A hodge-podge of alien races milled throughout the darkened marketplace, the twin suns having set several hours before the team's arrival. Steam rose from the metallic grating in the streets and shadows danced on the walls. As they made their way past various merchants, Malcolm's sense of unease grew.
The conference was several blocks to the east of their beam-in point – shielding around the political district preventing them from getting any closer.
The ECS conference was Earth's time to shine in the interstellar trade arena, and to establish itself as a political powerhouse in the sector. That's what Orion was all about – a meeting place, a neutral ground where anything could happen and often did. It was a tactical officer's worst nightmare.
Having contacted the Orion government to access security protocols, Malcolm realized there had been little point. Arm everybody in your party. That was their policy. The good news was if you killed somebody in broad daylight, there was no penalty.
Malcolm took point and motioned for Ensign Laxdal to take the rear as they navigated their way through the thinning crowd.
"It's going to be a little difficult to monitor translations with this rifle slung over my shoulder," Hoshi muttered to no one in particular.
"You're more efficient with a rifle," Malcolm stated plainly, scanning the crowd.
"I'm sure you can set it down when the conference starts," Jon added.
The captain's cavalier attitude annoyed him.
They rounded a corner and made their way toward the government offices, abandoned merchant booths scattered along the courtyard. Stopping dead in his tracks, he was too late to act as he felt an electric charge in the air. The familiar sound of phaser fire echoed past them and a flash of light whizzed past his head. "Get down!"
Pushing the captain and Hoshi toward some booths, Malcolm registered the sound of a thud close by. He dove behind a stack of crates, dragging Ensign Laxdal behind him and checking the man's pulse. Malcolm cursed as more weapons' fire flew past his position.
Through the hazy night air, he could see the captain return fire and pin Hoshi behind him. Malcolm quickly stuck his head out to scan for the source of the attack. "There are two, one up high and one down low. Concentrate high!" he shouted, firing blindly near to the ground.
Neither he nor the Captain could get a decent shot off as the repetitive energy bursts kept them pinned down.
"I can see them," Hoshi cried out.
"Stay down!" Malcolm exclaimed, seeing her grasp her rifle and watching as bits and pieces of their cover being blown away. They were hopelessly pinned down and he knew he would have to go into the open to get off a decent shot.
"Hoshi!" Jon yelled. "Stop."
Malcolm turned his head and watched as Hoshi jumped into the open, rolling as she did. More shots than he could keep track of were fired as Malcolm dashed out to shield Hoshi. Hearing a yelp, he shot blindly into the night air until he realized there was no return fire. Malcolm turned around to see Archer holding Hoshi, who grimaced in pain.
For the first time, he knew real fear as he saw the wound on her shoulder glow. Emotional instinct railed to pull her close and comfort her, but his training dictated pursuit. He had never felt so torn.
"I'll be okay," she murmured. "Go!"
Malcolm hesitated.
"I'll take good care of her, Malcolm. Go!" Archer ordered.
Malcolm still didn't move.
Growling, Hoshi sat up. "Just remember...I get the points for shooting those bastards," she teased.
"We'll discuss your points when I get back," he replied solemnly and grabbed the rifle, not hearing her response.
Adrenaline took over and his focus narrowed. Cautiously, he approached a row of booths. Only a trail of blood and hastily abandoned supplies remained. Kneeling down, Malcolm touched the green-tinged blood. One thing was for sure. Their assailant wasn't human. Movement in the balcony caught his attention and he ran up the stairs.
They could be regrouping and Hoshi was still out in the open.
"Don't move!" he ordered the shadowy figure as he approached him.
The person froze, moaning in pain.
Clicking on the lamp on his rifle, Malcolm was startled as Gregory Bryant started to laugh.
He could see blood oozing from Bryant's shoulder and nudged the tip of the rifle against the fresh wound. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."
Bryant laughed again, not willing to show his captor how much pain he was in. "Is this where I beg and plead for my life and offer up information?"
Seething with anger, Malcolm growled, "You went to a lot of trouble to get back at me. Why?"
Laughing harder, Bryant winced. "Don't flatter yourself, Reed. This is bigger than you...or me, for that matter."
As much as he wanted to see the man die, Malcolm knew he needed him alive. Flipping his communicator open, Malcolm spoke. "Reed to Enterprise. Lock onto my coordinates, medical emergency...two to beam out."
Malcolm watched with satisfaction as a look of panic crossed Bryant's face.
--
Scanning sickbay, yet keeping his attention focused on Bryant, Malcolm frowned. "Where's Hoshi?"
Crewman Cutler ran a scanner over the prisoner's wound. "Stabilize and wait," she mumbled under her breath.
"Where is she?" Malcolm repeated calmly.
"Sh—she's in decon," Liz stuttered and continued scanning Bryant, who was lying there passively.
"You're going to live, sir," Liz announced with a note of relief. "Sorry for the delay. With only one doctor on board, I'm afraid all I can do is offer you something for the pain."
Malcolm grabbed her wrist. "Why is she in decon?"
Liz pulled away from Malcolm. "She was shot and she had some sort of virus. So does Ensign Laxdal. Phlox – "
Bryant started laughing then.
"What the hell is so funny?" Malcolm menaced, taking the hypospray from Cutler.
"They'll be dead in a few hours," he informed them coldly. "The weapon discharges a virus, which feeds on the raw plasma of the dispersion ratio. When it comes into contact with live flesh, it starts eating. Their own body heat will kill them."
"What virus is it?" asked Malcolm, clipping the hypospray over in his hand.
"Does it matter?" Bryant replied calmly.
Malcolm rammed the medical tool into Bryant's shoulder wound like a knife causing the other man to scream out in pain.
Breathing heavily, Bryant spat. "Even if I told you what virus it was, there's no vaccine!"
The conference was several blocks to the east of their beam-in point – shielding around the political district preventing them from getting any closer.
The ECS conference was Earth's time to shine in the interstellar trade arena, and to establish itself as a political powerhouse in the sector. That's what Orion was all about – a meeting place, a neutral ground where anything could happen and often did. It was a tactical officer's worst nightmare.
Having contacted the Orion government to access security protocols, Malcolm realized there had been little point. Arm everybody in your party. That was their policy. The good news was if you killed somebody in broad daylight, there was no penalty.
Malcolm took point and motioned for Ensign Laxdal to take the rear as they navigated their way through the thinning crowd.
"It's going to be a little difficult to monitor translations with this rifle slung over my shoulder," Hoshi muttered to no one in particular.
"You're more efficient with a rifle," Malcolm stated plainly, scanning the crowd.
"I'm sure you can set it down when the conference starts," Jon added.
The captain's cavalier attitude annoyed him.
They rounded a corner and made their way toward the government offices, abandoned merchant booths scattered along the courtyard. Stopping dead in his tracks, he was too late to act as he felt an electric charge in the air. The familiar sound of phaser fire echoed past them and a flash of light whizzed past his head. "Get down!"
Pushing the captain and Hoshi toward some booths, Malcolm registered the sound of a thud close by. He dove behind a stack of crates, dragging Ensign Laxdal behind him and checking the man's pulse. Malcolm cursed as more weapons' fire flew past his position.
Through the hazy night air, he could see the captain return fire and pin Hoshi behind him. Malcolm quickly stuck his head out to scan for the source of the attack. "There are two, one up high and one down low. Concentrate high!" he shouted, firing blindly near to the ground.
Neither he nor the Captain could get a decent shot off as the repetitive energy bursts kept them pinned down.
"I can see them," Hoshi cried out.
"Stay down!" Malcolm exclaimed, seeing her grasp her rifle and watching as bits and pieces of their cover being blown away. They were hopelessly pinned down and he knew he would have to go into the open to get off a decent shot.
"Hoshi!" Jon yelled. "Stop."
Malcolm turned his head and watched as Hoshi jumped into the open, rolling as she did. More shots than he could keep track of were fired as Malcolm dashed out to shield Hoshi. Hearing a yelp, he shot blindly into the night air until he realized there was no return fire. Malcolm turned around to see Archer holding Hoshi, who grimaced in pain.
For the first time, he knew real fear as he saw the wound on her shoulder glow. Emotional instinct railed to pull her close and comfort her, but his training dictated pursuit. He had never felt so torn.
"I'll be okay," she murmured. "Go!"
Malcolm hesitated.
"I'll take good care of her, Malcolm. Go!" Archer ordered.
Malcolm still didn't move.
Growling, Hoshi sat up. "Just remember...I get the points for shooting those bastards," she teased.
"We'll discuss your points when I get back," he replied solemnly and grabbed the rifle, not hearing her response.
Adrenaline took over and his focus narrowed. Cautiously, he approached a row of booths. Only a trail of blood and hastily abandoned supplies remained. Kneeling down, Malcolm touched the green-tinged blood. One thing was for sure. Their assailant wasn't human. Movement in the balcony caught his attention and he ran up the stairs.
They could be regrouping and Hoshi was still out in the open.
"Don't move!" he ordered the shadowy figure as he approached him.
The person froze, moaning in pain.
Clicking on the lamp on his rifle, Malcolm was startled as Gregory Bryant started to laugh.
He could see blood oozing from Bryant's shoulder and nudged the tip of the rifle against the fresh wound. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."
Bryant laughed again, not willing to show his captor how much pain he was in. "Is this where I beg and plead for my life and offer up information?"
Seething with anger, Malcolm growled, "You went to a lot of trouble to get back at me. Why?"
Laughing harder, Bryant winced. "Don't flatter yourself, Reed. This is bigger than you...or me, for that matter."
As much as he wanted to see the man die, Malcolm knew he needed him alive. Flipping his communicator open, Malcolm spoke. "Reed to Enterprise. Lock onto my coordinates, medical emergency...two to beam out."
Malcolm watched with satisfaction as a look of panic crossed Bryant's face.
--
Scanning sickbay, yet keeping his attention focused on Bryant, Malcolm frowned. "Where's Hoshi?"
Crewman Cutler ran a scanner over the prisoner's wound. "Stabilize and wait," she mumbled under her breath.
"Where is she?" Malcolm repeated calmly.
"Sh—she's in decon," Liz stuttered and continued scanning Bryant, who was lying there passively.
"You're going to live, sir," Liz announced with a note of relief. "Sorry for the delay. With only one doctor on board, I'm afraid all I can do is offer you something for the pain."
Malcolm grabbed her wrist. "Why is she in decon?"
Liz pulled away from Malcolm. "She was shot and she had some sort of virus. So does Ensign Laxdal. Phlox – "
Bryant started laughing then.
"What the hell is so funny?" Malcolm menaced, taking the hypospray from Cutler.
"They'll be dead in a few hours," he informed them coldly. "The weapon discharges a virus, which feeds on the raw plasma of the dispersion ratio. When it comes into contact with live flesh, it starts eating. Their own body heat will kill them."
"What virus is it?" asked Malcolm, clipping the hypospray over in his hand.
"Does it matter?" Bryant replied calmly.
Malcolm rammed the medical tool into Bryant's shoulder wound like a knife causing the other man to scream out in pain.
Breathing heavily, Bryant spat. "Even if I told you what virus it was, there's no vaccine!"