Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
A/N: Thank you for continuing to review this story. It's useful to know which parts are more successful.
Chapter 8
With trepidation, Malcolm entered the domed building, senses on maximum alert. He found himself in a hallway with six doors leading off it. Considering the forcefield surrounding this place, he had expected it to be special but found it uninspiring - block flooring and brown-painted wooden doors; cream walls; incandescent light bulbs for illumination. No different in truth to the rest of the camp he had seen.
Muscles taut, he tried the first door to his left, ready for action if it turned out to be occupied. There was no one in it and he breathed a little easier. The room had twenty or so chairs crammed in, arranged in rows facing a large local area map hung on the wall. An antique optical projector sat on a small table at the rear. Malcolm surmised this was a briefing room. He quickly cast an eye over the map but it carried no significant information.
Wasting no time, Malcolm resumed his inspection. The next room was empty, as was the next... and the next.
Four rooms dealt with and nothing. Malcolm had hoped this small building might consist of a workshop area or something like that where the shuttlepod might have been taken - some place that demanded additional security. He had even, at the back of his mind, had a hope that he would discover his friends here.
A wave of acute disappointment swept over him. What was the point of a forcefield around this place? Was he missing something obvious?
He had two more rooms to investigate. No time to dawdle.
Malcolm approached the first of them, hand outstretched to turn the doorknob. He put his hand on it, then felt it move beneath his fingers. Someone was on the other side! He snatched his hand away as if burnt and leapt back.
The door opened a crack... and then paused. A low murmur of conversation drifted from within. Thanking his lucky stars, Malcolm made for the room opposite and darted inside, quietly pulling the door shut behind him. Hugging an arm around his stomach to support his sore midriff - jolted by his rapid retreat - Malcolm put an ear to the door. The voices resolved into speech as their owners stepped out into the lobby.
"So, Colonel. Is everything clear?" said a first person - male, deep pitched, North American accent.
"Yes, thank you, General. They will be interrogated. Have no doubt, we will discover who they are working for and what they know," said a second voice.
It sounded like Colonel Jones. Malcolm gave a shiver at the Colonel's implacable conviction of his success, no doubt gained through plenty of experience. Malcolm knew all too well what that might entail, courtesy of his security training and interest in history - man's inhumanity to man. He was pretty sure that they were talking about him and T'Pol. He bit his lip, trying to convince himself that T'Pol would be able to deal with them. If necessary, she could transport out. But would she be willing to use that option, believing as she did that the people of this world were at a low stage of technical development?
"Major, you have your orders," said the General.
"Yes, Sir. I am to take an armored column to Fort Alpha Gamma 3 to join up with the 3rd Division."
"If that is all, gentlemen, dismissed."
"Yes, Sir."
Malcolm opened his door a crack and put an eye to it. The uniformed backs of three men were within view. The men saluted one other and two stepped out through the entrance door. As they turned to leave, Malcolm had confirmation that one was Colonel Jones. He didn't recognize the Major.
The General turned, and for a fraction of a second, Malcolm had a full view of his face.
It was an alien! A blue skinned alien. Here. On this backward Earth.
Malcolm pulled back, absolutely stunned, whipping the door shut but still retaining sufficient presence of mind to do it gently. He schooled himself to breathe quiet easy breaths and ran a shaky hand through his hair. An alien! What was an alien doing here and, most incredibly, in an American General's uniform? Giving orders?
He had an uncomfortable thought. Did the alien have any way to detect him?
He heard footsteps moving away. Malcolm cautiously opened his door a crack and saw the alien enter the room from which the three had previously emerged. Swallowing hard, Malcolm crept into the lobby and padded over. He listened at the door but could hear nothing.
Now he had a choice to make. Should he leave the building and transport back to Enterprise? There had to be some way of disabling the forcefield from inside in order to leave. The Colonel and Major had evidently managed it. Or should he find out more about this alien?
He decided to investigate further. Additional information was more important. Perhaps he could get the alien to talk?
Malcolm hadn't seen a weapon on the alien, although that didn't mean he wasn't carrying one. The alien was of large build and apparently muscular, but Malcolm thought he could deal with him, especially with the advantage of surprise on his side.
He patted the munitions in his pockets. The explosives were no good in a fight, but he still had his tie - and the thin thread of high-tensile thread that had been prudently added along its length. He wrapped one end of the tie around his left hand and the other around his right. He placed his right hand on the doorknob and readied himself.
Giving a rapid twist, Malcolm yanked open the door and launched himself into the room.
The room was empty!
Malcolm came to a ragged halt, looking about him. There was no other exit. Had the alien transported away, and if so, to where? They had detected no ships in orbit. Of course, thought Malcolm with a chill, if this building didn't show on their sensors, then it was entirely possible that any ship was invisible to them also. He should leave now and warn Enterprise... find a way also of warning T'Pol and extracting her.
Solely to be thorough, Malcolm made a rapid circuit of the room, running a hand along the walls in an attempt to detect any hidden door.
He didn't expect to find anything from such a low-tech approach. Thus he was taken aback when a touch on the wall opposite the door caused it to dissolve into a pale blue shimming curtain. Malcolm stared at the phenomenon wide-eyed. Steeling himself, he took a wary step up to the rippling sheet of light, then through it.
He emerged in another room, which was uninhabited and dominated by a central console. Malcolm couldn't make anything of the alien symbols around the console's frame. He had no idea what its purpose was. A control panel, perhaps?
There was an open doorway ahead. Malcolm ran to it and stood close to the wall, listening. Hearing nothing, he cautiously peered around and through the opening.
And gasped, open eyed, unbelieving.
He gazed in awe at the vast vault above him: a multitude times larger than the volume of the domed building as gauged from its exterior dimensions.
What the hell was this?!
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In the waiting room of the main building, T'Pol had sat patiently, awaiting developments, under the bored gaze of the guard. She had not attempted to draw him into conversation and he had been quite content to remain silent and not all that watchful. Before her lay an untouched ham sandwich, black coffee and an apple core. She had consumed the apple as she believed it important to the deception that she eat something. After all, in wartime, scarcity made food to be desired.
She had been sitting in the place for one hour and twenty five minutes, approximately. Once she would have been more precise in her assessment but her time with humans had influenced her in many ways.
T'Pol welcomed the time alone as an opportunity to consider their situation. She had been making a great deal of progress. She had decided on a method of detecting if this place was their own Universe or a parallel one, and already had sufficient data to carry out the analysis when she returned to Enterprise. That was most satisfying.
The continuing absence of information concerning Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather was disturbing however.
She had erred in her judgement of her and the Lieutenant's acceptance by the Colonel. He had been extremely suspicious. Presumably Ensign Sato had been successful in distorting any remote communication between this base and its headquarters. If that had not been so, then they would already be under accusation. But in that event, why had the Colonel not resumed his meeting with them in an attempt to investigate them? If they truly had been intelligence officers, any delay by him could be crucial to their war-effort. Should she should press the point and progress matters herself?
She had decided to ask to see the Colonel when her sharp ears heard voices in the corridor. She glanced at the guard - he displayed no sign of hearing anything. She was certain a human ear would not be sufficiently sensitive to find the conversation audible.
T'Pol identified the Colonel's deep baritone and a second voice, a soldier in his command judging by his deference.
"How did he escape?" said the Colonel.
"He made a hole in the cell's outside wall, Sir."
"How? Those walls are absolutely solid." The Colonel spoke more loudly.
"We don't know, Sir. He was searched and was carrying nothing on him."
There was a pause and T'Pol wondered if they had moved away.
Then the Colonel spoke. "Put out an alert for Reed. Capture him alive if possible. He has some questions to answer."
"Yes, Sir."
Another voice chimed in. "Looks like this settles it. They're not kosher."
"I had already worked that out, Major. Their papers didn't hold up when I spoke to the General." He paused. "We have the woman. I'll see what I can get out of her."
T'Pol considered this data. So, the Lieutenant had been held prisoner but escaped. The Colonel had somehow made contact with the General, revealing their deception.
She stood up, causing the guard to jump a little.
"I need to... stretch my legs," she said, selecting a suitable idiom.
The guard grunted his approval. She walked around the room. As she passed the man, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He was startled by the touch, but before he could react, the Vulcan nerve pinch had rendered him unconscious.
T'Pol gave a triple rap of her left heel. That would activate the emergency beacon. She heard more voices outside as she was transported to safety back to Enterprise.
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When he next regained consciousness, Archer found himself strapped into a chair, secured around his arms and legs. His head was pounding. Whatever that alien had used on him as a sedative had not agreed with him. The room he was in was unfamiliar. Functional, stark. White walls, trays of bright metal instruments, a smell of antiseptic. He coughed, feeling phlegm rising in his chest.
He was not alone. The alien stepped around in front of him. He stood silently, watching Archer. When the alien was satisfied he was aware, he said, "You have a choice. You talk to me of your own accord or I will be forced to use more persuasive means. I do not care. It is up to you."
Archer nodded. He believed him. Mentally crossing his fingers, he replied, "I'll tell you what you want to know."
The alien gave an unpleasant laugh. "Do you think I am stupid? Do you not feel the electrodes? They enable me to read every response. You are an open book to me." He gestured behind Archer.
Frowning, Archer tentatively moved his head around. He felt a pull from wires attached to his head. Some method of lie detection, he supposed. It appeared primitive but that was no reason to suppose this alien couldn't achieve reliable results. It didn't matter. He had to try. He must not give away any significant information.
The alien sat down next to Archer. He drew his chair close, his breath warm on Archer's skin. "We will start with something easy. What is the name of your ship?"
Archer paused. Had he dreamt this before?
The alien said, with some asperity, "I already know this. You have revealed it to me. I think I am wasting my time, giving you a choice."
"No," grunted Archer. "I will co-operate." He had to retain some control over what he said. "My ship is called Enterprise." He closed his eyes briefly at the betrayal.
The alien seemed pleased. "Excellent. Now we make progress. What class vessel is she?"
"Class?"
"Type, kind. What is her function?"
"She is an explorer." And would be again, he hoped. Archer worried over how much to tell. What was safe?
The alien checked something behind Archer. A monitor? Was that where he got the data from the electrodes? The alien sat back. "Hhmm. That appears extravagant. An explorer in time of war. I think there is more to her than that."
"She has defenses." But we won't go into those if I can help it, thought Archer.
"Is she a frigate, destroyer, larger...?"
"Uhh. There is no direct correlation." True enough.
The alien was puzzled as he looked at his read-outs. He exhaled slowly as he considered his next question. "Who are you?"
"My name is Jonathon Archer."
"What rank?"
"Captain," admitted Archer. After all, giving one's name and rank was generally deemed acceptable.
"Really! How intriguing. So, Captain Archer. What side are you on? You are not English."
"I'm on Earth's side."
"That makes no sense," snapped the alien crossly.
"It's true, nevertheless." He gazed steadily at his interrogator.
"How many others of your comrades are here?"
Archer shook his head. "I don't know. I wish I did. None, I think."
"They are with your ship, then? Where is she?"
"I don't know."
The alien growled, a low threatening rumble. "You test my patience. A Captain who doesn't know where his ship is? That is unbelievable incompetence, don't you think?"
Anger jumped to the surface. "I don't know where my ship is!" Archer insisted. She was unobtainable. He didn't think he would ever see Enterprise again. He flexed his muscles uselessly against his bindings.
The alien sighed. "This is no good. We will use the alternative method."
"But I am co-operating!" said Archer, trying to hide his alarm.
"Not sufficiently. You are not being very helpful. Your answers make no sense."
The alien stood over Archer then left the room.
Archer pulled at full strength, desperate to get free, but there was no give at all in the straps holding him fast. He had to stay put and wait. The time passed slowly. He wondered if this was part of the interrogation technique. Making him stew. He was most apprehensive about what was to come.
The alien re-entered the room. He grinned at his captive. "I have consulted with colleagues. They agree with my proposal. You will find, Captain Archer, that you will soon become much more amenable." He moved to a tray and picked up a hypodermic needle. He carefully filled it with a straw-colored fluid, giving Archer sideways calculating looks as he did so.
Archer swallowed. He tried to impress on his brain not to respond, to project ignorance, but he had a sinking feeling. If they had an understanding of human physiology as the alien claimed then they probably also had access to effective truth drugs.
The alien stepped over. He pulled Archer's right sleeve up and administered the injection. Archer gritted his teeth against it. It seemed to take forever to deliver the dose. A second one followed.
The effects became apparent almost immediately. Archer felt a warmth caressing him, the warmth of a summer sun. The world softened into a haze around him, the anxieties eased. This was so pleasant. The tensions ebbed away and he was content. It had been so long.
A voice besides him interrupted his dreamy state. He turned his head to the sound. The alien was there -the one who had been so helpful to him. Archer narrowed his eyes in concentration. What was he saying?
"Captain?"
Archer smiled indulgently. "Yes?"
"Tell me about yourself." The voice was caressing, warm.
Where to start? "My name is Jonathon Archer..." He drifted away, images of home, his parents, Enterprise... too much. How to tell...?
"Yes... and your ship?"
"Enterprise! The best ship in the fleet! She's capable of warp 5. Warp 5! Thanks to my dad..."
The alien drew back, shock written on his face.
Archer saw it. "It's okay," he soothed. "It's not a problem..."
The alien said, "When you say 'warp', what do you mean?"
Archer tried to make the appropriate hand movements, to swish through space, but couldn't move it for some reason. He shrugged. It didn't matter. "'Warp'. You know... warps space. To travel."
The alien exclaimed, "Enterprise is a space vessel!?"
"Uh huh. Biggest and best ever. Neptune and back in six minutes!" Archer grinned. Enterprise was beautiful.
The alien said something in another language.
Archer said, "What? Don't understand."
"My apologies. Captain... where is Enterprise now?"
Noooo. Tears sprung in his eyes. "Lost! She's gone. I've gone. Left her..." She was far, far away. He was lost in time.
"Where is she?" insisted the quiet encouraging voice.
"In the future... I think. I'm in the past. Must be. And Enterprise is far away. In the Expanse." Archer gazed quizzically at the alien. He really wanted to help him, but didn't understand himself.
The alien said slowly, "Are you alone in the past?"
Archer nodded mournfully. "Yes," he whispered.
"How far in the past are you?"
"Hundreds of years. Must be..." Archer was becoming so deliciously tired. He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes. So comfortable...
"Don't sleep yet, Captain," said the alien, digging a sharp talon into Archer's forearm.
"Ow! Why d'you do that?"
"I need to know more. How did you get here?"
"Don't know. Explosion. Te'prl... Temporal mechanics... time travel...?" He slipped away, blissfully asleep.
The alien stared thoughtfully at the man. He tapped a talon on a metal surface in a regular beat.
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The central zone grew larger before them as Trip and Travis rode on the moving walkway. Trip craned his head upwards, tracking the power conduits that were running alongside.
Travis was studying the device beneath their feet. "I think this is one way. That one on the other side of the corridor must be for the return journey. I wonder how it deals with more than one person or group on it at a time?"
"Perhaps this movement is localized? Sort of like a ripple, or series of ripples." Trip looked down as well. "It's difficult to make out though."
Travis pointed ahead. "I think we should get off now," he said. They had not much further to go in his estimation.
"It's going fast, Travis. We can't just jump off."
Travis turned to face Trip. "Unless you can find some way of getting it to stop, I think we'll have to."
Trip shook his head. They had gained considerable speed and were sure to get hurt. As he deliberated, however, their dilemma was solved for them. The walkway began to gradually slow. A line of yellow posts appeared ahead of them.
"The end of the line," said Trip with a grin of relief.
The walkway came to a smooth halt. The two men stepped off with Trip leading the way. He was keen to see what happened to the power network at this central zone.
The radial pipes joined a number of circular pipes at intervals around their circumferences. "Hmm," said Trip to himself. "These all seem to be connected here." He spotted some panels to one side. "These appear to allow regulation of the power. Look, these are cut-off valves, adjustable I guess. This is a safety mechanism... I think."
Travis watched as Trip indicated several parts of the structure, marveling at his instinct in such matters. Then he stiffened. He had heard something.
Travis grasped Trip's arm and pulled him down behind a low wall. "Shh," he whispered. "Someone's coming."
Trip couldn't hear anything at first but then he too heard the voices floating across the space. He pulled out his communicator and set the volume on low. The voices translated into English.
"It would be fun!" said a first low-pitched voice. Was that Strixam?
"Fun!" retorted the second, higher and more musical. "Madness, you mean, Strixam."
"Oh. Of course it is. But what's wrong with that? Some unpredictability. With their knowledge, we could throw them into the mix, see what happens." Strixam was enthusiastic about something.
"No, it would spoil things. In any case, we would have to tell Rav and the others beforehand. They have to agree to it. It's too big a change not to. It would alter the odds. Can you imagine his reaction if we didn't?"
"Hold on... I'm getting a message."
Travis and Trip eyed each other as the two aliens stopped talking. They had been gradually walking toward the humans and now sounded perhaps fifteen meters away.
"Understood," said Strixam. "Well, Makkik. Our decision is taken from us - for now. Our two 'friends' are no longer in their quarters."
"How did they get out?"
"I don't know. They didn't say. Oh... Another report. Wait." There was a pause, then Strixam continued, "Yes. Do it."
Behind their wall, Trip and Travis gazed at each other. They heard new arrivals marching into the area, booted feet getting closer. And closer. The light darkened. They looked up to see several Thraxians standing over them, weapons directed at the escapees.
"Uh oh," said Travis, standing slowly, careful to keep his hands in full view of the aliens.
Trip sighed and stood also. "Hi, guys," he tried in a considerably more carefree tone than he felt. "We wanted to take some exercise. Hope that's okay?" He tried to ignore the weapons pointed in their direction.
TBC