Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: Many thanks for the encouraging reviews. They really do help to motivate me. I'm sorry I wasn't able to post this chapter sooner. I'll try to do better with future updates.

Chapter 4

The army jeep approached the bend in the road at high speed, its three occupants bracing themselves as it bounced over the potholed surface. From the ground, the wartime strain on the infrastructure was plain to see. There were no spare resources for this back road.

Four of the MACO's remained crouching low while the remaining member of their party ran forward and flung himself down in the center of the road. They had been waiting for some time and this had been their only possibility so far. Woods was wearing light colored civilian dress - clearly visible to the oncoming vehicle.

The jeep slowed as Woods' sprawled form came into sight, coming to a halt about ten meters away from him. The front seat passenger leapt down and approached Woods as the other two soldiers watched on curiously.

Parsons nodded to Cole. Simple shots for skilled marksmen. Between them, they took out the men in the vehicle and almost instantaneously after, the man on foot.

The MACOs rushed out of cover. The energy pulses would keep the soldiers unconscious for some time, but they required longer. Cole applied the hypospray with its load of sedative to each man's neck. Meanwhile, the others rummaged through pockets, taking ID cards, papers... anything that might be of use and also relieved them of any valuables. It had to look like an opportunist thief had come along. If only papers were missing, it would raise suspicion and make the coming mission even more hazardous.

There was an unexpected bonus. A briefcase containing papers! It was secured by a lock and chain to one man's wrist. Cole levered it open and appropriated its contents.

Then the MACOs pushed the jeep off the road, down a small bank. It careered along the short stretch and into a tree trunk. Parsons shot out one of the front tires. It wouldn't fool any detailed inspection, especially once the men came around and tried to remember what had happened, but it would deflect suspicion for a time. They dragged the soldiers to the side of the road and hid them in low bushes.

Glancing around for witnesses and checking scanners, the MACOs melted back into the surrounding scrub, confident they had been unobserved. Within seconds, they were back on board Enterprise, handing over their spoils to T'Pol.

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Malcolm eyed the garments that had been procured for him from stores in the town - Hoshi's idea, and a good one, he had to admit. Burglary was easy if one had a transporter to assist and it was the dead of night. The choice of clothing was another matter. A tweed jacket! Not the most stylish of garments, and really not the sort of impression he thought any self-respecting interrogator would want to give. What had McKenzie been thinking?! There wasn't time to change it though and there were some advantages to the thick material. He grabbed the jacket and other items and strode down to the Quartermaster's empire to have his modifications made, with a quick detour via the Armory.

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The Mess Hall was a scene of great industry. T'Pol was collaborating with several of the crew to fabricate the required papers. They had pushed several tables together to work around, everyone silent in concentration. Various artifacts were strewn across the surfaces.

When T'Pol had examined the documents retrieved by the MACOs, she had determined that there was considerable variation in the typeface and weight of card used in the ID papers. That gave them some latitude in fabricating their own version. The briefcase had been a most fortunate find. It contained orders from high-ranking officers at Headquarters to various units. There was enough here to give something which would at least pass first muster.

Malcolm came in to see how they were progressing. He immediately noticed an antique typewriter, sitting on the table next to a selection of paper - more loot from various stores. The typewriter was fascinating; a mass of levers and a bell and he couldn't resist pressing a few keys, just to see what it was like. Then he peered over the shoulder of one of the crewman who was finishing off the work on the orders. The man shot the Lieutenant a startled look then hunched over as if preventing copying.

Malcolm took the hint. "Sorry," he said, "I don't want to put you off." He moved over to the table area where his ID card lay. Picking up the card, he marveled at the feel of it and its battered appearance. It certainly looked like he'd been carrying it around for years. The forgers had done an excellent job. They had even generated what seemed to be a genuine photograph.

He checked the particulars. He'd opted for his own birth details - he hadn't time to generate a legend he could be sure to remember. As the dates seemed correct, that should be okay. He had considered choosing a new birthplace, but he didn't want to run the risk of meeting someone else from there. It would be just the type of ruse someone would play when attempting to test his story. Plus although he thought his American accent was excellent others had disagreed. He shook his head at that - they couldn't recognize talent!

Then he noticed something else. Another card. He flipped it open.

"T'Pol?" He looked up at her.

"I shall be accompanying you," she said flatly.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Malcolm was uneasy at the thought of so many senior officers off ship.

"It is imperative we find out what has happened to Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather, and the shuttlepod. If two of us go down, we will be able to cover more ground if necessary. It will provide greater flexibility."

"But T'Pol..."

"It is not open to discussion, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Hess will be in command of Enterprise while we are on the surface."

"If something goes wrong..."

She fixed him with a steady eye. "We will have the means to transport out immediately if necessary using the emergency beacons as an alert. We do not have time to argue about this. Do you have your things ready?"

Malcolm capitulated. He knew T'Pol well enough by now to know when she was set on something. Then nothing would dissuade her. He nodded. "Very nearly. I should be ready in half an hour."

"The papers and my disguise will be finished by then. Very well, meet me at the transporter in thirty minutes."

Malcolm nodded, "Understood."

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Trip regained his senses in stages. He first became aware of a low hum, its pitch varying on a slow cycle. It had a hypnotic soothing effect on him. He was lying on his right side. The smooth surface under his hand and face was a fabric, leather perhaps. Cracking open his eyelids, he could see a pale blue wall immediately in front of him.

He rolled slowly onto his back and let out a groan. He was sore. Mostly it was his back, but there didn't appear to be a part of him that wasn't hurting - his muscles were tender, nerves sensitized. What had happened? He felt like he'd been run over by a shuttlepod and then they'd turned around and done it again! And this certainly was not Sick Bay or any other part of Enterprise. Baby blue was not in her designers' lexicon and that noise was not generated by his engines.

He tried moving onto his left side. That was a little less painful and it also brought Travis into view. He was lying facing Trip on another bed and still unconscious by the looks of it.

The memory of what he'd seen rushed in on Trip. He'd been with Travis, exploring. Heard a noise and then... and then he'd been blasted by some stun weapon... a nasty looking thing. A meter long and with bulbous protrusions along its barrel. Even nastier was the person holding it. Trip had had only an instant to take in the features.

An alien!

Almost Xindi Reptilian - he shuddered - but a different species. Blue skinned. His eyes widened as he took in the implications. What were aliens doing on Earth? This backward version of Earth which certainly had shown no evidence of warp drive, Vulcan influence or anything beyond primitive tech.

He gingerly raised himself up on his elbow. "Travis," he whispered. "You okay?"

Travis remained oblivious, looking utterly at peace. Trip sat up and moved around to dangle his legs over the side of the bed, which was high off the ground. He could see now that the room contained the two of them on long beds - they were evidently adjustable - some low couches, what appeared to be medical equipment and other unidentifiable items - metal and synthetic constructions.

Trip pushed himself to his feet, grabbing hold of the edge of the bed as his knees buckled. A shooting pain raced up his spine and across his shoulders. "Damn," he exclaimed. He winced at the loudness of his curse. Taking a moment to steady himself with several deep breaths, Trip staggered across the short distance to Travis.

Holding tightly to Travis' bed, Trip gave his friend a gentle shake on his shoulder. "Travis. Wake up."

Travis stirred and coughed. He rolled onto his back, groaning. He opened his eyes and squinted up at the ceiling.

"Travis," said Trip, more insistently.

"Uhh?" Travis turned his head to look at Trip. He blinked. Then he grinned. "Commander."

"Yeah. Come on. Try to sit up." Trip looked around the room. The sooner they were able to move about the better.

With an effort, Travis pushed up onto his elbows then cautiously brought his legs around, letting a hiss of pain escape his lips.

Trip flexed his back. It was improving. "It'll get better, I promise," he assured Travis as he let go of his bed and stood independently. "Keep moving, Travis." The more he moved around the more rapidly the discomfort reduced.

Travis gave an unconvinced grunt, but nevertheless did as he was bid. "Where are we, Commander? What happened?" Travis eased himself upright, muscles taut.

"We were stunned." Trip still couldn't quite believe it.

"Stunned? I didn't think they had that technology."

"It wasn't them. They were aliens, Travis."

Travis gaped. "Here? Who are they?"

Trip shook his head. "I didn't recognize the species. Humanoid, bipedal, blue skinned. I only saw them for an instant " He remembered something else. "They didn't show on my scanner."

"Uhh. Projections of some kind?"

"Nah. I think they were real, hence the stun hits," said Trip wryly.

Travis grimaced, a little embarrassed. "Oh yeah. I forgot." He was still feeling a bit fuzzy.

"They must have some way of deflecting our scans, or perhaps they simply don't register," said Trip thoughtfully.

"Where is this place?"

"No idea." Trip made for the single door but it had no discernible means to open it. He tried pushing at it and on the surrounding walls but it remained shut.

Trip walked around, stretching all his limbs and peering at the equipment. It was decidedly alien. He sniffed. Odd - the room smelt faintly of an unsettling mix of lavender and light machine oil, at least that's how Trip's brain classified it.

"I don't have my scanner or anything else," remarked Travis, working through his pockets.

Trip realized he was similarly lacking. "The aliens must've taken them."

"What do you think they want?"

"We're still in one piece, just about. To talk, perhaps?" Trip gazed around. This didn't seem to be in a prison cell. It was more like an alien version of Sick Bay. Then where were the medical attendants?

At that moment, the door opened with a swish. Trip spun round to see an alien enter - the same species as those who had stunned them. Trip had thought in the brief glimpse he'd got previously that they were a reptilian species. On closer scrutiny any resemblance to a Xindi Reptilian was slight. He was solidly built, taller than the average human and not at all scaly.

The alien was wearing a loosely gathered flowing green robe over deep ochre trousers and black boots. A taloned hand held one of their communicators in front of him. A second alien, similarly dressed, had followed and now stood behind. This one carried a weapon, similar to that which had been used to stun the Enterprise officers.

Trip tried to stand more steadily, consciously distributing his weight evenly, and was aware of Travis drawing himself up alongside him.

The alien carrying the communicator stepped forward with a strange rolling gait while the other stayed back, vigilantly holding his gun on them.

"Where did you come from?" asked the alien, bright red eyes sharply alert. The translation was smooth, Trip noticed. The aliens must have been experimenting with the device.

"I could ask the same of you," retorted Trip, feeling a slight wave of nausea pass over him as he took in the unnatural articulation of the alien's arms. Elbows just shouldn't bend backwards, he thought, or be fully rotatable like that. He swallowed and successfully dragged his gaze upwards to meet the alien's eyes.

"You are human. Our tests prove it."

"Yeah." No point in denying that.

"We have located your vehicle." The alien peeled back his lips to show razor sharp white teeth.

Damn, thought Trip. The shuttlepod. "What vehicle?" he replied, trying to sound curious. The alien didn't buy it.

"How do you have this technology?"

"I don't know what you mean." Trip gave an apologetic grimace. "Sorry."

"This translator device and your vehicle? Who gave you this equipment?"

He couldn't deny the communicator. He had been carrying it when he was stunned, hadn't he? Trip tried another tactic. Rocking back on his heels, he said boldly, "I'm not telling you anything until you tell me something about yourselves."

"Those uniforms you are wearing. What do they denote? What unit are you with?" carried on the alien relentlessly.

Trip said levelly, "Wildlife Project." He heard Travis' low snort but kept a straight face, lord knew how.

"Wildlife Project?" repeated the alien. "I don't know about that. Tell me more."

"No. It's your turn now," said Trip.

"You appear to be with the North American Alliance, but you were spying on the township. Why is that?"

"Looking for bears," said Trip with an insolent smile.

The alien gave a laugh. A harsh croak. "No bears around here, my friend."

He held the communicator up and switched it off. Then he carried on, speaking in English. "I do not think you are with either the Nazi Fourth Reich or the Eastern Empire, but you do not belong where we found you either. This technology is far beyond any science that they have developed. But yet, you are human. This is a mystery."

"Tell me about it," replied Trip lightly, but inwardly alarmed by the alien's reference to Nazis. His history might be shaky but he had a good enough grasp, admittedly movie-based, to know something was seriously and horribly amiss here.

The alien gazed at him, then seemingly came to a decision. "Very well. This will not disrupt our research, because you evidently are not part of this civilization. We are xenopologists. We study alien societies - in this case, human society."

"Why?" said Trip.

"To learn about others, to seek knowledge, to interpret our own society in the light of findings here. Why does one do any investigation of this type?"

"That makes sense, kinda," said Trip. "You're right. We are human. However, we are not from this world. We are visitors too." There - he'd admitted it to himself as well as this alien. They didn't belong here. He was still inclined to be cautious though. "We don't know how we got here. We were flying our vessel, then when we landed, we discovered things were not as they should be. We detected an energy surge. Perhaps it caused us to travel backwards in time? In any case, we are alone here, and need to make the best of it."

The alien nodded. Apparently, this did not seem fantastic to him. "So you are not participating," he said.

"Not part of this society, no," agreed Trip. "Can we go? We have to see if we can get home. We won't tell anyone about your studies. If we can't get home, we have to find a way to become a part of this place." And contact Enterprise, he thought.

The alien shook his head. "We are not on Earth. We are on my home world, Thrax."

"What?!" exclaimed Travis, unable to remain silent at this revelation.

Trip looked at him and back at the alien, "We can't have been unconscious for that long!"

"We have a method of traveling which allows great distances to be covered in a short time, providing the parameters are favorable, which they were at this time. Do not worry. We will transport you back to your world when we can."

"Thanks," stammered Trip, overwhelmed by this revelation. He wasn't going to let it rest there though. He would take matters into his own hands if need be. "When will that be?"

"I am not skilled in transportation. You will be informed when it is feasible to make the transfer."

Trip bit his lip. "I guess we'll need to wait for that then." He hoped it wouldn't be long. He didn't want Enterprise to get dragged into this and they would be searching for them soon no doubt.

"Come with me," said the Thraxian. "We have more comfortable quarters for you."

"Thanks," said Trip again. "What's your name?"

"Strixam."

"My name is Tucker. This is Mayweather. Lead the way, Strixam."

Strixam gave a small bow, and led them through the door, the armed Thraxian following at the rear.

The room opened onto a railed broad walkway surrounding a circular central space. The huge vaulted chamber was so high that the atmosphere made it difficult to see the roof through the haze. They were standing on a gallery that appeared to extend entirely around the periphery of the open space. Above and below were other galleries. A maze of cylinders and tubes latticed the central region. Some of them pulsed with changing colors. A power source perhaps, speculated Trip.

Strixam guided them around the gallery and into a comfortably furnished room. "Wait here. There is food for you and other amenities. I will return in due course."

"Wait a minute," called Trip. "Would you leave our translator device with us?"

The alien stood indecisively.

Trip added, "Then it won't matter if we have to talk to someone whose English isn't as fluent as your own." He gave a diffident shrug and friendly grin.

Strixam held the communicator up and considered it and then the humans. "Very well," he said at last, handing it over. "That might prove helpful."

"Thanks. Appreciate it," said Trip, waving it towards Strixam.

Strixam gave bow and left them, the door sliding closed behind him.

As soon as it closed, Travis said, "We need to get back to Earth."

"All in good time," replied Trip examining their new quarters. "I'm sure they'll get us home as soon as possible. Now, wouldn't you bet that they would be interested in seeing how we react to this? Might throw some light on human interactions for them."

"I guess," said Travis, taking the hint. They would be watched, of course. They had to be careful. "Do you trust them?"

Trip grinned. "Nope!" He set to exploring their new quarters. "Let's see if we can find any bears here!"

TBC