Chapter Seven

Sides of Tragedy

Tia continues dragging the edge of the panel over the exposed circuits, trying to fight the waves of dizziness that assail her more and more frequently, tearing her balance from her, blurring her vision even worse than the perspiration pouring past her eyes. She can barely stay on her feet, hearing the distorted peaks in the static coming from the speakers before her, the rhythm of three slow scrapes, three fast and three slow, praying to Aura that someone will see hear the pattern in them and investigate; praying she is transmitting anything at all.

Sweat pouring down her face, her hair and uniform plastered to her, her body trembling and chilled from the increasing cold she knows has nothing to do with the temperature, she continues working.

The pain in her chest is fading to a dull ache, even against the loud triple beat of her pounding heart, and her breath is coming in sharper gasps, none of which is good. She knows the fading of pain from the gunshot wound is the worst sign of all; that the blood covering the front of her uniform means that much less in her, but she has to keep going. As long as there is a chance that someone can hear her, she has to —

A scraping behind her makes her look over her shoulder, the pain in her chest flaring with renewed fire as she turns quickly, fear chilling her as she sees a leg come through the door. The next thing that does is a large rifle.

She drops the panel and it lands with a loud clatter as she starts to lunge for the weapons locker. Her boot slips on the slick white powder and she falls with an agonized scream which reverberates in the small pod as the soldier entering the Pod turns to her, aiming his rifle!

xx

"But we're not Manaxians, damn it. Doesn't anyone beside you recognize that?"

"If they do, they don't care." Corporal Alah Korvakai tells Travis sadly. "This war has gone on so long on Bethesna, sides are taken there and here, and anyone who is not a Drailen is a Manaxian or an enemy spy or mercenary."

"What about mercenaries?"

"The Drailen use them, we use them; there are always people willing to fight; some for a cause, most for money. Sometimes we both wind up using the same race."

"We're not mercenaries." Liz exclaims through broken lips. The blood and bruises on her face only give hints of the damage to her body that they do not see. "I'm a scientist, a Biologist; from Earth, not Quonos. I'm going to be a Mother, and those fucking Bastards hurt my Baby!"

"What the hell are you fighting over anyway?" Travis demands, Liz's outburst having sapped the last of his patience.

Korvakai shakes her head. "Nothing. That's the tragedy. We're fighting over nothing."

"Nothing?" He demands, incredulous. They can't be fighting over nothing. There has to be something!

"Land. On Bethesna there is disputed territory claimed by both sides. Occupation of that land, several tremendous islands with arable surfaces large enough to feed millions, led to the fighting at home."

"And here?"

"Sides."

"Sides?" He yells, incredulity giving way to outrage.

"Manaxian colonists and Drailen colonists taking sides in the war at home."

Travis stares at her in cataclysmic outrage, unable to restrain his temper any longer. "Are you telling me that with an entire freaking planet at your disposal, you people are fighting over land you'll never need, see nor use; because someone else a trillion miles away is fighting over it?"

Alah nods regretfully. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Liz stares up from where she lies on her side on the ground, her fury mounting with every word. "Sucks? Sucks? We're shot down, our friends are killed, one of them murdered right before our eyes; we're interrogated, they beat the Hell out of me and I may lose my baby and you say it sucks?"

"I'm sorry."

"If I could get up; I'd show you 'sucks'!"

xx

"SHAR-LES!" Tia Anlor cries in rapturous relief from where she lies as the Chief Engineer follows the Security Guard through the hatch even as the other lowers his weapon, seeing only his shipmates aboard. Trip Tucker pushes past the man even as Captain Jonathan Archer and Dr. Phlox follow them into the confines of the ship. Phlox hurries forward to join his patient.

As Trip clutches her hands, the words they exchange being meaningless to him, Phlox runs his molecular scanner over the young woman's body, the blue light of it illuminating her. A fast scan is all he needs; the Auran's condition is quite obvious. He glances briefly at the other body, but the white powder covering it is not on the metal John Abrams lies upon. Clearly Abrams has not moved for hours, and had long been beyond the Denobulan's help. Tia, however, is a different matter. "I'm going to have to get her to Sick Bay immediately. She needs far more help than I can give her here."

Tia, ever since realizing she is safe, is trembling uncontrollably, her body shaking violently. She feels colder than ever, thoroughly wet within her uniform, and the Pod is spinning worse than when they'd crashed.

"Shot me, they did." She gasps, looking past Phlox to Trip, knowing she has to give him what she knows quickly. She sees his distress mount at her words, but there is nothing that can be done. "Soldiers … they were. Took Liz … and Travis … away." She pants breathlessly. "Many soldiers!" The pod spins wildly, nausea she can no longer fight welling up in her. "Fol … low … my … blood…" The pod crashes again, this time painlessly, and the universe goes out.

x

Trip Tucker has just released his beloved a moment before the beam of the matter transporter takes her and Phlox, the spot they'd occupied a moment before empty now. It is an extraordinary action, but only one of many in this hour. He stands up, exiting the Pod even before Archer and the guard. Outside, three other guards have established a wide perimeter, while Malcolm Reed and four others form an inner ring about the crashed Pod.

It had taken several applications of the transporter to beam down this many personnel, but when the ship had received the odd signal from the surface, allowing them to establish the location of the shuttle even over the pervading energies blocking sensors and other readings, the officers of Enterprise had been ready to move.

It had been clear that Shuttlepod One would be too slow to reach the surface, detectable as it was during its entire approach. The first wave of guards on station at the transporter had landed as soon as a location was determined, even before Archer, Reed and Tucker had left the bridge.

Outside, the two teams have already established the line of blood, Security Officer Jim Cein virtually standing on it. As soon as Captain Archer is out of the debris that had once been Shuttlepod Two, he signals to Reed and the entire detachment moves off, following the line of blood along the nearly dry riverbank.

They reach the point where the blood trail began a little less than two hundred meters away; and to anyone who can read the signs in the ground, the horrible tale is told with merciless clarity.

Furthermore, no effort had been made to hide or disguise the incoming or outgoing paths taken by the soldiers or their two remaining captives, and onto that trail the Enterprise crew sets themselves with deadly resolve.

xxx

Following their eyes as well as tricorder readings, the party has no trouble holding the trail along the river and up the left bank. The disguised metal trap door in no way resembles native bedrock to the tricorder. This close to it; their sensors cannot be prevented from finding the tunnel. In fact, Reed theorizes they are under, or within, the jamming shield and therefore not affected by it. "I have them;" Reed reports, extending his tricorder out toward the southwest, "two hundred seventy eight meters in that direction; one hundred nine below the surface."

"Can we get down there and get them out?" Archer asks tersely. Reed shakes his head.

"I'd pit my people against any even remotely equivalent force, but readings indicate there are thousands of life signs under the ground. The area stretches more than two kilometers in every direction."

"We could beam in." Tucker suggests. Archer shakes his head.

"The transporter can handle only three at a time. It'll take four transports to move ten men in, and get twelve back to the ship."

"The first transports will be crucial." Reed says. "I recommend myself and two guards directly to their coordinates. If we can, we'll secure them and get right back out to the ship. If that doesn't work, then you lot can move in in force." Archer considers it for a moment; then nods sharply.

"Request permission to be in the first team." Cein breaks in.

Archer shakes his head. "No, Ensign, not yet. This is going to be a fast strike; hopefully in and out. Considering Miss Anlor's condition, we can't be sure of what we'll find down there. If Reed and the others can get her out, you'll be on the first group back to the Enterprise."

Cein wants to protest, but does not. If what he'd heard of Anlor's condition was any indication of what had happened to Liz, he would teach these 'soldiers' just what war was all about! But until then, he has to recognize Archer is giving him all he can. This operation needs fast, coordinated workmanship; not someone who might be distracted, if even for an instant.

In the moment it had taken for this exchange, Reed selected his men. He opens his communicator. This, or any communication, is a risk that cannot be avoided. "Enterprise, read tricorder upload. Three transports to coordinates." He snaps the antenna grid closed and closes the tricorder. Hopefully the signals have been brief enough.

Reed and his men stand back to back in a triangular formation, drop to their right knees in practiced unison; raise their phase rifles and the transporter takes their bodies in a blaze of scintillating light.