Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
A/N: Thank you for the reviews. I'm glad this is still holding the interest. There is some technobabble in this and later chapters. I've tried to make it plausible (inasmuch as technobabble ever can be plausible!) and hope that when it comes into play, it will be quite clear what its impact is. Hmm. I hope.
Chapter 9
Trip stepped out from his hiding place followed by Travis. The three Thraxians ringing them held their weapons on the two humans, ready for action at the slightest provocation. Strixam and another alien – that must be Makkik, thought Trip - exchanged amused looks. At least, Trip thought he detected a hint of amusement in those unearthly red eyes, but who could really tell where aliens were concerned? Even those you thought you knew could still spring surprises.
"Bring them here," ordered Strixam.
Trip strolled across, ignoring the armed Thraxians, with Travis walking alongside him. He was going to play the part of guest for as long as he could.
"Strixam!" Trip greeted the alien cheerfully and waved a hand in the direction of the power grid. "We were admiring your engineering systems here. Impressive. We don't have anything like that."
Strixam said, "You don't have anything like that... in the future?"
"No. This is quite special," said Trip, smiling appreciatively. One thing they were sure about was that they had not traveled back in time, but he wasn't going to tell these aliens that. They might merely be academics studying human sociology, but he had learned caution on his tour with Enterprise. And flattery couldn't hurt.
Gesturing with his hand and extending a single talon, Strixam introduced his companion. "This is my colleague, Makkik."
Makkik grinned and executed a small bow to each officer in turn. "I am pleased to meet you. Strixam has told me about you."
"Nothing bad, I hope," said Trip, with a sly glance at Travis.
"Have you done anything bad?" Strixam seemed to be joking. They had a sense of humor then, thought Trip. Not all aliens possessed that.
"Not us," answered Travis lightly.
"Except tamper with your door lock?" countered Strixam.
"It's not damaged," said Trip. "We needed to take some exercise. We didn't think there would be a problem with that. There isn't, is there?" He raised an eyebrow.
Makkik said, "Actually, it is good timing. We are meeting our friend Garram. We think you should meet him too, Tucker, Mayweather. Please come with us."
Strixam set off and the others trailed behind. Trip considered their options, casually observing the aliens. There were too many of them and they were too well armed for him and Travis to try anything. They would have to play along and take whatever chances were presented. They would probably need the aliens' co-operation if they were ever to return back to Earth - he had not seen any method for making the return journey. Trip hoped the aliens' offer to get them home had been genuine. Fascinating though this place was, he would far rather be within the familiar confines of Enterprise and back with his friends. Trip met Makkik's gaze and gave a weak smile.
The party stopped when they reached a spacious curved chamber with several doors leading from it. Trip and Travis glanced at each other. Who was this Garram character? Was he going to help them return to Earth?
Strixam and Makkik were talking but too quietly to be heard by the humans. Trip exhaled slowly, waiting, wondering.
Eventually, a far door opened to admit another Thraxian.
Trip and Travis gawked in slack-jawed astonishment.
This Thraxian had the same countenance and rolling gait as their companions but this one was dressed differently. No robes here. This alien was wearing a World War 2 American army uniform. A General no less.
Trip grimaced, transfixed at the peculiar sight. What was this? Was it for his and Travis' benefit? An attempt to make them feel at home? If so, the aliens had sure screwed up here!
"Garram! said Strixam, striding up to the strangely clothed Thraxian and slapping him on his shoulder. "How are you getting on? Winning?!"
Garram gave a short laugh. "You know perfectly well. Still, don't worry. We will prevail!" Several more Thraxians entered the room. Some of these were also dressed as high-ranking WW2 American officers.
Trip felt the ground shift at this incredible scene. A whole bunch of unlikely aliens wearing World War 2 clothes... uniforms. He shook his head rapidly, eyes closed. This can't be real, he thought. It must be a dream. Had he been hallucinating? He re-opened his eyes. No change.
At his side, Travis muttered, "This must be a dream!"
Trip said, "Glad you think so too!" He placed a steadying hand on Travis' arm, as much for his own reassurance as that of the young helmsman. He had come across some very strange things indeed in his time on Enterprise, but this was way up there with the best... or worse... of them.
"Look what we've found!" exclaimed Strixam in Garram's direction, indicating the humans. "Interlopers!"
Garram scrutinized them. "Interesting uniforms. Where are they from?"
"We think... don't laugh... they are from the future!" declared Makkik.
Strixam added, "They must be from the future. They are certainly more sophisticated than any of the other humans. Don't forget that vehicle of theirs."
Garram said to Strixam, "Rav thinks he has a surprise for us. I wonder if it is related?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if it were. We must get him here too."
Makkik nodded. "I will contact him." He hurried off out of the room.
Garram stared intently at Trip then at Travis. "Hi," he drawled in English. "I'm Garram. Who are you?"
"Uh, Tucker and Mayweather." Trip resisted the urge to call him 'General'.
"You American?"
"I'm from North America. Mayweather is... as well."
Garram nodded. "I see. How did you get here?"
Trip shook his head. "We don't know. We just want to get back to Earth. Your friend Strixam told us that should be possible."
"Hmm," said Garram, still running his eyes over them.
"Uh, why are you in uniform?" asked Trip. "Does it help you observe?"
Garram said, "Excuse me?"
"Your anthrop... I mean... xenopological studies?" said Trip.
"Yeah," butted in Travis, too intrigued to be polite. "Don't they notice you're not human?"
Garram said in bemusement, "The humans on Earth? Yes... they notice, of course. Xeno...?"
Strixam moved to intercept. "I explained about our work here, Garram. They know about the xenopological studies we are carrying out."
"What?"
"I had to tell them. As they are from the future I didn't think it would matter."
"Oh, I see," said Garram tugging down on his jacket and its slew of medal ribbons. "I didn't realize."
Strixam said to the humans, "Don't worry. It will soon become clear."
Trip said quietly, "I certainly hope so."
Strixam and Garram grinned at him. Trip smiled back, not his most charming version.
-------------------
Malcolm stood frozen, looking up at the vast vault above him. He didn't know how high it was but from the hazy atmosphere, it far outstripped anything on Earth, on the Earth he knew.
He came to his senses, and checked around. There were walls perhaps two meters high dividing up the space. He appeared to be alone, although that could change at any second. To his left, he could see an opening in the wall opposite. He made for it, keeping to a low crouch as he ran. He still had his tie wrapped around his hands.
He dropped down low and warily pushed his head around the edge of the opening. In front of him stretched a large broadly circular room, bounded about its periphery by the now familiar two meter high barrier. Numerous aliens similar to the General were present. Many of them were seated at desks, each having an individual display. Some aliens were standing in groups or ambling around, talking to one another. The room was dominated by three large displays. The central one showed a map of the North American continent. Flashing symbols were distributed over it. The other ones showed what seemed to be views around the continent, switching at intervals.
What flummoxed Malcolm was a number of aliens in American-style uniforms. A sudden roar from a group of aliens at some far desks was met with excitement by everyone in the room. An announcement floated over the assembly, and - shockingly - it was in English! "Another battle won at Grid Reference B551625. Enemy in retreat. Large scale casualties," it said.
Malcolm could make no sense of any of this but had seen more than enough. It was time for a strategic retreat of his own. It was imperative he return to Enterprise.
Malcolm stood and turned, and his stomach did a rapid flip. Damn! Two aliens had seen him. They were between him and his exit. He heard steps behind him. More of them - too many to fight.
Malcolm darted to his right and ran, but to no avail. He couldn't evade them. The aliens clawed at him as he battled with them, twisting, flailing, trying everything he knew to get free. It was no good. He was overwhelmed. Malcolm considered activating his beacon but knew immediately that was not an option. This space was shielded. Enterprise would not pick anything up. He would merely alert his captors to his ship's presence, if they didn't already know she was there, that is.
Panting heavily, Malcolm was pinned against a wall, arms held wide and a strong hand at his back pushing him against the wall. Another hand at his neck, talons extended, completed the pinion. Then his arms were brought down behind him and for the second time that day he found himself restrained. This time he had one forearm clamped near wrist and elbow to the other behind his back, pulling his sore stomach muscles taut.
Alien hands grabbed his arms, drawing blood with their sharp nails. Malcolm struggled in protest, furious at allowing himself to be apprehended. He dug his feet in but had no choice in the matter as he was dragged along.
--------------
Back on board Enterprise, T'Pol resumed her analysis. She was concerned for Lieutenant Reed but with no information as to his whereabouts, there was no point in seeking him on the planet's surface. Given that the Colonel had been trying to find him, it suggested that the Lieutenant was free. As he had not made use of his emergency beacon, he must be gathering more useful intelligence. She expected him to return when he had finished.
T'Pol concentrated initially on the most important part of their situation: returning to their home Universe. She had been considering their location in time and space. Her deductions from available evidence indicated that Enterprise had been thrown into another Universe but had not traveled in time.
On that basis, she had carried out an analysis, necessarily incomplete, on the effects of the destruction of the Expanse. The unleashed ripple in the fabric of their Universe had swept them along. Probably Enterprise had been affected because she had been at the very epicenter of the energy pulse. However, it had not explained why they had entered another Universe, and in particular, this Universe.
T'Pol made the calculations regarding the energy requirements to reverse the phenomenon. She noted that the stretching of the space-time fabric would be followed in due course by a relaxation as the strained surfaces were drawn together once more. That was an interesting aspect. It promised the possibility of extracting some of that relaxation energy to enable their return home. Unfortunately, the relaxation would be at a significantly slower rate, and they would be unable to harvest sufficient energy. She had yet to inform the crew.
Although it was not logical, given their inability to garner the required energy levels, T'Pol had also made an effort in identifying their home Universe in such a way as to distinguish it from others. The quantum signature found in all matter was the key, as she had realized when waiting for the Colonel. By selecting certain states of sub-atomic matter, it was possible to uniquely identify a Universe, providing sufficient parameters were used. T'Pol had produced a statement of their own Universe. Using data from her shoes and other artifacts from this planet, T'Pol determined that the Universe in which they were now located had many similarities but also several identifiable distinct states. It would be feasible to modify a scanner to read a spread of sub-atomic states in matter and extrapolate a signature unique to each Universe.
Of course, having identified a method of discriminating their Universe, there still remained a problem in selecting it as a destination, even should sufficient energy be available to attempt the journey.
Some parts of the puzzle had been solved but they faced additional difficulties. In the absence of other possibilities, T'Pol began work on the scanner modifications.
-------------------
"Yes," put in Makkik forcefully to his Thraxian companions. "They unbalance the odds by being here. This is supposed to be evenly matched." He extended a talon in emphasis.
"But it could be very interesting..."
"It's already interesting! We have all we need as it is. Perhaps if it were at the start..."
Trip was having a problem making sense of any of this. The Thraxians were chattering away amongst themselves but he felt like he was missing the key to the conversations. He stole a look at Travis. Judging by his bewildered appearance, he wasn't faring much better.
A door opened behind Trip. He turned to be met with an even stranger sight. "Damnation..." he breathed as he stared at the Thraxian. What the hell was going on here? This alien was dressed as a high-ranking Nazi: gray tunic, swastika, ribbons, tall boots - the whole works. Trip ran his fingers over his forehead but that didn't make things any clearer.
"Rav!" exclaimed Strixam, turning to greet the newcomer.
Trip half-expected a straight-armed salute but Rav merely gave a small bow and strode over.
"Strixam, Makkik..." He acknowledged each of the Thraxians. "So, these are the humans you mentioned, Makkik?"
His steady gaze was contemptuous as he looked at the humans. Trip swallowed. This one seemed decidedly unfriendly and it wasn't merely because of the uniform he had chosen.
"Please to meet you," said Trip, pushing his worries aside. "I'm Tucker, this is Mayweather."
Rav bowed. "My name is Rav. How did you get here?"
"On Thrax? Well, your friends brought us here," said Trip.
"No. Here, as in – this era. You are from the future, I have been informed."
Trip nodded. "So it seems. We don't know how it happened. We just want to get back to Earth, whatever era it is there."
Rav laughed, a rolling deep noise. "Do you?" he sneered. "Do you think that is likely?"
Trip blinked at this swift change to veiled hostility. This was not good. He glanced at Strixam and the others but found no support there. They seemed to be enjoying the show. Straightening up he said, "Your friends said it was."
Rav laughed again. "Very amusing."
"Now look," growled Trip, all pretense of good humor gone, "You got us here. You get us back!"
"Or you will do what? Nothing! There is nothing you can do!" Rav's tone was scornful. Trip stared helplessly at him. He feared the alien was right.
Strixam said calmly, "Now, we said we would return you to Earth. We will try to do that, somehow."
The others added their agreement to Strixam's conciliatory words.
"That's all we want," said Trip. If he could also find out what these aliens were up to, why they had this fascination to dress up in this fashion, that would be good too.
Makkik turned away, putting a hand to his head. "Understood." He looked at his friends. "We've had another intruder. He reached Chamber 2. This time he's from the planet's present. What should we do?"
"Incredible," said Strixam. "I don't recall that happening before. How did he get in?"
"I don't know."
"Let's see him then. We shall find out," said Strixam.
"What - here?" Makkik was surprised at the suggestion.
"Why not? One more won't make any difference. Let's give him a fright!" said Rav with enthusiasm.
Trip and Travis stood uneasily as the Thraxians started to laugh. "They're crazy," muttered Travis.
"Yeah," agreed Trip. That would explain a lot – but not help their situation.
Two Thraxians arrived dragging an uncooperative human between them - Malcolm!
Trip and Travis stared open-mouthed at their crewmate, noting his old-fashioned clothing and battered appearance. Blood blossomed across his once-white and now grimy shirt.
Malcolm kicked out at his captors, then took a moment to look around him. His gaze fell on Trip and Travis, and he ceased his struggles. His eyes widened as he registered their presence. Trip thought he was about to speak but then he closed his mouth. He lashed out again with his feet at the Thraxian on his left, adding in a couple of choice swearwords.
His escort shook him, unmoved by the kick to his shins. "Be quiet!" the Thraxian growled, digging his talons into Malcolm's upper arm. Malcolm noticeably flinched and subsided. Trip was disturbed to see fresh tracks of blood appear through his sleeve.
Rav stepped forward. "Who are you?" he demanded.
Malcolm scowled at him.
"Speak!"
"Nazi bastard," Malcolm muttered, mouth twisted into a snarl. Then he spat at the alien.
Rav instantly backhanded him. Malcolm's head snapped across, making Trip feel sick. Rav watched for the reaction, but his victim merely sagged in the guards' arms. Rav turned away with a laugh.
Makkik said to Malcolm, grabbing his hair to pull his head up, "Where did you travel from? Which portal?"
Malcolm remained defiantly silent. He glowered at the alien, ignoring his friends. Trip was calling on all his strength not to intervene. Clearly, Malcolm did not want to be associated with them for some reason that made sense to him. Trip only hoped it was worth it.
"How did you get here?" Makkik gave a shake, then allowed Malcolm's head to drop as he let go in disgust.
Trip was troubled by the harshness of Makkik's manner, his previous affability hidden. These aliens were difficult to read. He glanced around at the other Thraxians. They were all completely enthralled by this scene being played out before them.
Strixam said, "I recognize him. He was in a North American camp... designation Alpha Charlie 5. He said he was in intelligence. The commanding officer wasn't sure. I didn't take notice of much else."
"Ah, yes. Colonel Jones, wasn't it?" said Garram, drawling it in English and ostentatiously straightening his General's uniform. "I remember now. This one pretended I had sent him and his companion. I assume he is one of yours, Rav?"
Rav shook his head. "No. Not our operation. Well, not that I know. They do go off and do their own thing though."
"Yes. Part of the attraction isn't it?" Garram laughed.
Strixam said, "Let's not waste more time. I want to get back to matters which do concern us. Return him to Jones so he knows he's been captured and order Jones to execute him immediately. We don't want this spy to reveal the existence of this place - not that anyone would believe him."
Trip took a quick breath. Say something, Malcolm, he prayed. Anything...
Malcolm lifted his head and stood a little straighter but said nothing, studiously avoiding Trip's dismayed gaze.
Rav nodded. "I agree," he said, casually condemning Malcolm. He turned away to direct his attention to Trip and Travis.
The Thraxians began to drag Malcolm off.
"No," cried Trip. "Stop."
Rav put out a hand and the guards paused.
Malcolm made eye-contact with Trip. He gave the barest shake, disagreeing with Trip's intervention.
'To hell with it,' thought Trip. 'I am not going to abandon you!' "Rav," he said. "That is one of my people."
"Oh?" said Rav.
"Yeah. He's just as 'unbalancing' as the rest of us." Trip had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to be important to the aliens.
"Is this true?" asked Rav, speaking to Malcolm.
Malcolm shook his head emphatically. "I don't know what he means. Send me back."
Trip frowned. What was he playing at? He cried out, "No, Malcolm! They'll put a bullet in your head!"
"Malcolm?" inquired Garram.
"Yeah," said Trip ignoring Malcolm's murderous glare. "Malcolm Reed."
"That is his name," said Garram thoughtfully to the surrounding Thraxians. "He must be one of them."
Strixam considered Malcolm. "Well, that explains how he could get in. You know about forcefields, I take it?"
Malcolm didn't reply but the fight had now left him. He stood quietly, head bowed.
"How many more are there?" said Rav suddenly, facing Trip.
"No more," said Trip quickly.
"There's the woman. The one who was with him," said Garram. "I will order the Colonel to apprehend her and bring her here. I wonder how many others would fit in your vehicle?"
Garram moved away to make a transmission.
"I don't get it," said Trip to the aliens, swinging around on them. "What are you doing? The anthropologists I know observe - they don't go round ordering executions. Won't it invalidate your study?"
Laughter rippled through the company. Trip scowled in irritation. He had always hated being kept in the dark. "I don't understand? Why don't you explain this to me?"
The Thraxians made no move to enlighten him, which annoyed Trip even more.
Malcolm coughed. He spoke thickly, the words an effort for him. "I think I know. Wargames. Except for real. People get killed." His eyes slid over the uniformed aliens.
Rav grinned at Trip and said, "Indeed, my friend, it is a game. A most excellent game. My team operates the Reich, Garram the American Alliance and Stix the Eastern Empire. We put plays into motion, choose teams, train them, engage in battles, have the odd wager..."
Travis murmured, "A game?"
Trip was horrified - all those battlefields the shuttlepod had passed over when they first arrived. A game?! He flung an arm at Rav and said heatedly, "These are people you are 'playing' with - having your fun by killing and wounding them. People with feelings... sentient beings... humans... like us. What you are doing is totally immoral!"
"Actually, you will find morality rather depends on your point of view and your society," said Rav. He laughed. "You see, we are comparative anthropologists - of a sort."
Malcolm swore under his breath.
Trip shook his head. "That is wrong, wherever you stand!"
Makkik said, "It is a long tradition of my people to carry out war games. By that means we avoid real wars amongst us. We sublimate those urges in this way. If we did not have this outlet, it would tear our society apart again, as it did in ancient times. We have no choice. Sadly." He didn't seem to be particularly sorrowful as he grinned broadly at Trip.
Strixam added, "And it's entertaining, we mustn't forget that. I think the humans find it engrossing too."
"But by doing this, you harm others!" said Trip, aghast. "Do the humans know this is a game, that you are manipulating them?"
Makkik shook his head, "No. They don't know. That would spoil everything. But it is a two way street. We help them too."
"How?" demanded Trip angrily. He couldn't see any benefit whatsoever from this perverted practice.
Strixam replied, "We have prevented the development of atomic weapons, for one thing. As they are, this race is far too primitive to handle them responsibly. We are saving them from themselves by limiting their destructive capabilities."
"No," said Trip. "That is not true. I don't know what has happened here, but in our history, yes, atomic weapons were invented. There were dreadful battles. But through that, humanity evolved. The thirst for such destruction is diminished in us. By stopping that, you have stagnated humanity."
Rav said, "It doesn't matter what you think. We have some more centuries to play until one side wins, or we grow weary of this era and place, then we will finish it and find another world."
Trip looked helplessly at his friends. This was appalling and he had no idea how to stop it.
Garram returned. "The woman has gone. The Colonel has put out patrols for her. She will be found soon."
"We have to decide what to do with them," said Makkik.
"They are no use in the game," said Strixam to general agreement.
"There might be other games we could use them in," said Rav thoughtfully. "In fact, I know there are. I have one idea in particular that should prove most diverting. We should hold them for now."
"Let's decide later, when the woman is found. I have a tank squadron to supervise now," said Garram, losing interest in their prisoners.
"Haa, you and your tanks. Very well. Return them to the quarters we allocated them, only this time make them properly secure," said Strixam.
The humans were herded back to the room from which Trip and Travis had escaped. Malcolm's arms were freed and they were left. This time however, there was no possibility of tampering with the door circuits. The Thraxians had used an old fashioned approach - a substantial pair of bolts on the outside, inaccessible from the interior.
TBC