A/N: Thanks for the comments so far, esp. RMice. As you can see, I'm running on the assumption that they'd only send competent people out into space. And I like my eye candy to have some brains also.
Chapter Five: That Is A Plan; This Is A Plan
There was light and warmth when Archer awoke. He noticed immediately that he was lying indoors, on a smooth floor. He took a mental inventory and found no new injuries besides the crushing headache and sore ribs and shoulder he had had before the Avdevi had found him. He remembered a struggle, and a bright flash of light, but apparently he had emerged from that particular fight unscathed, if also unsuccessful.
He groaned as he rolled to his knees, trying to rise. It was difficult to do using only his left hand. His right was still tightly bound to his chest underneath his shirt. Wincing, he opened his eyes to slits.
There was a pair of boots at the very corner of his vision. He followed the line of leg and body up to a mostly pleasant expressioned Avdevi man who stood staring down at him. He tried to blink away the double vision as the person uttered some tongue-twisting syllables and gestured with his hand.
"Yeah, whatever," Archer grumbled. The man walked across the room, picked up a square object the size of a personal disk player, and returned. "Great, go ahead and shoot me," Archer said tiredly.
"That is not my intention," said the man clearly. Archer squinted up at him. "I was simply inquiring whether you require assistance. I neglected to engage my translator, however."
"I've understood everybody else so far," Archer commented, trying to buy some time to get his wits together.
"Persons of my caste are not given translation devices at birth, unlike those persons of higher status you have met during your visit." He made a clearly derisive noise with his tongue. "They cannot govern who cannot communicate."
Archer grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, which he now noticed were bare. "I have been remiss," the Avdevi said. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Caicpwat fd Eeshon, of the tribe of Mdonss. You are, if I am correct,Captain Jonathan Archer of the Enterprise?"
Archer coughed gingerly. "Yes."
"I extend to you my apologies for your present situation."
"What do you want from me," Archer asked, struggling to keep his tone polite.
"From you, nothing." Eeshon answered. "I am hopeful, though, that your value to me will be in the giving back."
Archer shook his head, and regretted it immediately. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"
Eeshon walked over to a high table. "Please, have some water."
Deciding he could probably catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Archer followed him across the room, climbed into a too-tall chair, and accepted the drink. He knew enough about basic Avdevi protocol by now to expect a long, cordial introductory phase before Eeshon got to the point. He let one part of his mind wander as Eeshon launched into the Visitor Courtesies. He wondered if Hoshi had had any success in contacting the ship. It was clear by the time Eeshon finished speaking that Hoshi was not in his possession. Archer felt a part of himself relax.
"Okay, now that the courtesies are out of the way," he said, trying not to sound curt, "what do you mean by my value?"
"Quite simply, you are our hostage," Eeshon replied kindly. "I represent the Pindad movement, its leader, you might say. We intend to force our government to recognize us and provide us with Parliamentary representation."
"You need me for that?" Archer growled.
"Truly. You see, Avdev is, as you know, divided into castes, and within those castes are tribes. When the Parliament was established, generations ago, after the Great and Glorious Revolution, it was decided that only tribes of a certain size would have direct governmental representation. The tribes are grouped by caste, with the highest levels having, of course, the most power. This is clear?"
"I get you."
Eeshon frowned briefly, not recognizing the turn of phrase, but continued. "My tribe, the Mdonss, is part of the lowest caste, and after the Revolution, did not meet the minimum population standard for inclusion in government. We were divided among several other tribes for purposes of representation. We wield no power and have no voice."
"This is why you've launched an insurgency, and set off those explosions?"
"Of course the ruling class would label us 'insurgents,'" Eeshon remarked, "since we threaten its legitimacy. We are entitled to our seat in Parliament. We have made that request known."
"By blowing up buildings and killing innocent people," Archer retorted.
"If it is necessary to make our demands known, then, yes."
Archer took another sip of water. "You've been at this for a while?"
"Yes, since I was very young this has been our fight."
"Well, clearly your attacks don't seem to be getting you where you want to go," Archer pointed out. "What makes you think it'll work this time?"
Eeshon smiled thinly. "Because we have you."
Hoshi peered out from under the tangle of tree limbs, where she had taken refuge from the sudden downpour of rain. She huddled under the remnants of her formal green robe, lighter and less stiff now that she had ripped the lining out to make bandages. She reflected that the rain was probably a good thing; it allowed her a chance to rest and catch her breath, anyway. She estimated that she had walked about fifteen miles, trying to get to higher ground. "Fifteen miles, uphill," she giggled to herself a little hysterically, "both ways, in the snow – and we were grateful!" The thin air, even more pronounced now that she was at a higher elevation, was starting to get to her. She felt lightheaded and silly.
Pulling her attention forcibly back to her predicament, she wondered if the captain was even still alive. He had been awake, but still very weak, when she had departed. About seven hours after she had set out, she had seen a shuttlepod landing in the forest beneath her. Sometime later, she heard shouting and knew then that the Avdevi, and not the friendly ones, had found him. She stayed hidden on the side of her mountain, wanting desperately to run back to the clearing, but not daring to move. Her orders were clear: get to high ground and contact the ship. Archer would not look kindly upon her if she disobeyed and allowed herself to be captured, too. She was their only hope. When the sun was at its highest, the shuttlepod took off, disappearing over the horizon. They had missed her. So she had climbed on through the day and into the night, stopping only briefly to rest until sunrise. Late into the morning, the clouds had gathered ominously and opened up.
At least the rain would wash away any tracks she had left, she thought. She popped open the transmitter case and tried again to capture a signal. Using her fingertips, she twisted the tiny dials inside the device, listening intently for any change in the hum. She froze, and turned the dial back a millimeter. There it was, a soft, almost imperceptible transmission. She bent her entire attention to boosting the gain.
The Ambassador's offices were lushly appointed, and he ushered T'Pol, Reed, and Trip into the main suite. Reed had already been escorted to the forensics laboratory to comb through the data for clues to the captain's and Hoshi's whereabouts, but there was nothing to be gained there. He despaired of finding anything helpful as the trail grew colder.
The Ambassador looked grave. "I have just been informed that we are receiving a transmission," he began. "This is disturbing, since, as you know, communications have been shut down or scrambled. Nothing should be able to get through."
"From where is it originating?" T'Pol asked.
"It is impossible to say," the Ambassador's assistant, who had been introduced as Levral, replied. "The relay of the message changes every few seconds. It can't be traced."
It was audio only, a male voice that sounded curtly unlike the flowing, smooth tones of the Ambassador. "I am Caicpwat fd Eeshon, of the Pindad," it said, without any courtesies whatsoever. "We have Jonathan Archer. I will contact you again with our demands." The transmission went dead.
Well, hell, Hoshi thought, this, as the captain would say, is not good. She took the oversized earpiece out and stared at the horizon, trying to be grateful for small mercies, such as the knowledge that at least the captain was still alive.
Trip spoke into the profound silence of the conference room. "If you bounced that signal up to Enterprise, I bet we'd be able to trace it."
"Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to do that," replied the Ambassador. "It is very much against the law. Not even I can circumvent it."
"I don't give a rat's ass about breaking the law," Trip said, "if it means finding the captain in one piece." The Ambassador stared impassively back at him.
T'Pol said, "You know this Caicpwat fd Eeshon?" The syllables flowed easily off her tongue.
"He is the leader of the insurgency movement, the Pindad," the Ambassador said. "They have made demands of us in the past. They are a collection of minority groups seeking to destabilize and take over the government, and they are not above using terrorist means to do it. That they have kidnapped your captain is proof enough that they were behind the bombing."
"But they only mentioned the captain," Reed observed. "Not a word about Ensign Sato. She must be still out there somewhere. But where?"
Archer picked at the bread and fruit on the plate in front of him. His head throbbed mercilessly, and his stomach was unsettled. He pretended to eat in order to avoid offending Eeshon. "So was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?" he asked, pushing the fruit around with his finger.
"You were always a part of this plan," Eeshon said. "As an honored guest, you constitute leverage we did not have previously." Eeshon leaned forward. "Since I have never met one of your species before, I must say that I am gratified that you did not die in the demonstration as expected."
That jolted Archer. "You meant to kill me? That was the whole point?"
"When your visit was announced, we set our plan in motion. You see, the killing of an Honored Guest while he is under the protection of the government, or as a result of government action – or as in this case, inaction – is a shameful thing; even the most indifferent high born Avdevi would share in the outrage. And outrage is a perfect trigger for revolution." He smiled. "Of course, since my tribe and other dis-voiced peoples in my caste have multiplied over the generations, we now outnumber some of the highest castes. We have been preparing for war for some time now."
"But now they know that I wasn't killed. So your plan won't work." Archer fought to keep down his outrage. Coming face to face with his own attempted assassination made his head pound even harder.
"Ah, but now they must as a government negotiate with the Pindad. And if they refuse, we shall go to the humans, and demand that they give us the weapons and technology to advance our cause, in return for your release." He spread his hands. "Your Starfleet will surely see the justice of our position, and must intervene to save your life."
Archer's voice was hollow as he repeated the words he had heard all his career. "Starfleet doesn't negotiate with terrorists."
Eeshon didn't flinch. "Then we will implement our original plan and execute you publicly. Parliament will be unable to justify its failure to save your life." He held both hands out in front of himself, palms up, as if weighing two objects. "This is a plan; that is a plan. Either way, the result is the same."