Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for the continuing encouragement. I do appreciate the time taken to add a review. So, from now on, it's all plain sailing for our heroes, isn't it? It is, isn't it? Silly question.

Chapter 12

Ensign Walsh heard the insistent scream of the emergency signal and bounded over to the transporter control panel. It was already set to lock onto the beacon's co-ordinates so all he had to do was press the activate button. Even if he had not been there, it would have operated automatically, but this gained a second or so.

An expected figure began to resolve on the transporter pad.

Walsh commed T'Pol. "Transporter to T'Pol. We have an emergency transport signal."

"I'll be there directly," came T'Pol's measured response.

Malcolm's form solidified. "Quick! Lock onto the three lifesigns at my last position and transport them immediately!" ordered Malcolm, already halfway to the control panel himself.

Walsh rapidly pulled up the relevant menu, then stopped.

"What's the matter, man?" said Malcolm. "Do it!"

"They've gone, Sir," said Walsh shaking his head, his fingers skipping over the panel in an attempt to regain the signals.

"What?!" said Malcolm, pushing him away to check for himself. But Walsh was right. There were no biosigns. Malcolm's shoulders slumped. "Damn," he said quietly and with frustration. "The aliens must be shielding them."

"Aliens, Sir?" said Walsh, mystified.

Malcolm ignored him. If he couldn't transport them up, he would go back to get them, guide them away from the blocked zone. He skimmed the display. The shielded area was circular - clearly evident through the absence of transporter co-ordinates. It was impossible to detect any biosigns and he couldn't transport through it without proper co-ordinates.

He rapidly moved the target point down so it lay close to the outer boundary. The circular area was not large. It would encompass three human biosigns and no doubt several aliens by now, but there wasn't room for much else. He'd still be close when he transported down.

"Send me back, these co-ordinates. Hurry up." Malcolm sprinted over to the transporter pad, then changed his mind as he realized what he would encounter when he returned to the surface. Those aliens had been damned close. "I'll be back right away," he said. "Make sure the target point stays just outside the shielded zone, even if the zone moves."

He left the transporter bay at a dead run, desperately hoping he was making the correct choice. Malcolm had never been more thankful that the transporter bay and Armory were so close to each other. He dashed into the Armory, disregarding the startled crew, and made for the weapon racks.

"Sir..." started a crewman.

"Get me microcharges, the M221's... six of them. Two of the M521's. Move!" said Malcolm, not slacking his pace or looking at the man. He pulled out two phase pistols and jammed them in his belt, not bothering to check their status. Then he grabbed a phase rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

Malcolm caught sight of two MACOs, McKenzie and Woods, who were witnessing this display of weapons hoarding by the bruised and bloodied Englishman. "You're with me," he barked, jerking his head at them. "Get your rifles, quickly!"

The crewman arrived with the microcharges. Malcolm cradled them in his arms, cursing his lack of pockets. One of his men saw his difficulty. "I think there's a bag somewhere, Sir," he said.

"No time," gasped Malcolm as he shot out of the Armory like a whirlwind leaving a bewildered team behind. The two MACOs pounded dutifully after him, pushing to keep up.

Malcolm rushed into the transporter bay, barely registering that T'Pol had arrived and was talking to Walsh.

Malcolm made straight for the pad followed by the MACOs. "Energize," he called, juggling the charges into the crook of his left arm and hunching his shoulder up to stop the rifle strap slipping down. He drew a phase pistol. Woods and McKenzie traded quizzical glances, and then readied their weapons also.

"No, Ensign," said T'Pol, turning slightly to the young man at the controls.

Malcolm stared at her in disbelief. "T'Pol! I've got to go back now. The aliens were after them - Trip, Travis and the Captain. I have to get them."

T'Pol gasped. "The Captain?" she said, her eyes widening in shock. "Captain Archer?" Not even she could suppress the emotion that brief comment provoked.

The MACOs and Walsh gazed at Malcolm, mesmerized as his words struck home.

Malcolm had no time for their reactions to his news. "Yes. He's there too. The aliens will capture them. Please, T'Pol..."

T'Pol broke into his frantic appeal. "No, Lieutenant! I need to know what is going on. I need your report."

Malcolm rapped out in his best command tone, "When I get back. Ensign, energize. That's an order!"

"Belay that!" said T'Pol raising her voice. The hapless Walsh blinked and dropped his hands by his side, looking at Malcolm in apprehension.

Malcolm yelled at T'Pol, his frustration boiling over, "You don't understand. The aliens were right on top of them. I said I would bring them straight back."

T'Pol inclined her head. She replied calmly, an antidote to his fervor, "Indeed? However, judging by the position of the sensor screen they have generated, these aliens, whoever they are, have almost certainly captured them."

"Probably," admitted Malcolm, speaking more quietly and slightly ashamed at his loss of control. "They were awfully close when I transported out."

"Did they see you transport?"

"Yes, I expect so. Yes, they did." The Thraxians couldn't have missed it. He glowered at T'Pol with resentment at this enforced delay, fairly vibrating with repressed energy.

T'Pol said evenly in an understanding manner, "Lieutenant, the aliens will be waiting for you to return there or nearby. They may capture you, or kill you before you have completed the transport process. Undoubtedly our officers will now be guarded to frustrate any rescue attempt, or possibly used as hostages. We need another plan. A rescue plan."

Malcolm stared at her, then sagged. He suddenly felt extremely weary. She was right. He couldn't argue with her logic. This was more than a simple transport out. Now they had to factor in the Thraxians. And if the rescuers were to transport to another location - and they must because his transport-out point was insecure - it required some consideration. Greater manpower too.

Disconsolately he rammed his phase pistol back in his belt. He had been wrong. He should have returned to the surface immediately and forgotten all about weapons. His ill-judgment - his stupidity, more like - might get his friends killed.

He met T'Pol's steady appraisal. He replied in resignation, "You're correct, T'Pol. But we must act quickly."

"I agree," said T'Pol. "It is also vital that you tell me what is happening on the surface."

Malcolm nodded. "I understand. There's a lot more going on than we even suspected. You have to know about it." He ran a tired hand over his forehead. "Uhh, Walsh. Has there been any change at all in that shielded region? It's size or location?"

"No, Sir," said Walsh crisply, projecting perfect obedience.

Malcolm fiddled with the microcharges and sighed heavily. There was no point in waiting here. He could trust Walsh to do that for him at least. "Very well. Keep monitoring it. Contact me at once if it changes in any way. Record the readings."

"Yes, Sir," acknowledged Walsh.

T'Pol turned to McKenzie. "While I debrief Lieutenant Reed, I want you to put a team together."

Malcolm added, "Maximum strength, full assault gear, Corporal."

"Yes, Ma'am, Sir," replied McKenzie, turning to go.

"Hold on a minute," said Malcolm, stepping over to her. "Take these." He dumped the microcharges into McKenzie's arms. "Find a bag for them."

She grinned at him, "Will do."

"We will go to the Command Center," said T'Pol to Malcolm, leading the way.

Malcolm nodded, too tired now to say much and miserable as hell. He pulled his rifle strap up and hoped to God Trip and the others were all right.

--------

In the bright daylight, the three men stood waiting for Enterprise to transport them to safety. Trip lifted the shoulder that was taking the weight of Archer's right side to make him more secure. Travis had the other side of their Captain. Both were staring at the domed building and the aliens streaming out, many of them armed and all too close. Archer was barely conscious and oblivious to their predicament.

"He's too slow," muttered Travis, risking a glance skywards as if he could see their ship above them. "What's the matter?"

"We'll be transported soon," said Trip with more confidence than he felt. Something had gone wrong. Malcolm should have acquired their biosigns by now. He felt the cold clamminess of Archer's hand. A glance at his face confirmed he was steadily deteriorating. "C'mon, Malcolm," Trip muttered as he watched the aliens drew near.

Trip counted ten Thraxians, six of them carrying weapons in keeping with the World War 2 era. What was the range of those weapons the Thraxians were brandishing? Sufficient to hit them? The aliens were all wearing American uniforms, 'so as not to frighten the natives,' Trip thought acerbically. Not surprisingly, Rav was not included in the party.

The aliens were rapidly approaching, rolling with each pace in an ungainly motion.

"We better run for it," said Travis, but without conviction. He stood his ground. Trip took a quick look around trying to figure out the layout of the camp but the aliens were far too close to make escape feasible. But more importantly neither man could abandon Archer. They had already thought him lost once - more than once - and couldn't bear to leave him.

So they waited as the Thraxians closed the short distance. Trip felt sick at the thought of being at their mercy once more but there was no alternative.

"Your friend has abandoned you," gloated Garram as he reached them, his fellows spreading out to encircle the humans. "How sad. Running to save his own skin."

Trip and Travis didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. Archer lifted his head at the new arrival's voice and frowned at him.

Garram said, "You have matter transport capability. Interesting. We outgrew such primitive technology many hundreds of years ago. Now where did your comrade go? Are you inclined to tell me? - No? I didn't think so."

Now Trip was worried that they would be transported back to Enterprise - far too dangerous a proposition now. He wouldn't put it past the aliens to fire at them if they thought them to be getting away from their clutches. But Malcolm wouldn't do that when they were surrounded by alien biosigns, would he? Then Trip remembered how he had been unable to detect the aliens on his scanner when they were captured initially, and Malcolm had said the lifesigns were screened. Trip swore. That was why they were still here. He said, for Travis' benefit, "You're shielding our biosigns again, aren't you?"

Garram smiled. "I thought that was obvious. "

A gaggle of soldiers from the base ran over from various directions, significantly more interested in the humans than the Thraxians.

A colonel stepped forward and saluted Garram. "General Barrington," said the colonel.

Garram returned the salute. "Colonel Jones. Did you apprehend the woman?"

"No, Sir. I'm sorry. We are still searching."

"Good. Continue with that. Be aware that Reed may have joined her."

"Reed?"

"The spy you let escape, Colonel." Garram's tone was stern.

"Yes, Sir," said Jones uncomfortably.

"Keep watch on these men while I consult with my senior staff," said Garram, moving away with a curt gesture to several of the Thraxians to go with him.

Trip watched them and wondered what they were up to. There was considerable discussion amongst the aliens with frequent looks toward their prisoners. He shivered. What did they have in store for them?

Garram returned. "Colonel - please pull your men back. I want to talk to these prisoners in private."

"Sir," said Jones, obeying.

Garram waited until they were out of earshot, then he said, "We have been debating what to do with you. As it seems you spurn our hospitality, we have decided to keep you somewhere more secure. It will be considerably less pleasant but this is of your own making."

He held his hand out. "Tucker, give me your translator device. You will not require it any longer."

Trip scowled. He dug out his communicator and handed it over with ill grace. It was useless anyway as a communicator since he had carried out his modifications on it.

Garram looked at them with hard eyes. "Your friend, should he have the courage to return, will not find it easy to reach you. We will make sure matter transport is not possible."

A Thraxian carrying a two handled metal case emerged from the domed building. "Give that to the Colonel," said Garram. "Colonel, attach that to a power supply and keep it switched on."

"Yes, Sir. What is it?"

"A security device."

Garram returned his attention to the prisoners. He came close to Trip and Travis, and whispered so no one else could hear, "We have decided to leave you in the tender hands of the Colonel and his 'experts'. You'll be pleased to know we have the Interrogation Room fully covered. We will be watching every move they make. It should prove most entertaining. Possibly we might retrieve you before the end comes - I know Rav would prefer that - but then, maybe we won't..."

Garram stepped away and said in a louder voice to Colonel Jones. "Colonel, I am debating what to do with these men. I believe them to be spying for the Reich. This one," he pointed to Archer, "Is a Nazi officer. Find out what they know, who they are, who they are working for, where their companion is... any intelligence is useful. Do whatever it takes. This is war."

Trip said, anger flaring, "He is not a Nazi, and neither are we."

Garram's eyes were bright with amusement. "Rav told me his control word. Now would be a good time to try it out." He said something in his own language to Archer.

Archer stirred, trying to pull his arms away but Trip and Travis held on doggedly. He lifted his head and spat out at the watching soldiers, "The Reich will prevail. You are all dead men!"

"No!" said Trip, "Captain!" He said hurriedly to the soldiers, "Don't listen to him, he's ill - delirious. He doesn't know what he is saying."

Jones scowled at the Enterprise officers and drawled, "Seems clear enough to me."

Garram said, "You have your orders, Colonel."

Jones replied, "Leave them to me, Sir. "Rest assured I will get them to talk. How soon do you require the information?"

"Take as long as you need. I am in no hurry."

"Sir," said Jones, curtly gesturing to his men to escort them away.

"Wait," cried out Trip. "Gar... General," he cringed at the title, "Archer is very ill. He needs medical attention. Talk to Rav... don't you want him to be... available? For entertainment?" Trip felt disgusted with himself but that didn't matter if it gave his Captain another chance.

Garram didn't reply - just looked on smugly.

Jones said, " Men, take them to the detention center."

Trip and Travis found themselves shoved along at gunpoint with Archer between them.

Trip spoke to the soldiers as he stumbled along. "Doesn't it worry any of you that this guy is an alien? Or haven't you noticed?"

They laughed at him. One replied, "Alien? He's American!"

"Alien, as in, not human!" retorted Trip.

"Well, the Thraxians are another species. Everyone knows that!"

"Why are you letting them run your planet then?" asked Travis incredulously.

"It's their planet too," replied a young solidier. "So what if they are another species?"

"It is not their planet!" shouted Travis. "What makes you think that?"

"Quite!" shouted Jones, catching them up. "No talking. Take them to the prison."

--------------------

The Command Center had been converted from a Xindi study area to one devoted to T'Pol's work on their current predicament. A mirror display of the transporter readings flickered to one side where Malcolm could keep track of any developments.

Malcolm had barely begun his report when the readings altered.

"It's moving," he said, simultaneously receiving notification from Walsh to that effect. The center of the shielding zone stopped and then some minutes later the zone expanded to occupy a larger area.

Malcolm grimaced. "That covers the prison," he commented.

"Our crewmates have been moved there, perhaps," suggested T'Pol.

"Nah, doubtful. The Thraxians still had some entertainment they wanted to inflict. They wouldn't let them out of their sight. It's probably a decoy. I'm almost certain they will back in the dome by now."

"Tell me about the... Thraxians and this dome, Lieutenant."

T'Pol listened attentively as Malcolm succinctly made his report, asking occasional pertinent questions. When he came to the part regarding Captain Archer, he hesitated a little first and looked at her before plunging on. T'Pol had had time to school her reaction and noted that she was able to maintain an impassive exterior. She was not completely in control however as her inner calm was definitely disturbed. She felt satisfaction at learning the Captain still lived but also concern at his current predicament.

Malcolm finished his report and waited expectantly, standing with his arms crossed. T'Pol noticed the tension in his body. He was keen to take action to rescue their comrades but she needed additional time to consider what he had told her. She also saw the inflamed scratches and puncture wounds where the aliens had injured him.

She found the existence of the 'virtual space', as Malcolm termed it, intriguing. He had no real concept of what it might be. T'Pol had a suspicion, and if she were correct, it could be greatly to their advantage. However, it was imperative that they should not damage their chances of success by taking precipitous action. She had to find a way to explain it to him.

"Lieutenant, we must delay a rescue attempt. There are several issues I must consider which may assist us in returning to the correct Universe."

He stared at her in incredulity. "T'Pol, the longer we delay, the worse it will be for the others - Trip, Travis... the Captain. I explained what those Thraxians are like; what they're capable of. You know what it is like down there. I do!" He unconsciously ran a hand over the worst of his visible injuries - a puncture wound from an alien talon. Blood crusted around it and on his torn shirt. "We need to go now - there's no time to waste. We can set down outside the dome and carry out an assault from there. With my knowledge of the forcefield we should be able to breach it easily."

T'Pol realized she would need to be more explicit. "We are now in a Universe parallel to our own. I had calculated that we would be unable to obtain sufficient energy for us ever to return home to our own Universe." She paused to let that information take effect. She noted Malcolm's skin pale. He ran his tongue over his lip in a nervous gesture.

She carried on carefully, "The information you gained concerning the 'virtual space' might enable us to find a way to return making use of its stored energy. It is possible that this space does not exist in this Universe, and that the Thraxians are accessing this Earth from yet another parallel space. The portals they use may be gateways to that Universe. This may also explain why we traveled to this particular Universe when the Expanse was destroyed."

Malcolm didn't seem to be able to understand her, judging by his perplexed expression. "But..."

T'Pol waited for him to continue, but he did not.

She said, "After we encountered the time probe in which the interior appeared larger than its exterior, I carried out some research into the topic. There has been some theoretical work. However it has remained theoretical precisely because the energy requirements to produce even the smallest volume of space in a different Universe are so great that we cannot hope to generate them at our technological stage. You mentioned that Commander Tucker had reported immense energy networks. I believe this to be significant. I need time to assess this new information and determine how we can make use of it - to tap into the energy encompassed in the virtual space."

She paused to give emphasis to her following words. "If we act before I am ready to access that energy store, it could reduce our chances of success. We could find our way to the virtual space barred by the Thraxians - they might close off their access to this Earth when we attack. Then Enterprise would never be able to return home."

Malcolm stood motionless for some minutes as he considered her words. Then, with a twitch of his cheek, he nodded reluctantly. He met her gaze. "I see," he said quietly. "How long do you need?"

"I will tell you when I am ready."

He bit his lip, clearly not comfortable. He said, "Are you sure we should delay a rescue attempt, T'Pol?"

"Yes," she answered. "I am sure." She felt it necessary to look away from him. A flutter of some emotion threatened to make itself known but she controlled it.

"Very well. We will have to do that, then." Malcolm tightened his crossed arms still further, clenched his fingers on his arms. "As soon as we can possibly do it, we must go back for them." His voice sounded stressed.

T'Pol noted that he had accepted her proposal.

Malcolm said, "One thing we need to be careful of... the Thraxian forcefield cannot be penetrated by our scanners. Possibly they have a ship or ships out here that we haven't been able to detect. We should watch out for them, perhaps by gravitational disturbances or the like."

T'Pol said, "It is possible, although if my initial thoughts are correct the Thraxians have no need of starships. I will ask Ensign Patel to make the necessary adjustments to our sensors."

"Good," said Malcolm. "That was worrying me." He rubbed absent-mindedly at a long scratch on his left arm.

T'Pol said, "You should report to Phlox now. He needs to examine your injuries."

Malcolm stopped his scratching immediately, pulling his hand away with a jerk. "Oh, there's no need for that. I have to discuss tactics with the MACOs. I really don't have time at the moment. I'll go later. I'll be fine - not to worry." He gave her a confident half-smile.

T'Pol said, "I wasn't thinking about your health, Lieutenant. Phlox may be able to extract some alien DNA from those wounds. This could assist us in identifying this species which may prove helpful. We only have their word for who they claim to be."

Malcolm started, somewhat surprised and a little deflated. "Oh... oh, I see. Very well, I'll go to Sick Bay now."

He gave a quick nod of the head and left at a brisk walk. T'Pol felt a certain satisfaction in observing his reactions in addition to that gained from knowing that Phlox would indeed treat their reluctant armory officer. It was... devious but effective, she mused. Most astute. Her knowledge of human psychology was improving.

TBC