A/N: This chapter is a little more violent, so parental discretion is advised. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Okay. It's not really violent per se, but it's not exactly what I'd call pleasant.
Reviews are always appreciated. There are still a good many sad puppies out there.
Chapter Five: Secrets
Archer could only stare at Harris. "Andorians?" he asked. It made absolutely no sense. What were Andorians doing this far out into space, and why were they contacting him? He wondered momentarily if it were Shran, but if it were, the Andorian commander would have identified himself on the message. "What do they want?"
Harris moved her fingers swiftly across the console, waited a beat, then turned back to the captain. "They want to talk to you."
Archer furrowed his brow. He wished that T'Pol were there to give him advice. He could use a second opinion. But what harm could it do to see what they wanted? He nodded to Harris. "On screen."
The Andorian that appeared on the view screen looked nothing like Shran. Obviously, he had the blue skin and antennae characteristic of all Andorians, but his hair was slightly darker, his body built shorter and stockier, and Archer could tell from the man's expression that he had absolutely no sense of humor.
Perfect, he thought. The Andorian equivalent of Ambassador Soval. Just what I needed right now.
The Andorian language was already programmed into the universal translator, so when the Andorian spoke, Archer could understand what he was saying. "You are the captain of this vessel?" he asked.
"I'm Jonathan Archer, captain of the starship Enterprise – an Earth vessel." The statement was purely habitual at this point.
"I am called Akkenar," said the Andorian.
There was a moment of silence, during which Archer expected Akkenar to elaborate, but when the Andorian said nothing, Archer asked, "What is it that you want?" He was unsure whether or not to address him as "captain", since the Andorian had not indicated that he was the captain of the ship.
Akkenar drew his head back and straightened in his chair, making him seem taller. Though not by much. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."
Archer cocked an eyebrow. "That's news to me," he said with a chuckle.
Akkenar did not look amused, confirming Archer's assumption that the man had no sense of humor. "We have been scanning for our missing property for quite some time, and we have reason to believe that it is located on your ship."
"Captain," Archer said, growing angry now and not really caring whether or not he addressed him incorrectly, "I can assure you that we have not taken your property."
"I'll be the judge of that," said Akkenar. "I would like to come aboard your ship and conduct a search myself."
Now Archer really wished Trip and T'Pol were on Enterprise – or at least that he could talk to them. He didn't like this at all, but what choice did he have? According to T'Pol, Andorians were an extremely volatile race. If he refused Akkenar's request – demand was more like it – it was quite possible that they would open fire on Enterprise, and the last thing Archer wanted at the moment was a firefight. Without his chief engineer and his tactical officer, attempting to engage the Andorians in battle would be suicide. Perhaps their best option was to allow Akkenar to conduct his search. When he did not find his property, he would leave – hopefully.
"Very well," Archer said. "If it's what I have to do to prove that we don't have your property, then I will allow you to come aboard."
Akkenar nodded solemnly. "Very good, Captain." He turned around to address his invisible crew. "Begin docking procedures."
Archer almost suggested using the transporter, but he refrained. He wasn't sure how much of the incident at P'Jem Shran had relayed to the rest of his species, and if knowledge of the transporter was still unknown, Archer intended to keep it that way. They may still need to use it.
"Travis," Archer said, turning on his heel and marching off the bridge, "you have the bridge."
He grabbed a couple members of Malcolm's security team and proceeded to docking port A to meet Akkenar. When the Andorian appeared, Archer had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Akkenar's clothes were completely different from anything he had ever seen Shran wear – they were purple robes made of some kind of thick, velvety material and lined with what looked like fur. Akkenar himself was a good head shorter than Archer and fairly heavyset. His hands were resting on his generous belly, and he looked like an Andorian Santa Claus.
The Andorians that followed behind Akkenar looked more like the ones Archer had encountered before. They were tall and thin, wearing the same uniforms that Shran and his crew wore. There were at least half a dozen of them.
"Captain Archer," Akkenar said, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you for your cooperation. This will not take long."
Akkenar gestured at one of his bodyguards, who stepped forward, holding what appeared to be a hand scanner at arm's length. "This is Selak," Akkenar said. "He is my chief medical officer."
Selak nodded at Archer as he was introduced, but said nothing. He led the way through the corridors, with Akkenar close on his heels. Archer followed Akkenar, and the security team and remaining Andorians brought up the rear.
For a while, the beeping of the scanner was the only noise, but Archer could take the silence no longer. "May I ask what it is you think we have?"
"An abomination," said Akkenar. "Something that should not even have been created. It is our responsibility to destroy it."
Curious as to what it could be, Archer waited for Akkenar to elaborate, but once again, the Andorian did not. They lapsed into silence once more, broken only by the beeping of the scanner as they continued their way through the ship.
"If you're only going to destroy it," said Archer, intrigued in spite of himself, "then why is it so important if we have it?"
Akkenar looked at him seriously. "This abomination is against nature. Those responsible for its creation have been dispatched. We tried to dispose of it many years ago but were unable to do so. We had hoped that others would not learn of its existence. It has contaminated many planets."
Now Archer was worried. Had they unknowingly let some horrible alien creation onto Enterprise? But he couldn't even think of when such a thing would have occurred. Altara was the first planet they had been to in months, and the only things they had brought back from Bulzama were the plants on which Phlox was currently conducting experiments – nothing that seemed manufactured or dangerous in any way. "Is my crew in any danger?"
"If the abomination is on board, you may very well be." Akkenar sounded so grim that Archer could not help but believe him.
They made their way through the ship, with Selak scanning on every deck. There was very little conversation, only the beeping of the scanner to break the silence. The deeper into the ship they went, the more Archer became convinced that Akkenar had been mistaken. Whatever they were searching for, it obviously wasn't on board Enterprise.
"Sir," Selak said, once they had arrived in the very bowels of the ship. "It isn't here, sir."
Akkenar looked furious. "You assured me that it was here."
"It would appear that I have been mistaken," said Selak. He sounded fearful. "If it were on board, the scanner would have detected it." Selak cast a brief glance at Archer before returning his attention to Akkenar. "Perhaps I should scan the surface of the planet, sir?"
Akkenar grunted in response. Selak fiddled with some of the controls on the scanner, and the beeping resumed. Akkenar turned to Archer. "What have you done with it?" he asked, his voice a growl.
Archer narrowed his eyes. Convinced that they had never been in possession of whatever Akkenar thought they had, he was now angered by the insinuation that they had stolen it. "Now, wait a minute. I've been extremely cooperative throughout this whole mess. And now your officer has told you that we don't have your property, and you continue to accuse me of – "
"It was here," said Akkenar, in the same growl as before. "I know it was here. What have you done with it? What have you done with the half-breed?"
Archer's blood suddenly went cold. Half-breed? he thought. He couldn't mean Kamea. Could he? He ran through his and Akkenar's conversation. He had claimed that those responsible for its creation had been dispatched. Hadn't Kamea's parents been responsible? Kamea had never revealed what had happened to her parents – not to anyone; she'd only said that they had died and left it at that. And she had never given a reason as to why she had left Earth so abruptly – or why she had never returned. Was it possible that these Andorians had been chasing Kamea for nearly eight years, and that was why she never stayed in one place too long, and why she whispered "danger" in her sleep?
He knew he should have forced her to talk the moment she was conscious that first day in sickbay. He'd been thinking about it ever since their encounter with the Ferengi weeks ago, after she admitted to having had a run in with them before. He'd been afraid that some of her old friends would return.
Something else suddenly occurred to Archer. Selak was apparently having no problems scanning the surface of the planet, even though Enterprise was unable to get a clear reading. The interference T'Pol had originally believed was due to the atmosphere was obviously the Andorians jamming their signals. For if Enterprise could not send communications, they could not call for help; they could not alert anyone to the presence of the Andorians.
"Sir?" Selak said, sounding excited. "I've found it, sir."
A lead ball dropped into Archer's stomach. Kamea was in danger. And if Kamea was in danger, then the entire away team was also in danger. Most of his senior staff were down there, including his best friend. He had to warn them somehow.
"Well," Akkenar said, after having looked at the readings on Selak's scanner, "I have wasted too much of your time, Captain. I will take my leave now, and reclaim what is rightfully mine."
Arhcer opened his mouth, intent on ordering the security team to subdue them, but before he could speak, the half a dozen bodyguards had leveled their weapons at Archer and the security guys. Greatly outnumbered, an unable to defend himself, Archer had no choice but to let them go.
Trip couldn't remember a time when he had been more bored. Well, there was that time when he was visiting the Xyrillian ship, and he'd had to stay in the decompression chamber for a good twelve hours. But somehow, perhaps because it was so long ago, this trumped that. He sat in the pilot's chair of the shuttle pod, basically examining his fingers. He couldn't raise Enterprise, he couldn't contact the other members of the away team, and he couldn't leave the shuttle pod to do his own exploring, in case the others came back early.
He wished he'd brought something with him, but as he hadn't been anticipating having to stay planet side, the thought had not occurred to him. So he entertained himself by trying to recite all the lines from The Godfather, and he was probably about halfway through Connie's baby's christening when T'Pol and Hoshi returned from their search.
"Hey," he said, coming out of the shuttle pod to greet them. Hoshi smiled at him, and T'Pol inclined her head. "Find anything?"
T'Pol shook her head. "No. Whatever is causing the interference, it does not seem to be coming from the surface."
Hoshi wandered off, probably examining the clearing. Trip had already memorized every blade of grass, what with all the time he'd spent here. He looked at T'Pol. "Is it natural?"
She cocked her head to the side. "I'm not certain. Without any information, I cannot infer a conclusive answer." She gave a small sigh. "It is highly irritating."
Trip lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Ah, maybe we're just caught in a solar flare or an ionic storm or something."
T'Pol nodded thoughtfully. "We can't rule out anything at this point in time." She paused, her eyes darting about the clearing. When they settled back on him, she asked, "I trust you were able to keep yourself amused?"
He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I'm going to start carrying a book everywhere I go."
Hoshi appeared from around the corner of the shuttle pod, glancing around her. "Aren't Kamea and Malcolm back yet?"
"No," Trip said, shaking his head.
"They should be back by now," Hoshi said, her voice filled with concern. "Shouldn't they?"
He glanced at his watch. "We're not supposed to rendezvous for another twenty minutes. They're probably on their way back right now."
Hoshi did not look convinced. "Malcolm's always early. I thought he'd be back before us. Should we go look for them?"
Trip laid a hand on Hoshi's shoulder. "Don't jump the gun just yet, Hoshi. They still have twenty minutes. Give them time. I'm sure everything's fine."
The farther down the trail they went, the more concerned Kamea became. She couldn't sense anything. The village was just ahead, and she couldn't sense any of its inhabitants. She could smell death everywhere, and she couldn't sense anyone. There wasn't even the tiniest blip in the back of her head to suggest that they were still alive. Clearly something had happened, but what?
She increased her pace, practically running through the muck. She heard Malcolm behind her and knew that he was confused, but she couldn't stop to explain anything now. She had to get to the village.
As she entered the clearing, her heart momentarily stopped beating. Where the village should have been, there was nothing. The thatch huts had been reduced to cinders; some of the foundations were still smoking. Kamea's heart pounded in her ears. This had obviously been the scene of a massive battle. The fence, which ran the perimeter of the village, had been destroyed – crushed – in more than one place, as though an army had just crashed through it. The entire clearing reeked of death and decay. Kamea could almost taste the blood in the air. It made the bile rise in her throat.
Malcolm slowed to a stop directly behind her, and though she couldn't see his expression, she had a pretty good idea what it looked like. He hovered at her shoulder, his breathing heavy. "Bloody hell," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What in God's name happened here?"
Against her better judgment, Kamea inched closer to the village. Every impulse she possessed was telling her to run, but her body refused to obey. She had to know what had happened. The stench was overpowering. Kamea had to cover her nose with her hand, and still it seeped through her fingers. Bodies were strewn about; some lay draped over the fence. Some were still lying where they had been killed. And, Kamea realized with horror, some had been nailed to nearby trees. Their four arms splayed in all directions – it looked as though their arms had been broken, some in more than one place. Their eyes were glassy, frozen open in fear. Their mouths were stuck in eternal screams. Kamea had never seen anything quite so horrific.
"Who would do this?" Malcolm asked. Kamea couldn't bring herself to turn around and look at him, but she could tell what he was thinking nonetheless. The revulsion he felt at what he was seeing was evident in the tone of his voice. "You said they don't even have weapons."
"They don't," she said. Her eyes remained riveted on the bodies that lay in front of her; she was unable to look away. "They didn't."
"This is recent," Malcolm said. She could hear him begin to move, picking his way through the debris. "The embers of the fires are still glowing. Whoever did this, they may still be on the surface." His breath hitched. "We have to get back to the shuttle pod. We can't stay here."
Kamea couldn't argue with his reasoning, but her feet refused to move. She stood immobile, staring at the Altaran at her feet. She recognized him. His name was Gunthark, and he had been the one who had informed her of the existence of the pod in which she had escaped. Gunthark had been brutally beaten; his injuries seemed to be the most extensive of them all.
Malcolm appeared at her elbow. His hand on her arm jerked her out of her trance. "Kamea? We should go. Now."
She nodded mutely, her tongue thick in her mouth. She allowed Malcolm to grip her elbow and lead her toward the forest.
They were almost at the fence when her entire body seized up. Her muscles locked in place. Pain shot through her – her head felt as though it were about to explode. She closed her eyes against the pain, but her limbs were on fire. And beyond the pain there was something else, something far more intense – fear. Her stomach churned as the fear coursed through her body, and images flashed before her closed eyes.
Fear. Things coming from the trees in all directions. No warning. Just thunder and lightning. Homes on fire. Life slipping away from the villagers. Everyone running in all directions, screaming, crying. No one spared – women, children, all slaughtered at the hands of those with the thunder. A glimpse of blue skin and antennae. Then darkness.
Kamea violently broke free of the images and collapsed to the ground, shaking. She emptied her stomach beside her, unable to move. Her muscles still ached; her head continued to throb. She could hear Malcolm calling to her, but she couldn't make out the words. His words sounded muffled and far away, as though he were somewhere else. It felt like she was trapped in some nether region, and the fog that clung to the surface did little to alleviate that notion.
The meaning behind the images hit her with incredible finality. Her fault. This was all her fault. The Andorians had done this – Akkenar and his crew. They had come searching for her and, for as yet unknown reasons, had wiped out the entire species. Had they staged the attack to flush her out? Or had they killed the Altarans for their refusal to help? Either way, this had happened because of her.
She was going to be sick again.
And she was. But she had at least managed to crawl several feet away from the first spot. Her stomach now empty, she could only heave, but when the nausea had passed, she crawled farther away and curled herself into a ball. The nausea she could deal with, but the guilt was overwhelming.
"Kamea?"
The sound of her name brought her slowly back from the brink, and she was dimly aware of someone scooping her up into his arms and carrying her outside the perimeter of the village. She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent.
Malcolm.
He continued to carry her down the trail, and as they left the village behind, her mind began to clear. The wave of nausea had passed, her head was no longer pounding, and her muscles were stiff but no longer hurt. But the guilt was still there.
"Malcolm?" she said, hardly recognizing her voice. It sounded so small, so fragile.
He looked at her but continued walking. "Yes?" His eyes were full of concern, and she was illogically flattered by the tenderness he was demonstrating, even though they were supposedly mad at each other.
She blinked dolefully and exhaled slowly. She could no longer keep this to herself. She had already endangered him and the rest of the crew by hiding this information, and now an entire species had been obliterated because she was being selfish. She loved being on Enterprise, and she'd feared that if Captain Archer and the others knew the truth, they would have forced her to leave. So she'd kept it a secret, hoping that it wouldn't come back to bite her on the ass. And now it had caught up to her, and people's lives were in danger. Well, it was about to stop. This was not the kind of person she was.
She lost herself in the deep blue of his eyes, but somehow managed to say, "I have to tell you something."
