Enterprise – The Maiden Voyage
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction
Notes are at the end of the chapter.
My heartfelt thanks to he wonderful and generous LoyaulteMeLie for beta reading and to the picowrimo crowd for their help with the phrasing. All remaining mistakes are mine – sometimes I'm just too stubborn for my own good.
Chapter 16 – Search, Rescue & A Lost Trail
Needless to say, Ensign Mayweather was moderately offended upon learning that the captain intended to fly the rescue mission himself. Understandably so. Mayweather was the best pilot in the Fleet, with the quickest reflexes and the shortest reaction time ever, and he had the records to prove it. He also had ample experience in search and rescue missions, despite his youth. Growing up as a space boomer did that to a man.
"I don't doubt that you're fit for this mission, Travis," Archer replied when the younger man brought up these arguments. "But I need you at the controls, should Enterprise be attacked."
"Are you counting on an attack, sir?" Reed asked.
The captain nodded. "Somebody sent the impulse that's about to blow up that building down on the planet. If they decide they don't want any witnesses, they will attack. And in that case I want my best man at the controls – and a tactically trained mind in command."
Reed blinked in surprise. Archer entrusting him with the ship while he himself went down to get their missing crew clearly wasn't something he'd have expected. Perhaps they were beginning to learn how to work together, after all.
Therefore the armoury officer was left in command, as the person best suited to deal with a potential attack, and the captain boarded Shuttlepod One in the company of Ensign Billy Burke from Security, who was built like a tank and armed to the teeth. He didn't want to take more people with him, so that they'd have enough room for the wounded. Fortunately, Ensign Soccorro was a trained field medic, so they didn't need to take additional medical personnel along.
"Let's go," Archer said, climbing into the pilot's seat. "I'm flying; you're scanning for human and Vulcan lifesigns. T'Pol and Soccorro have gone out to look for Novakovich and Namod."
Burke whistled. "In this storm? That Vulcan lady clearly has a lot of courage. Soccorro doesn't surprise me, she's one crazy chick, but I thought Vulcans weren't big on taking risks."
"Usually they aren't; they find it illogical." The captain pulled a face as he ran the checklist and lifted off the pod. "But I'm beginning to believe that our resident Vulcan is a bit different. All right, we've cleared the ship. Start with those scans and holler when you find something."
Down on the planet's surface, T'Pol and Ensign Soccorro were struggling forward in the raging wind storm. To offer as little surface to the wind as possible, they were crawling on all fours – sometimes even on their bellies. It was a vulnerable position, but as T'Pol had pointed out, the storm would hinder any potential enemies in the same way; and besides, they had to avoid being knocked over by the wind.
The other practical use of this position became clear when Ensign Soccorro all but stumbled over the lifeless body of Crewman Namod. The man seemed more than just unconscious: he wasn't breathing, and his entire face was an alarming shade of blue, especially his lips.
"Shit!" Soccorro cursed. "Is he dead?"
T'Pol consulted her scanner. "I am reading minimal neural activity in the brain, so he is still alive… barely. The symptoms are similar to those of a man hit by lightning… or by high voltage electricity."
"This wasn't an accident then," Soccorro stated.
"No." T'Pol activated her comm. "Captain, we have found Crewman Namod. He has definitely been attacked, and must be taken to Sickbay if he is to survive. His condition is critical."
"What about Novakovich?"
"We have not found any sign of him yet."
"Stay where you are. We're closing in on your position. There's a clearing a hundred metres from the cave entrance; that's where I'll set down the 'pod, and then we'll continue the search together."
"Understood." T'Pol broke the connection and looked at Soccorro. "Is there anything you can do for Crewman Namod?"
The ensign nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm giving him a Du-Ox shot which, I hope, will restart his breathing and I'll continue with chest compressions until we fan fix him in the shuttlepod. But he'll need a proper doctor, very soon."
"Dr Phlox is going to have a busy day," T'Pol commented dryly. "Very well, Ensign; tell me what can I do to help you with your patient."
"You can watch my back, so that we won't end up like him," the security officer replied. "I'll take care of the patient and hope that the captain gets here in time."
Jack Archer, in the meantime, was doing his level best to arrive in time, despite the fact that the wind was throwing the shuttlepod around like a nutshell. Ensign Burke, glued to the short-range scanners, was looking for their missing people meanwhile.
"I'm reading them," he suddenly said. "Two kilometres due west: two humans and one Vulcan; and another human, about two hundred metres from them, moving slowly away from their position."
"That must be Novakovich," Archer said. "Damn it, it's not good that we'll have to split up. I'm taking us down, as close to the cave entrance as I dare."
"There's a lot of wind shear near the surface," Burke warned.
"I know," the captain replied through gritted teeth. "I can't change it. Activate the auxiliary landing thrusters. Altitude seventy metres… forty metres..."
A sudden gush of wind unexpectedly threw them back before they could land. The shuttlepod was rocking and rolling, and Archer swore under his breath.
"Damn it! I'll have to try a different vector."
"Starboard!" Burke warned and Archer nodded.
"I see it," but he couldn't quite prevent a wing tip from grazing a rocky outcrop.
"Thruster four's down," Burke reported. "We're leaking plasma coolant."
Archer nodded but started a third approach from yet another angle.
Burke was getting nervous. "Sir, we can't safely land in this wind with a thruster out!"
"Watch me," Archer scowled and after a particularly bumpy approach he actually set down the shuttle right in front of the cave entrance.
Burke swallowed several times. "That was… spectacular, sir. I don't think that even Travis could have done better."
"I've been flying a little longer than he has," the captain replied dryly. "He may have the record in the simulator now, but I still have the experience. Now, why don't you help Dr Yannes getting Trip and the equipment in the 'pod, while I hunt down the rest of our people? You can follow me once they're safe."
Burke did as he'd effectively been ordered, and Jack took a hand-held scanner to find his missing crew. Moving around on foot in the strong wind was every bit as difficult as flying through it by shuttlepod had been, but he was nothing if not persistent, and so he soon found Ensign Soccorro, trying to reanimate Crewman Namod via chest compressions, and T'Pol watching their surroundings with a phase pistol in her hand.
Even the Vulcan seemed relieved to see the cavalry arrive.
"Crewman Namod was doubtless hit by a strong electric discharge," she reported. "At the moment he is still alive, but his prognosis is not good. He needs Doctor Phlox; and so does Commander Tucker."
"I know; but we can't leave Novakovich behind, either," Archer said. "We've already lost one crewman; I'm not following that tendency if I can help it. The two of you take Namod to the 'pod. Trip is already there with Doctor Yannes. Ensign, you stay with them. You can fly the 'pod if needs must be; if we're not back in twenty minutes, you'll leave, too."
"And leave you behind, sir? I don't think so," Soccorro protested.
"I don't require you to think," Jack replied coolly. "The injured need the doc, and if we're not back in time we most likely won't get the chance to return at all before that control centre blows up. Lieutenant Reed has standing orders to take Enterprise out of here when that happens, so you better get back with your charges while you still can."
"Aye, sir," the ensign replied unhappily, but Jack was no longer paying her any attention, his mind focused on the next task. He flipped open his communicator.
"Archer to Novakovich. Ethan, respond. "
For a seemingly endless moment there was no answer, but then they could hear the young man's anxious voice. "Who's there? Who is that?"
"This is Captain Archer." Jack forced himself to sound calm. "We've just landed with the 'pod. I want you to get back to the cavern. We need to leave this place as soon as possible."
Unfortunately, Novakovich seemed to have other ideas. "Go to hell!" he yelled, and broke the connection.
"He is not far from here." T'Pol studied her scanner. "Approximately one hundred and eighty-seven point six metres ahead of us." She waved in the right direction.
"Is he armed?" The last thing Jack wanted was to get shot by his own panicking crewman.
"No, Captain."
"Which means he's completely defenceless, should he run into the same people as Namod."
T'Pol refrained from doing something as primitive as shrugging. "Captain, Crewman Namod was armed – it did not do him any good." She consulted her scanner again. "We must hurry, sir. Crewman Novakovich's biosigns are very erratic."
"Where is he?"
"Moving further away, but very slowly. Our chances to catch up with him are good – if we do not lose any more time."
"All right," Archer said with a determined set of his jaw. "Let's hurry up then!"
They moved on, struggling to make headway against the violent wind that was getting worse by the minute. Soon, even T'Pol's Vulcan strength proved insufficient against the forces of nature. Laconic creature as she was, she found it her duty to point out that fact to the captain.
"Captain, this is useless. We must turn back while we still can," she said calmly, raising her voice above the howling of the wind.
"I'm not leaving another man behind!" Archer yelled; they were both crouching desperately in the protection of some bushes.
"I am not suggesting that you do so," she returned evenly, as if they were sitting in the captain's dining room having tea. "I do think, however, that under the circumstances we should risk using the transporter… assuming Enterprise can get a lock on the crewman."
The captain didn't seem enthusiastic about the suggestion. "Let me try reaching him again first." He snapped his communicator open. "Archer to Novakovich. Can you hear me? Ethan?"
There was no answer… not really. Only Novakovich's terrified screams came over the comm.
Archer's shoulders slumped in defeat. "All right, Subcommander, let's try your way." He switched channels. "Archer to Enterprise."
"Go ahead, sir," Reed's voice answered.
"Mr Reed, we are running out of time. Can you get a lock on Crewman Novakovich?"
"You want to use the transporter, Captain?" The Englishman sounded positively shocked. "In this storm?"
"Looks like our only choice," Archer replied. "We tried to find him, but…" He trailed off.
"Understood. Stand by," Reed answered crisply, clearly having overcome his shock in record time; T'Pol reflected dryly that all that spy training must have paid off. "I've got a fix, sir, twenty kilometres north east, but there's a problem. There are contaminants in the matter stream. The phase discriminator can't seem to isolate the debris."
"Get him anyway," Archer ordered. "Better coming up with a few extra parts that Phlox may be able to remove than dying down here for certain."
"Aye, sir, we're giving it a try." Reed paused, waiting for news from the transporter chamber; then he said in relief. "We've got him, sir. He's unconscious and has twigs and leaves stuck in him, but Dr Phlox says he can remove those with minimum effort. You should return to the 'pod."
"We're planning to, Lieutenant. Tell them to wait for us; and have Sickbay stand by for Trip and Crewman Namod. They're in a bad shape."
"Aye, Captain." And with that, they broke the connection.
Archer and T'Pol reached the shuttlepod just slightly over the original deadline, and the captain could prove once again what an excellent pilot he was, manoeuvring them safely through the storm. Granted, it was a somewhat bumpy ride – more so than when they'd gone down to the planet – but they arrived on Enterprise in one, only slightly battered piece, and that was what counted, wasn't it?
Jack ordered Mayweather to move the ship further away from the planet, so that the shockwaves of the explosion of the Iconian control centre wouldn't reach them. They didn't know enough about Iconian technology to safely predict just how far it would reach; not even the Viseeth could. After that, he went down to Sickbay to see how his men were doing. T'Pol followed him without being ordered to do so.
Sickbay was as busy as a beehive. Dr Phlox had already rid Crewman Novakovich of the debris that had fused to his skin during the transporting process, and some exotic creatures from his menagerie were doing their best to repair the damage.
"Human skin is a resilient organ," the Denobulan said, obviously pleased with his handiwork. "These wounds should heal nicely."
Jack nodded. That was one fewer concern for him. "What about his mental status?" he then asked.
The doctor's happy grin dimmed a bit. "That's not so good at the moment, Captain. Have you ever heard of tropolisine?"
"No," Jack admitted.
"It's a psychotropic compound known for its hallucinogenic effects," the doctor explained. "This crewman's bloodstream is filled with it."
Jack frowned. "If it was down on the planet, why didn't our sensors pick it up?"
Phlox shrugged. "Normally, it's found in certain flowering plants. Perhaps your sensors weren't calibrated to detect it. "
"Or perhaps it wasn't there until the wind started," T'Pol suggested. If the compound comes from a flower, it might have been blown down from the mountains when the storm reached our position."
"That sound likely," the doctor agreed.
"How long will the effects last?" Jack asked.
"Now that he's back on Enterprise, he should be all right in three or four hours," the Denobulan promised.
Jack nodded; that sounded harmless enough. "What about Trip and Crewman Namod?" he asked.
"I'm afraid the news regarding them is not so good," the doctor confessed, his usual optimism now considerably dimmed. "Crewman Namod was clearly hit by an energy weapon similar to the one those engineering crewmen were attacked with a few weeks ago, when Enterprise was infiltrated. Lieutenant Reed can tell you the details; he had the energy signatures compared and ran a full analysis. Fortunately, Mr Namod is a very strong individual. With some rest and the right therapy, he should be back on his feet and fit for duty in a week or two."
"And Trip?" Jack found the doctor's obfuscating a little suspicious.
Phlox sighed. Seeing his characteristic (sometimes a bit annoying) cheerfulness now completely gone promised no good.
"The good news is that Commander Tucker is no longer in danger of multiple organ failure," he began. "I couldn't find anything wrong with his brain, so he'll be his charming self again, given enough time."
"But…?" Jack pressed on because there was definitely a but coming.
The doctor sighed again. "But he has suffered considerable nerve damage from all that energy flowing through his body. You must imagine the effects of somebody being hit by lightning. Repeatedly. It's a small miracle that he's still alive."
"Trip is nothing if not stubborn," the captain said grimly. "What will this nerve damage cause him in practical terms?"
"It causes problems with his fine motorics," Phlox explained. "Among other things, he now has an intermittent tremor in his dominant hand; which is particularly unfortunate for an engineer, of course."
"Meaning what?"
"It means, Captain, that he won't be able to do delicate repairs by himself. Or any delicate work in general. I imagine he won't be happy about that."
"That's the understatement of the century," Jack said dryly. He knew his friend would go mad not being able to work on his beloved engines any more. They were looking forward to difficult times. "But he's still alive, and he still has the knowledge. We'll find a way to work around his problem; and he'll learn to cope. I'm not giving up on him just yet."
Before Phlox could have replied – if indeed he had anything to say in answer – the comm system chimed.
"Reed to Archer."
"Go ahead."
"Captain, the energy build-up under the planet's surface is reaching critical levels. An explosion appears to be imminent."
"On my way," Jack looked at Phlox. "Keep me informed, Doctor; and call me any time if there are any changes."
"Of course, Captain." The Denobulan was turning back to his patients already.
When Archer reached the Bridge with T'Pol in tow, he found Hoshi in command, Mayweather in the pilot's seat – and Reed, curiously, absent.
"He's gone down to the Armoury, Captain, just in case," Hoshi informed him, vacating the command chair in favour of her own station, while the Vulcan hurried to her usual post.
"Are we at a safe distance?" the captain asked, taking his chair.
"Yes, Captain." T'Pol called up the readings of her hooded scanner to show on the bottom of the main viewer, which currently showed a distant view of the planet. "According to my newest calculations the shockwave is not going to reach beyond the stratosphere. We have already cleared the upper atmosphere and have established high geosynchronous orbit."
"How much time until the explosion?"
"Unknown, sir. However, by the current speed of the energy build-up I estimate that it cannot be more than a few minutes away."
Barely had she finished speaking when the comm system chimed. It was Reed from the Armoury.
"Captain, sensors are picking up a large explosion on the planet's surface. It is equivalent to a Force Twelve hydrogen explosion. Blast radius is nine hundred kilometres," he reported.
"Affirmative." T'Pol peeked into her hooded scanner. "The dust particles entering the stratosphere will take an estimated seven months to fall back to the surface. The diminution in sunlight will have the effect of lowering the average daily surface temperature by fifteen degrees Celsius."
"And thus another paradise was destroyed in the name of tactical advantage," Archer commented gloomily; then he turned to Hoshi. "Show me."
Hoshi laid the picture onto the main viewer and they all watched with morbid fascination as a huge eruption broke up the surface of the planet, not unlike the phenomenon of a volcano coming alive. However, there was no molten rock bursting through the crust, just a great deal of high technology debris that immediately went up in oddly-coloured flame, sending a massive shockwave in front of itself, which, as T'Pol had predicted, dissolved in the stratosphere.
"Chemical fire," T'Pol said, her voice unusually grim. "The wind storm will spread it quickly, turning everything in its way into toxic waste. The centre of the storm has already passed over the explosion site, but the system spans five hundred kilometres. Half the continent will be affected."
"Operation Scorched Earth," Lieutenant Hess murmured. "Somebody clearly didn't want us to study the technology down there closely… and potentially reverse-engineer it."
"Presumably the same 'somebody' who shot Crewman Namod," added Lieutenant Fuller at Tactical. "Do you think it's been the Shroomies, Captain?"
Archer shrugged. "That's our best guess so far. All right, people, let's break orbit and return to our original course. There's nothing more for us. Whatever we might have learned here has been destroyed."
"Course to the Delphic Expanse laid in, sir," Mayweather reported a short time later.
Archer nodded. "Good, let's go. T'Pol, you're in command. I'll be in my ready room, composing my report for Starfleet Command. Send me up Mr Reed; I might need some details."
The crew returned to their regular duty as Enterprise broke orbit, heading for the Delphic Expanse again. But if Archer hoped for a little peace and quiet, he was quickly disappointed. Less than an hour after they'd returned to their original course, he was called to Sickbay, with the shocking news that Novakovich might be dying.
"I thought you said he was going to be fine," the captain said to his Chief Medical Officer accusingly.
Phlox seemed genuinely contrite. "I did, but each tropolisine atom contains a stray neutron. When it started to break down in his bloodstream it released an undetectable toxin. I've injected him with inoprovalene but I think it may be too late. If I'd run a submolecular scan I might have anticipated the complication, but there was no reason to. At least, there didn't seem to be. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Captain."
"It wasn't your fault," said Dr. Yannes, who was doing something… complicated with a microscope nearby. "Under normal circumstances tropolisine isn't supposed to do that."
"Meaning what?" Jack asked.
"It means, Captain, that either there's something very particular with Crewman Novakovich's body chemistry, or somebody deliberately released a so far unknown chemical compound at the same time the storm hit our landing place," the xenobiologist explained. "Personally, I believe the latter, and once I've run a full analysis, we'll know for certain."
"But who'd do such a thing?" The Denobulan asked in shock. His doctor's ethics made it hard for him to comprehend such actions.
"The same people who just destroyed half a planet to prevent us from studying Iconian technology," the captain replied grimly. "What about the others?"
"They spent less time exposed," Phlox hurriedly assured him. "We'll start synthesizing ampoules of inoprovalene at once, nonetheless. It's imperative that we inoculate everyone who went down to the planet as soon as possible."
"Doctor," called Crewman Yee, the med tech watching over Novakovich, relief clear in her voice. "He's responding to the medication."
Phlox hurried over to the biobed and checked the readings. "You're right, Crewman. Well, that's one burden off my conscience. Although his odds of recovery would be a lot better if we'd treated him sooner. But at least we know now that we can deal with the problem."
"What about Trip and Crewman Namod?"
"We'll inoculate them first; then the rest of the survey team."
"Sounds like a plan." Archer looked at Dr Yannes. "Contact me when your analysis is finished, Doc. We might have to call a crisis meeting for the senior staff… well, for those who can still participate," he added, with a sorrowful look at his best friend, who was still in a medically induced coma.
"Of course, Captain," the xenobiologist promised. "It may take a few hours, though."
In the end, it took Dr Yannes three and a half hours to run the complete analysis on the pollen. As resilient as Centaurians were as a rule, even she looked exhausted when she arrived in the Situation Room; her skin, normally a rich cocoa brown, had faded to a dull grey.
"I was right," she said, distributing PADDs among the senior officers. "The toxin is synthetic, designed to bond with tropolisine atoms on the subatomic level spontaneously. Whoever released it, they wanted us dead; and they were familiar with the weather patterns on that planet and the peculiarities of the planetary flora."
Archer looked at Gerasen Gerasal whom he had invited to the meeting.
"Did the Iconians use biological or chemical weapons?"
"No," the Viseeth answered promptly. "At least not to our knowledge. Their weapons were exclusively defensive, designed to disable the technology of their adversaries, just like the probe we destroyed."
"The Shroomies are behind this," Lieutenant Fuller declared. "I went to see Namod – he's been drifting in and out of consciousness all day, but I caught him in one of his lucid moments, and he described his attackers." He called up an image on the viewscreen. "This is the phantom image the computer created, based on his description. Looks familiar?"
The picture showed one of the so-called 'Shroomies', only with something that looked like an implant or an artificial eyepiece.
"Definitely one of the Shroomies," Archer agreed, being the one who'd seen the intruders in the flesh, not just on the security footage. "But what's with that eyepiece?"
"Actually, it's an Incubator," Gerasen Gerasal said calmly.
All humans present gave her odd looks, having a different context for that particular word. Only T'Pol remained indifferent.
"A what?" the captain finally asked.
"An Elachi scientist," the Viseeth explained. "They were – well, apparently still are – not soldiers and thus comparatively weak, although armed with disruptor pistols. According to the Historical Database, the artificial eye attachment served – serves – both as a sensor and as a microscope." She shook her head. "We had no idea that the Elachi were still a force to reckon with, after a hundred millennia of disappearance."
"A scientist, eh?" Lieutenant Hess muttered. "That explains the explosion. The Shroomies needed somebody with the necessary know-how to blow up that thing down there."
"That appears likely, yes," T'Pol agreed. "The Elachi served the Iconians for uncounted millennia; they ought to be familiar with Iconian technology."
"That doesn't bode well for us, knowing what little we know about Iconian tech development," Archer commented darkly.
"No; and there's more," Reed said in agreement, and called up another image on the screen – that of an arrow-shaped, luminescent green ship. "Does this appear familiar?"
"Isn't that the ship we encountered a few weeks ago?" Anna Hess asked. "The one with the Shroomies that invaded Enterprise, tried to sabotage our ship and shot two of our crew?"
"It is," the armoury officer replied darkly. "And it's also the ship that seems to be following us, just outside the reach of our long-range sensors. We're being watched."
And in more than just one way, T'Pol thought, remembering Captain Vanik and the starship Ti'Mur also just outside Enterprise's sensor range, following the human vessel like a bloodhound. She'd been ordered not to inform Captain Archer about being watched. So far, she had obeyed her orders. But she reserved the right to change her mind if she found it necessary.
She only hoped the Ti'Mur would actually interfere, should the Elachi decide to take even more drastic steps against Enterprise.
No, I really have no idea if it is possible for debris to merge with human skin during the transporter process. Let's just agree that this was an early, experimental transporter with some faults and go on, all right? *g*
