A/N: Thanks for the feedback, I appreciate it. I agree, gammara, that T'Pol can be warm, but I also see her as professional and focused during a crisis. RMice: Point taken regarding use of "-san"; I fixed it.
Chapter Seven: Five More Reasons
Travis took another snapshot of the satellite array now coming into view of the space station. For the twenty-fifth time, he and Hoshi began to track the signals to and from the satellite as it orbited the small uninhabited moon.
This was delicate work, and the sheer intricacy of it kept his mind off what was happening planetside. There were sixty satellites, three moons and one large planet, all orbiting, or being orbited by, each other. Each satellite received approximately six thousand pulsating transmissions – containing information about everything from seismic shifts to solar wind gusts - per minute. Docked with the space station, Enterprise was in a geosynchronous orbit with one of the moons, not the planet, so every signal had to be captured, identified, and stored before the satellite moved out of range. Somewhere in that tangle of pulses was a lone GPS signal on the same frequency as the transmitter Hoshi held in her hand, hopefully throbbing out the captain's position.
There was only occasional conversation, for fear of missing some faint sound that could mean the difference between life and death for their captain. It had been four days already, and, given the needle-in-a-haystack nature of this task, Travis and Hoshi both knew that this could be their only hope.
"Moving out of range," Travis said softly. "Seventeen seconds until the next pick-up."
"I hope we haven't missed it already," Hoshi sighed. It would be over a day before they would be able to start over. "If the thing is even working."
"It's here somewhere, Hoshi, I know it is."
"Do you think –" Hoshi began.
"Shh! Did you catch that one?" Hoshi grabbed the transmitter and tried to home in on the signal. So close – there! The frequency matched, and she captured the coordinates in the computer. She threw her arms around Travis's neck, nearly popping his head off his shoulders as she jumped up and down with relief. He grinned at her. Now, all they had to do was pinpoint the captain's location – and hope that he didn't move.
In the Prime Minister's situation room, there was a shocked silence. Eeshon had suddenly upped the ante in a way that nobody had anticipated. So much for voting rights; it was clear that the Pindad were now intending to mount a full scale coup d'etat.
T'Pol looked at Reed as she replied, "That is not possible. I have no authority to do that."
"Let me assist you, then. Engage your view screen."
The large view screen in the situation room came to life, revealing an Avdevi seated at a table in a sparse and barren room. He lounged calmly in a chair, seeming almost smug. "Ah, how interesting, a Vulcan. Perhaps sometime you may relate to me how one of your species has come to serve aboard a human starship." He leaned forward slightly. "We each have something the other desires. I represent the government of the Pindad, which chooses to open diplomatic relations with Starfleet."
"Show me Jonathan Archer," T'Pol said, ignoring the political posturing. Eeshon didn't answer, but inclined his head slightly. The view expanded to encompass more of the nondescript room. There, encased in a white box with a clear front panel, sat the captain on the floor, knees drawn up. His cuts and bruises were still visible, and he was clearly exhausted. One short sleeve of his t-shirt hung empty, and he was barefoot. He had about him the look of a man determined to keep it together, but obviously losing hope. Eeshon rose and walked over to the cell.
"As you can see," he said, "your captain has not been harmed, at least not by us. So far, he has been exceptional company, despite our differences of opinion." He smiled gently. "Now, I will be pleased to arrange for his release in exchange for the data we seek."
"I told you, I am not authorized to comply."
Eeshon nodded, as if expecting this response. "Of course, there are proper channels in every endeavor, are there not. Captain Archer, please, order your First Officer to begin the download."
The captain ignored him. He needed to know one important thing first. Standing, pulling himself to his full height, military dignity very much in evidence, he addressed the view screen. "T'Pol, Hoshi?"
T'Pol replied coolly, "Situation resolved to your satisfaction."
The captain gave one satisfied nod, then said, "Set masu-hali putan'tor."
"Understood, Captain."
Excluded from this cryptic exchange, Eeshon repeated his request.
Archer raised his chin, and with a closed, hard expression, said clearly, "T'Pol, no deals. That's an order."
Out of range of the transmitter, Trip bowed his head and whispered, "Oh, Jon. . ."
"Captain," T'Pol started, but Archer cut her off, saying more forcefully, "You have your orders, T'Pol, no deals."
"Tsk," replied Eeshon, "that is unfortunate. Let me give you one reason to disobey that order, First Officer T'Pol." He turned and, raising an Avdevi phase pistol, fired one blast. The burst of energy hit Archer squarely, knocking him off his feet and sending him sliding across the floor. T'Pol leaned forward sharply and grasped the table, willing herself not to cry out in dismay.
The captain rolled painfully to his side, curled up protectively, moaning softly.
Eeshon half-turned back to the camera. "I trust my point has been made. Now, Captain, give the order. Please."
Archer huffed a few times, fighting unconsciousness. It would be so easy to give in, to say yes, surely T'Pol would find some way to get out of the deal once he was back safely on his ship. What difference did it make, anyway? Most of the data in the computers would be useless to Eeshon and his cause. He hurt so much. He could fake a promise, go back to the ship, and blow these ruthlessly polite people back to their own Stone Age, that would feel good. Oh, but he hurt so bad.
Eeshon gave him one more moment, then said, softly, almost kindly, "Captain. Please give the order."
Narrowing his eyes into that truculent, defiant expression his senior staff knew so well, he slid his hazel gaze sideways and glared at Eeshon. "Vaffanculo," he snarled.
Not even the highly sophisticated translation device in the Prime Minister's office could decipher that idiom, but Eeshon knew he had not gotten what he had asked for. "Then I will give you five more reasons," he said, and fired again.
This time, a beam caught Archer and set him on fire from the inside. His body defied gravity as it bowed backward impossibly. A vein visibly protruded from his neck as his face turned dusky red. "One, two, three, four, five," Eeshon counted slowly, then released the trigger. Archer slumped to the ground, and lay still.
"I will give you some time to think it over," Eeshon said to T'Pol, and ended the transmission.
This time, both Reed and T'Pol together could barely contain Trip as the commander rounded upon the Prime Minister. Her security guards immediately stepped in front of her and began to bundle her out the door as Trip yelled, "Lady, I don't care what your rules say, YOU GET YOUR BONY ASS TO THE BARGAINING TABLE AND GIVE THESE PEOPLE THEIR VOTE!"
"Commander," T'Pol said loudly, but Trip shouted over her.
"Don't TALK to me, T'Pol, about their damn laws, or rules, or protocol –"
"Commander –"
"I just watched my best friend get his CIRCUITS FRIED," his voice began to break, "and these people won't unbend even a little to SAVE his LIFE!"
"Commander, please –"
"I'm goin' up to Enterprise myself and I'm gonna send them every scrap of information in that database so they can blow those rigid idiots to hell and back!"
"Charles!" It took T'Pol's Vulcan strength to push Trip into a chair. Once there, he slumped forward with his head in his hands, knees spread, breathing heavily. He fought to get himself back under control.
After a moment, he sniffed and asked thickly, "What did he say to you?"
"When?"
"Just now, T'Pol, he said something to you that sounded like Vulcan. After he asked about Hoshi, he said, 'T'Pol, set something-something.' What did he say?"
She paused. "He said, 'T'Pol, the ship is yours.'"
Trip swallowed and hung his head, hands clasped so tightly, his knuckles turned white. "Y'know, I've known Jon for a lotta years, and I've never seen a look like that in his eyes." He turned his anguished face to Reed, who was close to losing his own composure. "He's not gonna last much longer."
T'Pol crouched down to look the engineer in the eye. She was not an unsympathetic creature, after all, and she understood that it was difficult for Trip to see his captain and friend treated this way and not be able to help. "Commander," she said softly, "the captain is a very strong man."
Trip chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "Of course he is, T'Pol; that's not the point. He's also a smart man. Smart enough to figure out that no hostage equals no bargaining chip."