Enterprise – The Maiden Voyage

by Soledad

For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.


Chapter 20 – Third Strike – The Pilgrims

After their encounter with 'Archer's Comet', as the treacherous celestial body had been nicknamed by the crew – and with Captain Vanik and his ship – Enterprise continued her journey to the Delphic Expanse. To general relief, the following week went by without any mentionable events. As great as adventures might be, one needed a break between them from time to time, as Crewman Fletcher put it.

People used the break to catch up with overdue issues – or simply with sleep. To everyone's great delight, Crewmen Namod and Novakovich had waken up from their medically induced coma in a relatively good shape, even though Novakovich had been understandably shocked when he learned about Crewman Cooper's final fate; the two had been quite close. Closer, perhaps, than what was considered acceptable by the non-fraternisation rules. Therefore further counselling sessions had been prescribed.

Ensign Mayweather's wrenched knee had been treated by Doctor Phlox, and while he was still restricted to light duty, at least he was no longer confined to bed rest. Those four days had been enough to drive an active young man like him up the bulkheads.

For the first time since the accident, Phlox had allowed the young helmsman to take half of his shift on the Bridge, and he was eager to grab the chance. He was still limping a little – mostly because he had been ordered to be careful with his damaged 'knee – as he hurried towards the turbolift… and nearly missed it as the door began to close.

"Hold the door!" he shouted.

A hand must have touched the sensor surface within, for the door slid back open obediently. He stepped into the cabin and found Hoshi there, ready to report for duty as well. She smiled at him – that shy, lovely smile that'd had him weak-kneed ever since they came on board… not that he'd give himself a rat's chance. She was older than him, a certified genius – and the captain's personal friend. Still, it was nice to have her as a friend and a colleague. At least they shared an interest in movies.

Which reminded him…

"Where were you last night?" he asked.

"I had a session with T'Pol," she explained. "She's teaching me Vulcan meditation techniques."

"That must have been… strange." Travis stopped himself from saying dull in the last possible moment.

"In a sense," Hoshi admitted. "The Vulcan brain has a different structure and, as a result, it works differently from ours. Using their techniques is very efficient, as T'Pol would tell you, but also tiring for a human. I decided to turn in early after our session."

Travis still couldn't understand why anyone would want to meditate like Vulcans did but decided it wasn't his business.

"Well, you didn't miss much," he said instead.

That piqued Hoshi's interest. "What did they show?"

"Night of the Killer Androids," Travis replied darkly.

Hoshi laughed; it was a lovely sound and way too rare to hear. "That bad?"

"We've got fifty thousand movies in the database," he muttered unhappily. "There must be something worth watching."

Hoshi gave him a coy look. "You could always read a book, you know."

They laughed. It was an old argument between them. Travis, being more the visual type, preferred movies to books, while Hoshi (although she liked movies too) kept telling him than only books would help to develop a vivid imagination.

Since there was little chance of them solving this particular disagreement any time soon, they dropped the topic and stepped out of the lift cabin, directly onto the Bridge, where they found Reed holding down the fort.

"Lieutenant." Travis nodded politely and went straight to his station, relieving the crewman on duty. Hoshi did the same.

Reed nodded back. "Ensigns. Enjoyed the show last night?" he then asked Travis, who pulled a face.

"Not really. What about you, sir?"

The armoury officer adopted one of his many stiff-lipped British non-expressions. "Those were two hours of my life I'd rather have back."

"I can't blame you." Mayweather checked the readings of his console… and frowned. "Sir, I notice we've changed course. May I ask why?"

"There's a stellar nursery not far from here," Reed told him. "We detected several ships inside and Captain Archer thought we might go say hello."

His extremely dry tone left no doubt what he thought about the idea, and Hoshi suppressed a smile. It was so very like Jack Archer to change course, just to find out what kind of people lived in this region.

Personally, she could relate. New people meant new languages and, as Doctor Phlox had put once, there was so much to learn! She was looking forward to new experiences.


It took them another three hours at warp two to reach the stellar nursery – a spectacular nebula of cosmic gases in which stars were being formed, giving off bursts of ultraviolet light. It was a fairly amazing sight with its glowing kaleidoscope of intense colours.

"The Straya-Ralash Nebula," T'Pol commented. "One of the more spectacular phenomena in this area of space. It was first registered by the scout ship Ozhika, a hundred and twenty-three point seven of your standard years ago, but never actually charted."

"So, Vulcans aren't interested in nebulae, either?" Charlie Tucker, who had come up to the Bridge for a better look, asked mockingly.

T'Pol ignored him with practised ease.

"An interesting name," Jack commented. "Does it have a meaning?"

"Straya-ralash is one of the Vulcan consonants, its written form consisting of three separate horizontal glyphs," Hoshi answered in T'Pol's stead, and the Vulcan nodded.

"That is correct."

"That's all?" Jack asked, clearly disappointed. "Your people named a phenomenon like this after a letter of your alphabet? That's so… so lame!"

"Vulcan astronomers do not give cosmic phenomena random names based on their personal fantasy," T'Pol said dryly. "They use a logical system based on the letters of the Vulcan alphabet – and a number code, if necessary. This system gives instant information about the phenomenon's location related to the galactic core."

"It may seem a bleak solution to you who are quite new to the wonders of the cosmos, Captain," added Gerasen Gerasal, who had also come to the Bridge to take a look. "But from the practical point of view the Vulcan method works extremely well. Which is why my people adopted it millennia ago – it worked better than our own. It is no shame to learn, even from a much younger people."

"Yeah, sure." Jack wasn't quite willing to change his opinion about it just yet. Instead, he turned to Mayweather. "What have you got, Travis?"

"We found one of the ships, sir," the pilot replied eagerly.

Jack nodded. "Put it up."

Mayweather threw a switch, and the image of an extremely unspectacular ship – one that had clearly seen better days – appeared on the viewscreen, backlit by the gorgeous colours of the nebula.

"It appears to be a transport vessel," T'Pol commented, not bothering to tell them what she might have based her estimate on.

"Hail them," Jack ordered, and Hoshi was only too happy to obey,

"They're responding," she reported, putting up onto the screen the image of a bald alien with blunt reptilian features, horn-like ridges above nonexistent eyebrows and large scale plates rather than skin. "And their language is in the database."

"Can I help you?" the alien asked in a tone that was more bored than anything else.

Jack stepped into the focus of the cameras. "My name is Archer. I'm captain of the starship Enterprise. We're from Earth. We thought we'd introduce ourselves."

"Pleased to meet you." If possible, the alien sounded even more bored. Meeting previously unknown people was clearly old hat for him. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." Jack was slightly taken aback by the other's obvious lack of enthusiasm. "We're new to this region and we're eager to make contact with other species."

"Oh." This was clearly a new concept for the alien because it became momentarily speechless.

Jack used the opportunity to continue his campaign of making friends. "If you don't mind my asking, what brings you here?"

"A job." The alien found its voice again. "I'm escorting a group of spiritually minded men on a pilgrimage to the Great Plume of Agosoria."

"To the… the what?" Jack was temporarily confused.

He wasn't the only one. Even Gerasen Gerasal and T'Pol exchanged blank looks.

"Every eleven years, one of the protostars gives out a neutron blast," the alien explained in the same bored tone. "These gentlemen believe it's a sacred event. If you ask me, I think it's just another ball of hydrogen."

Jack tended to agree. He found the idea that space-faring species would mistake cosmic phenomena for mythical events ... odd, to say the least. Still, the sight might be worth seeing. T'Pol seemed to think so, too; but there again, she was a scientist. She more likely wanted to take some readings than immerse herself in any supposed spiritual value the experience might be believed to have.

"When is this Great Plume due to erupt?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," the alien told her.

She looked at Jack. "Captain, since the Straya-Ralash Nebula has not been charted so far by either Vulcans or humans, it would be a good opportunity to collect some data. A protostar with such a regular cycle is a rare phenomenon in this area of space."

"Why not?" Jack actually liked the idea of being first at something. "Mind if we join you?" he asked the alien.

It shrugged indifferently. "It's your time to waste."

That didn't sound too promising – or friendly – but Jack wasn't about to give up just yet. This was a first contact situation, after all; one that appeared to be peaceful, for a change.

"I'd like to extend an invitation to you and your passengers to visit Enterprise," he continued, putting on the most charming grin he could manage.

Unfortunately, his efforts were clearly wasted on the alien.

"I'll ask them if they're interested," it said, its own lack of interest glaringly obvious. "I prefer to stay with my own ship."

"Understood." No, actually Jack could not understand how someone – anyone – could dismiss the opportunity to take a look at a ship like Enterprise. First Vanik and now this… reptile guy. What was wrong with these people? "Thank you for your efforts, Mister…?"

"Fraddock", the alien said. "Captain Fraddock."

And it ended the transmission without a further word.

"Charming," Charlie commented sarcastically. "So, are we havin' guests?"

"We might," Jack replied. "I'd order Chef to prepare something but we have no idea what these people eat."

"Asking them once they are here – assuming there will be any coming – would be the most prudent line of action," T'Pol suggested.

"Or you could order a buffet meal with both normal and vegan dishes," Hoshi said. "That way they can make their own choices and explore Earth cuisine."

Jack gave her an encouraging smile. "You've always been so practical-minded, Hoshi."

And on that note he contacted his quartermaster to issue the necessary instructions.


Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, former Starfleet spy – pardon, intelligence officer – found Captain Archer's idea of inviting onboard a bunch of previously unknown aliens (whose true intentions they couldn't even guess) a bloody unreasonable one. To put it mildly.

"Sometimes I really can't understand Starfleet's poster boys," he complained to Ensign Soccorro, who could be relied upon to keep such improper utterances strictly private. "He wants to give them a tour of the ship, too – what for?"

Soccorro shrugged. "He's very proud of the ship. And frankly, he has every reason to be proud."

"Yes, and the best way to endanger both ship and crew is to let a bunch of strangers loose on board," Reed commented darkly. "I hope he's not planning to show them the Armoury."

"God, I hope he isn't." Soccorro shuddered at the thought. "A reprimand for insubordination wouldn't look well on my record – or yours, sir."

Neither of them would allow the strangers to enter the Armoury, regardless of the captain's orders. Ultimately, they both answered to Starfleet Intelligence; but a confrontation with their immediate superior wouldn't have been a good thing.

"Let's hope these so-called pilgrims aren't the types who'd go around stealing military secrets," she added.

"And how are we supposed to know that?" Reed asked glumly. "We're not familiar with these species. They aren't even in the Vulcan database. I know. I checked."

"I thought you would, sir."

"They shouldn't even be on board," the armoury officer continued, ignoring her comment. "At the very least tactical systems should be off-limits. And Engineering."

Soccorro nodded, in complete agreement with him. Then something caught her attention and she frowned at her control screen. "Sir, starboard targeting sensor's out again. Should I call Engineering?"

"No. I'll take care of it." Reed scowled. "It'll only take a moment. And then I'll go to the docking port. I want to take a good, hard look at our…guests when they arrive. I leave the Armoury in your capable hands, Ensign – keep it safe!"

"Don't worry, Lieutenant." She pulled a sleek weapon – one that definitely wasn't regular Starfleet issue and couldn't even be recognised as a weapon at first sight – from under her console and laid it onto the instrumental board. "No-one will enter here without your express orders. Not even the captain."


Having readjusted the annoyingly recalcitrant targeting sensor, Reed went on to the docking port, where Archer, Tucker and T'Pol had already congregated to welcome their visitors. It was a pressurised area, so he could enter without delay and join his fellow senior officers, just as the hatch opened and half a dozen people stepped out onto the metallic deck.

These were the most bizarre-looking aliens he had ever seen – and he had seen his fair share of bizarre creatures, considerably more than any other human on board Enterprise, with the possible exception of Ensign Mayweather. After the first contact with the Vulcans, Denobulans, Klingons and the various Centaurian subspecies, people at Starfleet Intelligence tended to joke that all aliens looked like humans, only with bumps on their foreheads, pointy ears or odd eye colours. Even the Viseeth appeared surprisingly human to the naked eye.

The Shroomies and Gerasen Gerasal's abductors were the first truly… alien aliens he had met. And now these people.

The creature that appeared to be the leader of the group was bipedal with a slender humanoid body, but there all similarities ended. It was tall, a couple of inches taller than Archer even, its skin a pale purple with streaks of crimson. It had an elongated face with three pairs of green eyes (with slanted yellow pupils) that were arranged vertically and separated by thick ridges. A feature vaguely resembling a nose was situated between the upmost pair of eyes, and it seemed to have an additional, heart-shaped orifice in the centre of its forehead – an organ the purpose of which Reed couldn't even begin to guess.

Still, it sounded ordinary enough as it bowed to Archer and introduced itself in a hoarse, male-sounding voice.

"Greetings. I'm Prah Mantoos. May Agosoria embrace you into his cycle of renewal."

"Errr… thanks," the captain replied, a little bewildered. Then he collected himself again. "Welcome aboard. Captain Jack Archer." He extended his hand. "It's customary on Earth to greet someone with a handshake."

The alien grabbed Archer's hand with his own three-fingered one and squeezed carefully. Then he made a sweeping gesture towards the rest of his group. "These are my fellow celebrants. We've travelled many light years from different worlds to watch this event."

He named the others but Reed couldn't mark all the names at once. It didn't really matter; Soccorro was monitoring the event and recording everything for further analysis.

Archer introduced his senior staff, and with the formalities out of the way, Prah Mantoos gestured to one of the pilgrims wearing the same style of hooded blue robe as himself, who brought forth from some fold within it a glass circle with etchings, in a stand.

"For you, Captain," Mantoos declared, handing the thing over to Archer.

The captain nodded his thanks. "It's beautiful. What exactly is it?"

"A clock," Mantoos explained. "It charts time from the beginning of the universe."

Reed suppressed a derisive snort. Granted, the etchings were pretty, but the so-called clock didn't seem to have any working mechanism… or generally any means at all of doing anything. He sought out T'Pol's attention and the Vulcan gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. Malcolm decided to snatch the thing at the first possible opportunity and take it apart to see what made it tick – or whether it would represent any threat. He had the feeling that at this particular time T'Pol would be more than willing to contribute her own efforts.

Mantoos now stepped back, changing places with another pilgrim. This one wore brown and seemed to have both reptilian and mammalian traits: an elongated torso, long arms and just one pair of big reptilian eyes. Its head was crowned by a long twin structure resembling a hollow crest, not unlike that of the trumpet-headed dinosaurs from Earth's past.

This second alien bowed politely, too, and handed a long bottle of red liquid to Tucker.

"Voo-Sinteel," it explained in a high-pitched, almost falsetto voice. "It's a spirit traditionally consumed as the Plume reaches its full brilliance. You'll find it enhances the experience."

"Mmm, I'm sure it does," the chief engineer replied with interest, and Reed hoped by God he would be able to snatch the bottle too, if their resident technological wizard was stupid enough to try drinking the stuff.

Had they all skipped survival training at the Academy?

He decided to keep an eye on their visitors personally. Lieutenant Foster and Crewman Fuller were more than capable of dealing with Tactical and Security between the two of them, even if he summoned Soccorro to help him.

Melting into the shadows, he prepared to follow the aliens everywhere, and deal with them if he had to. That was what he did best, after all.


Sure enough, his suspicions proved well-founded. Their intrepid captain and over-enthusiastic chief engineer must have skipped survival training indeed, because not only did they take the visitors on an extended tour of Enterpriseincluding such sensitive places as Engineering, where they had no business whatsoever to be – but Commander Tucker also felt it necessary to reveal far too much highly sensitive information about the working of their engines, while boasting about their excellence.

Reed could understand that Tucker was intensely proud of the ship he had helped to build. He had every right to be. But did he not realise that by revealing too many details of the ship's warp drive processes he was also revealing their potential weak points to virtual strangers whose true intentions they didn't know? And one of them apparently a warp field theorist at that!

Talk about 'coincidences'!

"It makes one wonder if the Vulcans weren't right about us," he commented to Soccorro who had just joined him on the catwalk above Engineering. "Perhaps mankind isn't ready for deep space missions yet. Not with such a suicidal attitude."

"At the very least starships' commanding officers should go through the same training as ours," Soccorro agreed, watching with mild distaste as Commander Tucker spouted crucial details about his beloved engine. "They are dangerously naïve."

"Unfortunately, that would mean making them aware of the existence of Section 31, which Starfleet Intelligence cannot afford. Not yet; perhaps never," the armoury officer pointed out, consciously blanking out Tucker's anecdote about how they had momentarily lost the primary magnetic constrictors and the backup during their training tests.

"About a billion positrons cut through the platin' on three decks," the chief engineer was telling his audience with a great deal of dramatic flair. "Nearly caused a hull breach. We spent a month redesignin' the system. It hasn't given us a single problem since."

"That may be true," Soccorro said, responding to Reed's comment about Section 31, "but Starfleet can't afford losing ships due to their senior officers' stupidity. I have a very bad feeling about this, sir."

"You're not the only one," Reed muttered, watching as one of the aliens – one that had the same horn-like ridges above its eye sockets as Captain Fraddock – drifted unobtrusively away from the group. "Bloody hell, what's that bloke doing?"

They were not close enough to interfere, so they had to watch helplessly as the alien's arm became uncannily flexible and then reached into part of the engine and pulled connections before its owner rejoined the group.

"I knew they were up to no good!" Reed exclaimed venomously.

"What are we gonna do, sir?" Soccorro asked, practical-minded as always.

"We'll wait until the group leaves Engineering," her boss replied. "Then I want you to find Lieutenant Hess, tell her what happened and have her repair whatever was sabotaged. If necessary, have her shut down the engines."

"And what will you be doing?"

"I'll hunt down our visitor, tie its limbs in a knot and throw it into the brig," Reed answered coldly. "We'll see how it likes to be sealed in an airtight compartment… preferably without air."

"Allowing it to breathe might prove useful if we want to question it." Soccorro checked on her hidden weapon. "They're leaving. Good hunting, sir. Have fun."

"Oh, I will, don't worry," he replied with a feral grin.

There were aspects of being a spy and an assassin that he found deeply distasteful, which was why he had requested a transfer back to the regular Fleet. Hunting down intruders, terrorists and any other scum that were threatening Earth in general and the respective places to where he was assigned at any given time, however, gave him both a heady adrenaline rush and a feeling of deep satisfaction.

He checked on his weapon (that wasn't exactly Starfleet-issue, either), and then he fixed on the direction the group had taken and slipped through the maintenance exit.

The hunt had begun.

~TBC~