"They will want to negotiate for power," the Ambassador said, "and the Parliament will reject any overtures."
"Who, exactly, are 'they,'" Reed asked, trying to get a handle on the situation. T'Pol listened thoughtfully as the Ambassador explained again, in more historical detail. Trip simply prowled the room. They had been given a suite at the Embassy to use as a base. It contained comfortable, if oversized, beds, which all three Enterprise officers ignored.
Despite the accommodations, there were tight restrictions on any access to official planetary resources. The Prime Minister, trying to contain the mounting disaster, had declared a state of emergency, and had ordered guards posted outside the door to the suite. The Ambassador, who technically had no jurisdiction as long as this remained solely a domestic situation, could only relay information as he received it. He neglected to mention T'Pol's communicator to the Prime Minister.
Which communicator, at this moment, began to vibrate. T'Pol slipped it out of her pocket and identified herself. It was Doctor Phlox.
"I have completed my analysis of the sample you left me," he said. The doctor's tone was characteristically jaunty even as he delivered the sobering news. "It is a match to the captain's blood, no doubt about it. I found no trace of the ensign's DNA, which I suppose is a good sign."
"Understood, Doctor." T'Pol said, catching Reed's eye. "Continue to stand by." She began to close the connection, when Reed snatched the device from her hand, convinced he was hearing things.
"What is that sound?" he exclaimed, increasing the volume to maximum. He waited, and in the next few seconds, they all heard it, a peculiar staccato static, interspersed with short bursts of silence. "There's a pattern there. It's – it's Morse Code." He closed his eyes in concentration. "Sato to Enterprise. Sato to Enterprise." Profoundly grateful for his family legacy of service to the Royal Navy, he began to tap with his finger, translating aloud as he went. "Enterprise here."
A pause. Then, "Come and get me."
Reed tapped back, "Where are you?"
"How the hell should I know?" He could almost hear her impatience.
"Contact the ship for a scan," Trip demanded.
"All scanning capabilities are jammed," the Ambassador reminded them. "I do not have the authority to override the state of emergency. But we know the general area of the crash; perhaps your ensign could give us a description of the terrain?"
It took a substantial amount of back and forth, with Hoshi painstakingly and slowly spelling out her approximate location. When they had enough information, it was decided that involving official forces would only complicate matters. So the Ambassador sent his assistant in his personal transport vehicle to retrieve her. They reluctantly maintained radio silence to avoid alerting either the government or the insurgency of her whereabouts.
Trip concluded that Levral must have broken all existing air and land speed records in retrieving Hoshi, because, according to his chronometer, only four hours passed until she was stepping through the door. Ignoring protocol altogether, and appalling the Ambassador, for whom the concept of personal space was sacred, Trip and Reed each enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. When they finally let go, T'Pol's gaze scanned her from head to toe, noting her scrapes and bruises. "Welcome back, Ensign," she said.
"Thank you, Sub-Commander." Relief made her tremble.
"I understand that you want to return to Enterprise as soon as possible," T'Pol said, "but first, we should debrief. The captain is still missing, and you may have information that will assist us in retrieving him."
"All I know is that the Pindad or whatever has him. I heard that much on this transmitter." She set the handheld device on the table and sat down.
"What was the captain's physical condition when you last saw him?" Reed asked.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He was in pretty bad shape, sir. Uh, I know he has a concussion, and probably a few broken ribs. I had to pop his shoulder back into place, because it was dislocated in the crash." Trip winced, and Hoshi caught it out of the corner of her eye. "He was conscious when I left – he ordered me to get to higher ground and try to send a signal," she added a little defensively, "and there was no way he could have made the hike. I saw them take off with him, though," she finished quietly.
"Any idea where they might have taken him?" Reed asked gently.
"No," Hoshi replied, "but you could probably pick up the global positioning signal." At their blank stares, she opened the handheld transmitter. "I took out the GPS component, which is why you couldn't track me. I tucked it between his bandages when I re-wrapped his ribs just before I left." She rubbed her eyes, which were gritty with fatigue. "Find the signal, find the captain."
"I have very little technological skill," offered the Ambassador quietly, "but I assume that if you carry this transmitter – which my staff never did recover from the crash site - to your ship, you may be able to isolate the GPS beacon as it hits the satellite relay. You will have to sort through thousands of automated signals among approximately sixty satellites, however, which could take some time."
"I thought all communications have been shut down," Trip said.
"Signals such as these are an exception. Without them, we would be unable to map weather patterns or monitor seismic activity. You certainly will not be able to have any ship to planet conversations, since you unfortunately were not able to bring down any of your own independent communications devices."
"We shall do our best under the circumstances, Ambassador," T'Pol replied, taking out her communicator and hailing Enterprise.
Ten hours later, T'Pol, Reed, and Trip were escorted into the presence of the Prime Minister, at her secure emergency headquarters. The Prime Minister and T'Pol exchanged courtesies for what seemed to Trip like a lifetime and a half, and then the Prime Minister turned her attention to the matter at hand.
"As you know, several of our Members of Parliament were killed in a dastardly attack a few days ago."
"We had heard," T'Pol said dryly.
"We have met in session for the past two days, discussing the situation and our options regarding the safe return of your esteemed and honorable captain." The Prime Minister folded her long hands on the table. "Four proposals for Pindad inclusion, for this is what we believe is the basis for this attack, have been made. All were defeated after full debate and open vote." She shook her head sorrowfully. "It seems we will not reach consensus on this issue."
"Let me appeal to the Members myself," T'Pol said. "Perhaps if I made a case from Enterprise's point of view, some compromise could be reached."
"Oh, no," the Prime Minister replied immediately. "Outworlders are not allowed to participate in debate."
"Jon - the captain addressed the assembly," Trip noted.
"There was no issue being presented."
"But, perhaps if the Members could be convinced of the urgency of the situation," T'Pol pressed, but the Prime Minister interrupted firmly but politely, "It is not done."
"A man's life is at stake," Trip pleaded.
"It is not done," the Prime Minister repeated.
Trip's argument was cut off by an incoming message. The Prime Minister nodded to her staff to answer the hail. It was audio only.
"You are ready to accede to our demands?" Eeshon said without opening pleasantries.
The Prime Minister said, somewhat imperiously, "Neither our position on this topic nor the law has changed. The legislature has determined that there will be no new elections. Your dastardly attack will not bend us."
"Then I must break you," Eeshon replied. "I wish to speak to the Starfleet representative. Only they can save you now."
T'Pol spoke calmly and slowly. "This is T'Pol, First Officer of the Starship Enterprise. We demand the release of our captain."
"Certainly," replied Eeshon in a casual tone, "as soon as you download and deliver to me the entire technological and tactical database of your starship."