enterprise, a commander in Starfleet." The Andorian took a breath. "We didn't tell him about the attack on Earth or about his sister."
"Trip," breathed Archer.
Malcolm glanced up at his commanding officer as realization hit him. "Captain," he whispered. "He won't remember you."
Archer closed his eyes briefly.
Jon opened his eyes and looked down at Shran. "I want to see him."
The Andorian nodded. "Talas is bringing him up from engineering. He should be here momentarily."
"You said he'd been hurt?"
"There were signs of abuse, bruises, burns, needle tracks, but my doctor was able to treat them."
"Thank you, Shran," Jon said softly. "Thank you for saving him."
Shran smiled. "I always liked Commander Tucker, Pink Skin," he replied.
Jon's eyes moved from the Andorian to the young man who suddenly appeared in the airlock doorway.
Trip looked exhausted and scared but he stepped forward quickly and stood at attention. "Commander Charles Tucker reporting for duty, sir," he announced briskly. His eyes met Jon's then his head tilted. "Aren't you Commander Jonathan Archer? Henry Archer's son?"
Jon's heart broke. "I'm Captain Archer now, Trip."
"Sorry, sir."
The captain patted Trip's arm. "It's okay."
The engineer looked slightly startled at Jon's touch but he remained standing straight and tall.
"I'm Sub-commander T'Pol, Commander," said the Vulcan science officer. "Welcome home."
"A Vulcan on a Starfleet vessel?" asked Trip incredulously. He shook his head in bewilderment. "I apologize, Sub-commander, but a lot must've changed over the last ten years for Vulcans and humans to be serving together."
"Indeed, Mr. Tucker," replied T'Pol.
"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed," said the armory officer. He extended his hand. "You've been sorely missed, Commander."
Trip took Malcolm's hand. "Thanks, Lieutenant," he replied then he looked back at Jon. "I know I've served with you all for three years but I can't remember---I'm trying but----," his voice faltered and he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead.
"Are you alright?" asked T'Pol.
Trip nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a headache, is all."
Jon bit his lip. He had Trip back and that was all that mattered, he told himself firmly.
"Captain, perhaps Mr. Tucker should see Dr. Phlox?" offered T'Pol.
Trip visibly blanched. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get settled in my quarters then take a tour of the ship, see engineering."
"T'Pol's right, Trip," replied Jon. "Let's have Dr. Phlox take a look at you. Maybe there's something he can do."
Trip looked at Shran then back at Jon. "Dr. Kavoc already looked at me, Captain. I've gotten a clean bill of health."
"I'd like Phlox to----," began Jon.
"No," Trip blurted suddenly. "Sir, I don't want to see another doctor. I'd just like to get back to my life." He lifted one hand to his head and gently rubbed at his temple. "Or at least what's left of it."
Jon reached out and squeezed Trip's arm. "Alright," he said gently. "T'Pol, would you and Malcolm walk Trip to his quarters? I'd like to talk with Shran for a minute."
"Of course," replied T'Pol. "Commander?"
Trip looked at T'Pol then at the Andorian. "You're not leaving, are you?"
Shran smiled slightly. "Not just yet, Mr. Tucker."
Jon watched as Trip walked away with Malcolm and T'Pol on either side of him then he turned back to Shran. "I'd like Dr. Phlox to have all the medical records you have on Trip."
Shran nodded then looked back at Talas who stood silently behind him. "Have Kavoc come up. I think it would be good if he talked with their doctor face to face."
"Yes, Commander," replied Talas. She turned and disappeared from view.
"I want to know exactly what happened to Trip, Shran. Everything."
Phlox read the last sentence of the medical file then looked up at the Andorian doctor. "Evidence of torture," he hissed.
Kavoc nodded. "I believe that the commander's memories are still there, they've just been forced into a room somewhere in his mind."
"And the door to that room has been locked," finished Phlox.
"Yes. Whenever I've tried to get him to remember, the headache flares up. He also seems to be having trouble sleeping." Kavoc sighed. "I'm hoping with time, Doctor, his memory will return but for now---."
Phlox tapped the data padd against his palm. "All this for slave labor," he muttered. "And I'm sure this species believes it's civilized." He took a deep, calming breath. "I thank you for treating the commander's injuries, Doctor, and for sharing your findings with me."
"I truly wish I could've done more," replied Kavoc.
Trip stood in the center of his quarters and looked around.
"So nothing seems familiar?" asked Archer from where he sat on Trip's bunk.
"Nothing," replied the engineer. "Like I told the sub-commander and lieutenant earlier, I don't recognize this room." He pointed at the diver's helmet on top of his storage locker. "I remember that but only because it's from my granddad. He gave it to me when I turned eighteen."
"I know," Archer replied.
Trip looked at the older man askance. "Lieutenant Reed said that you and I were friends and that we met just after I got my lieutenant's pip."
Archer nodded. "That's right. Did he say anything else?"
"Just that we were close," Trip replied. He stepped over to his desk and picked up a picture in which he appeared side by side with Archer. "I'm sorry I don't remember."
"It'll come back, Trip," said the captain. He appeared at Trip's elbow. "That was taken at Jupiter Station, just after you'd won big in a poker match." Archer chuckled at the memory. "Those were good times."
Trip smiled. "We do look kinda happy, don't we? It's so strange to see myself here with you, to know that we were close friends, but not be able to remember any of it." He put the picture down then picked up the photo of his sister, Elizabeth. "I guess I should contact my family," he continued. "My folks are both still alive, aren't they?"
Archer hesitated. "You're folks are fine," he replied.
Trip swallowed hard. "But," he prompted with sudden trepidation.
The captain took the picture from Trip's hand and set it back on the shelf. "I didn't want to have this discussion with you yet but I guess I have no choice."
"What is it? What's happened, Captain?" asked Trip, unable to hide the fear from his voice.
Archer took Trip's arm and guided him to his bunk. "Sit down, Trip. This isn't going to be easy."
"Hey, you're scaring me here, sir," Trip replied as he sat.
The older man knelt in front of him. "Several months ago, a species called the Xindi attacked Earth," he began. "They used a weapon, killed millions of people from Florida to Cuba."
"Oh, God," breathed Trip as he felt his stomach knot. He held Archer's eyes. "Florida?"
"Your sister was killed, Trip. I'm so sorry."
Trip shook his head. "That can't be right," he said with conviction. "She's living in Georgia with my folks, going to architecture school in Atlanta."
"She WAS going to school in Atlanta," corrected Archer gently. "When she graduated, she went back to where you grew up."
"No," Trip choked. He stared at Archer in dismay. "No."
The captain placed his hands on Trip's knees. "I'm so sorry, Trip."
The engineer shoved Archer away then stood and hovered over him. "You're lying to me! This is all some kind of game, isn't it? Another way to hurt me, to make me do as I'm told!"
Archer struggled to his feet. "No, Trip." He grabbed the commander's upper arms. "You've got to believe me, this is no game."
Trip pulled away from the captain's grip. He desperately searched his memory for any hint that what this stranger was telling him was the truth.
A sharp pain lanced through his head and he put his fists against his temples. "Sonofabitch," he gasped. He heard Archer calling for someone on the comm. system then he felt the strong hands on his arms again. Trip tried to wrench away but the grip was firm and unrelenting.
In his mind's eye, he could see Lizzie so clearly. "She's not dead," he muttered. "She's in Georgia going to school." He could feel his legs shaking and his vision started to darken. The pain raged making him feel suddenly sick to his stomach. She couldn't be dead, he repeated over and over, it was all just a trick.
Then Trip felt something cold on his neck and the pain faded from existence, leaving only a cold, dark fear that he'd heard the truth about Lizzie. The strong hands pulled him into a fierce embrace just as the tears threatened to fall.
CONTINUED