The scan was being blocked.

With a frown that briefly marred her expression, T'Pol readjusted the settings on the specialized tricorder and directed a second scan at the target warehouse. The investigation had brought them here, to this location, and all of her instincts and training were directing her toward the nondescript building at the far end of Corridor GS-A.

"Ma'am," Eisler said softly, nodding toward GS-A-19C. "It's that one." She gave the structure in question another brief glance before directing a third scan at it. The readings remained indeterminate and T'Pol nearly frowned once more: although she agreed with his assessment, she disliked acting without incontrovertible proof, disliked 'acting on her gut' as Trip would put it.

"Elaborate," she ordered and the tactical officer gave her a sidelong look, as if to determine whether she was merely humoring him. At her blank expression, he spoke again.

"Everything about it screams 'go away,'" he replied. "It's the most rundown of the five, yet has the best view of this ..." he trailed off, studied the corridor for a moment before deciding upon the most accurate word, "street. Aside from the outer airlock it has only one entrance, which can be easily defended if necessary. The viewports are sealed up indicating a lack of use, despite the state-of-the-art comm dish on its roof." T'Pol blinked - she had not noticed the dish - but his reasoning was nearly identical to her own. Once more, she found herself revising her opinion of Lieutenant Commander Eisler.

"It is likely any occupants are aware of our presence," she mused aloud, reaching for her communicator. Eisler nodded in agreement as he drew his phase pistol and checked its charge. "T'Pol to Endeavour." Static was the only reply, and she fought the urge to frown yet again. "T'Pol to Endeavour." At her glance, the lieutenant commander drew his own communicator.

"Eisler to Endeavour." He flipped it shut without making a second attempt and replaced it; from his expression, T'Pol surmised he was waiting for orders. She did frown then; it was not an ideal situation.

Flicking another glance at the unassuming-looking structure, she raced through the options she had at hand even as she reflected on what she had gleaned from studying the station layout. Squat and wide, the warehouse was a standard storage facility built directly into the docking ring itself. If it had not been modified – of which there was no guarantee - it would consist of two separate chambers: the warehouse proper and the docking airlock beyond.

The probability that the mystery Vulcan was inside remained quite high, and each moment that they did not act was another moment for the rogue to slip away. Contacting Endeavour for reinforcements would require one or both of them to withdraw out of the range of whatever was jamming the communications, an option which T'Pol found entirely unacceptable. It would further take (she did some rapid calculations in her head) a minimum of twelve point seven minutes for a security team to arrive. In the end, there really wasn't any other choice.

"Set your weapon to stun," she told Commander Eisler as she drew her own phase pistol from its disguised holster on her belt. Without a word, he began moving toward the warehouse and she fell into step a little over two meters behind him.

They reached the warehouse entrance without incident, though no one could mistake their approach as anything but aggressive. T'Pol studied the access pad as Eisler drew something from his jacket. It was unmistakably a grenade but of a make that she did not recognize: spherical and perhaps 6 centimeters in width, it had two narrow strips of metal along its surface that she recognized as magnetic attractors. The ex-MACO armed the explosive and hurled it upwards at the comm-dish; unerringly drawn to its target, the grenade attached itself to the base of the dish and detonated with a hollow boom, shredding the comm equipment in a flash of fire. Another grenade appeared in his hand - this one a stun grenade instead of an actual anti-personnel device - as she input a code hardwired into all Vulcan stations, a code that few outside the Ministry of Security knew.

With barely a sound, the warehouse door slid open.

Eisler sent the stun grenade sliding through the entranceway before the door was fully open and, mere seconds later, it exploded with a strobe of blinding light that would ostensibly incapacitate all within ten meters. Through the door he went, his pistol out and braced; T'Pol followed a mere heartbeat later, peeling off to face the opposite direction as he.

The warehouse itself was surprisingly small - perhaps ten meters square at its largest - and was packed with dozens of large crates, many of which were covered by airtight plastic. Very little light illuminated the room and what little did exist was faint and erratic, flickering at odd moments to cast long and sinister shadows across the floor and walls. A high-pitched buzz could be heard from somewhere deeper in the room, drowning out most ambient noise. She nearly flinched at the overpowering stench that assaulted her olfactory senses as recognition came at once.

Detonex.

A whisper of movement was her only warning; but it was just enough, and she let herself flow into a defensive roll as a figure lunged out of the darkness at her. Strong hands wrapped around her wrist but her sudden collapse and her own not-inconsiderable strength caught her foe by surprise, dragging him off-balance long enough for her to send him flying into one of the crates with a defensive throw. As she quickly rolled to her feet, the sound of a struggle let her know that Eisler was engaged as well.

Light illuminated her opponent for the briefest of moments and she felt surprise wash over her: she had been expecting a Vulcan. Topping two meters in height, the alien bore a striking resemblance to a reptilian Xindi, prompting her to immediately suspect an offshoot species of some kind. A curiously familiar scent covered the reptilian but she did not pause to identify the smell as the creature sprang up from where it had fallen. With a hissing growl, it lunged at her, talon-tipped fingers curved in anticipation of rending flesh.

So she shot it.

The stun beam caught the reptilian square in the face, staggering but not dropping it. She squeezed the trigger again, not bothering to shift her aim, and sent another stream of phased energy into it. With a half hiss, half whimper, it collapsed at her feet, still twitching. She shot it again, just to be sure.

Eisler limped toward her, blood running down the side of his face from a ragged gash. Glancing behind him, she was unsurprised to find his opponent down. What was surprising, however, was the sight of the knife hilt standing out of the reptilian's chest. She frowned; they needed prisoners, not corpses. He opened his mouth to reply to her unspoken criticism, no doubt to defend his use of lethal force.

He gave no warning.

Moving faster than a human had any right to, Commander Eisler suddenly gave her a powerful shove, knocking her to one side even as a stream of light flashed out of the darkness. It struck the tactical officer low in the stomach, hurling him backwards and into a large stack of crates. Without a sound, he collapsed under an avalanche of boxes that buried his unmoving form. Her phase pistol at the ready, T'Pol was already spinning in place.

She wasn't fast enough.

Searing light burned through her upper chest, slicing into the pectoral muscle just below her clavicle, and she cried out in pain. Involuntarily, her arm spasmed and the phase pistol clattered to the floor. Another pulse of fire slashed out and cut into her left leg, slicing into her hamstring with a caress of flame. Suddenly unable to support her weight, the leg folded, dropping her to her back with a jarring thud that sent spikes of pain up her spine. Her head struck something hard as she fell and, for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, her vision wavered. With the last gram of her inner resolve, T'Pol struggled against the pain, fought to maintain her tenuous grip on consciousness. Distantly, she was aware of Trip's sudden panic as her mate felt her distress.

She reached for the phase pistol.

A boot came down on her hand and a scream was torn from her lips as she felt bones fracture under the impact. Agony raced up her arm, burning away coherent thought. Struggling to maintain focus, she looked up at the face of the boot's owner. Terror overwhelmed her then as a familiar scent flooded her nose and a voice drifted out of her nightmares.

"How interesting." A smile touched his lips but not his eyes.

Tolaris.