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Chapter 23

"Captain, I am sure that Lieutenant Reed would not approve of your plan."

T'Pol's dark eyes were calm, but Jon had known her long enough to read her subtle facial expressions. Right now, the Vulcan first officer was clearly worried.

Jon had asked her to accompany them down to sickbay, where he quickly shared Daniels' information with her and Dr. Phlox. While T'Pol received the news stoically, the doctor was more than happy to learn that his two friends were still alive. He had immediately asked Daniels for details on the treatment, and while the two men were deep in conversation, Jon had seen a small ripple of emotions play over T'Pol's face in an, as she believed, unobserved moment. He had smiled, but made no comment. Even if he hadn't caught the expression, he would have known that T'Pol was not as indifferent as she liked to appear.

Now, she seemed to be channeling Malcolm's spirit, and Jon sighed inwardly. "I'm sure he wouldn't, Subcommander. That does not mean that I'm going to change my mind, though. I have to make sure that Trip and Malcolm get back all right."

"It is illogical to risk the Captain's life when the first officer is equally capable of handling a mission," T'Pol said. "I suggest that you let me accompany Mr. Daniels, if you feel that an escort is needed."

She was definitely channeling Malcolm's spirit. Jon could almost see his Tactical Officer's stubborn features behind T'Pol's calm face, outwardly polite, inwardly fuming at his Captain's bloody recklessness.

"Your suggestion is noted, Subcommander. But this is something I've got to do myself. T'Pol," he added, hoping to convey that he wasn't ignoring her concerns. He knew that Malcolm wouldn't approve of what he was going to do, that it was going to be a risk. Yet he didn't want to leave this to Daniels and his superiors, and he didn't want to send one of his officers to accompany a person that was, in Archer's eyes, only slightly more trustworthy than the Suliban.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but to his relief she didn't persist. Jon knew that Malcolm would not have let it go so quickly, but then, Malcolm was not a logical Vulcan. T'Pol seemed to realize that there was no sense in trying to dissuade the Captain, and so she decided not to waste her breath.

Daniels had finished his conversation with Phlox and came over to join them. He glanced at T'Pol and then Archer. "If you're trying to change his mind, Subcommander, I doubt that it will be of much use."

Jon opened his mouth, but before he could say something in response T'Pol had turned to Daniels. "Captain Archer has his reasons for what he is doing," she said, her face a portray in Vulcan dignity. "I support his decision."

Jon nodded, silently thanking her. Daniels sighed. "I see that not much has changed around here. If you insist on coming along, I'm ready to go. The doctor knows all the necessary details to begin the treatment immediately after we return."

Jon nodded. Although he did his best to conceal it, he couldn't deny that he was nervous, both at the prospect of the journey and the thought of what they were going to find at their destination. Ever since Daniels had told him about the "temporal disturbance", he could not forget about the man Trip and Malcolm had killed. Were about to kill. Weren't going to kill at all. No matter how you put it, the idea was unsettling.

Daniels took a small device out of the pocket of his crewman's uniform. It remotely resembled a scanner, yet Jon had no illusions that the inconspicuous-looking gadget had far more power than that.

"Ready, Captain?"

Not really, Jon thought. He merely nodded in reply, and Daniels' fingers danced over the device, activating it.

There was no flash of light, let alone were they pulled down a tunnel of wildly changing colors like in an old science fiction movie. It was a feeling not unlike the few times Jon had used the transporter; a strange tingling, a moment of disorientation, and that was it. Over before he really noticed that it had begun.

The sensation having passed, he looked around and immediately gripped the heft of his phase pistol, which he had clipped to his thigh before they had gone down to sickbay. While he wasn't sure what he had expected, it wasn't this.

"Are you sure that this is where we're supposed to be?" he asked, involuntarily keeping his voice down although there was no one to be seen.

Daniels didn't look up from his device. "We're in the right place and time, Captain."

Jon took a closer look at their surroundings. They were standing in a long corridor, lit by white halogen lamps. Further down, one of the lamps seemed close to dying, flickering and crackling erratically. There was a row of windows on the left hand side, yet Jon could not see outside since it was dark and rain was pouring down. For some reason, he didn't at all like what he saw.

"What is this?" he asked Daniels, who was still absorbed in his readings.

"This is the River Valley Hospital for Mental Care, Captain, " Daniels said. "The place where we've located your officers."

"What?" Jon stared at him, the corridor and the creepy silence of the place forgotten. "You mean, Trip and Malcolm are patients here?"

Daniels didn't look at him. "They wouldn't be the first victims we found in a place like this," he said quietly. "This way, Captain."

He began walking down the corridor and Jon followed him, trying to wrap his mind around this new bit of information. He wasn't sure why, but it would have surprised him less to find his Chief Engineer and Armory Officer in prison, or maybe a hospital. Normal hospital, his mind amended. A mental asylum was the last thing he would have expected.

Daniels touched his arm and pointed at a door down the corridor. It was painted white and there was a metal slot next to it on the wall. Jon recognized an old-fashioned electronic locking mechanism, the type of which he had seen in a museum before. There was a small window embedded in the door at eye level, but someone had slid a metal plate over it from the inside.

"Are they-" he whispered, but he never finished his sentence. There was a muffled sound from the other side of the door, like metal scraping over a hard surface. Then something crashed, and a very familiar voice yelled: "Let him go!"

"Trip!" Jon pulled out his phase pistol and aimed it at the electronic slot. Daniels grabbed his arm.

"Captain, I agreed to let you come along, but I must insist that you let me handle things from now on."

He tightened his grip, and after a long moment, Jon gave in. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice. "Hurry up."

"That was my intention," Daniels muttered, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of a struggle inside the room. Someone laughed, and even through the closed door Jon heard the malice in the voice.

"... killin' him!" Trip shouted.

Jon watched tensely as Daniels touched another surface on his device. A tiny red beam shot out of its end and hit the metal slot. Without so much as a sound, the door slid open.

The scene unfolding in front of him was even worse than Jon had prepared for. Trip, clad only in a pair of shorts, was tied to a chair, his battered, bloodied face a grimace of almost insane anger. Across the room, a dark-haired man in a white uniform grappled with another, pushing his head into a vat filled with water. It took Jon a moment until he realized that the kicking, half-naked body belonged to Malcolm.

"Let him go!"

The dark-haired man's head whipped around. "What-" The pale eyes grew wide all of a sudden, as if he had been hit by an invisible bullet. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His hands let go of Malcolm's hair and fell limply to his sides as he crumpled on the floor in front of the vat.

"That was that," Daniels said and slipped his device into his pocket. "He's not going to wake up again for a few hours."

Jon hadn't seen what Daniels had done to the man, but at the moment he could not have cared less. "Malcolm, are you all right?"

Malcolm was kneeling on the floor next to the vat, gasping for air. When Jon said his name, he raised his head. It was only then that Jon saw the full extent of his bruises.

"Who... who are you?" he asked hoarsely. "How do you know my-" He coughed again, and bent forward as a small stream of water came out of his mouth. Jon took a step in his direction.

Trip jerked back when Daniels approached him. "Who are you?"

"Commander Tucker?" Daniels said calmly. Trip flinched at the address and narrowed his eyes at the man.

"How d'you know my name? Who are you?"

"Who I am is of no importance right now," Daniels said. "You can trust us."

As Jon could have predicted, Trip would have none of that and tried to kick Daniels as he came closer.

"Stay away from me!"

Somehow, Malcolm had made it to his feet, although he was clearly in pain. His face and upper body were dripping with water, and he used his tied hands to brace himself against the wall.

"Who..." He coughed. "Who are you?"

Jon raised his hands to show that he meant no harm. "It's a long story," he said, looking from Malcolm to Trip. "We can't tell you right now, but I promise that we'll answer all your questions once we've got you out of here. My name's Jonathan Archer."

"Enterprise," Trip said all of a sudden.

Jon stared at him. "You remember?"

But Trip wasn't looking at him. "Enterprise," he said to Malcolm. "They're... they're military."

Malcolm eyed Jon's and Daniels' Starfleet uniforms, frowning. "Our overalls looked like that," he said finally. "It could be a trick, though."

"It's not a trick," Jon said. "We want to help you. We came to get you out of here."

"To take us where?" Trip asked, still suspicious. "How do we know you're not here to kidnap us?"

"You were kidnapped and brainwashed before you came here," Jon said. "Before that, you were part of our... our organization." Recalling the "overalls" Malcolm had mentioned, he added: "You remember the uniforms, don't you? You were a part of Enterprise before you were abducted."

He thought it best not to mention that Enterprise was a starship on a mission in deep space. Trip regarded him out of slitted eyes, obviously trying to find an inconsistency in what Jon was telling him. Jon noticed that his Chief Engineer had lost a lot of weight in the time of his absence, as had Malcolm. Their faces had a pinched look to them, and there was little left of Trip's smile and Malcolm's humorous twinkle.

Jon took another step forward. "Let me untie you," he said to Malcolm, then turned his head to look at Trip. "We don't mean any harm."

The two men exchanged a look, then nodded tensely. Jon stepped behind Malcolm and took a look at the restraints that held Malcolm's hands behind his back. There was a surge of anger when he noticed blood seeping out from under the black tape. Carefully, he began to loosen the twisted bonds, revealing raw wrists when they finally came off. Malcolm stood quietly through the entire procedure, and only winced a little when Jon pulled off the end of the tape.

"Thanks," he said softly.

In the meantime, Daniels had freed Trip of the tape that held him to the chair.

"We can't be much longer, Captain," he said. "Lendon isn't going to wake up any time soon, but we should keep our contact with these people to a minimum."

Jon nodded, aware that both Malcolm and Trip had followed the conversation with a frown. "Why don't you take us back now?"

"How did you get in, anyway?" Trip wanted to know. "This place is locked down like a prison."

Jon traded a look with Daniels. "You'll have to trust us on that one," he said finally. "You may be... surprised at first, but I promise you that you're safe with us."

"It's not as if we have much of a choice," Malcolm replied quietly. Jon looked at him. Obviously, Malcolm trusted them no more than he trusted Lendon, as if he could somehow sense that they were not telling the truth. And he was right; to all intents and purposes, Jon and Daniels were preparing to kidnap the two men.

"You'll have to wear these," Daniels said, holding out two devices that reminded Jon of tiny clip-on microphones. Trip and Malcolm stared at the things, but neither of them seemed willing to take one.

"What are those?" Trip regarded Daniels with a frown.

Jon tried to give Daniels a warning look, but the man seemed oblivious to it. "Temporal tags," he said calmly, as if he were asking them to wear warm jackets for the journey. "We need them to locate your position."

"Temporal..." Trip's eyes narrowed again, and Jon felt a sudden urge to strangle Daniels. Trip's eyes flickered to Malcolm, and Jon could almost hear the silent message: Let's get out of here while we still can.

"It's just a precaution," he said quickly. "You can have a look at them first, if you like."

"Captain..." Daniels began, but Jon only shook his head. He knew that his officers were scared, confused, possibly angry and very close to bolting from the room, injured and undressed as they were. If they didn't do this right, he and Daniels would have a fight on their hands before they could get out of here.

Jon took the small devices from Daniels and handed one each to Trip and Malcolm. This time, they took them.

"I've never seen somethin' like that before," Trip said finally. "Doesn't look like a sensor, though."

"It's a new kind of technology," Jon said quickly before Daniels had a chance to reply. "I'll explain later."

This time, they seemed to accept the explanation. Awkwardly, Trip clipped the temporal tag to the elastic of his boxer shorts, this being the only piece of clothing available. After a moment's hesitation, Malcolm followed his example.

"Okay," Jon said, glancing at Daniels to warn him not to initiate the transport just yet. "This is going to feel a little strange, but it's okay. You're going to be fine."

"What about him?" Malcolm wanted to know and nodded at the unconscious man on the floor. "Is he injured?"

For the first time since they had entered the room, Jon actually looked at the man Daniels had knocked out. Lendon. Slumped on the floor like that, he didn't look dangerous, not at all like a man who would torture another by drowning him in a vat full of water.

"He's fine," Daniels replied to Malcolm's question. "He's going to have one hell of an headache when he wakes up, but other than that he should be okay."

"Pity," was all Malcolm said.

Daniels raised his eyebrows at him and turned back to his device. "Ready to go, Captain?"

Jon nodded. "Let's get out of here."

"How're we-" Trip began, but before he could finish his sentence Daniels had activated the transporter sequence. Again, Jon experienced a strange tingling that started at the base of his spine and crept over his back until it engulfed his entire body. There was a sudden, instant blackness, as if he had blinked without noticing it, and when it lifted the tiled, windowless room was gone.

They were standing in sickbay again, at the exact place where they had left... if one could call a leap through time and space "leaving". And Jon immediately knew that something was wrong.

"Where's Trip, Daniels?"

Malcolm was there, panic blooming on his face as he took in their surroundings. "Wh-where- what-"

Phlox took a step towards him, smiling in a manner that was obviously intended to be reassuring. "Please calm down, Lieu-"

Malcolm let out a strangled cry and stumbled backwards, crashing into a wheeled equipment table. Before Phlox or Jon could do anything to stop him, he had ducked under their arms and was running in a mad dash for the sickbay doors.

T'Pol never lost her cool. In a smooth, elegant movement, she stepped forward to block Malcolm's way and caught the distraught human in mid-flight. He struggled and tried to push her away, but she held him as easily as she would have a recalcitrant child. One hand firmly wrapped around his arm, her other hand came up and closed around Malcolm's shoulder. He stiffened for a second and then slumped forward into her arms.

Calm as ever, T'Pol turned the unconscious man around to pick him up, then carried him over to one of the bio beds. Malcolm's head rested against the front of her uniform, a situation that would have made the Englishman blush beet red, had he been awake.

She laid him down and turned around to assess the assembled men with a cool gaze. "I suggest you sedate Mr. Reed before he wakes up again, doctor."

"Where's Trip, Daniels?" Jon clamped down hard on the panic welling up in his chest. "What's going on?"

Daniels was absorbed in his device and hardly looked up at Jon's question. "Just a moment, Captain..."

"No!" Jon took a deep breath and forced himself to continue in a calmer tone. "I want to know what happened, Daniels."

Finally, Daniels raised his head. His voice was tense as he answered. "It appears that we've lost him, Captain."

TBC…

Another cliffie, I'm sorry (or not... ;) )… please let me know what you think!