Disclaimer: Only the plot and the characters whose names you can't pronounce are mine.
Pronunciation: S'Trep - Sə-trep. The apostrophe has the same function as in T'Pol's name. It creates a "break" in the word so that the letters are pronounced separately rather than as a single syllable. Stress is on the first syllable.
Fenzin - phonetic, short e and short i. Stress on first syllable.
Ayaila - aye-ail-ah. Stress on second syllable.
Entek - Phonetic, both e's are short. Stress on first syllable.
A/N: Again: plot holes are [probably] intentional. There are supposed to be inconsistencies in this chapter.
In the week since the Enterprise had entered Orion space, sensors had almost continually picked up between one and four ships trailing behind at a safe distance. Nothing had ever come within weapons range – somewhat to the disappointment, Tucker thought, of the Armoury crew. Apparently the Orions considered the Enterprise either too large or too formidable of a target to attack openly. Even so, the presence of Orion ships kept the crew of the Enterprise on high alert. That wasn't a bad thing. After three weeks of almost nothing to do, Tucker had experienced difficulties keeping his staff from becoming complacent, and he knew the problem was not limited to engineering. The presence of a threat, real or perceived, provided a welcome opportunity for them all to do real work instead of training exercises.
Despite the re-energizing effect of the threat, nothing had come of it so far. Tucker could see the boredom slowly growing again. Conscious as he was of the possible threat behind them, even Tucker was becoming frustrated with the inability to investigate any of the several M-class planets the Enterprise had passed near. He well understood the arguments against such an expedition. That didn't mean he agreed with the decision not to.
Out of lack of anything better to do, Tucker spent most of his time on the bridge except when administrative duties or routine maintenance called him elsewhere. He was there when, on the seventh day since entering Orion space, the communications array picked up an unexpected signal.
"Captain, I'm picking up a distress call," Sato reported.
"Source?"
Sato looked strangely puzzled. Instead of replying, she spoke to the science officer. "T'Pol, would you take a look at this?"
The Vulcan raised a curious eyebrow as she joined Sato at the communications console. "What is it, Ensign?"
The two conferred in lowered voices. Archer waited impatiently.
"Hoshi?"
Sato looked up, bewilderment clear on her face. "Sir, I don't know how, but…it's a Starfleet frequency."
In Archer's face, Tucker saw the same blinding flash of realisation that he felt. Starfleet had no presence this far out. Starfleet had never even been this far out before. There was only one unaccounted-for source that could produce such a signal.
"Malcolm," Tucker breathed soundlessly. He saw the thought reflected back at him across the bridge.
"Source?" Archer asked again.
"About ten million kilometres, sir."
T'Pol returned to the science station with long, sure strides. Tucker wondered if the same thought had occurred to her, too.
"A small vessel of unknown configuration, Captain. It is being pursued by two larger vessels. It appears to be unarmed."
"Get us there," Archer commanded Mayweather, grimly. Tucker felt a rush of adrenaline. His hands were damp. "Covan, polarize the hull plating and charge phase cannons. Give them a warning shot first, but fire at will if they target us or that ship."
It seemed to take a lifetime to get in range of the threatened vessel. It was a lifetime, Tucker thought: Reed's lifetime. He felt a swell of goodwill towards the Andorian tactical officer when Covan opened fire with a mighty blast from the super-charged phase cannons, directly between the two larger ships. The Enterprise swooped protectively down over the smaller vessel. Somewhat to Tucker's disappointment, the hostile ships fled instantly, without waiting to ask questions.
"Hail that ship," Archer ordered Sato. His voice was tense with uncertain expectation.
"Onscreen," Sato said. Tucker's chest tightened with hope.
The face that appeared on the viewscreen, however, was not Reed's. It was not even human. Stomach churning with let-down, Tucker heard T'Pol draw in a breath – not a gasp, but if she'd been human it would have been. Apparently the alien on the screen meant something to her that it did not to the others.
"I am Captain Archer of the USS Enterprise," Archer said, masking his disappointment well if indeed he felt it. "Who are you? Why are you using a Starfleet frequency?"
The alien was badly knocked about. Greenish blood trickled from a deep cut across one temple, and a livid bruise covered much of one swollen cheek, encompassing the eye. "Captain…Archer? This is the Enterprise?"
"You know of us?" Archer asked cautiously. The alien stared disbelievingly back, momentarily too stunned to answer.
"Yes," he replied at last, dazedly. "Yes, I have heard of you. I have news of your officer."
The tension in the bridge was so thick it could have been spread on toast. Tucker gripped the edge of the science station to keep his balance, knowing that the same thought in his mind was shared by both Archer and T'Pol.
"My…officer?" Archer's voice seemed to come from a long distance away. Tucker felt the answer before he heard it.
"Malcolm Reed."
Tucker heard muted gasps from Sato and Mayweather. Covan looked confused. Tucker thought he might fall.
"You must be mistaken," Archer said slowly. "Lieutenant Reed has been dead for four weeks."
Damn you, Jon! Tucker wanted to shout. Even now, even when you know Malcolm is alive – and nearby! Even now, you would keep lying? Why?
The alien was swaying, visibly struggling to remain upright. "I assure you, Captain," he said weakly, "Malcolm was alive no more than a week ago. And I believe he still is. But, perhaps, not for long."
Operating on autopilot, Archer turned to Covan. "Lieutenant, deploy the grappling hooks. Bring him in."
"Captain, I strongly urge against this," T'Pol said unexpectedly. "This man is a Romulan. They are a known enemy of the Vulcan High Command – a highly dangerous and aggressive species. This could be a trap."
Covan, somewhat recovered from the confusion, backed her up. "Sub-Commander T'Pol is right. There's no telling what could be on that ship, or what could be waiting for us to depolarize the hull plating. Romulans have cloaking technology. There could be a dozen warships waiting out there, for all we know."
For the briefest of hopeless moments, Tucker thought Archer would agree and refuse to bring in the foundering ship. Then the captain rounded on the Andorian. His face was dark with anger.
"Do it," he commanded in such a furious tone that Covan's antennae flicked back against his skull in alarm. "Now."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant answered softly, nimble fingers already at work over the controls.
"Ensign, tell Phlox to meet me in the shuttlebay. Lieutenant, send a security team to the bay."
Reed followed his buyer submissively out of the slave market. He kept his eyes down, watching the alien carefully through his peripheral vision. Entek led him through the crowded street outside and then turned off it into a less populated vicinity. Reed hid his mounting excitement as they headed into emptier portions of the city. With every step away from the crowded streets, his chances of escape grew. He reminded himself not to act in haste. He would only have one chance at freedom.
They traversed a series of small lanes before finally turning into a narrow, dirty alley. Reed was astonished that his captor seemed so careless about his surroundings. Perhaps he was confident that his prisoner would not dare attack him.
If so, that was to Reed's advantage.
He lunged at the alien, knocking Entek against the wall of the alley, and found the man not as unprepared as he had expected. Entek let his back hit the wall hard and ducked under Reed's swing at him, coming up on the other side of the blow and retaliating with a strike that glanced off Reed's cheekbone. Reed managed to get a single punch into the alien's nose with his free hand as Entek fumbled for his weapon, hindered by Reed's grasp on his arm. He struck savagely down on the human's collarbone with one hand, momentarily weakening Reed's grip. Entek surged backward and twisted away, kicking at Reed's knee as he did so and knocking him back to all fours. The muzzle of the disruptor was in Reed's face before he could even start to get up.
Breathing heavily, Entek wiped the blood off his face with his free hand.
"You're lucky you're not dead."
That was completely true. Reed watched the disruptor pistol's muzzle wavering in front of his nose with Entek's harsh breathing. He felt very calm. Entek had just spent money on him, Reed reasoned. He wasn't likely to kill his purchase so quickly. He allowed himself one quick glance at the alien's face and saw excitement glittering in the pale eyes.
"You have a lot of nerve, don't you? I saw what you did to the Orion yesterday. I was hoping I'd get to try you first-hand."
The pistol was very close. Reed imagined he could feel heat radiating from it, although it had not been fired. He understood now that Entek had been tempting him to attack, curious to see his new purchase's martial prowess. He no longer wondered at the man's blatant avoidance of crowded areas. Entek had wanted Reed to make a move against him.
"Fight like that every time and one day you'll buy yourself free."
The alien was still fully expecting Reed to make another attack on him. Reed relaxed, sinking back on his heels. A fighting ring of some kind? Gambling, most likely. It was an interesting thought.
"I could get used to that," Reed said in a low voice. He raised his eyes slowly to Entek's face. The alien lowered the pistol with a look of grim satisfaction and Reed struck without hesitation. He grabbed Entek's wrist at the same moment as the man fired and the disruptor bolt struck the side of his stomach hard enough to take the breath out of him. Reed did not feel any pain. He twisted Entek's wrist savagely, fighting for control of the weapon, and they wrestled silently for several seconds. Reed dropped backward, letting his weight pull his opponent forward and off balance. He kicked out at the alien's groin, but Entek dodged expertly as he fell forward onto Reed. Finding his efforts turned against him, Reed rolled to the side to prevent the other man landing directly on top of him.
The pistol was of the utmost importance. The pistol was life or death. Reed gripped the cold metal with all the strength he had and forced it down against the hard ground. He lowered his head to protect his face and brought his knee up into Entek's stomach. He was rewarded with a low grunt as his blow met its mark. Apparently, the alien's physiology was similar enough to that of a human that its soft belly was vulnerable too. He punched in with his knee again, feeling Entek's grip on the weapon loosen. Sensing Reed's growing power over the pistol, the alien let go of it entirely and in one swift movement threw a fist into Reed's face. His nose crunched nastily but the weapon was in his possession, so it mattered not at all.
Entek kicked off the ground and slammed his shoulder into Reed's chest, rolling him over. Reed lost his grip on the weapon. In a panic he set his back against the ground and let Entek's momentum carry the alien over him. Entek's arms were caught down between himself and Reed. There was a sharp crack as the alien's head collided hard with the ground and he went still. Reed's mind did not register the unexpected end to the fight. Hot-blooded and still battling for his life, Reed snatched up the disruptor pistol and pressed it against the back of Entek's head.
He realised what he was doing at the very last second and jerked the muzzle of the pistol to the side just as he fired. The disruptor bolt scorched a black mark on the concrete beside the unconscious man's head. Reed crouched over the alien's limp body, shaking and gasping for air that seemed determined to elude him. He had almost killed an unconscious man. It was not killing that repulsed him, but the realisation that he had instinctively tried to murder a defenceless opponent. Reed sat back and wiped an unsteady hand across his mouth. Blood from his nose smeared across his wrist. He was having a hard time breathing. His head felt very strange.
Reed wondered what to do with Entek. He could not kill the man outright, not now that Entek was unconscious and unable to fight back. Neither could he leave him lying here. Someone might find the body, or the alien might reawaken and raise the alarm of an escaped fugitive. He would have to immobilize Entek in some way and hide the body. Reed got slowly to his feet and as he straightened a burst of searing pain exploded in his side. Reed staggered and barely caught himself on the wall of the alley. He looked down to see a burnt mess of black and red outlined sharply against the dull beige of his clothing. The disruptor had left a blackened mark on concrete; it had done much worse to human flesh. The smell of burnt meat assailed Reed. He sank back to the ground, dazed, pressing a hand over the wound.
"Goddammit." He barely had enough breath to speak at all. For a moment, he feared that this was the end. He thought of the little Denobulan girl back in the slave market, perhaps being sold right now. No one else on this entire planet had even a single thought for the child's fate except Fenzin, who was hardly capable of protecting her.
Reed forced himself to take a few deep breaths and think logically. He re-examined the wound, more carefully this time. Upon closer scrutiny he felt his hopes rise. Although the injury was quite deep, the heat of the disruptor bolt had done an effective job of cauterizing it. Blood oozed out here and there, but he was in no immediate danger of bleeding to death. By the fact that he was still conscious and upright under his own power, he seemed to have escaped serious internal injury. It was simply tremendously painful. Most likely that, and the after-effects of adrenaline, were the cause of his difficulty breathing and dizziness. The greatest danger at the moment, Reed decided, was infection. There was little he could do about that – but, he thought grimly, infection would be a few days in setting in. He had at least that long before the injury would become dangerous.
He ripped off a wide swath of Entek's shirt and wrapped it around his body to make a crude bandage, in case the wound began bleeding. Reed climbed cautiously to his feet. Braced against the pain this time, he was able to stand mostly upright. He looked around for something to do with Entek's body. Not far down the alley he discovered a door into one of the adjacent buildings standing ajar. With difficulty, he dragged the alien the distance to the door and deposited it just inside. Before leaving, he cracked the butt of the pistol hard across Entek's head to be sure that the man would not wake up any time soon.
Outside, Reed paused to formulate his thoughts as he tucked the disruptor pistol into the waistband of his pants. It was hard and uncomfortable against his hip bone. The next order of business was to make his way back into the slave market unobserved. If Fenzin and the girl were still there, he would have to devise a plan of escape. If not, he would be forced to search for them. Either way he would not get far in the distinctive loose garb of an Orion prisoner. He would have to clothe himself in Entek's garments. Reed turned back to the door he had just closed. The handle rattled faintly and did not move.
Reed cursed himself for a fool. He waited a moment and twitched the handle again, hoping against hope for a different result. It was firmly locked. He momentarily considered attacking the door with the disruptor pistol, but he didn't know how much charge the weapon's power cell held and he needed it for other purposes. It would take a repeated shots to get through the heavy metal door, and the sound might attract unwanted attention.
He would just have to stay out of sight as much as possible and take his chances.
"Who are you?"
Archer was waiting with a security team when the Romulan stumbled unsteadily out of the decontamination chamber into Sickbay. Phlox, ignoring the grim expressions on the faces of the others in the room, hurried forward to steady his latest patient and help him to a nearby biobed, already examining him with a hand scanner.
"Captain, please!" the Denobulan scolded. "This man is injured. Can't the questions wait until later?"
"No," Archer said in a hard voice, causing the doctor to stare at him. "This man claims Lieutenant Reed is alive, Doctor," he added by way of poor apology. Tucker, watching from the side, saw the Denobulan's eyes widen.
"I see."
"I am in no imminent danger, Doctor," the Romulan told Phlox shakily, in accented English. Tucker realized belatedly from the presence of the accent that the alien was not using a translator. Translators did not convey accent. The Romulan actually spoke English. "I am a physician myself."
"Then you ought to know how unwise it is to self-diagnose a head injury," Phlox responded promptly.
"Doctor, if you would." Archer was clearly displeased with being ignored. He addressed the Romulan again. "Who are you? What do you know of Malcolm Reed?"
"My name is S'Trep," the injured alien answered. He winced as Phlox gently probed the bruise on his cheekbone. "I am the First Medic of the Romulan Star Empire ship Pritak. I – was, rather. I hardly suppose that I could return to that position."
"And Malcolm?"
"He was brought on board my ship almost four weeks ago as a prisoner of the Empire. I don't know the circumstances of his arrival, but I believe he was sold to the Empire without his consent or foreknowledge by one of his superiors. He mentioned the name Harris."
Archer's face was very white and set. Tucker could not tell from looking at him whether anger or something else was foremost in the Captain's mind. Archer turned to the security team.
"Wait outside."
The men looked to Covan, reluctant to miss any news of their former superior. Archer glared at them until they hurried out, leaving only himself, Covan, Tucker, and T'Pol in Sickbay with the doctor and his patient.
"Do you know anything about this Harris?" Archer demanded when they had gone. S'Trep shook his head.
"No, Captain. I only heard his name spoken by Lieutenant Reed on one occasion. I'm afraid he was not able to tell me any more."
Not able, Tucker wondered, or not willing? He vastly preferred the latter explanation.
"What did the Empire want with Malcolm?"
S'Trep gave a sigh of relief as Phlox ran a dermal regenerator over the cut on his head. Although the regenerator did not instantly heal skin, Tucker knew from personal experience that it relieved pain quickly. "Information of some kind, although I don't know what that might have been. I was not in charge of his interrogation. I was to keep him alive until the information that the Empire wanted was extracted from him."
"Extracted how, exactly?" Tucker interjected, discomfited by the unspoken implication of torture.
The Romulan hesitated as if uncertain whether to reveal anything further. Archer looked like he wanted to attack the man, and S'Trep noticed the hostility. He responded with a wry, bitter grin.
"I suppose I have already betrayed my people," he sighed. "The Empire has a device known as a mind probe, which is used to extract information directly from the mind of a willing or unwilling victim. Malcolm was interrogated with this device, but for some reason it failed. I do not know why for certain. Yet despite repeated failures, the Captain of the ship would not give up his efforts."
"And what happened to Malcolm when this – probe, was used?" Archer asked. The Romulan winced.
"It is not a kind instrument, Captain. Lieutenant Reed suffered great psychological and neural trauma from the probe and…other interrogation measures, on the Pritak. I kept him alive, but he was not in good condition. I finally decided that I could not allow him to continue suffering in this way, so I helped him to escape. The Captain of the Pritak owned a small private vessel which could be launched without alerting the bridge crew. I was able to steal this vessel and escape with it. It is the one in your shuttlebay now."
"Where is he now?"
"We were captured by the Orions," S'Trep said, sounding defeated. "I was separated from him. I managed to overpower my guard and escape by activating my shuttle's cloaking device, but I had no way to retrieve Malcolm."
"Yew just left him?" Tucker asked angrily.
"There was nothing else I could do!" the Romulan protested. "I thought perhaps I had a chance of finding help for him if I left, but there was nothing I could do for him otherwise. As you see by my presence here, I was correct."
It was a fair point. Tucker glowered suspiciously at the Romulan man. The whole story sounded a touch too convenient, too arranged. Although everything the Romulan had said could very well be true and Tucker could not detect any inconsistencies, he was not yet prepared to accept it fully. He had a feeling the Romulan was hiding details to cushion his own guilt in Reed's mistreatment.
"If you wish to get your officer back in any kind of condition, Captain, you must hurry," S'Trep said. "When I escaped, I was forced to take measures to temporarily repair some of the neural damage. I was able to modify the probe enough to use it to isolate his centres of both long- and short-term memory from all connection with other regions of his brain. He had become unstable and violent, constantly believing he was under interrogation. I had no choice but to temporarily block his access to the memories that were resurfacing. Unfortunately, it also means that he cannot remember anything of his former life until the block is removed or breaks down on its own."
Tucker swallowed hard against the rising bile in his throat. He tried not to think of Reed panicking, thinking he was being tortured. Unable to tell what was real and what was not. He heard Phlox's voice distantly.
"Why do you say we must hurry?"
"The block will not last very long. I do not know exactly how long, but when it breaks down he will revert to his former delusional state. The longer he is in that condition, the greater the risk that he will injure himself, and the lower the chance of repairing his neural network. I had hoped that you would have some means to safely remove the block and help restore the damaged areas."
The glance that Phlox exchanged with Archer told Tucker quite clearly that there was no such procedure. Archer did not remark on this, however.
"The first thing is to get him back. You said he is being held by the Orions?" At S'Trep's nod, Archer continued. "Where is he? Can you help us locate him?"
Archer called an emergency meeting of the senior staff, minus Phlox, who insisted upon staying in Sickbay to care for the wounded Romulan. On T'Pol's insistence, the security team had been left waiting outside Sickbay on Phlox's call, should they be needed. Although most of the senior staff had been present when S'Trep told his story, Archer related it briefly for the benefit of Sato and Mayweather. Both of the Ensigns were nearly wild to learn what had happened. Tucker suspected that the rest of the bridge crew was equally eager to hear news of Reed, but for now they would have to wait.
"The Romulan's name is S'Trep," Archer said. "He claims he was a doctor on board a Romulan Empire vessel where Malcolm was held and interrogated for several weeks. He says," Archer continued over the two Ensigns' shock, "that he helped Malcolm escape from the Romulan ship. They were captured by Orions, but S'Trep managed to escape."
"Why was Malcolm with the Romulans?" Sato asked. Her voice was high with shock.
"I don't know," Archer said. Tucker had to bite his tongue at the half-lie. "S'Trep said that he was sold to the Romulans."
"Sold!"
"I don't know," Archer repeated irritably. "All I know is what S'Trep told us."
Which you're not telling all of. Tucker wondered if Archer was intentionally leaving out important details, or if he was simply too overwhelmed to think clearly.
"Captain, do you believe S'Trep is speaking the truth?" T'Pol asked levelly.
"Maybe." Archer sighed. "I don't know what to think, T'Pol. What reason would he have to make up a story like that?"
"He may be a spy. The Romulan Star Empire is a dangerous enemy that we know little about. The encounters that Vulcans have had with this species shows them to be aggressive, unpredictable, and secretive."
"We've already met, T'Pol," Archer pointed out. "I'd say that description fits pretty well."
That had been a nightmarish day. Once or twice, Tucker had thought Archer might actually take the ship to warp with Malcolm pinned down to the outside of the hull.
"It doesn't matter," Tucker broke in impatiently. "We don't know if he's tellin' the truth. But how would he know about Malcolm if he was lyin'?"
"Another thing, Captain." Sato was still extremely pale, but looked determined. "He used a Starfleet frequency to broadcast a distress call. If it wasn't from – from Malcolm, I'd like to know where he got that."
Tucker shot Sato a silent thanks, grateful to have someone backing him up. Prior to the staff meeting he had not even considered the possibility that Archer might decide to do nothing. Now, it seemed that T'Pol at least was hell-bent on convincing him not to take action.
"Captain, I would advise you not to take the Romulan's word." Covan leaned forward earnestly. "The Romulans are a dangerous and deceptive species. It is likely that he may be leading you into a trap. My people have had many encounters with the Romulan species, and they have never dealt fairly with us."
"What the hell would they want from us?" Tucker demanded angrily, throwing his hands up in frustration. He glared across the table at Covan. Sato would forgive him; this was a legitimate reason to be angry with the Andorian. "Their technology is superior to ours. They've already had one chance at us, and they didn't even try anythin'. They just wanted us to clear off. What th' hell makes yew think they'd send a spy to trick us into some kinda trap? Why would they want t' trap us? I can't see any reason not to believe him."
That was a complete lie. Tucker could think of a myriad of reasons off the top of his head not to trust the Romulan, and if he considered more closely he could almost certainly find some cause the Romulans might have to lay an ambush for the Enterprise.
Covan flushed a darker shade of blue. Tucker could see him trying to stay calm. "Perhaps my word might be a good reason not to believe him, Commander. I assure you, he does not have our best interest in mind."
"And I don't think you have Malcolm's best interests in mind!" Tucker shot back hotly. "I don't think he's lyin', whatever yew say."
Covan's antennae flattened slowly back like the ears of an angry dog. "I did not say he was lying," he hissed. "Perhaps if you would take a moment to think, you would consider a reason that the Romulans might have an interest in your ship now that they did not have before. The last time you encountered them, they had not been interrogating one of your officers for weeks!"
Trip slammed a hand on the table in front of him. "Malcolm's not a traitor!"
The irony of his words made him falter. He was furious at Covan and did not believe the explanation, but neither did his words carry weight even in his own mind. Archer intervened.
"Gentlemen, that is enough! This is not a time to be fighting amongst yourselves! You are senior officers, please behave as such!"
Tucker and Covan both subsided into glaring silence.
"According to S'Trep, the interrogation methods used by the Romulans failed," T'Pol reminded. "However, I must agree with Lieutenant Covan."
They had reached a stalemate. Tucker sighed in exasperation. This argument could continue in circles for hours.
"Does it matter if he's lying?" Mayweather asked, breaking the tense silence. "Surely we can't do nothing. If there's even a chance that Malcolm is still alive, we can't just ignore it."
Archer paced restlessly about the empty ready room, trapped by his own responsibility. He'd ordered the senior staff out of the room to give himself space to think. Tucker and Covan's obvious hostility grated on his nerves. He couldn't concentrate with them glaring at each other across the table.
S'Trep's arrival and story had caught him completely off guard. In the first few days after Reed's disappearance, Archer had held out hope of finding some trace of him. But as time passed, this hope had gradually faded. He'd come to accept that he would never truly know what had become of his officer. But now, all that had changed. Not only did he have word of Reed, but apparently the man was within reach – if S'Trep was to be believed.
Therein lay the problem. Archer trusted the judgement of both his first officer and, to a lesser extent, his new tactical officer. However, there was logic in Sato's words and in Tucker's, too. How would the Romulan have come to possess a Starfleet frequency if he had never encountered Reed? Moreover, how could he have invented such a story if there was no truth in it? It was possible that S'Trep was lying. But Archer, for his part, was by no means convinced of that. The story he had told was simply too implausible to be a complete lie. And, in a gruesome kind of way, it did tally with what Archer already knew. A man named Harris…he ground his teeth until he realised what he was doing, then stopped. He was infuriated by the treachery that S'Trep had described, but at this point there was very little Harris could do that would surprise Archer. The man was utterly without scruples.
So are you, Archer's bruised conscience whispered back at him. What has Harris done that is so horrible? Clone murder? What a terrible crime…
But to sell an agent, against his will and without his knowledge, into the hands of a hostile species to torture at their pleasure…
He brushed the dark rage aside in favour of more practical considerations. He had a choice to make, which could not be better advised by dwelling upon the unspeakable actions of Reed's former associate.
Archer considered, very briefly, the idea of placing a call to Admiral Gardner. He discarded the idea on second thought. The Admiral would no doubt dismiss his story out of hand and possibly think him delusional. No, this decision was up to him. He had to take responsibility for it; he would be the one defending his actions later.
But was the choice really his? By voluntarily leaving, hadn't Reed chosen to forsake his allegiance to the Enterprise? He had forfeited the duty Archer owed him by leaving the Enterprise.
Always assuming that he had left voluntarily.
Archer shook his head to clear it. This was absurd. Traitor or not, Reed had been his officer. It was his obligation to protect Reed if he was innocent, or to bring him to justice if he was not. Surely, even on a lead which could quite possibly be a trap, it was his duty to attempt to retrieve Reed if there were the slightest chance of doing so.
He tried to tell himself that the renewed anger at Reed's desertion had nothing to do with his desire to find the man, but in the privacy of his empty ready room he could not completely deny the truth.
It did not matter, Archer told himself, what exactly his motives were. This was the right thing to do.
At T'Pol's hail, Archer joined the Vulcan in Sickbay, where she and Covan had spent the better part of the past hour with S'Trep, working over a starchart.
Between S'Trep's translation of his ship's records over the past few days and T'Pol's understanding of Vulcan starcharts, they had located the planet on which the Orion ship had dropped its prisoners. Nearby, Tucker sat on the edge of a biobed. He'd joined them not so much because he could be of any help, as because he wanted to hear in person if S'Trep had any more information to divulge. He did not want to hear the Romulan's words filtered through the biased Andorian tactical officer.
"There's no reason to believe that Malcolm is still there," S'Trep cautioned the four senior officers, after T'Pol finished her brief summary of their calculations. "I suspect the Orions have taken him to a slave market, in which case it is likely that he has already been sold."
"It's a starting point," Archer said.
"It will take approximately four hours to reach these coordinates," T'Pol said. Tucker could tell that she had not warmed to the idea of pursuing S'Trep's lead. However, Archer's decision was final and no argument on her part was likely to alter his course of action now.
"Very well," Archer said with a nod. "Senior staff, I want you in my ready room. Only the people here now." He glanced around tiredly. "I'll have to make an crew announcement," he added as an afterthought, to himself.
Tucker didn't like Archer leaving Sato and Mayweather out of the staff meeting, but he kept his silence.
"Captain, may I have a word with you?" Phlox recalled Archer's attention as the others filed out of Sickbay.
"Can it wait?" Archer frowned, already halfway to the door through which his staff had already disappeared.
"I believe it may be relevant." Phlox's eyes flicked briefly but meaningfully toward the Romulan. "I suspect Medic S'Trep may have been exposed to a contagious pathogen during his stay on the Orion vessel. It may be best to keep him in…solitary confinement, until I can ascertain more about his condition."
"Will this be a problem? Do you need to inoculate us?"
"I do not believe we have cause for concern yet. He has displayed no symptoms so far. However, it is possible that he may become a danger."
It was an extremely strange turn of phrase, in context. Archer had the distinct impression that Phlox was trying to tell him something and wanted him to read between the lines. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for games. "Very well, Doctor. Do as you see fit."
"Captain –" Phlox started as he headed for the door, but Archer would not be delayed.
"I'll speak with you later, Phlox."
The door closed behind him. The Denobulan heaved a weary sigh at the impatience of humans in general.
A powerful grip seized his head from behind. Phlox gave a muted squawk of protest, but the hand over his mouth prevented him from being heard by the security team just outside the door.
"My mind to your mind," S'Trep hissed. "My thoughts to your thoughts."