Disclaimer: Not mine.
Apart from the occasional beep from a control panel, the bridge was unusually quiet.
It was typical of Archer to engage in conversation with his bridge crew whenever he was present. Therefore, with him gone, there was nothing strange in the bridge remaining nearly silent. There was no reason for the quiet to be even the smallest bit unsettling. T'Pol decided that the additional duties of the last few days had taxed her more than normal. She would need extra meditation time to compensate. Any dissatisfaction she felt was entirely due to that.
T'Pol did not sit in the Captain's chair, but rather occupied her normal position at the science station. Only one crew member other than herself was trained to act as bridge science officer, and it was too much to ask any human to work a shift longer than eight or ten hours. Besides, T'Pol had on numerous occasions before fulfilled these two roles simultaneously. Vulcans were capable of maintaining a high level of concentration on more than one task, whereas humans tended to become distracted while trying to perform multiple operations.
Despite her experience in multitasking, T'Pol found that her usual level of focus was elusive. Counter to all her previous experiences, the silence itself seemed to be distracting. By the fidgeting of several members of the bridge crew, T'Pol was not the only one to notice this. In the past, she had always considered Archer's conversations with his crew merely a symptom of his human need for continued reassurance of good relations with those around him. Now, she was beginning to question that supposition. Had Archer's talkativeness actually served as a way to keep his crew focused? A curious phenomenon.
With her attention elsewhere, T'Pol did not instantly notice the flashing light of an alert on her console. She turned back to her station as soon as she saw it, surprised at her slow reaction time.
Something was launching from the surface of the planet below.
The implication of this alert struck the T'Pol immediately. If the Enterprise's scanners had detected an object's launch from the planetary crust, that meant sensors were scanning the planet – which, in turn, meant that the sensor shielding around the planet was no longer functional. She relayed this to the bridge crew.
"Sensor shielding around the Orion planet is down. Lieutenant Covan, put these coordinates onscreen." She sent the information directly to the tactical station. As Covan hastened to comply, T'Pol checked her scan records and found that the shielding had been deactivated nearly two seconds before she had noticed the alert. Her own lapse was mildly disturbing. She would require extended meditation tonight.
When the anticipated image appeared on the screen, Sato gasped. T'Pol, too, found the sight intriguing. Even without magnification, it was possible to see something moving on the planet's surface. Covan enlarged the viewscreen and with only a few degrees of magnification, T'Pol could see that the object lifting ponderously up into the atmosphere was a ship. It was by far the largest ship she had ever seen. In colour it was very near to the dusty reddish-brown hue of the planet's landmasses, which explained how it had passed unseen so easily. Roughly oval and relatively flat in comparison to its length and width, the ship was similar in size to a mid-sized city.
"Lieutenant." The Enterprise would be unable to inflict significant damage on this vessel. T'Pol suspected that not even a Vulcan warship could do much against such a foe. "Report."
Covan was gawking at the viewscreen, but he turned quickly to his station. "It appears to be heavily armed, but I can't be sure. Scans won't penetrate the hull. Whatever sensor shielding was around the planet may have been coming from this ship. It certainly has the power for a planet-wide shield."
T'Pol experienced a certain discomfort at the realisation that her assessment of the current technological capabilities of the Orion species had been a vast underestimation. Vulcan attacks might have done much to destroy Orion infrastructure, but a single ship like this was enough to match any technology she knew. Her report to Archer had been entirely, if unintentionally, false. The Enterprise was certainly not safe in Orion space. Either the High Council was unaware of the existence of this ship, or the intelligence that T'Pol had been given was incorrect. T'Pol was inclined to believe the former. Despite recent proof that the Council did not value human-Vulcan relations as much as she had believed, T'Pol highly doubted that the Councillors would intentionally send the Enterprise into the path of such a danger.
"Lieutenant, how many passengers do you believe that ship could carry?"
"I can't be sure, Sub-Commander. At least ten or twelve thousand."
"Twelve thousand," T'Pol repeated thoughtfully. "The average Orion tribal group is composed of three to four thousand Orions and twice as many slaves. I believe this may be the entire tribal group which occupied the planet."
"They're evacuating," Covan said. "I guess we've spooked them."
"It would appear so." T'Pol considered the massive ship. "We have orders not to allow any vessels to leave the planet."
"You want me to fire on them?" Covan asked incredulously. "They'll eat us alive, pardon the expression."
"Ensign, break orbit and move behind this planet's moon," T'Pol said to Mayweather. "Lieutenant, do not fire unless fired upon. Continue scans of the ship, particularly its warp signature. We may be able to track it later."
For all T'Pol's caution, the Orions took no notice of the Earth vessel. After hovering in geosynchronous orbit for several minutes and being joined by two smaller ships, the Orion vessel and the accompanying ships jumped to warp and shortly disappeared off scanners.
"Were you able to obtain a warp signature?" T'Pol inquired of Covan. The Andorian nodded.
"I'm afraid it won't be much use if we wait. We can't track warp trails reliably more than a few hours after they're made."
"I understand." Vulcan ships, T'Pol thought but did not say, were capable of following warp trails days after they were made. If the High Council wished to trace the whereabouts of this Orion ship, the Vulcan warships currently on their way to rendezvous with the Enterprise were quite competent to perform that function. There was no need for Jonathan Archer's ship to do the any more of the Council's work than was required. "Ensign Mayweather, please take us back into orbit. Lieutenant, initiate a scan of the planet's surface."
"What am I scanning for, exactly?" Covan looked puzzled.
"Human biosigns," T'Pol replied calmly. She could feel the tension radiating suddenly off of the bridge crew. Her words returned to them the wild hope that had been lost after Tucker's failed away mission. Giving them hopes that would likely prove false was not her intent. T'Pol did not expect to find anything. However, Archer would certainly have performed such a scan and it was only her due diligence to do so in his stead.
"Sub-Commander –" Covan started hesitantly, then seemed to think better. The silence on the bridge was quite different now. T'Pol initiated a scan of her own, knowing it was possible for one set of sensors to be in error. Tactical scanners tended to be better calibrated for weapons detection than for finding biosigns at long range. Regardless of the outcome of Covan's scan, T'Pol wanted a second opinion just to be on the safe side.
"Sub-Commander, I'm detecting – there's one human biosign," Covan stammered. "How –"
"Indeed." The science station reported the same result. T'Pol heard sounds of shock from the bridge crew. Ensign Sato looked near to passing out of consciousness.
"Sub-Commander, we have to go down there," the communications officer begged. "Please. I'll contact Sural, I'm sure you can convince him…"
"Negative," T'Pol said firmly. She considered the woman's pale face. "Ensign Sato, I believe you have recently discovered some issues with the communications array."
"What? No, I'll call Sural right away –"
"Ensign," T'Pol interrupted in a louder voice, "I don't believe you understood the question. Have you perhaps been experiencing communications difficulties that would prevent you from contacting Sural?"
"I – oh!" Sato's eyes widened. "I mean yes, I believe there have been problems. Complete communications blackout, in fact."
"That is regrettable," T'Pol said gravely. "In the present situation it would be best to contact the High Council. However, it appears that we do not have that option. Ensign, please request that Commander Tucker and Captain Archer join me in the ready room immediately."
"Would that be with the same communications system that isn't working?" Covan asked suspiciously.
"I believe you understand the situation, Lieutenant."
"What's this about, T'Pol? I'm not on duty."
Tucker resisted the urge to tell Archer to shut up. The captain wasn't officially on duty, so T'Pol's summons should have been an obvious signal that something important was in the works. Tucker supposed that Archer was still sore over his temporary removal from duty.
"Captain Archer, I would like you to lead an away mission," T'Pol said without preamble, silencing Archer's griping in an instant.
"What? I thought yew were told not t' let anyone leave th' ship."
"A few minutes ago the Orions evacuated the planet on a single large ship. Its weapons systems were too formidable for the Enterprise to attack. I believe this ship was the source of the sensor shielding around the planet. We are now able to perform scans on the surface."
"So?" Tucker asked suspiciously.
"Commander," T'Pol said gently, "we have detected one human biosign."
Tucker put out a hand to steady himself on the desk. T'Pol continued delicately. "Unfortunately, Ensign Sato informs me that the communications array is malfunctioning and we are unable to contact Sural. Given the circumstances I see no other choice but to proceed with an away mission without his consent."
Tucker highly doubted that the Vulcans would approve, even if T'Pol could ask their permission. The acting captain seemed to have thought of this.
"It may be best for this mission to remain confidential," she added.
That way, Tucker thought grimly, no blame could fall on the crew of the Enterprise barring himself, Archer, T'Pol, and perhaps, to a lesser extent, a few other senior staff members. The current legal orders from Starfleet required that the entire crew of the Enterprise cooperate with Vulcan instructions, and the last known orders of the High Council were that no away missions were to be conducted. When Starfleet Command invariably investigated the disobedience, anyone who had known of the insubordination or participated in any way could be court-martialled. Tucker would have liked to bring a security team or possibly a few MACOs, but he fully agreed with T'Pol's decision to involve as few people as possible. She was trying to protect the crew. She was giving Tucker and Archer the option to accept the blame that might fall on them, or to refuse it. For both of them, Tucker knew, there was no choice to be made.
"T'Pol, are you sure about this?" Archer asked quietly. The bulk of the consequences, from the Vulcan side at least, would certainly land on her. The Vulcan met Archer's eyes steadily.
"I would have it no other way, Captain."
It was at times like this, Tucker thought as he and Archer sprinted for the shuttlebay, that he quite liked having T'Pol aboard, whatever his past feelings about the matter.
It was an Orion this time.
Reed crouched inside the wire door, waiting for Entek to give him the customary pre-fight shot of drugs. Betting had begun to slow, which signalled to Reed that the start of the match was imminent. The Orion stood inside the door opposite him. It was unchained. Apparently it accustomed enough to the rules of the ring that it no longer needed to be restrained. Entek gave no such freedoms to Reed.
In the past three days he had fought as many times. After the Andorian, he had faced an alien of unknown species and then a Tellarite. Without the painkiller and the stimulant that Entek gave him before every fight he would surely have died in the cage. As it was, he had yet to lose. That did not mean that the fights had gone well. After the painkiller wore off an hour or two after each fight, Reed was incapacitated with pain and a fever that was by now raging. He could not eat the stale bread that Entek brought him until it had been soaked in liquid, and the last time he'd been fed he had been unable to stomach even that.
He won, though, and that was the important part. Winning meant living. Except in his last fight, where the Tellarite had fought long and well and had been spared, the losers of both his fights and the other fights he had seen were slaughtered by their owners, on the rare occasions when their opponents refused to finish the kill. It seemed a waste, but that was not his concern so long as he did not lose.
The needle pricked Reed's wrist and he allowed himself a sigh of relief as artificial energy flooded into his veins. His arm was sore from being shot up but the painkiller mostly took care of that. Several of the needle marks had reddened and grown hot, like the wound in his side, which throbbed with a steady sickly burn with or without drugs. Reed knew that it was badly infected. Entek had replaced the dressing for the first time the previous night, expressing disgust when the injury was exposed. Pus was leaking out of the edges of the torn flesh and the skin around it flared angry red. Still, the importance of the infection faded whenever he was in the fight cage. Everything faded there, except for his opponent.
The Orion was much bigger than him, but that was not necessarily a problem. It was speed that mattered more than sheer strength.
Entek pulled the chain off Reed's wrist and he stood slowly, keeping his eyes on the Orion. His legs shook, which was distracting, but that was probably only a symptom of hunger. It was nothing to be concerned over.
He circled to the right. The Orion watched him come. It did not look worried, nor did it seem to have any intention of making the first move. Reed didn't like that. It was always better to start off on the defensive rather than the offensive; however, it was better to be fighting than waiting, regardless of who started attacked first.
He closed in.
Tucker bent over the navigation panel, watching the kilometres between the shuttle and the lone human biosign drop away. Archer was tense and quiet beside him, focused on flying the shuttle. Tucker wondered what he must be thinking.
"Yew were right, Cap'n."
"What?"
"About searchin' with a fine-toothed comb. I gave up too easily."
Archer shook his head slightly in denial, but he didn't argue. Disliking the silence and the resentment he still sensed in his superior officer, Tucker humbled himself further.
"I'm sorry, Cap'n. I shoulda listened to yew."
"I was just angry," Archer told him. It was the closest to an apology that Tucker was likely to get these days. "I didn't really think we'd find…" He gave an explosive sigh. "Dammit. Damn Vulcans. We could have gone down again three days ago."
Tucker doubted that Archer would have sent down another away mission even had the choice been given him, but if it was easier for the captain to blame someone else for the delay in a second rescue attempt, he wasn't going to argue.
"Entering atmosphere." Archer braced himself against the mild turbulence as they plunged down toward the planet. "Tell the Enterprise we're approaching coordinates. Five minutes to set down."
"Communications array ain't workin'," Tucker reminded, puzzled by Archer's forgetfulness. Archer gave a short laugh.
"They'll read us loud and clear, Trip. Guarantee you there's nothing wrong with communications."
"But T'Pol…"
"Is a sly bastard when she needs to be." There was anger in Archer's voice that Tucker didn't understand, and his choice of words seemed unnecessarily vicious. Tucker didn't inquire. In his present mood Archer would probably take any questioning as a personal attack.
"She's bullshittin' us?"
"Not us. The Vulcans."
The communications panel bleeped at Tucker, indicating that the Enterprise reported his message received. The engineer shook his head in amazement. "What a woman."
"She has her moments," Archer agreed. "Approaching coordinates."
It was an urban area, not quite as citified as the location where Tucker had been previously. The surrounding buildings were old and run-down, some beginning to crumble. Archer set the pod down in a cracked parking lot. Much of the pavement had disintegrated as weeds grew up through weaknesses in the concrete, ultimately destroying the integrity of the material. Tucker retrieved a hand scanner from the back of the shuttlepod and followed Archer out onto the uneven pavement. The scanner picked up a signal immediately.
"Ninety metres," Tucker said. "And down four metres. Must be a basement." He didn't like the sound of that. Basements meant stairs, which complicated mobility. The fewer obstacles the better, no matter how small those obstacles might be.
"Lead on." Archer dropped a hand to the phase pistol holstered at his side. "I've got your back."
The Orion reacted faster than anticipated. As Reed sent an experimental punch toward its gut, the large alien grabbed his wrist in mid-strike and twisted his arm. Pulled off balance, Reed allowed himself to fall. The Orion's continued grip landed him on his back. Reed sent a foot straight up at its groin, but the Orion jerked hard on his arm and the kick missed. He did, however, manage to get his heel planted against the alien's farther hip bone, where he locked his knee to prevent himself from being pulled in to close quarters. He brought up the other foot to kick at the Orion's ribs on the side nearest him. The green-skinned alien gave a low grunt of pain. It jerked on his arm with tremendous strength.
Wedged as he was with his body stiff for leverage and his leg locked out and braced against the Orion's hip, Reed had no leeway to move with the pull. He felt a sickening shock as his shoulder tore out of its socket. His body still flushed with painkiller and stimulant, Reed barely noticed the pain. He was immediately aware, however, that he had been dealt a severe handicap. It was time to disengage and regroup. He gave the Orion's ribs a final vicious kick, then seized its wrist with his free hand and curled his body up off the ground so that he hung from the alien's arm. The Orion staggered forward, unbalanced by the unexpected weight. Reed took advantage of its distraction and planted his foot firmly in its groin. The alien gave a howl of pain and dropped him. Reed slipped between its legs as it doubled over, but he was not afforded the time he'd expected to make good his escape. The Orion stomped down on the dragging hand of Reed's injured arm, bringing his momentum to an abrupt halt. The loose tendons of the dislocated shoulder twinged in protest. Reed paid no attention to the discomfort.
The Orion whipped around, swivelling most of its weight on Reed's hand to keep him pinned in place. His mistake, Reed realised, had been in underestimating the large alien's speed. His tactic had not been altogether wrong: the Orion was slower than him, but it was not as slow as he had initially judged. Time was his ally. Time, and distance. He needed to dart in and out, inflicting one injury at a time until his opponent was weak enough for him to close. As long as he was pinned in place, he was at the mercy of the slower but stronger alien.
Reed gave a howl of pain as the Orion smashed his hand into the wooden floor and collapsed in agony. In truth he felt the destruction of his hand only distantly, but there was no reason for his opponent to know that he was still able to fight. Reed anticipated the movement as the Orion, thinking him momentarily incapacitated, raised its foot to stamp down on his head. From far off, he heard Entek screaming in fury. As the pressure on his hand lifted, Reed surged forward and rolled. He got between the alien's legs again and landed a heel in its groin on his way through. Doubly injured, the Orion bellowed in agony and got its back up against the wire, shielding its tender crotch with both hands. Although no painkiller could entirely alleviate the alien's discomfort, Reed suspected that his opponent was using the same tactic he had employed only seconds earlier – exaggerating an injury to provoke premature attack. He'd gotten a solid kick, but under the assumption that the Orion had also been drugged, it hadn't been a hard enough strike to induce the level of incapacitation that the Orion currently exhibited. Well – there was nothing to prevent him using that strategy again. Perhaps the Orion was fool enough to be taken in a second time.
Reed staggered backward, clutching at his dislocated arm and whimpering in pain that was not entirely feigned. He could feel it more distinctly now that he was not, at the present moment, fighting for his life; but the drugs he'd received made the growing discomfort easy to ignore. Through slitted eyes he watched the Orion. Unfortunately, the alien was not to be fooled again. Reed gave up the tactic after a few seconds and stood still in the centre of the cage, waiting for his opponent to make the first move.
"Kill him!" Entek was screaming. In the conflict Reed had circled so that he was now facing Entek. The man was standing on the edge of the platform outside the wire mesh, holding onto it with his fingers. His face was contorted with anger and eagerness that in combination bordered upon insanity. Without intending to Reed looked straight into the maddened face. A scream of agony echoed in his mind, so vividly he could not tell if it was real. He saw another face where Entek's had been only a fraction of a second before: a Romulan face, twisted in madness and terror. The wire that Entek gripped was leather restraints. Reed was tied too, unable to move, staring across empty space at a tormented Romulan man who screamed incoherently. The image was utterly familiar and yet wholly unknown. Reed was trapped by it.
The Orion's huge fist landing in his face broke the trance, and his nose.
"In here."
Tucker spoke in an undertone. He silenced the scanner so that it would not give audible alerts. Carefully, he put a hand against the metal door and pushed. It was not locked, and the handle was broken. The door itself was heavy but it swung freely. Tucker slid to the side and Archer stepped in past him, weapon raised. He swept the room quickly, checked behind the door, and then gave the all clear with a short nod to Tucker.
In the corner nearest where they had entered, a broken and sagging railing surrounded the hole of a staircase leading down. Tucker motioned towards it. From below, he could hear a commotion. There were voices shouting – dozens of them, raised in excitement or passion of some sort. Archer led the way down the ancient staircase as silently as possibly, pistol-first. Several of the stairs creaked, but there was little chance of them being overheard. The volume of the shouting intensified with every step they took nearer to the source of the noise.
The staircase ended in a short, dark hallway. At the end of the hall Tucker saw the brightness of a lit room. It was from this room that the shouting emanated. The scanner indicated less than twenty metres. Tucker nudged Archer and showed him the scanner. Reed – if indeed it was Reed – was in that room.
As they reached the doorway, Tucker flattened himself against the wall and drew his own phase pistol, securing the scanner in his belt. Archer took the wall opposite. From his position near the doorway, Tucker had a view of the larger side of the room. A crowd of aliens, composed mostly of species unknown to him, gathered around a raised wooden platform surrounded with wire mesh. They were yelling and cheering, clearly wildly excited about something happening inside the caged platform. Many were waving fists in the air as they shouted at whatever was in the cage. One of the aliens had jumped up on the edge of the platform and gripped the cage from the outside, screaming into it in some language Tucker did not understand.
Tucker squinted at the cage, trying to determine what was happening. At first, all he saw was a giant, green-skinned Orion man bending over something on the floor. The Orion struck down at whatever was beneath it. It was laughing. Its fist, Tucker saw as the alien raised it for another strike, was red with blood.
At that moment, someone in the crowd shifted enough to allow Tucker a clear view at the platform. Another figure was crumpled under the Orion, almost motionless. It, too, was humanoid.
Not humanoid, Tucker realised with a shot of adrenaline like nothing he'd ever felt. Not just humanoid: human.
"No!" Tucker screamed. He sprinted toward the platform, firing at the Orion as he went. Behind him he heard Archer's shout of alarm, then weapons fire. A streak of red flashed past his elbow into the nearest alien, who was in the act of drawing a disruptor. The crowd parted. Aliens dove left and right, away from the shots. The Orion staggered backward and fell as Tucker reached the platform. He sprang up the rickety wooden stairs and tore at the door in the mesh until it came open. He did not even notice the pain as sharp ends of wire sliced into his fingers.
The figure on the platform was very still. Blood pooled around its head. Trip dropped onto his knees, heedless of the weapons fire all around, and rolled the limp body over.
"Malcolm!"
Reed looked a mess. He was emaciated, both his face and body pinched with malnourishment. Blood ran freely from his nose and mouth. His clothes were torn and the skin that showed through holes in the cloth was dark with bruising. A strip of dirty cloth was bound around his stomach like a bandage, but had slipped to reveal the edge of a putrefying wound. For a moment, Tucker despaired. He snatched up the scanner and ran it over Reed's body, ignoring the injury readout and heeding only the life sign. Reed was alive.
Tucker lifted him with alarming ease and kicked the wire door open again. He slid carefully off the platform as Archer ran up, weapon still raised in case any of the scattered aliens should attempt further resistance.
"Shit." Archer jammed his phase pistol into the holster and reached out to help. "Here, give me his arm."
Tucker lowered Reed's legs to the ground and transferred one arm to Archer. "Careful, don't touch his –"
Reed moved.
In one remarkably swift movement he twisted free of Tucker's grasp and ducked to the side, driving a fist hard into Tucker's stomach. The engineer doubled over, the wind knocked out of him, as Reed kicked out at his knee. Tucker let the kick take him down and rolled to the side. Archer jumped away just in time to avoid Reed's next strike.
"Malcolm!"
Reed could barely stand upright. There was no recognition in his bloodshot eyes.
"Malcolm," Tucker grunted, struggling to his feet. "It's us."
Reed's defensive posture did not relax. He stood swaying, waiting for someone to approach him. Waiting to attack. One of his arms hung limply at his side, clearly dislocated at the shoulder. Blood streamed from his nose and dripped off his chin and down his neck. The bandage around his side had slipped further. Beneath it, the ugly wound oozed yellow. It had swollen until the skin around it was stretched tight and tore anew at each movement. Streaks of red spread out from the edge of the mutilated flesh. The grey eyes, rimmed with bruises, were entirely blank. It wasn't that he simply didn't recognise them, Tucker realized. He could not discriminate between them and any other attacker thrown into the cage to destroy him. Like a trapped animal, he would fight anything that came near enough to touch him.
Archer flipped his phase pistol's setting to stun. "Sorry, Malcolm," he muttered, and fired into Reed's stomach. Tucker jumped forward to catch the injured man as he fell.
Archer and Tucker took an arm each and lifted Reed between them. Tucker cringed at the limpness of the dislocated shoulder and the thought of the additional damage he was causing. At the moment, however, speed was more important than comfort. The aliens were beginning to recover their indignation at the attack and Tucker could see them gathering in force behind the platform. He and Archer backed up the stairs, unwilling to turn their backs on an angry mob. Once outside, they sprinted for the shuttlepod.
"Stay with him," Archer commanded as they lifted Reed onto the floor of the shuttlepod and climbed in. "I have the craft."
Weapon fire struck the shuttle as Archer lifted off. They'd been just in time. Tucker heard Archer hailing the Enterprise, then T'Pol's voice.
"We've got him, but he's in bad shape," Archer said grimly. "Patch us through to Phlox. Trip, tell the doctor what we're looking at."
The scanner's alert lights flashed in a kaleidoscope of alarm. Tucker tried not to listen to his own words as he reported Reed's injuries. This felt too horribly familiar: a race back to the Enterprise, one crew member injured and probably dying on the floor of the shuttle.
This time was different, Tucker promised himself. Reed was not Alex. He would live.
He had to.
A/N: The bad news: I will be extremely busy over the next three weeks, so I can't promise to update in that time. The good news: I go on leave after that and should have time to get some serious work done! I'm hoping to finish by the end of the year, but don't hold your breath.