Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
Chapter 3
"What's happened?" rapped out Malcolm without preamble as he returned to the bridge.
Ensign Walsh manning the science station said falteringly, "Sir, I've lost them."
"Lost them? How?"
"I was tracking their bio-signs, then they just... disappeared." He looked as if he might cry. "Sir... are they...?"
"It could be anything, Ensign," said Malcolm, activating the comm channel. "T'Pol to the bridge."
Walsh sat frozen, not wanting to believe what he had witnessed. But it was undeniable. He jumped as Malcolm's voice penetrated his despair.
"Ensign. Ensign Walsh. Did you hear what I just said? Transfer the readings to the situation room. Come on, we haven't got all day!"
"Uhh. Yessir," said Walsh, fingers flying to carry out the order.
Malcolm had some sympathy for the young man but now was not the moment to indulge in 'fruitless speculation' as T'Pol would term it. Time was of the essence. Malcolm strode over to the display table and brought up the bio-scan history, setting it to playback. Two red dots pulsed vigorously. They were stationary, located at the brow of a small hill. Then they simultaneously extinguished. That was not good. He bit his bottom lip, clamping down on his alarm. He ran the self-test program - an automatic response. Everything seemed to be in order.
T'Pol arrived from the command center where she had been analyzing data they had collected. In silence Malcolm replayed the log. She didn't need to ask what it depicted. Noting the time stamp, she considered what possibilities could lead to these results.
T'Pol was aware of Malcolm's gaze on her. She met the concerned man's eyes and said, "Have you examined the sensors for malfunction?"
"Yes. They seem to be working."
"Carry out another check."
Malcolm gave a curt nod and sent the request to Walsh's station. He said to T'Pol, "And what if it isn't a malfunction?"
T'Pol called on a calming meditation exercise, purging all trace of emotion. It took more effort than it should to reach the required state. Then, her control firm, T'Pol said carefully, "Their lifesigns may be masked or they may have... ceased."
Malcolm gave a sharp intake of breath. "Which do you think?" The words were level in tone, but greatly stressed. He grasped the edge of the display table as if it were an anchor holding him fast.
T'Pol had insufficient data to form an opinion. She remained silent, considering the point.
"T'Pol, what do you think is likely?" repeated Malcolm, eyes alive with some emotion T'Pol could not identify. From their situation, she would expect that it was... anxiety, possibly. She saw his knuckles show white through his skin.
"What is the status of the shuttlepod?" she asked.
Malcolm wasted no time in asking why she wanted to know. He almost ran to the tactical station, at present manned by one of his armory team. He ignored the crewman and focused his sensors in on the region. Nothing! No trace at all. "It's not showing up!" he called over to T'Pol. He enabled access to the data from the display table. He rejoined T'Pol in the situation room and opened the sensor memory store.
Together they reviewed the sensor log. The shuttlepod signature was like a beacon. Unmistakable. Then it simply vanished - at the same time stamp as when the bio-signs blinked out.
"No evidence of any weapons fire," muttered Malcolm as he studied the readings.
T'Pol said, "Possibly someone, or something, has created a shielding barrier encompassing the craft and our crewmates. However, given the evidence we have of the planet's inhabitants' technological development, the capability to block our sensors would be anomalous." T'Pol thought a moment then added, "There might be some naturally shielding material in the vicinity, although that is a less probable explanation as the shuttlepod did not appear to be moving."
Malcolm pursed his lips, then leant over and brought up the surface display, zooming out to show the township and a wider region around it. He pointed to a built up area. "This is the town that Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather were observing."
He examined the display. There was a group of buildings nearby, on the other side of a hill. Interesting, he thought. He zoomed in on the complex to study it more thoroughly. This was certainly not a town, not even an industrial area.
Malcolm said, his attention still held by the display, "It appears to be a military base, as far as I can make out. A large one too. Look at the concentric perimeter fences. This seems to be a gatehouse, and these buildings - they look like barracks and a parade square. Here are some warehouses. These items are most likely artillery pieces." He looked up at T'Pol. "If Trip and Travis have been discovered, my guess is that they would be taken here - to this camp - at least initially."
T'Pol considered this suggestion. "It is possible," she agreed. She tapped in a command to overlay lifesign readings on the camp's image. They were numerous and anonymous. From orbit, even distinguishing humans from aliens was problematic. It was illogical to assume that one might be able to select the lifesigns of a particular person from many others of the same species. She should not have expected otherwise. "I am unable to isolate specific individuals," she said.
Malcolm gazed at the display pensively, inspecting the sprawling military compound. "There's a lot of activity," he said eventually and heavily. "I could get in all right - use the transporter device - and scout round but it'll be difficult to cover the whole area undetected. I'd have to be quite close to identify their individual bio-signs."
T'Pol said, "What if they have been taken somewhere else? If you are discovered it could put their captors on high alert. It may hinder any later attempts to find them."
Malcolm gave an annoyed grunt as he realized she was correct. He tapped the edge of the table with two fingers as he considered other possibilities. "I'll transport in to different points to quarter the site with my scanner - use the transporter to move about the camp. The transporter operator can pull me out if anyone comes near." He tapped at the place where the bio-signs had last been shown. "We'll do the same here, and at the town if that's not successful. The MACOs can help with that."
He crossed his arms to emphasize his commitment to action. It was bound to succeed - wasn't it?
---------------
The next time Archer awoke, the chaos around him had diminished. He could see people scurrying around, but it was quieter. He turned his head. He could remember a place before... dark, noisy, confused. This was different. More brightly lit. Calmer. He was thankful for that. It made it easier to think, to remember.
A man was sitting next to him. Archer gazed at him. Did he know him? He was wearing a gray uniform.
The officer spoke, his face serious, but Archer couldn't understand him. He did recognize the language. 'German' floated into his head. He was beginning to gather pieces of his fractured mind, to re-build it.
Archer shook his head, ignoring the flash of pain that shot through his skull like a whipcrack. "Don't understand," he finally pushed out. "Don't know German..." He trailed off, weakness engulfing him. That tiny effort had cost him so much.
The officer said something else, then moved away. Archer followed him with his eyes. He fought the weariness. "No, damnit," he cursed as he struggled. He had to stay awake. How else would he remember?
The officer returned with another. An alien, blue skinned, reptilian perhaps...That word had alarm associated with it. Archer blinked, flinching away.
The newcomer spoke. Archer shook his head. "No... can't understand..."
The alien said, "You speak English?"
Archer gasped and gave a tiny nod. Yes he did. That was what it was called. Something else he knew once more.
"Who are you?" said the alien. "Are you English? What unit are you with? Tanks... ground support crew...?"
Archer panicked. He didn't know! Why didn't he know?! He tried to sit up, to explain...
Another person arrived at his bedside, speaking German to the alien. This man had a stethoscope around his neck.
"I can't remember," choked out Archer, waving a hand feebly.
The alien nodded. "The medical officer tells me your memory will return. Do not worry. We will speak later. Rest now."
Archer sank back, allowing reassurance to comfort him. He was so tired... he needed to sleep, just for a little while...
----------------
The ethereal shimmer strengthened into solidity.
Malcolm took a second to swing around, phase pistol raised. It should be clear, according to the transporter display, but he was taking no chances. Unlikely as it seemed, this world might indeed have technology capable of diverting their scans. The pale afternoon light filtering through high dirty windows revealed no one waiting in ambush for him.
He had been set down in a storeroom by the looks of it. It was crammed with shelving bearing boxes and crates. The air was musty. He felt a tickle at the back of his throat as the dust settled and swallowed to suppress the threatened cough.
Satisfied he was alone, he brought his scanner to bear. The rooms around his refuge leapt into existence, the walls a kind of maze through which busy dots scuttled. He flicked to the programmed runs, all attention now on the results.
Nothing. All these people going about their business and none was Trip or Travis. No evidence of the shuttlepod either.
He passed his tongue over dry lips and ran the scans again, but it didn't change the results. He had almost been counting on finding them here. It did seem the most likely place, which is why he had allocated the military camp to himself for investigation.
He had one more location to set down in. That would then mean he had scanned the entire compound. He stuffed the scanner in a pocket and extracted his communicator. "Reed to Enterprise. Final location."
Bracing himself against the unnerving sensation, that vague tingling as nerves were dissembled, he briefly saw the transporter bay and the anxious eyes of the ensign and T'Pol, before being returned to Earth.
He repeated his now standard routine: phase pistol, scan, test, repeat. And the now standard result. Nothing.
Where were Trip and Travis?
----------------
Once again, the available senior officers gathered around the display in the situation room.
T'Pol said, summarizing that which they all already knew, "Our efforts at locating Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather have proved unsuccessful." She nodded to Malcolm.
He gave a sigh, his expression grim as he faced his colleagues. "I covered every part of the camp, the MACOs went to the landing place and the township - it's not large. These regions," he highlighted zones on the map, "have all been scanned, with no sign of them, or the shuttlepod." He frowned down at the map, crossing his arms.
Hoshi looked at him and shivered. She had a growing doubt. They had lost the Captain. Why not Trip and Travis too, to add to all their other losses? Once she would have been hopeful, felt that things usually turned out okay, but now... Malcolm lifted his head and for a moment, she caught the desolate look in his eyes before he could suppress it. He felt the same.
T'Pol said impassively, "It is possible our crewmates are being held at a place not accessible to our sensors, perhaps because they are not in the area we searched or because there is some shielding effect - despite the conflict with the inhabitants' level of technical development." She saw puzzlement on some faces and added as explanation, "If the bio-signs stopped because they had been killed, why would the shuttlepod signal simultaneously vanish?"
Hoshi gave a small gasp at T'Pol's clinical assessment. How could she, even though a Vulcan, refer so casually in that manner to their friends' possible deaths? But then she saw a slight but definite tremor pass through T'Pol's lithe body. Not even she could conceal her unease.
Lieutenant Hess said with a catch in her voice, "So, what can we do now? They might be anywhere."
"I could monitor transmissions," offered Hoshi. "See if there is any mention of them. It could give us a clue."
"Good idea, Hoshi," approved Malcolm.
"Very well, Ensign. Proceed with that plan," said T'Pol.
Hoshi looked around at the others. "Their broadcasts are low strength and they also rely on wire transmission." Hoshi gulped, not relishing the idea of transporting down. "I'll need to go down to set up relays on the surface and tap into the telephone lines."
Malcolm reset his stance a little, "That's not necessary. Tell the MACOs what to do. I'll send a team down."
Hoshi smiled at her rescuer. "Okay," she said. "I'll get right on it."
T'Pol said gravely,"Does anyone have any other suggestion?"
The officers stood silently. Then Malcolm jerked and ran a considering forefinger across his chin. Keeping his attention on the tabletop display, he said quietly, "There is something we could try." He lifted his head to gauge T'Pol's reaction to his proposal. "Knock at the front door and ask to be let in."
"Lieutenant?"
"We need to know what they have done with Trip and Travis. I'm convinced that the army is mixed up in their disappearance. Even if they had been discovered by civilians, the military would soon become involved. So - let's get the army to tell us what we need to know, instead of skulking around." He became more animated as the plan solidified. "I could present myself as one of them - someone sent to interrogate the prisoners or if they are not there, talk about how they were found. I only have to find out where they are being held - there and possibly shielded, or elsewhere - then we can get to them and transport them out."
T'Pol said, "How would you convince the army personnel to talk to you?"
"All military organizations rely on orders - strict compliance. We fabricate some for me. I present them to their commanding officer. He follows them." Malcolm spoke with more confidence than he felt.
T'Pol considered the plan. Much could go awry. "How would we obtain the correct papers? Or uniform?"
Malcolm considered the points. "Mmm. We might be able to identify their administration offices - lots of paperwork there. I wonder if they work around the clock? That might not provide individual ID documentation though." He tapped his fingers on the table. "Alternatively, there is bound to be plenty of coming and going. We intercept one of them, a courier if we can identify one. Use their papers as a model to fabricate our own."
Lieutenant Hess put in, "Crewman Tressler could help with that. He has a talent for art and calligraphy."
"They will be most suspicious," said T'Pol, raising an eyebrow, "even if you have the correct documents."
Malcolm said, "I doubt many outside the base know about Trip and Travis. The fact I do will enhance my credibility - that I've been sent by their HQ. I could adopt civilian dress... say I'm in intelligence." He bit the corner of his lower lip and looked at T'Pol. "It is risky," he acknowledged, "but we have to try."
T'Pol deliberated, meeting Malcolm's unflinching stare. They had few options available to them. "Very well. We will proceed with that plan. Lieutenant Reed, you will arrange to obtain the papers. I will discuss clothing with the Quartermaster. Ensign Sato, in addition to your signal interceptions, please be alert for any information concerning the conditions here, which could assist with context. Lieutenant Hess - alert Crewman Tressler and investigate if there are any others of the crew with similar abilities."
"Understood," replied Malcolm straightening up with an almost audible snap, clearly relieved to be taking action. The others followed suit and set off on their allocated tasks with renewed determination.
TBC
A/N: So - I wonder where Trip and Travis are? See the next chapter!