Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

Chapter 13

Trip and Travis were hustled along to the detention center with Archer stumbling along between them surrounded by a squad of jumpy soldiers. Colonel Jones had set off in another direction and left the prisoner escort under the command of a Corporal whose manner left no doubt as to his hatred for the three Enterprise officers .

Trip had a hold of Archer's wrist and was dismayed to feel his wildly thrumming pulse. He was relieved to be out of Rav's hands - his direct control that is - but Garram's parting shot that Archer was a Nazi officer had been vindictive and stirred up these young soldiers who were guarding them.

"Hold on, Captain," muttered Trip, giving Archer's arm a squeeze. "Just hang on in there."

Archer groaned and swung his head over. "Trip? What's... what's goin' on?"

"It's a misunderstanding. We'll get you some help as soon as we can."

A snort from a soldier to Trip's side was followed by a shove with a rifle. "Yeah. He's going to like the help we'll be givin' him okay!"

Trip stared grimly at the man. "You won't get anywhere if you don't do something for him. He won't be in any fit state to answer you. It's in your own interests to get him some medical attention."

"I don't care what we get out of him. That's nothing to do with me. Me - I'm just glad to get my hands on the enemy!"

"He is not the enemy!" protested Trip, hoisting Archer's arm a little higher on his shoulder.

"That's not what it sounded like. What was it he said? Huh? Something about the Reich winning. And we are all dead? Yeah - sure sounds like some 'misunderstanding'!" The soldier was angry.

"He's ill. He doesn't know what he is saying. He's been brainwashed."

"Shut it!" The soldier gave another more powerful push with his weapon.

Trip concentrated on keeping his feet and gave up trying to convince the man. He looked around. Where was Malcolm? The aliens' shielding device would prevent transport nearby but surely they could reach them by setting down elsewhere. Each corner he came to he expected to see a rescue party and each time he was disappointed. He couldn't understand it? Was there a technical malfunction with the transporter? Could be - it wasn't the most reliable of devices. Whatever it was, they only had to keep safe for a little longer, didn't they?

They arrived at the detention center. Trip was glad of the brief respite as he lowered Archer to a bench while the soldiers roughly searched him. The Captain was no lightweight. He sat next to him as Travis submitted to his turn, taking a moment to run his hand over Archer's forehead. He was still hot, burning up.

"On yer feet," shouted the Corporal, prodding Trip with his rifle muzzle.

Trip didn't know much about old-fashioned weapons but he didn't think that was safe practice with any type of weapon. The cavalier attitude was worrying. The Corporal didn't seem to have any worries about what his Colonel might say if his captives were accidentally shot.

Trip got wearily to his feet and pulled the Captain up again. He tried one last time. "Listen to me," he said to the Corporal. "If you harm him, or us, you'll be playing into the enemy's hands. Do I sound like a Nazi? I'm American, just like you. We all are. Why would I want to go over to the enemy?"

"Who knows what you'll get out of it? Money? Power? But I've seen the warnings, read the newspapers. We gotta be watchful. Quislings like you, fifth columnists, you might be everywhere, but let me tell you - you won't win. We'll hunt you down."

"But..." was all Trip managed to get out in rebuttal before the Corporal slammed his rifle butt into his stomach.

Trip fell to his knees, gasping for air. Travis staggered as he took all the Captain's weight, gazing at Trip in horror.

Trip shook his head. This was hopeless - he was making the situation worse for them. He resolved to stay silent from now on. These soldiers' minds were made up. There was no way any words from him could alter that.

The soldiers watched in cruel amusement as Trip painfully regained his feet, clutching at his stomach. He took Archer's arm across his shoulder once more and the three men trudged along the corridors, although in reality most of the burden was now taken by Travis.

The Corporal pulled them to a halt outside a cell. He faced Archer who liftyed his head in a vague recognition of a form in front of him. The Corporal pulled back his fist and let fly across Archer's face. "In case he doesn't last long enough for me to get a go at him later," he snarled in explanation.

"Why?" said Travis, unable to stay silent any longer. "Why are you doing this? We haven't harmed you."

"He's a Nazi," spat out another soldier - a young man with untidy blond hair. "What do you expect?"

"He is no Nazi," said Travis, giving Archer's arm a pull to hold him up. The Captain lolled forward in Trip and Travis' arms, blood running from his nose. He wasn't even sufficiently aware to register the Corporal's assault.

"The General says he is," replied another man.

Travis glared at the small group surrounding them. "If you don't help him now, how are you going to get any information out of him?"

The blond soldier snarled and dealt Travis a hard blow to his face. Travis reeled back but kept a hold on Archer.

"Throw 'em in the cells," said the Corporal. "We'll have plenty of time for payback with these two. Put the Nazi in here." He opened the heavy steel door to the nearest cell.

Travis and Trip stood and looked at him. Impatiently, two of the soldiers pulled Archer from their arms and flung him through the door. He fell heavily to the floor and lay unmoving.

Trip shouted, "He needs a doctor! What is wrong with you people? At least let me stay with him."

His answer was a blow across his head with a rifle butt and he was slung into the next cell, with an added lift on his way from the Corporal's boot.

Travis was pushed into the next cell.

"See you bastards soon, for some fun," called the Corporal, his words echoing down the corridor with laughter from his friends.

Trip raised his hand to his throbbing head, touching the sticky blood around his wound. He didn't blame the soldiers entirely. War had clearly brutalized them, but he felt hot fury at the Thraxians. Surely, rescue would come soon?

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Phlox lifted the vial containing clear serum and inspected it closely with some satisfaction. He had successfully extended the Thraxian DNA segments he had extracted from Lieutenant Reed's injuries. He smiled as he recalled the Lieutenant's indignant response to his treatment and his insistence that he didn't have time. As always, Phlox had won the battle. Thankfully so, as one of the wounds had already become infected. Much longer and it would have been significantly harder to deal with.

The Lieutenant had suffered a number of scratches and puncture wounds inflicted by different individuals. That had given Phlox a variety of genetic material to work with, and accordingly he had hopes of good progress.

He placed the vial in the input tray and slid it into the analyzer. This was set to identify each genetic code sequence. Then the read outs were automatically set to cross match with his all-species database. It was a long procedure and Phlox was not sure it would yield anything which could be of use to them, but it was all knowledge and might prove relevant to their predicament. However, even with the main computer processor tied into the task it would take several hours for the comparison to be completed.

While that was running, Phlox decided to use the acquired sequencing data to predict the biology and anatomy of the Thraxians. He had had a great deal of experience with this technique because of their dealings with the Xindi, so he felt he should able to get rapid results without the false starts that had dogged his first attempts in this field.

He sat down and patiently began his work.

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The armory was crowded. Everyone's attention was riveted on Malcolm who was deep into his briefing.

Malcolm was now in his uniform. His wounds had been cleaned and dressed by Phlox but he hadn't bothered to take a shower - just peeled off the tattered shirt and flannels and stepped into the uniform. He was not going to waste time on trivial matters with Trip and the others depending on him. He had a promise to keep.

The screen displayed the orbital scans of the military base, with several of the buildings now labeled as Malcolm reached the more detailed part of the briefing.

"Here," said Malcolm, highlighting the appropriate area, "this is the detention center." He indicated another area. "And this is where the dome is located. It doesn't show on our scans, probably because of interference by the forcefield." He zoomed in. "It is most probable that the Captain, Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather are being held in a space, again not visible here, which is accessible by the dome."

He surveyed the men and women ranged before him. "This space is huge, much bigger than the dome. I know that sounds odd, but believe me that is exactly right. You will not be aware of this, because it is classified, but Enterprise had already encountered such a phenomenon on one of our earlier missions. Accept it for what it is, and don't think about what makes it like that. I know I don't!"

He crossed his arms and gave a grim smile around the company, being rewarded with a quiet ripple of laughter. The MACOs were in good form and eager to do their job.

Malcolm carried on. "We will go in in two teams, transporting down in this area here. It is some distance from the camp but we can't risk being ambushed as we transport. We enter the compound here, then through this barbed wire fence here. The first squad, Alpha squad, under my command, will penetrate the forcefield surrounding the dome. I will be placing charges at these locations. Study the layout of the dome. I have shown our route in. Once in the virtual space - again, study the layout and routes - we will search for Captain Archer and the others. The second squad, Bravo squad, is to penetrate the detention center from the rear and use scanners to search for our crew's biosigns. Corporal McKenzie is in charge of that operation. Sergeant Kemper is to act as backup with his team.

"We are likely to meet heavy resistance. The soldiers at the detention center will be on high alert, as they have recently had a breakout." He grinned at the MACOs. "They are armed with primitive projectile weapons and explosive grenades. Do not take these lightly. They are perfectly capable of inflicting deadly injuries.

"The virtual space is inhabited by a large number of aliens who are armed with sophisticated weapons. We will probably have to fight for every inch.

"Study these materials, get your gear together and be ready to go as soon as we get the okay from T'Pol."

Malcolm swept his eyes over them and gave a nod of satisfaction. "Dismissed."

The MACOs snapped to attention and broke ranks to carry out their orders.

Malcolm watched all the activity pensively, rapping an impatient foot. He wanted to go in now. Correction – he had to go in now.

If T'Pol had not made any progress they should forget about tapping into the virtual space energy and concentrate on retrieving their friends. Given the likely resistance they would be meeting, Malcolm was very pessimistic of getting anywhere near the energy network, let alone finding a way to use the energy. They really needed Trip for that. Hess was doing her best, but she hadn't seen it, and Malcolm's descriptions hadn't been detailed enough.

He turned on his heels and left to go see T'Pol. She had to let him go now - they couldn't delay. He was not prepared to take no for an answer.

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Travis stared up at the window of his cell and wondered how long he had been in here. With no method of counting off the minutes, he had no idea. When he had been unceremoniously dumped in here, he had, perhaps naively, believed it would only be a short while before rescue came. He sat on his bunk with his back against the wall and idly fingered the coarse fabric of the covering blanket.

For some reason, Malcolm had run into a problem. Could it be that shielding device the aliens had given the soldiers? Probably. It would prevent transport as well, wouldn't it? He was no expert in transporter technology but it stood to reason: if there were no biosigns available then there would probably be no transporter co-ordinates either. He sighed. There was no way to transport.

So, there would be an assault from outside the building? Perhaps they were waiting for dark? The light did seem less bright outside now.

Travis grunted. He hoped they would come soon. The Captain had looked terrible. He was barely alive. Every moment counted. But Malcolm knew that didn't he?

And Commander Tucker wasn't in too good shape either. Getting smacked around by a soldier with a rifle was not to be recommended. He grimaced as he remembered the loud crack of the blow to Trip's skull. It could well be fractured.

Travis felt along his swollen split lip. The bleeding had stopped now. In comparison, he had got off lightly. He eyed the bucket on the floor by the end of the bunk. He didn't want to use it, but he might have no choice soon. Looking up again at the window, Travis counted the number of tiles above it and then counted the rows to the ground. Anything to occupy his mind.

Then he heard indistinct voices outside his cell door, some distance along the corridor and getting closer. Boots echoing.

He felt his guts clench. Were they coming to begin the interrogation? What was going to happen? He felt almost physically sick as he remembered the few words Archer had let slip about what he had endured. Remembered the visual evidence.

Footsteps stopped outside his door. With a clatter, the spyplate was opened and then let drop. Travis glanced toward it but couldn't see anyone from his position. Then a key turned in the lock and the door was slammed open.

The blond haired soldier who had hit Travis appeared framed in the door, the harsh light from the corridor delineating his outline. Travis leaned back against the wall, determined not to show any reaction. He sat in silence, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the soldier.

The soldier pulled the door shut behind him with his free hand. The other carried his rifle leveled at Travis. "My pal's outside, so don't try anything," he warned.

Travis eyed the rifle pointed at his chest. He thought that would count as deterrent enough.

The soldier leaned against the wall next to the door. He gave a thin-lipped smirk, almost mocking. "Seems like you're in trouble, fella," he said.

Travis gave a small nod. "Uh huh." Where was this going?

The soldier seemed nervous, on edge. He twitched a shoulder and his fingers played about on his rifle. His foot scuffed around on the concrete floor. He gave Travis a look, almost cunning, from half closed lids. "I heard what you said outside, about the aliens."

Travis wondered if he had deeply offended the man. The Thraxians appeared to be highly regarded by these soldiers. After all, Garram was a general! He half-expected another punch to come his way.

The soldier said, "Did you mean it? That they aren't from Earth, I mean."

Cautiously, Travis nodded, "Yeah."

"Where d'you hear that from?" The voice was almost accusing in its tone.

Travis didn't know how to answer. He gave a small shrug.

"Who told you that?" asked the soldier again, more insistent.

Travis shook his head. "It's something I've always known. I don't know how."

The soldier gave a snort. "You know, saying stuff like that will get you killed anyway? Even if you're not a Nazi."

Would it? Travis was surprised but then, it would make sense. The Thraxians would clamp down hard on any dissent. They had to maintain their position, otherwise they could wave their game goodbye. He gave a snort. Rav wouldn't stand for any rebellion. Even Strixam had a nasty side to him.

Travis said to the soldier, "It is true. This is not their world."

"One of my pals told everyone in the squad that once. About the Thraxians coming from somewhere else. He was transferred away. We never saw him again." The soldier faltered.

"What made him say it then?" Travis probed delicately. This was a difficult subject for the boy. Yeah, he was no more than a boy despite his bravado and his uniform. Travis felt very sorry for him. What sort of life had he had? Forced into fighting at a young age by a centuries-old war. No doubt he had lost many friends and family members because of it.

The soldier lowered the rifle muzzle. "He said his grandfather told him, when he was drunk. He said it was important that everyone knew about it."

"Did you believe him?"

"'Course not!"

"Then why do you want to talk about it?" asked Travis quietly.

"Dunno." An almost sullen response.

Travis realized the soldier wanted something but didn't know what to do. Casting about for some way in which to reach the young man, Travis said, "Do you read science fiction?"

"Like Superman? Yeah." The soldier brightened enthusiastically.

"I, and my friends, you could say we are from the future..."

The soldier gave a skeptical sad smile, "I don't think so..." and turned to leave.

Travis saw he was losing the man. Quickly, he said, "No, really, we are. You saw the device my friend had, the one about this size, silver - the one the General took." He described the communicator with his fingers. "Did you see it? Did that look as though it was from the future?"

"Yeah, a little."

Travis gave a firm nod. "See? That's how I know about the aliens. They don't exist where I'm from. That's how I know they aren't from Earth. We found out that they come from another planet a long way away. They don't belong here."

"That's what you say. How can I believe that?"

Travis had a wonderful idea. "Get some old books, two hundred years old or more. There will be no mention of the Thraxians in them, I guarantee it."

The soldier gave a short laugh. "Huh! And where would I get old books from? There aren't any, are there, because of the war."

"Oh." Travis thought a little. "Well, there must be family stories, tales people tell of what it was like before the aliens came, what it was like when they first arrived?"

The soldier stopped fidgeting and stood perfectly still. "Go on," he said.

"If you find different people with the same stories, they must be correct."

The soldier eyed him, then said quietly, "That pal I told you about, the one who disappeared. What he told us was like what my mom told me. I've never told anyone, and she hasn't... only me."

Travis said cautiously, reeling him in, "So, you believe me then?"

He stared at Travis. "My mom told me that lots of aliens appeared at the same time all over the world - in different capitals. But then our leaders told the people to obey them, that it would all be okay. That they would help us win. But they said that to everyone. Anyone who resisted was killed or changed their mind." He gave a jerk. "That was hundreds of years ago. My mom told me, and told me to tell my kids, when I have them. But not to tell anyone else." He glared at Travis. "If you say anything, I'll say you're lying!"

Travis shook his head. "I won't say anything that'll get you into trouble. What's your name, by the way?"

"Bob." He smiled.

"Travis. Pleased to meet you, I think," said Travis, rubbing his jaw, with a wry grin in return.

"Sorry about that. It had to look good."

"Uh huh."

"I don't know what to do."

Travis didn't know either. He shrugged. "It's difficult. Unless you can find others who will agree with you, I'm not sure what you can do."

"You can't help then?"

Travis gave a soft snort. "Not from here!" But then, perhaps when they got back to Enterprise...?

"What if I helped you get out?" Bob asked.

"You'd do that?"

The soldier swallowed, then said, "Yeah. I think so. Would it help if I unplugged that security box the General gave us?"

Travis admired the boy's courage. "That could help a lot. But I don't want you to do anything that'll get you into trouble on my behalf. I think my friend'll be coming back for us anyway."

"I'll pretend to fall over the power cord. I'm clumsy enough. The Corporal will believe that okay!"

Travis grinned. "Okay, if you're sure. I'll try to help get rid of the aliens, but I can't promise anything. They're powerful. Why are they the ones in command of the army?"

"They're the smartest at leading. Humans aren't as good."

"Don't believe that for one second, not from what I've seen of them."

A call came from outside the cell, "Hurry up, Bob. The Corporal will be looking for you soon."

"Gotta go," said Bob, immediately, and left, slamming the door behind him.

Travis lay back on his bunk, hoping that he had made some impact. He wished he had had more time with Bob. Perhaps he could have persuaded him to at least take a look at the Captain? He was a good boy. Too bad these aliens' corruption had infected everyone. If there was any possibility at all, he was going to stop the Thraxians from further interference with this Earth.

TBC