Enterprise – The Maiden Voyage

by Soledad

For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction

Notes are at the end of the chapter.


Chapter 08 – Silent Encounters

While Enterprise was hurling through subspace towards the Berengaria system, the senior officers – with the exception of Travis Mayweather, of course, since he was currently flying the ship – congregated in the captain's ready room to discuss the next tasks along their journey. They were all relieved to hear that the Viseeth was most likely to make a full recovery, given enough time.

"I've managed to stop the biochemical changes induced by their abductors and it's only a matter of time until their system cleans itself from the remaining traces," Dr Phlox explained, obviously very content with himself.

"That's good news; but who were those guys and why did they want to change her?" Archer asked.

The Denobulan shrugged. "As I've already told you: the purpose of the changes had to be that they would survive in subspace – at least long enough to be thoroughly questioned. As for the species, I have no idea. The Vulcan database has no aliens registered that would match your descriptions. I can only assume that they live in subspace and have created this… gateway to normal space with the express intention to experiment on our Viseeth passenger without endangering themselves."

"What for, though?" Tucker asked. "What could they possibly want from the cow lady?"

"Their memory engrams," T'Pol answered without hesitation. "It is logical to assume that the unknown aliens and the Suliban are working together towards an as yet unknown goal. The Suliban had not caused any problems for other space-faring species until a few decades ago; we must assume that somebody encouraged them to play al let say, more active role in interstellar politics."

"At about the same time when the first genetically enhanced Suliban appeared on the galactic stage," Dr Phlox added.

"And when, exactly, did that happen?" Reed asked.

"Opinions differ greatly about that," T'Pol replied. "The first confirmed record dates from 2137; but there are unexpected events of violent nature where the participants could not be identified beyond doubt. Including several outbreaks of unrest within the Klingon Empire that could easily have led to civil war and were clearly orchestrated by outside forces. Those might have been the Suliban – or, at least, one Suliban faction that is generally known as the Cabal – but we have no proof."

"That would mean, though, that the puppet masters of the Suliban might also hail from subspace," Reed said thoughtfully.

The Vulcan nodded. "It is possible. But, as I said, we have no proof. Perhaps when Gerasen Gerasal regains consciousness thy will be able to tell us more – if they are willing."

"Why wouldn't she?" Tucker shrugged. "We've risked a lot to save her pretty ass, after all."

"You forget that it was a human who shot them in the first place," reminded him the Vulcan. "The Viseeth are not used to violence and do not know how to deal with it. Gerasen Gerasal may be more… worldly than the others, seeing that they have dared to go out on an intelligence-gathering mission on their own; but after the events on Earth, they would find it difficult to trust humans – any humans – again."

"In that case it would be best if you were the one to communicate with her," Archer said.

T'Pol inclined her head in acceptance.

"I cannot dispute that, Captain. It is fortunate that you have invited Doctor Phlox along for this mission. As far as I know Gerasen Gerasal has no reason to mistrust Denobulans."

"And you know a lot about these things, don't you?" Reed commented softly.

"Yes, I do," T'Pol replied simply.

"Fortunately for us," Archer gave his armoury officer a quelling look and Reed dutifully shut up. "How long to Berengaria VIII yet?"

"Barred any unexpected events, ten point three seven days by steady warp four," T'Pol replied.

"We can't keep up warp four all the way!" Tucker protested. "The hull platin' took some damage in the fight with the Suliban; and there is a lot of internal damage we have to repair on our way."

Archer sighed. "What is the maximum speed you can give us?"

"Warp two point eight," Tucker replied promptly. "Warp three point five in the case of absolute emergencies, but only for short bursts. I'm sorry, Cap'n, but you know as well as I do that we launched before Enterprise would have been fully finished. Without a proper shakedown cruise – which we never had – I won't dare to take any unnecessary risks. The cow people just will have to wait a few days longer. It can't be helped."

"The longer it takes us to get to Berengaria VIII, the greater the risk of further attacks," Reed pointed out. "Let's be reasonable about this, Captain: it would be naïve to expect from the Suliban and whatever allies they may have to leave us alone. There will be other attempts to recapture the Viseeth… or to kill her – and us, too, if they don't want any witnesses."

"I know this is far from being over," Archer said. "But if Trip says it won't be safe to go beyond warp two point eight, then I won't take that risk. He knows the ship better than any of us… including me. And I grew up with the blueprints!"


That was such an obvious truth that the others couldn't argue with it. There being no other pressing matters at the moment, Archer dismissed his officers – with the exception of Hoshi who was supposed to help him put together his preliminary mission report – and signalled Petty Officer Daniels that he was ready for the next infusion of caffeine.

The young Welshman appeared mere moments later, with a thermos in hand and with Chef Williams in tow. That in itself wasn't surprising – Chef often checked in with the captain about menu choices – but this time he seemed a bit anxious.

"Is there a problem, Chef?" Jack asked, while Daniels distributed his heavenly coffee between him and Hoshi.

"Not as such," Williams replied. "It's just so, Captain, that Lieutenant Reed's birthday is coming up, and I thought I'd make a special dinner for him…"

"That's a good idea," Jack said. "Mr Reed put his life at risk to get us off the Suliban Helix; it's only proper that we do something nice for him in exchange."

"Yes, Captain, but I haven't got a clue what to cook for him," Williams complained. "I've got lists of food allergies and favourites and preferences and dislikes from the entire crew but none of them is any help with finding out what the lieutenant's favourite food is."

"We know he's allergic to tropical grasses; he told us as much himself during that first dinner with you and Subcommander T'Pol, sir," Daniels added, "but that's all."

"You should ask one of his friends," Jack suggested.

"He doesn't seem to have any," Daniels commented cynically. "Not aboard this ship anyway; which is hard to believe, given his sunny personality," the comment practically dripped sarcasm. "As for whom he might have known before, it's classified, like the rest of his service record."

"You should try asking Ensign Soccorro," Hoshi suggested. "They appear to be close; well, as close as Lieutenant Reed is capable of being to anyone."

"They are?" Jack was honestly surprised. "I never noticed."

"You never had a personal reason to watch him closely, sir," Hoshi replied quietly. "I'd offer to contact his family and ask a few questions but I'm afraid he'd misinterpret my efforts."

Jack shook his head. "You stay out of this, Hoshi; I don't want you to get in trouble for such an insignificant little thing."

"Contacting his family may be a good idea, though," Daniels said thoughtfully.

Jack nodded. "Then do so, Mr Daniels. I'm sure you'll be able to make some discreet enquiries."

"I'll do my best, sir," the quartermaster promised, and with that the two Welshmen left on their personal mission.


During the following days, while the Engineering crew was working around the clock to finish the necessary repairs as soon as possible, Petty Officer Daniels did his best indeed to find out what Lieutenant Reed's favourite food might be. He did everything short of asking the man himself.

First, he contacted Reed's parents – who turned out not to even know what position the lieutenant had taken aboard Enterprise. They didn't seem to know what he liked to eat, either, as he had apparently always eaten what was put in front of him.

Next, Daniels talked to Reed's sister. Unfortunately, she didn't have any idea what her brother liked to eat, either, although she did remember that Malcolm had gone for a week without eating once.

Daniels also asked Reed's uncle and his two spinster aunts, but all they knew was that their nephew occasionally ate – those had to be rather rare occasions in Daniels's opinion, given how whippet thin the man was.

As a last resort, he contacted a certain Lieutenant Mark Latrelle, supposedly Reed's best friend while at the Academy, but Latrelle couldn't tell him anything conclusive, as they had lost touch shortly after graduation. Presumably when Reed joined Starfleet Intelligence, from which point on keeping in touch with previous acquaintances generally wasn't encouraged.

Latrelle did remember, though, that the both of them used to favour a restaurant on the Embarcadero during their training, but he supposed that Reed had only gone there because of a pretty waitress named Maureen as, to his knowledge, Reed hated fish.

"No, he doesn't," Chef said when Daniels told him about his so far unsuccessful investigation. "Lat week I served sea bass and he ate it quite eagerly."

"That is the problem, don't you see?" Daniels replied sourly. "He eats everything. It's just near-impossible to find out what he likes."

"Somehow I don't think Lieutenant Reed likes anything… or anyone," Williams muttered. "Not even dessert. The only time he went for seconds was when I made pineapple cake."

"That's odd," Daniels said. "We know he's allergic to tropical grasses and plant enzymes – among half a dozen other things. It was the first thing I put on the lists. And pineapple certainly contains a great deal of bromelin. Are you sure he wanted seconds from that cake?"

"Quite sure," Chef replied. "He thought I didn't see it, as I was working in the back of the galley and no-one else was there at the time, but yeah, he did take seconds. He fetched a generous slice of that cake from the refrigerator with his own hands."

"Then we've got our answer," Daniels blow up a great breath in relief.

Williams, however, wasn't so sure about that. "And if we're wrong?"

The quartermaster shrugged. "Then we're wrong. We've done our best. I really don't see whom else we could ask."

"What about Ensign Soccorro?" Chef asked.

Daniels rolled his eyes. "Do you want to have your nose broken for meddling in her private life? I don't; that woman is a menace. Pineapple cake it is, and if the Captain isn't satisfied with the results, he can still order Lieutenant Reed to confess the truth about his food preferences."

"That would kind of undermine the idea of a surprise dinner," Chef pointed out.

Daniels shrugged. "Which is why I didn't ask him directly. No, I think pineapple cake is our best shot."

"To which he's allergic," Chef reminded him.

"Apparently, that didn't keep him from eating it before," Daniels replied. "Well, I have things to do, Rhys. Should you get a better idea, contact me. I'll inform the captain."


Archer accepted the news without comment. At the moment he had more pressing concerns. The Viseeth had regained consciousness and – contrary to T'Pol's prediction – was quite willing to talk to him.

This was the first time Jack saw her (he decided to think of the Viseeth as a she, as humans generally did, even though they knew she wasn't truly female) really awake and was stunned by her strange beauty. As if a fire salamander had taken on human shape.

The fact that her abductors had shaven her head clean only intensified the likeness.

"I wanted to thank you for getting me out of… wherever I was," she said. She had a low-pitched voice and spoke a grammatically flawless Standard, though her k-s and t-s sounded like hard clicks and her c-s and s-s were more like hisses than actual consonants; probably due to the sound of her natural language.

"The Vulcans told us it would be very important to get you home as soon as possible," Jack replied with a shrug. "I apologize in the name of my people that you were shot on Earth. As far as I'm told, the farmer who did it had never seen an extraterrestrial before and simply panicked. Still, we're sorry it happened."

"It is understandable," she replied with a negligent wave of a long, fine-boned, webbed hand. "Your species is still very young. You will get used to strangers in another century or two. It takes time."

"You are very understanding," Jack said in surprise; it wasn't at all how T'Pol had predicted the Viseeth would react.

She laughed; it sounded like a series of clicks and low whistles.

"Oh, I am something of an anomaly among my people," she admitted. "Which is why I ended up as an intelligence officer… something that has not existed among us for centuries. Literally."

"I see," and really, based on what they'd learned about the Viseeth (mostly from the Vulcan database), it sounded rather unusual.

"I believe we have not been officially introduced yet," she continued. "My name is," the following long string of clicking and whistling sounds made no sense for Jack whatsoever, "but you can call me Gerasen Gerasal. That is the name I use when dealing with other species."

"It's still a mouthful," Jack said. "Would you mind if we shortened it to G.G. as we usually do with long names where I'm coming from?"

She shrugged. "Not at all. The full one is just a substitute, too."

T'Pol seemed slightly scandalized by the manner in which Jack treated the Viseeth, but he didn't really care."

"G.G. it is, then," he said. "Now that we've cleared all the technicalities, what can you tell us about your abductors?"

"Not much, I fear," she replied thoughtfully. "In all the time my people have been explored the cosmos, we've never came across a species like them. Of course, we never ventured into any subspace domains, as we are not fit to survive in subspace outside our ships."

"But you were abducted b them, weren't you?" Jack tried to clarify. "Or did the Suliban take you?"

"I honestly cannot tell," she replied. "At the time they took me from your Sickbay, I was hibernating – that is what my people do when gravely wounded. It cuts our recovery time down to a half. When I came to, I was already in that lab, attached to their machines, and they were experimenting on me."

Her flecked skin formed goosebumps for a moment, which Jack interpreted as the Viseeth version of a shudder.

"What did they do to you – and to what purpose?" he asked.

"It is the theory of your Doctor Phlox that they wanted to change my biochemistry, so that I would survive in subspace; at least long enough for them to extract my memory engrams," she replied. "I tend to agree."

"But why?" Jack asked. "What do you know that's of such importance for them?"

"I cannot tell," seeing his annoyance, she raised a placating hand. "No, Captain; I really cannot. You see, I have no conscious memory of the knowledge I am carrying. Our brains are so constructed that we can store great amounts of information in them, fully compartmentalized from our conscious minds. Once stored away, we no longer have access to that information, unless a strong telepath unlocks it for us or we are connected to a memory machine."

"Which is what exactly?"

"A very advanced piece of psychotechnology that translates memory engrams to visual documents," she explained. "It is a technology we do not share with anyone, not even with our closest allies; therefore the information in my head can only be accessed on my homeworld."

"Which means that any delay could lead to another attack from the helpers of your adversaries, driven by the intention of recapturing you," Jack concluded.

Gerasen Gerasal tilted her head to the side, lizard-like. "Correct."

"Dammit," Jack said conversationally. "And we've left Spacedock without our weaponry fully installed. This is going to be fun…NOT!"

"I am sorry for causing you so much trouble, Captain," she seemed honestly apologetic.

"Don't be; it was my decision. Hell, I fought for the chance like a madman." Archer looked at T'Pol. "Have Mr Daniels assign proper quarters to our guests. I'll take a look at the repairs and then I'll have a word with our armoury officer about defensive measures."


The progress report from Engineering turned out very satisfactory. Charlie Tucker had clearly picked a highly skilled, enthusiastic crew that didn't mind working long, gruelling hours.

"If we can keep up the speed, we'll be able to safely go to warp three within the hours," he promised.

"That would be grand," Jack took a deep breath. "Apparently, we may count on further attempts to abduct – or kill – our passenger. I'd be glad if we could at least run away, since we don't have any big guns to shoot at the bad guys."

Charlie nodded, well aware of the problem. "We'll do our best, Jack."

"Good. You've got a great team here, Trip; the best in the Fleet. If anyone can do this, they can. Carry on and keep me informed. I'll be on the Bridge."

Jack rode the turbolift up to Deck One and stepped out onto the Bridge just in time for Reed to look up from his control screen and report, "A vessel is dropping out of warp, Captain. Twelve kilometres dead ahead."

"What a coincidence," Archer commented dryly. "Put it up."

Reed threw a switch on his console and a sleek, flattened shape with green highlights came into view. The alien ship seemed to be semi-translucent and glowing green from the inside like an oddly-shaped Christmas ornament.

Archer glanced at T'Pol. "Look familiar?"

The Vulcan shook her head. "I do not recognise the configuration."

"Right," Archer muttered. "It would have been too easy that way. Hail them!"

Hoshi pushed a button and nodded to him, signalling that the healing frequencies were open. "You can speak, sir."

Jack cleared his throat and plastered his biggest smile on his face. This was a First Contact situation, after all – his very first one.

"This is the Starship Enterprise. What can we do for you? My name is Jonathan Archer. We're on a mission of exploration from the planet Earth."

There was no answer whatsoever and Jack looked at his communications officer with a frown. "Hoshi?"

"The channel's open, sir," Hoshi seemed every bit as confused by the lack of any answer as he was.

Jack decided to make another attempt, turning up his legendary charm another notch.

"Do you need assistance?" still no answer. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine but, you dropped in on us, so I think at least a word of greeting would be appropriate.

Again, there was no answer. Instead, the mystery ship turned about and went to warp.

Jack stared at the empty screen in bewilderment. "Was it something I said?"

"Unlikely," was T'Pol's dry answer.

Jack turned to Reed. "Did you get anything on sensors?"

The armoury officer shook his head with an unhappy scowl. "No."

"No what?" Jack echoed, irritated.

"No bio-signs, no propulsion or weapon signatures, no readings at all," Reed clarified. "Either it is a fully automated vessel or they have very advanced shielding."

"That's odd," Jack said. "Are there inhabited systems nearby?"

"None," T'Pol replied promptly, without the need to consult her star charts – which showed that Vulcans were every bit as prone to showing off as other people.

Archer shook his head in bewilderment. "Why fly right up to us just to give us the silent treatment?"

"Maybe they got our signal but it didn't make any sense to them," Hoshi suggested. "Our translator is far from perfect."

"I would not take offence," T'Pol said. "Not every species has motives that can be understood in human terms."

"Oh, I'm afraid they have motives we'd understand all too well," Archer said grimly. "Don't you find it the least bit suspicious that a ship impenetrable to our scanners shows up out of nowhere right after we've rescued G.G. from that alien lab?"

"We have no proof that there is a connection between the two events," T'Pol pointed out reasonably.

"Yeah, but we don't have any proof that a connection doesn't exist, either," Archer returned. "This is too much of a coincidence for my peace of mind."

"You humans tend to jump to conclusions without sufficient empiric data," T'Pol commented. There was no judgemental undertone for a change; just a statement.

"Yeah; it's called a hunch," Archer replied. "It's saved the lives of unnumbered people a lot of times."

"Captain," Mayweather interrupted, right on clue. "The alien vessel has returned."

Archer eyed the viewscreen in suspicion. "Has it now? Guess we weren't so uninteresting after all."

"They dropped out of warp five hundred kilometres dead ahead," T'Pol reported, consulting her hooded scanner.

"I had to reverse engines to keep from banging into them," Mayweather complained.

Archer looked at Hoshi. "Let's try this again."

Hoshi opened a channel. "Go on, sir."

Archer cleared his throat. "Welcome back. I was hoping we'd have an opportunity to meet again. The primary mission of my ship is to make peaceful contact with other species. If there's anything we can do to assure you of our intentions."

He paused. Hoshi shook her head. Jack shrugged.

"Well, it's been nice talking to you," he went on. "Let's do this again sometime."

"I'm picking up something," Hoshi interrupted.

"Can you translate it?" Jack was galvanized at once, but Hoshi just shook her head again.

"I don't think it's a language."

In the next moment an eardrum busting sound ripped through the Bridge.

"We're being scanned," T'Pol replied, cringing slightly. A thin trickle of green blood was coming out of her ear. For her sensitive Vulcan hearing the sound must have been physically painful.

Before anyone could have reacted, the glowing green ship fired several shots as it passed overhead.

"Hull plating!" Archer shouted.

"It's offline!" Reed reported unhappily.

"Hard about," Archer ordered, but Mayweather shook his head.

"They've gone to warp, sir."

"Of course they have," Archer rubbed his eyes tiredly and took a few deep, calming breaths. "Everybody okay?"

"Damage reports are coming in, sir," Reed answered. "No one's been hurt."

The addition this time hung about them in the air, unspoken.

"At least something," Archer frowned. "What the hell was that about?"

"It would be safe to assume that they wanted to disable us, so that they can search the ship thoroughly without being disturbed," T'Pol suggested.

Archer gave her an alarmed look. "You think they're after G.G.?"

"As you said, Captain: it would be too much of a coincidence otherwise," she answered.

"Captain," Reed offered, "when they fired their weapon they dropped their shielding for about two seconds and I was able to take some scans."

"What did you get?" Archer asked, energized.

"Bio-signs," Reed said, sending the data to T'Pol's science station. "At least fifteen, maybe more."

The Vulcan ran a quick search; then she shook her head. "Their DNA does not match anything in our database."

"It's a good thing they're gone," Reed commented. "I doubt very much our torpedoes could've penetrated their shielding."

"Stay on long-range scanners," Archer ordered. "If they come anywhere near us, I want to know. T'Pol, with me!"

He turned around and strode off with barely controlled anger.

~TBC~


Notes: Yes, I messed up canon timeline quite a bit by switching "Silent Enemy" into the middle of the pilot's events. But since the silent aliens will play a continuing role in this story, the change was necessary.

As always, a few lines of dialogue have been borrowed from the actual episode.