Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: I appreciate the continuing encouragement. The story is moving toward its conclusion - a few more chapters to go.

Chapter 15

Trip sat on the edge of a biobed, his jumpsuit pulled down over his hips and his undershirt in a rumpled heap next to him. A young medic was examining Trip's sore abdomen, peering at the dark bruising that mapped where the Corporal's rifle butt had struck him.

Trip's attention was fixed on the far corner where Phlox was tending to Captain Archer. The curtain hid what was going on and Trip strained to hear any of the discussion between Phlox and T'Pol who had recently arrived.

Trip had spoken briefly with Phlox when the rescued men had first been brought to Sick Bay – just given the Doctor the bare essentials about what he had discovered concerning Archer's treatment by the aliens. He hadn't got anything of detail he could offer Phlox.

After getting Archer settled, Phlox had checked the other two, given instructions to the orderlies and set to work on the Captain. Trip had gathered that the physical injuries could be treated, but Phlox was far more concerned about the damage wrought on the Captain's mind.

Trip worried at his lip with his teeth. They had the Captain back once more but would he ever be whole? He gave a mental shake. The Doctor had only had a short time to examine the Captain. There was no reason to be so pessimistic so soon. He grunted. He had the Thraxians to thank for that mindset. And the soldiers. Trip pulled a finger across his tired eyes. He needed some good quality sleep – not what he had snatched in that damned cell.

Trip flinched at a sudden stab of pain, letting out a hiss. He snapped his head around to the offender.

"Sorry, Sir," said the young medic whose gentle touch had provoked the reaction.

Trip looked down at him. "It's okay, Crewman," he reassured the man. "You weren't the one that caused this."

The Crewman concentrated on his task, applying a gel that Phlox had given him around the sore area. Trip felt the pain diminish as it penetrated into the skin and eased the deeper layers.

"That's better," grunted Trip. His head wound had already been cleaned and a dressing applied after Phlox had examined it. Trip had been lucky: there was bruising and an abrasion but no fracture.

Travis sat on the adjacent bed, waiting for Phlox to sign him out. He started then stared at Trip in some concern, moving around to get a clearer view. "What's that?" he asked, nodding to more ugly bruising around Trip's ribs. It seemed to extend around his side. "I didn't think you'd been hurt there."

Trip gave a grimace and lifted an arm with some difficulty to give the medic room to work on that injury. "The guys decided they would pay me an early visit. Soften me up before the main event started." He glared at Travis - almost snarled. "Most of this is that Corporal's handiwork."

Travis inhaled sharply. He had heard a commotion when they were in the prison and had worried about the Commander. He was thankful it wasn't worse. Travis said feelingly, "I guess I'm lucky. I had a visitor but he only wanted to talk."

"Trying to psyche you out, uh?" said Trip, finding that talking was keeping his mind off the Crewman's ministrations.

"Not exactly. He doesn't buy that the Thraxians are native to Earth. He wanted me to help him spread the word."

Trip frowned. "We'll see what we can do. This may not be our Universe or timeline or whatever, but it is still Earth and these people are still humans. Hell, even if they were aliens I wouldn't let these Thraxians get away with what they are doing." He rubbed at his temple and winced. "My head's still sore."

"I'm not surprised, Commander," said Travis.

Phlox swished back the curtain around Archer's biobed and stepped over to check on his other two patients. T'Pol paused to close the curtains and followed him over.

Phlox said, "Did I hear you say you were still in pain, Commander? I'll get you something stronger for it."

Trip considered the offer and then gave a reluctant shake of his head. "No thanks, Doc. I need my wits about me. It's not so bad. I've had worse."

Phlox said, "I'm sure I can find something which will help without interfering with your mental capabilities." He cast his eyes over Trip's injuries. "Hhm. There's no permanent damage, I'm pleased to say. Rest should do the trick."

Trip gave him a cynical laugh, cut short as it jarred his ribs. "No rest, not just yet." He gave Phlox a stern look. "I'll take as much rest as you want me to, Doc - once we've dealt with the Thraxians."

Phlox didn't seem too happy at that but didn't argue the point. He kept his mouth shut with a visible effort, then glanced across to Archer's bed. The Captain would require his full attention in any case.

T'Pol stepped forward alongside Phlox. "I need to talk with you, Commander. We must find a method of tapping into the energy store included in the virtual space created by the Thraxians."

Trip grinned at her. "'Virtual space,' eh? You've been talking to Malcolm. Oh, and nice to see you too, T'Pol."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow as she considered his meaning. "My apologies, Commander. I do not wish to appear... rude. However, it is imperative that we act on this as soon as we can. If the Thraxians block our access to the energy store, we will be unable to return to our own Universe. This represents our only chance." She paused, and then added, "It is agreeable to see you back on Enterprise, relatively unscathed." She turned to Travis. "You also, Ensign."

Travis gave her a grin. "It's good to be back."

Trip slid off the bed to his feet, making a grab for the edge as he felt a wave of dizziness pass over him.

"Commander?" asked Phlox.

Trip gave a subdued smile and murmured, "It's okay. Just let me have that painkiller you mentioned."

"Very well," said Phlox. "We will strap you up as well. That'll provide some support for now." He indicated to the Crewman that he should deal with the bandaging and went to get the necessary medication.

Trip said to T'Pol, "I'll get up to speed with our situation. Send the details to my station, will ya? I'll look through them while I eat and then we can talk."

"Certainly, Commander." T'Pol gave him a nod of acknowledgement and made her stately way out of Sick Bay, passing Malcolm as he came in.

Malcolm went straight over to Trip and Travis. He bit his lip as he took in their battered appearances. "I'm sorry," he said, clearly upset. "I should have got you out sooner but the aliens extended a shield around you. We couldn't track your biosigns or transport down."

"I'm sure you did your best, Malcolm. Don't worry," said Trip. "We're back now, and in one piece." His winning smile was spoiled as a turn of a bandage was pulled tight around his ribs by the orderly. Malcolm winced in sympathy.

"How's the Captain?" asked Malcolm, tilting his head in the general direction of the private area.

"Much the same," muttered Trip, a dark frown appearing. "The Doc can sort out the physical injuries, but as for the mental aspects..." He shrugged.

Phlox rejoined them and administered a hypospray to Trip's neck. "Please come back for another dose if you need to, Commander."

Trip pulled on the top part of his uniform, attempting unsuccessfully to hide his discomfort. "Thanks for this, Doc," he said. "I'll be back if I need more." He walked a little unsteadily out of Sick Bay clutching his undershirt.

"Damn," muttered Malcolm, watching Trip leave. "I wish I'd got you out sooner."

"Don't worry," assured Travis. "We'll both mend."

Phlox turned to Travis. "You have no serious injuries, Ensign, you will be pleased to learn. I prescribe a couple of days sick leave in which to recover."

"Thanks, Doctor, but for now I think I should be back on duty. There'll be plenty of time later."

Phlox frowned a little. "If you feel at all fatigued, I expect you to take some rest. And if you are at all unwell, please return to Sickbay. Can I rely on you to be responsible?"

Travis grinned. "Yes, Doctor."

"Very well." At Phlox's wave of dismissal, Travis left.

Malcolm watched him go, and then slid his gaze over to the curtained bed. "Is the Captain going to be all right, Phlox?" he asked.

"As I told the others, I will do my best. I first must determine exactly what was done to him. Do you have any insight into that?"

"No, not really. He seems to suddenly switch from being normal into this brainwashed robot, and just as suddenly comes out of it. The saving grace is that it is a very obvious transition. There's no mistaking which aspect is dominant." Malcolm shivered and swallowed hard. "The Captain did mention probes inserted into his skull."

"Yes, Commander Tucker mentioned that." Phlox's tone was almost conversational, as if he'd been told an interesting experimental fact.

Malcolm stood silently for moment. He started to speak, then shut his mouth, seemingly engaged in an internal struggle.

"Lieutenant? Is there anything else? Are your wounds bothering you?"

Malcolm shook his head. He said reluctantly, "Please be careful, Doctor - with the Captain."

"I will be."

Malcolm needed to emphasize his warning. "Yes, but he can change so very quickly. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"I understand. Be assured that when I bring him around we will take proper measures."

Malcolm gave a quick nod, almost dismissive, pleased to have got that unpleasant job out of the way. He said, "Uhh, Doctor. How are you getting on with the sleeping gas you mentioned?"

Phlox replied, "I have a chemical structure and method of manufacture. I believe it will work, although I can't be accurate about how effective it will actually be."

"Good," breathed Malcolm. "That could give us the edge we need. Let's organize someone to synthesize it and I'll work out how we might deliver it."

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

The Mess Hall was fairly quiet. Travis was tired out but had decided to get something to satisfy his hunger first before he did anything else. It had been some time since he had eaten and his stomach growled in approval when he laid eyes on the choices before him. He grabbed a selection of items and sat down by himself at a table near a window, briefly acknowledging the greetings of the other diners.

Earth filled half of the view, a beautiful sight, even to a non-native such as himself. From this distance, it was serene - a glorious cloud-spun bright Eden displaying no evidence of the evil that was being perpetrated below.

Eating required concentration, Travis discovered, due to his numb split lip. He tried a smaller than usual mouthful of pasta and gingerly chewed. He sighed at the effort - this 'quick meal' was going to take some time.

Travis prodded at the pasta and wondered about Bob, his young soldier friend. He was pretty sure it had been Bob who had managed to disable the shielding device. Without his intervention, who knew how much more difficult it might have been or how many casualties they might have suffered? He owed him a debt - they all did.

Travis considered Bob's situation as he picked at his food. He hoped Bob would be able to pass off his help as mere clumsiness but in his heart knew that he was unlikely to remain unpunished. Even if Bob did manage to convince his comrades that it had been accidental, his action had enabled the 'Nazis' to escape. He would get into trouble - considerable trouble, most likely, particularly if the 'General' - Travis snorted in disgust at the rank - got involved.

Travis' appetite vanished as he thought through the consequences but he had to keep his strength up. His Boomer upbringing abhorred waste too, so he forced the food down.

Soon however Travis was on the verge of giving up on his meal. It was too much effort. He put down his fork just as Hoshi entered the Mess Hall. She saw him at once and came over.

"Travis! I am so glad to see you!" she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug around his shoulders, then frowned at his thick lip. "You're hurt!"

Travis smiled despite himself. "It's nothing, really. It doesn't hurt - just awkward."

Hoshi smiled. "Let me get a coffee and I'll join you."

With Hoshi's company, Travis found his appetite revived and he made steady headway with his meal. She was eager to find out what had happened and how they had found the Captain. She had heard certain details but Malcolm and T'Pol had been too busy to go into depth with anyone not involved in the rescue attempt.

Travis wondered how much to tell her, but with Hoshi's expert questioning, she got a quite comprehensive picture.

At the end of his account, Hoshi looked shaken. "Those aliens are monsters. How can they do that? And purely for pleasure. The poor Captain!"

"Uh huh," agreed Travis. "I told Bob I would try to help get rid of the aliens, but I don't know what we can do. I'm hoping that whatever T'Pol and the Commander are working on will deal with them. I know the Commander is set on doing that if it is at all possible."

Hoshi sipped her coffee - she was on her third cup. "Mmm. It's not only a question of making the aliens leave," she noted.

"It isn't?" asked Travis in surprise.

"No. Those aliens have stolen the history of those people." Hoshi looked at Travis with a fierce gaze.

"Huh?" Travis was a little unnerved by the unaccustomed intensity.

"You said there were no old books, no evidence of what the planet was like before the Thraxians arrived. Think about it. Think about everything that they have lost - history, literature, scientific knowledge... who knows what survived?" Hoshi shivered.

"That's terrible," said Travis as he considered the concept of a life with knowledge of only the recent past. It was appalling. So much destroyed!

Hoshi said, "It's as if their entire identity - identities - have been obliterated. Even if the Thraxians are forced to leave, how can the humans reconstruct their civilizations? They can start again, but it isn't the same." She tailed off, shocked by this vandalism, the cultural wreckage. She grabbed Travis' hand across the table. "Travis - we have to do something."

"Yeah, of course. If we can," said Travis doubtfully. "But how would we go about it?"

Hoshi looked out of the window, seeking inspiration from the magnificence of the planet.

Travis suggested, "We could make some broadcasts - explain to them what has happened."

Hoshi immediately answered, "No - that's no good. They have only primitive broadcast systems. In any case, how much data could we distribute in the time available? And there wouldn't be any way they could record it."

Travis said after some minutes' thought, "We need to download our database - or at least relevant parts - into storage media and give them a way to access it."

Hoshi said enthusiastically, "We can do that, Travis! We make lots of copies so they can be distributed over the entire planet, so at least some will be found and investigated."

Travis nodded. "Yeah. We set up the readers for them too. All they would have to do is press a 'play' button. Make it available in different languages and with plenty of pictures..."

Hoshi grinned. "I could collate and edit the data if you can get hold of the data storage and reading devices."

Travis gave his trademark broad beam. "Yeah, I'll get right on it. And think about how we might distribute them."

Hoshi grinned back. "I better make sure T'Pol and Commander Tucker are okay with this. I can't see that they would object, providing I don't include any post-World War 2 information. It's not like we would be interfering - we would be trying to reduce the effects of the aliens' interventions."

"We need to include a section on the Thraxians' arrival though. I know I didn't find out a lot about it from Bob but there should be enough there for people to judge against their own family stories. We need to explain that the aliens are outsiders."

"Will the people believe us?" asked Hoshi.

"I don't know. We can only do our best."

The two Ensigns grinned at each other.

"What are we waiting for then?!" said Hoshi, getting up.

"Lead the way," answered Travis with a flourish, his weariness fled.

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

Trip was ensconced in his quarters and doing his level best to concentrate on T'Pol's report. He had changed into sweats and picked up some food from the Mess Hall, not to mention a strong black coffee. He would need to get a few hours' sleep soon, though, he thought, otherwise he'd soon be seeing double.

He was making some progress with her theories - at least, he thought he was. He had had to make some leaps of faith, which made him uncomfortable, but didn't have the luxury of time to fully understand each point.

The doorbell chimed.

"Come in," called Trip, not removing his gaze from his terminal.

The door slid open and T'Pol stepped in. "Commander - you said you were ready to discuss the problem."

"Yeah. Take a seat." Trip indicated his bunk.

T'Pol hesitated then lowered herself onto it. "Have you finished my report?"

"Yeah. I've skimmed it once and think I got the gist of it. I'm going through more thoroughly now. I thought it'd go easier with both of us. You can explain it to me."

T'Pol frowned. "But it is all explained in my report."

"I know, T'Pol, but I find it easier sometimes to be able to ask questions as I go through something new. I've reached a point where that would be most...efficient." He grinned at her.

T'Pol lifted her chin as she recognized his vocabulary choice as one she might choose. "And also logical," she added to indicate her recognition. It would appeal to his sense of humor.

"Yeah - that too!" he agreed. He laughed then grabbed at ribs with a grunt of pain. "Damn! Don't make me laugh, T'Pol."

She said gravely, "I will try not to. I see it exacerbates your injuries."

He couldn't help it - Trip laughed again and paid the price. "Ughh! I really ought to go back to Phlox for another shot, but I wanted to get through this first."

"I understand."

"Now... let's see. Where was I...?"

T'Pol watched as he scrolled through the graphs she had prepared. She saw that the dressing on his head needed to be changed. "Your injuries, Commander..."

"Yeah?" said Trip distractedly.

"It is my fault that you received them."

Trip stopped what he was doing. "How d'you make that out?"

"I ordered Lieutenant Reed to delay the rescue effort. If he had acted as soon as he wished, at least some of those wounds would not have been sustained."

Trip stared at her. "No, T'Pol. It's not your fault, or Malcolm's or anyone else's here, or even those misguided soldiers. The only ones to blame are the Thraxians." He resisted the urge to touch her hand. "Don't concern yourself."

T'Pol inclined her head. "Very well. You must visit Sick Bay soon, however."

"I will. Don't worry." Trip returned to the report. "Right - How far have you got? I see that we should be able to liberate the energy. What then?"

T'Pol said, "I am working on the directional control, that is, how we access the correct Universe. I am making progress and am confident that I will have the solution within two days - two days including the need to modify equipment. Do you think the aliens will be alert to us returning?"

"Doubtful - they probably imagine we've left for good. They didn't give us any incentive to stay around after all." Trip gave a savage scowl.

"Is there a risk they will terminate their connection with this earth because of our activities? Do we need to move quickly?"

Trip considered the point. He said, "They've invested so much in their game, are so committed to it, I don't think so. For all they know, we are five people who have somehow traveled back in time and are lacking in any resources. The Captain did a good job of convincing them when they used those drugs on him. I guess they'll chalk us up as a bad job and forget it. Perhaps keep a watch out but nothing more active."

T'Pol nodded. "That is what I expect also. Very well, we will not unduly accelerate our program."

Trip said, "Okay, then. Let's look at your report. This is what I understand from the first section..."

T'Pol listened as he began their work session. She noted that she was significantly more energized and ready to engage with others since his return. That was an interesting phenomenon. She would consider it later. She returned her concentration to his words.

TBC