Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
Chapter 19
On Enterprise's bridge, the crew were mute, each person's awareness fixed on his or her designated task. They were under no illusions. This might be the moment of triumph when they returned home - already once falsely experienced - or of disaster. Enterprise could be dashed between Universes like an old sailing ship against the rocks.
The only person who really understood what was happening was T'Pol, hunched over her scanner and dividing her attention between it and the readouts on her console display. She had given several explanatory talks but they went over most people's heads. So - they trusted her: their crewmate. She had been quite clear in her delivery of the potential risks but they all agreed they had to try.
Ensign Walsh commed T'Pol from the transporter bay. "The team is beginning transport back."
She acknowledged the report and concentrated on her console.
The readings on T'Pol's indicators became unsteady. She gave a small gasp. Now the values were swiftly rising. That meant that the team on the surface had been successful. The beginnings of the energy overload were apparent.
The first physical inkling manifested itself: a slight tremble throughout the ship, the jarring too rapid for the inertial dampers to compensate.
T'Pol studied the energy readings with absorbed attention, oblivious to the increased shaking thrumming through Enterprise's hull as the wavefronts hit. These were mere ripples - forerunners of what was to come.
Was there enough energy? Had her calculations been sufficient? Her starting data was incomplete. How would that effect the practical realization of her theories?
T'POl drew a breath, schooled her diaphragm and called on her meditation techniques to avoid distraction by unwanted emotion. She had estimated there was a high probability that the transport beam would be sufficient to guide the energy along its path, but had not been able to bring that to one hundred percent certainty.
The gauges' readouts built up in rapid succession, delivering the news she had anticipated but not been able to entirely stipulate. Her analysis was still holding true. The energy levels were rising exponentially in the surrounding space, converting its uniformity into disturbed eddies, increasing into chaos and disorder.
She had time to make an all-hands call, "Brace for impact!" and then they were enveloped in the unfathomable blasts. She held on doggedly to her viewer, bracing her feet against the base of her chair to secure her position.
Switching to the sensor array display, she initiated their transmission, amplifying it with energy stolen from the unleashed energies to throw out their quantum signature, to impress it on the unruly, seething, ungoverned space-continuum, varying wildly with no cohesion.
T'Pol found she was unable to see clearly. The colors were separating out, blurring, however hard she tried to focus.
T'Pol's vision darkened and she lost consciousness.
She couldn't discern the swift procession of quantum states - signatures of countless Universes - as they hunted for their own place and Universe. She couldn't know that the quantum states were slowing their dizzying dance, first one then another becoming fixed, winding down to a final conclusion. A single selection. A single Universe.
---------------
Enterprise's bridge was still. The only sign of activity was in electronic form: the routine bleeps augmented by audible alerts, flashing displays - red warnings evident. The crew lay motionless, draped over their consoles or lying on the floor nearby.
T'Pol was the first to stir. She lifted her head from her console, drawing her arms under her to push her body up. For a moment she was confused but then her eyes rested on the displays which showed her predictions.
She remembered their desperate maneuvers. Had they worked?
With an unsteady hand, she called up the matrix denoting the quantum states - the set of digits that would identify this place. She gazed at them without understanding, still suffering from disorientation. With a quick exhalation, she realized the figures represented their internal shipboard parameters. She entered the necessary commands to scan and carry out an analysis of the surrounding space. And waited.
Around her, the humans on the bridge were also regaining their senses. They were moving now, blinking and pulling themselves together. Gradually their bewilderment eased as each remembered what had happened. Quiet voices asked their friends if they were all right - had they been injured?
Then they turned to look at T'Pol. Seeing her focused on her instruments, they paused, awaiting her verdict.
A brief tone alerted T'Pol to the completion of the analysis. She hesitated a moment, a sudden irrational feeling bringing a reluctance to carry on. She ignored the sensation, unusual though it was, and switched views to display the new results.
The two sets of digits were identical. The shipboard reading agreed completely with the external reading.
Her eyes widened at the result but it required verification.
She ran the analysis once more, aware of everyone looking at her but unwilling to report her findings on the basis of a single sample.
The second analysis agreed.
She swiveled in her chair and said evenly, "We have returned to our home Universe."
There was silence, and then the humans around her erupted into a spontaneous cheer. They hugged one another, shook hands, laughed... T'Pol watched them dispassionately. They grinned at her and waved, including her in their celebration even though she stood apart.
T'Pol considered that the rest of the ship would need to hear the news. She repeated her statement as a shipwide announcement.
There was one additional test required, but it was a formality. As the initial jubilation subsided, T'Pol asked the helmsman, "Ensign Thomas, do the star charts agree with our shipboard date and time?"
He ostentatiously checked the navigation system and replied, "Yes, Ma'am."
That was it. They were unquestionably home at last.
--------------
When T'Pol walked through the doors of Sick Bay she found Trip pacing about just inside them, one hand being driven repeatedly through his hair which was in a disordered state. He jumped as she entered and stopped his marching. T'Pol noticed that his skin was pale and there were tense lines around his mouth and jaw, giving him a severe appearance.
"T'Pol," he acknowledged, bringing his hand down from his head and grabbing his upper arm instead. His grip was tight, his fingers squeezing hard and releasing, then repeating the action.
She inclined her head. "Did you hear my announcement, Commander?" His attitude was not consistent with what she had observed elsewhere on the ship.
Trip smiled but it didn't extend to his eyes. "Yeah, T'Pol. We're in the right Universe again and at the right time. Your theory was correct. Congratulations." His thanks were sincerely given.
T'Pol inclined her head in modest acceptance. "Thank you, Commander, but our success was due to many people's efforts, not excluding your own."
Trip gave a tired nod but didn't smile.
"I assume everything went as planned," said T'Pol, "given that the energy flow was liberated."
"Yeah," replied Trip. "And no. There were a couple of hitches in conducting the energy flows where required, but Travis and I sorted them out. Everyone got back here, but Malcolm..." Trip choked and stopped speaking. A few inarticulate noises emerged. He slumped and gestured to the far side of Sick Bay.
T'Pol now saw that the biobed next to that occupied by the Captain also had a curtain drawn around it. She turned back toward Trip. "Commander?"
Trip said quietly, "He was badly injured. Phlox is doing what he can but..." He gazed helplessly over to the place.
T'Pol said, "What happened to Lieutenant Reed?"
Trip frowned. "I don't know. Walsh pulled him back, but he's caught a plasma bolt or something. I don't know what exactly. His hands are burnt too."
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. The weariness that had been apparent before the mission to the surface now seemed increased tenfold.
T'Pol observed his unhappiness. Indeed, she was uneasy herself but she didn't know what she should say.
Phlox emerged from the enclosed area to speak with one of his orderlies before resuming his work, hidden from their sight. His manner gave no indication as to his progress.
Trip bit his lip, then put his thumb to his mouth and gnawed at it. He stared vacantly into space and whispered with desperation, "We're home. We can't lose him now." He looked fearfully at T'Pol.
She met his gaze and said, "The Doctor will do his best." A poor choice of words but true nonetheless.
Trip took some comfort from them. He nodded. "I know."
They stood in silence for some time. Then T'Pol asked Trip, "Did Ensign Sato acquire the necessary data?"
Trip became more alert, the change of thought a welcome diversion. "I don't know. She said she downloaded something, but I don't know how relevant it is. She's still translating it."
The curtain around Malcolm's bed swished across to reveal Phlox. The Doctor registered their presence and made his way over, massaging the small of his back with one hand. He gave a weary smile. "I've stabilized Mr Reed. I've applied my osmotic eel and done what else I can here. Now we are home," he gave a slightly wider grin at being able to say that, "he should be transferred to Starfleet Medical Center in San Francisco as soon as he is able to travel."
"Will he be okay, Doc?" Trip had brightened at Phlox's demeanor but needed reassurance.
"I believe so. He was brought here in time."
Trip sagged in relief at the news. He choked out, "Thanks, Doc."
Phlox smiled back. "Thank you, Commander, T'Pol, for achieving what seemed impossible and returning us home." Phlox nodded to them both.
"It was a team effort," said Trip. "And without your sleeping gas, we wouldn't have succeeded."
"Oh? Was it effective?" Phlox was curious. He leant forward, eager for the report.
"It was amazing! Worked like a charm. Without it, I wouldn't be here now!" Trip gave a broad grin. His spirits had lifted. He had gone from the depths to the heights. "I'll tell you all about it later."
T'Pol said, "I will ensure everyone's contributions are duly noted in the logs. Now I must report to Starfleet. Commander, will you accompany me?"
"Uhh, okay, T'Pol, but I need some time to clean up. Haven't had a chance recently."
T'Pol couldn't prevent the automatic response as she wrinkled her nose. Trip scowled a little and then laughed. "Guess I deserve that!" he said.
She didn't answer him, which made him laugh even harder.
----------------
Sick Bay had a single patient. Captain Archer was propped up in bed with a PADD clasped loosely in one hand and his eyes closed.
He was still in Enterprise's Sick Bay as Phlox had convinced Starfleet Medical that he was best placed to treat him, with access to the Thraxian data and Hoshi's expertise. That suited Archer too. He wasn't yet ready to face the inevitable cacophony that was sure to surround his return to Earth, however low key the authorities tried to keep it. Archer didn't put it past them to encourage publicity anyway. He wanted to be fully fit, or at least half fit, before he dealt with that.
Enterprise had already had her welcome from the fleet - lots of colored light displays and frivolous use of torpedo tubes as each ship passed in salute.
Archer had been trying to catch up with ship's business but found it difficult to focus his thoughts. They would wander wildly from one thing to another, from the terrifying to the mundane. He had insisted on having access to the ship's status reports. Phlox though it was because he was acting as a good captain should, but Archer in truth would have been quite happy to let that ride for now. No, he had hoped that it would give a boost to his mind, help it concentrate. The exercise hadn't worked. He would find himself repeatedly reading the same notes and when he tested himself, he couldn't remember any of it. The struggle to concentrate was disturbing him. He hadn't said anything to Phlox, hoping that it would improve but as yet that hadn't been the case. He sighed. He had a long road ahead of him.
The chirrups of Phlox's creatures kept him anchored to reality and gave him comfort. Perhaps he should talk to Phlox about his worries? After all he did have experience in psychological matters. He would mention it when the Doctor returned from the Mess Hall.
Archer ran a finger over his head, brushing across the areas where the Thraxians had applied their probes, checking each of the six points in turn and in the accustomed sequence. He couldn't help himself. There was a compulsion about it that disgusted him each time he realized what he was doing and wrenched his hand away. And each time, he remembered that white room, the sight of the instruments, the scent of the Thraxian technician as he worked inches from him...
Oh, intellectually he knew that no man could have resisted the procedure. That didn't lessen the numbness of violation, that somehow he was now a lesser person because of it. He knew now without doubt that he could be broken. He had been broken. He had willingly done exactly what the aliens asked of him.
He had been ready to murder Trip! Had actually done it – he had pulled the trigger, hadn't he? He hadn't known the weapon was immobilized.
Rage overwhelmed him – an immense, erupting fury at what they had done to him – charged with a deep hateful shame.
With a sudden jerk, Archer threw the PADD across the room, all his feeble strength invested in the action. It skittered across the floor and came to rest a few scant meters away. He gave a cynical laugh. He couldn't even manage a good temper tantrum!
Leaning back he tried to consider the positive aspects. The nightmare was over. Trip survived. They were back home, the Xindi threat gone, or at least diminished. It depended on what diplomatic progress they made with them, of course, but prospects there were encouraging. He was back with his friends and crew. When he had thought he had lost them forever, he had been almost destroyed but he had kept going. He had a determination didn't he? He still had some redeeming features. And physically, his health was improving steadily. If he could escape from Sick Bay he might find the mental aspects easier to cope with. He decided to try another assault on Phlox's interdict.
The doors swished open to admit a visitor - someone whom he was delighted to see.
"Trip!" called Archer in genuine pleasure, pushing his anxieties to one side. "I hope you can stay around a while this time." Since his faculties had returned, Archer had seen Trip briefly on several occasions, but the Chief Engineer had been so busy with Enterprise, crew requests, Starfleet and Starfleet media consultants that he hadn't been able to spend much time with him, to both men's regret.
Archer sat up, pushing a pillow behind him to provide support.
Trip gave a broad, carefree smile. He strode over, scooping up the discarded PADD, and plopped down in the convenient seat next to Archer's bed. "I've told 'em I'm not to be found if they come looking."
"Who?"
"Anyone!" declared Trip with a laugh, waving the PADD around at the world in general.
Archer gave Trip a slap on his arm. Trip was looking so well, better than he had been during their mission to the Expanse. The dark circles under his eyes had faded and he was altogether livelier, more like his old self. Perhaps less open than before, mused Archer, but then, the Expanse had changed them all.
Trip grinned at him. "You are looking so much better, Captain." He gave an unconscious rub of his temple as he scrutinized Archer's then started and flushed with embarrassment.
"It's okay, Trip," soothed Archer. "It's healing well. It doesn't hurt."
Trip gave a grateful nod. "Good."
Archer smiled. "I'll be up and about soon, although Phlox is insisting I take plenty of sick leave. I told him Enterprise will be therapy enough for me!"
"So who won that argument?" asked Trip teasingly.
Archer laughed. "We haven't finished it yet. I hope you will weigh in on my side, Trip." He gave a wicked grin.
Trip laughed. "What a choice. Stuck between my Captain and the ship's doctor! If you don't mind, I think I'll stay neutral over this one."
The two men grinned, reveling in the start of a return to normality. Trip was proving the tonic that Archer needed.
"How are matters with Starfleet?" asked Archer eagerly. "Admiral Forrest won't tell me much. He says I'm not to concern myself yet."
"Well, they are still going through our mission logs - an initial pass that is. T'Pol and I have given them a quick overview but there'll be plenty more to come. I've got repair teams from Earth all over the ship and as soon as we can, we'll be transferring the crew planetside and taking her over to Jupiter Station for a serious re-fit."
"Any word on Malcolm?" That had been a close call. Lieutenant Reed had so very nearly lost his life. Only Phlox's expertise had saved him and then the excellent follow-up care he was now receiving on Earth.
"I stopped in to see him. He's getting antsy too - keen to escape. He tried to get me to tell the Chief Medic that he was needed back on board. He got pretty shirty with me when I refused." Trip grinned. "So, he's a lot better too. I told him there's no point in rushing because he'll only be in for rounds of debriefs but he said he didn't care!"
"Back to normal, huh?"
"Almost, Captain."
"Did you find out what happened to Malcolm?"
Trip nodded. "Seems he ran into Rav - that's the Thraxian that fancied himself as a Nazi. That's why he was late getting away. " Trip swallowed. "He almost got stranded on that other Earth, or engulfed in the energy stream we released. Either way, it would have been horrific." For a moment, Trip paled, stricken as he imagined the awful possibilities.
Archer put out his hand and gave Trip a squeeze on his shoulder. "We're all back, Trip. Those of us that made it after destroying the weapon."
"Yeah. Uh, there'll be memorial services for those we've lost during the mission to the Expanse, but that'll be some time ahead. They've not set a date yet. They want to talk to you first about it."
Archer nodded gravely. He was determined to be well enough to attend. He owed so much to them. He would never forget them.
Trip glanced down at the PADD and then peered up at Archer from under his eyebrows. "Care to tell me how this ended up over there in the middle of the floor?"
Archer shrugged. "I though it might help."
"And did it?"
"No. Not really." Archer dragged a hand over his face, feeling the smooth continuation where that ugly burn had been. Soon it would be impossible to detect any remnant. He sighed. These days, physical injuries were so much easier to heal but they still had strides to make when it came to the human mind.
Trip looked at him quizzically, noticing the change of atmosphere. "Captain?"
"Nothing, Trip." He tried a smile but it was a failure. An open book of his anxiety.
Trip pursed his mouth. "It's not nothing. You went through some terrible things. They're bound to have an effect. You know you can talk to me?"
Archer met Trip's gaze and imagined him standing before his raised gun, disbelief and terror written on his face. Archer blinked and the vision cleared. "I'm sorry, Trip. So sorry."
Trip bit his lip and dropped his head, concentrating on the PADD in his hands, turning it about end over end. "You don't have to be. You shouldn't be. You did nothing wrong. It was those sonofabitch Thraxians. All of it – you, Earth."
"I know. It doesn't make it easier."
"It should." Trip stopped fidgeting with the PADD.
"I think it will take time." Archer sighed deeply.
Trip leaned forward in his seat and fixed Archer with a sincere gaze. "You can talk to me at any time. You know that."
"Yes, Trip. And thanks."
"You've been there often enough for me, Captain."
"I guess we've been there for each other." Archer smiled. "Umm, changing the subject, I didn't damage that PADD did I?"
Trip shook an index finger at him in mock censure. "Not this time, but you better not let me catch you abusing delicate Starfleet equipment again!"
Archer snorted. "Delicate?! Those things are practicably indestructible!"
"Yeah? Well leave the destruction testing to me will ya?!"
Archer laughed. "Yessir! Pass it over - I promise to look after it."
Trip shook his head and held the PADD out to him. "You better," he growled. He glanced at his chronometer. "Sorry, Captain. I've got some checks to make."
"You get on. Thanks for coming by."
Trip rose. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon."
Archer watched Trip set off with a jaunty step. He felt some of the darkness lift at Trip's infectious good humor.
---------------
T'Pol sat alongside Archer. He was still in Sick Bay but sitting up now. Soon he would be free to go.
T'Pol was reciting the events that had happened while he had been absent from the ship. He had heard parts of the story already, but this was the full version since Phlox had now deemed him to be sufficiently recovered to listen to it all.
Archer was a good listener, and T'Pol was precise in her reporting, so they made swift progress.
T'Pol wondered how much detail she should include concerning their return to their Universe. It was difficult to explain to a non-science specialist. Although the Captain was good at picking up the salient points, he would find it academic at best now.
"Captain, are you certain you wish me to go through this in such depth?" asked T'Pol as she saw his eyes glaze over again.
"Uhh, yes, T'Pol. Keep plugging away. I am listening." He gave a frown of obvious concentration. "Just don't ask me to repeat it, not in any great detail."
She raised an eyebrow at that, and he gave a low chuckle. It was pleasant to have him back again, she reflected. What was that human saying? - 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'.
At least she had now reached a part that was easy to demonstrate. There would be no need of a thorough understanding to appreciate it. With a sideways look at him, T'Pol pulled out the modified scanner and explained how one might identify different sub-quantum signatures, and thus different Universes.
She held the device so he could see the numerical matrix as the scanner was directed towards a nearby wall. "It is set up to analyze high concentrations," she explained, "but the external readings we took worked on low volumes of matter. We had greater computing power available for that, obviously."
"Obviously," he repeated, uncertainly.
T'Pol pulled out a shoe. The one she had obtained from the other Earth.
"You wore that?" exclaimed Archer in amusement, looking from shoe to T'Pol and back again.
"Yes, Captain. As I said, this consists of matter from the parallel Universe. Observe."
She ran the scanner over the shoe, holding it close by. They watched in fascination as the readings changed accordingly and settled on the second set of values.
"Impressive," admitted Archer.
T'Pol gave a modest nod.
"I still don't understand how I ended up on that Earth," he said, rubbing his head.
"Have you remembered anything else?"
He exhaled slowly. "No. I remember being on the Xindi weapon, the explosions going off, and then the next thing I can clearly recall is coming to in the Nazi field hospital. Nothing in between. I don't even know where they found me."
"I have no theory to account for this," said T'Pol.
"Daniels, perhaps? He did talk to me immediately before our assault on the weapon. He seemed keen to keep me in one piece."
"No time travel was involved," reminded T'Pol.
"No, true, but we don't know what else they can do in his time. If they can travel in time, perhaps parallel universes aren't a stretch for them."
"Possibly. I doubt we will find out."
"Not unless I see him again, and I can tell you, I'd really rather not right now." Archer grimaced. Daniels' complications didn't appeal at present.
"If I see Crewman Daniels, I will tell him," said T'Pol with an raised eyebrow for emphasis. Archer laughed, which she found agreeable.
She stood to go. "I have duties to attend to."
"Thank you for going through this with me. I appreciate it."
T'Pol nodded. She reached across to pick up the shoe and the scanner. "I will tell..."
The figures on the scanner were shifting again as she watched, from the set for their own Universe, then to that for the other Earth's as it was directed at the shoe, then to... T'Pol stared wide-eyed at Archer then back to the scanner. No change.
"T'Pol? You okay?" he said in concern, looking up at her as she abruptly stopped speaking.
She breathed deeply, trying to conceal her shock.
"T'Pol?"
She dragged her attention away from the scanner results. From a third set of results.
"Yes, Captain," she managed to say.
"You sound a little off. Are you sure you're resting properly? Meditating?"
"Yes, Captain." Breathe, she told herself, calm. She met Archer's anxious gaze. His... familiar... gaze. "Thank you for your concern. It's merely that... it's good to have you back. The crew has missed you. I've missed you."
She gave a curt nod, and left, switching off the scanner with a decisive click.
Archer watched her go and grinned. She didn't change, he mused. It was so good to be home.
END
A/N: And it's a long one to make up for my earlier restraint!
Little did I know on idly speculating 'How are they going to get out of that' after watching 'Zero Hour' that I would come up with something much more ambitious than I had tackled before. It was a big challenge for me and tough going at times, but knowing that there were people out there reading helped me to keep going. I appreciate every contribution. The story is undoubtedly the better for them.
Many, many thanks (and special thanks to those who were able to review multiple chapters) to: Rinne, G. Eliot , Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain, Ocean, vlm, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur, kelsey, Exploded Pen, tracy-thecubednag, Zenna and nikitee.
So - back to the story. What did you think? General impressions?
I have a few specific questions:
Does the story finish too quickly? I didn't want it to drag on but would additional scenes have been better?
Was the ending pitched right? I didn't want it too be so subtle as to be undetectable unless every detail of the technobabble had been read and remembered. On the other hand, I didn't want to wallop readers over the head with it.
I did consider leaving Malcolm marooned on that other Earth, knowing he would never see Enterprise again, but I thought it would detract from the ending and derail the story. I would have to have given readers some sort of caution I think before going that route too, although there is some foreshadowing. Is false foreshadowing a legitimate thing to do? :)
Anyway, he made it back. :)
They all did, sort of :(