Cast Out Fear
"Get up!" the assailant demanded and kicked his victim in the mid-section as he lay on the floor writhing in pain. He had been beaten mercilessly but there seemed to be no relief from this torture in sight.
Trip tried to get up, but he simply couldn't. There was too much pain and too much blood.
"Master Klegg, have mercy," Vendria pleaded. "If you want me to beg you, I will beg you. If you want me to get on my knees, I will get on my knees, but please, please no more. He cannot endure it!"
"You would beg me on your knees for this creature?" Klegg asked. "By all means, I would love to see that." Vendria dropped to her knees immediately and pleaded once again for mercy for her friend.
"I beg of you Master Klegg," she began. "Do not torture him anymore. His body is fragile and I fear you will kill him if this continues. Please do not kill him, oh please, I beg of you!"
"Fascinating," Klegg said. "A Lisyrian, begging like a crackle (dog).
"Master Klegg, I have lost almost everything, everyone in my life. So it takes very little for me to beg you."
"All I asked of him is to get up, is that so cruel? Is that so daunting a task? I simply want to take care of him. But I cannot if he will not get up and follow me to our quarters."
"It is obvious that he cannot," Vendria replied.
"The only thing that is obvious is that my animal has no intention of obeying my orders!" Klegg shouted. With that he grabbed Trip by the foot and dragged him across the floor. Trip cried out as his injured body made contact with the hard, rough floor. Klegg then took him and held him over a large trough of water in the center of the room.
"No, please no," Trip cried. But Klegg held his head under the water as he struggled. Vendria suppressed a howl as she watched and tried to get Klegg to stop. He finally let his victim up as he gasped for air. But moments later he held him under the water again. When he pulled him up this time, Trip did not move. He was unconscious, lifeless. Vendria hurried over to him.
"Restore him!" Klegg ordered Vendria. She took her large hands, folded one on top of the other and pressed Trips' chest. It took only one compression and she did not want to break his fragile bones. Trip gasped as water shout out of his mouth. He continued to gasp and cough for a few minutes. Then Vendria put his head in her lap and spoke to him softly as he cried.
Suddenly Trip was screaming. T'Pol was startled out of her sleep. She tried to wake her husband calling out to him and shaking him.
"Trip, wake up!" she called out for several minutes. When he opened his eyes he jumped and looked over to the other side of the bed. But what he saw was the massive form of his tormentor. He saw Master Klegg's hand reaching out for him and trying to comfort him. Trip leaped from the bed and fell to the floor. He crawled for the door as T'Pol ran to stop him. Then he crawled over to the corner of the room and curled up on the floor.
T'Pol called Malcolm for help, then Dr. Phlox. Malcolm dressed quickly and ran for the Captain's quarters that was just down the hallway. It took Phlox a few more minutes to arrive.
When he got to the room, he sedated Trip again. This was becoming a routine. T'Pol explained that he had had a nightmare and that when she awaken him, he did not recognize her.
T'Pol sat up watching her husband. She rubbed her hand over his back and tried to ensure that her mind contained nothing but soothing, comforting thoughts even while he was sleeping. She held her feelings of anger at the Lisyrians at bay. This was hard enough for Trip.
"This cannot continue," T'Pol said. "The Lisyrians are causing him too much mental distress."
"I agree," Malcolm replied. "I asked him to let me put them back on their ship and to get them the hell off this ship, but he wouldn't hear of it."
"Well, something must be done," Phlox interjected as he glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed. "I have not seen Mr. Tucker in this kind of state in quite some time. It is disturbing to say the least. We can't go on hiding his condition, it is bound to come out that he is ill."
"Why would Admiral Gardner send them here?" T'Pol said rising from the bed and pacing around, her anger showing. "This intel could have been obtained through telecom."
"Perhaps he was concerned it would be intercepted," Phlox said.
"I think Gardner knew exactly what he was doing," Malcolm replied. "I think he wanted to cause Trip some problems."
"That is unconscionable," T'Pol said through gritted teeth. Trip began to stir and trash about.
"Commander, please remain calm," Phlox said going over to Trip and running his scanner over him. T'Pol immediately calmed herself.
"Commander Reed, we should let the Captain rest now," Phlox said to Malcolm.
"Thank you doctor," T'Pol said. "I am concerned however. Kaatia wishes to meet with him again tomorrow."
"Leave it to me," Malcolm said. "I will take care of it first thing tomorrow." He and Phlox then said goodnight again, and left.
Three Days Later.
Trip had not left his quarters and T'Pol had explained to Malcolm that he was paralyzed with fear; fear of entering the blood rage again and of what he might do if it happened; fear of what he had become and what it meant for his future, and most of all, fear of Master Klegg's return. After speaking with T'Pol, Malcolm went to see Trip. He knew how stubborn Trip could be and how hard it was to convince him to do anything he didn't want to do. But Malcolm resolved to talk to him anyway. He knew that in the past if he really wanted to push Trip into action, he would probably have to yell at him and get him rattled. Maybe by starting a fight with him, he could get Trip to talk, or at least give him something to think about. Perhaps then he could get through to him.
"Haven't seen you about in a few days," Malcolm said to Trip after he had been granted access to the room.
"Relieved myself of duty, remember," Trip replied from his desk as he looked at his computer screen not even looking at Malcolm. "But I'm keeping up with what's going on from here."
"Haven't been to the Captain's mess or to the gym either," Malcolm said, but Trip still did not look at him.
"I understand that you're still not sleeping," Malcolm said to Trip. He shook his head no. "Didn't Phlox give you something?"
"He did. It's just not working anymore."
"Trip, I'm concerned about you. You have not been the same since… since he came aboard."
Trip rose up from the desk where he was sitting and paced around for a few seconds, then he finally turned and looked at Malcolm. "I know Mal, I know. And I know I need to pull myself together… I just don't know how. I don't know what to do."
"Remember how when you were taken three years ago? You were in a lot worse condition then, but you found a way to turn it around. You became a different person and you survived."
"That was different," Trip said.
"How?"
"I don't know. It just was! I thought he was dead for one thing, that I'd never see him again! It's like I realized that I didn't have to be afraid anymore, and I could fight back; fight to get my life back!"
"You have to do it again Trip," Malcolm said rising from the chair he was seated in. "Everyone is counting on you to lead us, to command this ship as only you can!"
"I don't know how Mal," Trip replied. "I just don't know how! Look, did you come in here just to pick a fight with me? If so, it's not gonna work, not this time." Malcolm just folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.
"This can't continue Trip," he said after a few moments of silence. "You know that don't you?"
Trip blew out a long sigh. "Yeah, I know it." There were a few more minutes of silence.
"Look Mal," Trip replied, "I know you mean well. But I need to be alone right now. So I'm asking you to give me some space…I just need some time…need to think… to figure this out, alone."
Malcolm hesitated for a moment, just staring at Trip. Then he nodded and walked toward the door. He stopped before exiting and looked back at his Captain and best friend.
"Three years ago I knew a fellow, the Chief Engineer of the starship Enterprise. He was a hopeless optimist, a likeable, affable fellow. He was always getting into trouble on away missions and practically lived in sick bay. Then something happened to him that changed him forever," the brit began.
"That fellow left us, disappeared… what was left in his place was a deeply injured, defeated, broken individual, in body, mind and spirit. But something else happened after that, something quite remarkable I might say. That shell of a man fought like hell to get his life back, and he rose from the ashes, a totally different person; a better, stronger man; a force to be reckoned with. That's not the man I see before me today. The broken, beaten, frightened, shattered man has returned. That is not the Trip Tucker that commands the greatest warship ever built.
Captain Charles Anthony Tucker, III, commands this ship, and he does it like no other, not even the great Jonathan Archer himself. Captain Tucker, my Captain, is a warrior, a badass to the 25th power! This entire crew would follow that man into the jaws of hell. He's still there you know, somewhere buried inside. You've just got to reach in there and find whatever dark place he's hiding in, and snatch him back! You've got to find a way to rise above it all…" Malcolm then pressed the door switch, it slid open. But, before he left, he turned and faced Trip again. "When my Captain returns, you will let me know, eh mate?" Malcolm then and he exited the room and left Trip standing alone.
Sometime Later.
Trip was lying on his bed on his back staring at the ceiling. He had heard what Malcolm said, and it had stirred him, though not into action, not yet. But he was deep in contemplation when the bridge called. Trip had a communication from Earth. He was really surprised. He was even more surprised when the call came through.
Moments later, "Son," Charles Tucker, Jr. said as his image appeared on Trip's view screen.
"Dad! This is a surprise. "I can't believe you were able to get through."
"Been trying for two days…"
"What's so urgent? Is everything alright? Everybody okay?!"
"There's nothing wrong and everybody is fine. The question is, are you all right?" Trip sat down hard in the chair at his desk in front of his view screen. He closed his eyes and looked down.
"No, everything is… not okay. I'm in trouble and…I don't know what to do. I don't know who to turn to. Jon is still back home at Starfleet medical, in a coma. T'Pol and Malcolm have tried to help, but so far, no one has been able to."
"What's the matter son?" Charles asked very concerned.
"It's…him," Trip started. "He's here…I've seen him."
"Who?" Charles asked. "I don't know who you're talking about."
"Him Dad… remember I told you about him. The one who took me…three years ago." Suddenly Charles understood. He felt his anger and fear rising, for Trip.
"Where is he? Has he hurt you!"
"I don't know where he is this very moment, and that's nerve racking enough, because I don't know when he's gonna show up again."
"So he's been there, on your ship?" Trip nodded yes. "And he has hurt you?" Trip nodded again. Charles almost lost his composure, but he held it together for Trip's sake.
"I'm a wreck Dad. I can't function. I'm… I'm just so…afraid. Haven't been able to leave my quarters…for three days." Charles looked down for a moment, then looked at his son holding his head down.
"Trip," he said, "look at me." Trip hesitated, trying to hold it together. "Son, look at me," Charles demanded. Trip slowly lifted his eyes, they were brimming with tears. "I know you're scared. But that's why you've got to get yourself up and get out of that room. You can't hide forever. You know you've gotta face him; you've gotta face your fear, you gotta confront it, confront him."
"I can't", Trip said. "He does something to me, has some kinda power over me. No one… no one has ever done the things to me… hurt me like he did…messed with my head like he did."
"But you got through it!" Charles said. "You picked yourself up out of the ashes, and you got through it."
"I don't know if I can this time Dad."
"You can do it. You just need to remember who you are. What did you tell those Peace Keepers; you told them exactly who you were, you said you were unconquered."
"I was being arrogant and cocky," Trip replied.
"That wasn't arrogance son; that was something totally different. It was conviction. You know who you are."
"No, I don't! I thought I did, but now…The other Lisyrians, the females I told you about, there're here, right on my ship. I found out from them that when I was on their ship they did something to me…to save my life. They used gene therapy to treat me; they used medicine from their own DNA, and now I've got their friggin blood running through my veins!" Charles swallowed hard and hesitated before he spoke.
"Are you alright? I mean, it's not affecting you is it?"
"Yes," he replied. "It's making me stronger, faster. It's doing some other things to me as well, I just can't… can't talk about it right now. But Kaatia, the female I told you about, says I need to embrace what's inside me; that I need to use it to my advantage."
"I would agree, except how do you embrace what's in you and what you've become if you can't first remember who you are?" Trip sat up straight and looked at his father.
"Who am I?" Trip asked.
"Only you can answer that son."
"If only Jon were here."
"Well he's not, you are," Charles said.
"What am I supposed to do," Trip replied. "Dad I need you to help me make some kind of decision here; some kind of decision about my life, my future."
"I can't make those decisions for you Trip!"
"Three years ago I was gonna quit remember, leave Enterprise, Starfleet. You pulled me outta that slump, helped me pull it together."
"I didn't do anything, except maybe keep you from giving up and giving in. All I did was not let you run home like a scared little boy. You pulled yourself out of that pit. You fought and clawed and dug your way out of a really deep, dark place." Trip did not speak. He got up and started pacing around in the room.
"Hey, calm down. Come back and sit down," Charles said. He waited for Trip to move back to his desk and sit down in front of the view screen.
"You know son, ever since we made first contact with the Vulcans all those years ago, a lot of people lost their faith," Charles began. "I mean, folks stopped believing in a higher power, stopped believing in God. They just couldn't reconcile how one deity was supposed to be responsible for creating the Earth when there were other inhabited worlds out there that we knew nothing about."
"But not you?' Trip replied.
"I know it's an old fashioned idea, but yes, I still believe. I still believe that there is a God and that he created heaven and Earth. Whether he created all the other worlds, well I'm not so concerned about that. Figure I can ask him that question in person one day," Charles said smiling. Trip snorted.
"I said all that to say that I believe everything happens for a reason. Yes it's true and it's unfortunate that Jon is not there, Hernandez is unavailable, and Captain Robinson is dead. There's no one else available Trip. There's no one else with more experience than you. You're the right man for the job at the right time. So how do you know that you weren't born for such a time as this? That everything that happened to you three years ago happened so you would be prepared for this thing that's unfolding right now? Three years ago you were on a mission of peaceful exploration, and you found a way to get it back. Well the stakes are a whole lot higher now. This is war we're talkin' about; this is not only Earth we're talkin' about, its Coridian, Andoria maybe even Vulcan. It's bigger than exploring space, bigger than you and bigger than your fear.
Trip I know this Klegg monster hurt you, worse than anything else ever has. He almost destroyed you, but he didn't. Now he's back to finish the job. Don't let him! Do what you have to, be what you have to be to bring him down, but mark my words, only you can. Not Jon, not Erica, not A.G., you, for such a time as this." Trip still did not speak.
Trip finally looked up at his father. "He's gonna…take me again, h-he's gonna do things to me…. hurt me…torture me… he's gonna k-kill me…he's gonna slowly, violently k-kill me," Trip stammered, eyes brimming with tears.
"You know there was a poet named Claude McKay, born in 1889, post slavery era on Earth," Charles began. "Our country was still filled with hate; it was a dark, shameful time in our history. But this fellow wrote something that I picked up in school and even though I'm no poet, no literature buff, I've never forgotten what McKay wrote. He said "if we must die, let it not be like dogs; so that our precious blood may not be shed in vain; then even the monsters we defy shall be constrained to honor us, though dead. Like a man, we must face the murderous pack, pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back."
"God knows I don't want you to be hurt and I certainly don't want you to die," Charles continued. "But if they came to me Trip…and they told me that you had confronted this bastard that you're so afraid of, fought with him, and that you had died in the fight…I'd be okay with that…if they told me that you went out…pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back! I could live with that…and I believe you could die with that." There was a moment of silence as Trip allowed his father's words to ruminate within him.
"Who are you?" Charles asked. Trip hesitated. Then he looked at his Dad in the eye.
"I am…Invictus…" Trip said, still with a strained look on his face.
"So what are you gonna do?"
"Rise above," Trip said.
"Alright then," Charles said. "Now that you've remembered who you are, you can embrace what you've become, whatever that is. So go kick some alien ass!"
That Night.
Trip could not sleep. He lay in the bed contemplating the things Malcolm and his father had said to him…"rise above," there it was again he thought. "Reach inside to the dark place and snatch himself back." "Born for such a time as this," he thought to himself. "Pressed to the wall…dying, but fighting back." "Remember who you are." He then looked over at a sleeping T'Pol, then rose from the bed trying not to wake her. He pulled on the same clothing he had taken off earlier, sweats and a T-shirt. He was putting on his shoes when T'Pol turned over and faced him.
"Where are you going at this hour?" she asked sleepily.
"I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd go to the gym for a work out." T'Pol was glad to hear that Trip was finally going to leave their quarters.
"I will come with you," she said tossing the covers back.
"No, I need to be alone," he said. T'Pol lowered her head. Trip moved over to the bed where she was and sat next to her. He took her hand in his and they stared at one another for a few minutes.
"I feel like such a coward," he said. "I've been hiding out, scared to death; been totally shut down."
"You are no coward Adun. This is a difficult situation. Anyone would have a hard time coping under the circumstances."
"Do you still love me?" he asked. She did not answer quickly.
"For most of my life I considered love an emotion; one that I never fully understood. Deep emotional feeling for another seemed illogical, a distraction from one's more important responsibilities, even shameful. That is, until I met you. You have taught me what love is, how to love another, and it is a thing to be honored, cherished. Yes, I love you, you are more to me than life itself. You are my Ashayam, my Ki'diwa, my Adun…always." Trip smiled a small smile and leaned his forehead into hers.
"Thank you," he said. Then he kissed her on top of the head and rose to leave.
"You know that the strength of courage you need to do what must be done, still lies within you," she said. "You have heard me quote one of Surak's teachings, "cast out fear." Now is the time for you to embrace that teaching. Everyone is counting on you for leadership in this most difficult and tumultuous time. You are the leader that we all seek for this time, for this situation. You shall be victorious in the battle… I would bet my life on it," she said. Trip smiled at her, amazed at how far she had come in her own journey, amazed at how human she seemed in this moment. He then turned and left the room.
The Next Morning.
Trip had been working out in the gym for a couple of hours in the wee hours of the morning. When alpha ship started, crew members began to enter the gym for morning workouts, but Trip asked everyone to leave then locked the doors and wouldn't allow anyone else to enter. He had asked the Lisyrian male, Rajah to join him. Instead Kaatia came.
"Why are you here Kaatia, I asked for Rajah," Trip said.
"Because I know what you're going to try to do, and it could prove extremely dangerous."
"And what am I gonna try to do?"
"You are going to attempt to invoke the blood rage. You wish to experience it, to attempt to control it."
"That's why I asked for one of the guys."
"I am just as strong as Rajah," Kaatia explained. "He is young and has not come into the fullness of the rage. I have. Besides, if you are unable to control the rage, you could kill me. I was unwilling to allow anyone else to put their lives at risk."
"Kaatia," I don't want to kill you or anybody else. I'm just trying to do what everyone has been telling me to do, face my fear. I want to allow myself to feel the rage, to see if I can control it, rather than have it control me."
"Then you need my assistance."
"I swear you are so stubborn! How did you get stuck with this little assignment anyway? You guys all draw straws or something, and you lost?"
"No, I won. Now come sit," she said lowering herself to the floor and sitting on a mat. She assumed the lotus position. Trip followed her.
"I have a question," he said and she nodded. "If I'm able to enter this blood rage and use it against Klegg, you said it would make me a comparable match for him."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? What if he enters the blood rage? He is already stronger and more powerful than I am…"
"Klegg is beyond the rage. He no longer has access to it," Kaatia interrupted.
"What do you mean?"
"He has lived a long time and he has killed hundreds. After a time, the rage becomes of no effect. That is why so many Lisyrians believe consuming live flesh and the life line of others is vital. They believe it will restore the rage of fire and the blood chill. But it has never been proven to be so. Klegg knows that he has only his own natural strength and experience to rely upon. He would be no match for a young, vital Lisyrian who has only began to experience the rage."
"Well that's just great…I'm not Lisyrian."
"I believe that you can be a formidable opponent for Klegg. No one knows what combining human and Lisyrian DNA might produce. I choose to believe it will be exactly what is needed for this moment in time."
"I guess all I can do is believe it too," he said with a sigh. "What now?"
"We will meditate together, and we will see what happens." Kaatia began to speak to Trip as they meditated. She told him to remember his time on the Lisyrian ship, remember his torture, his humiliation, his pain.
Trip allowed his mind to go back to that horrific experience he suffered long ago. He saw himself being paraded around with a collar around his neck and wearing a loin cloth. He saw himself sitting at Master Klegg's feet, serving his live meals to him. He saw himself in Klegg's bed curled up like a dog, and Klegg stroking his face. He remembered being beaten unconscious and being held under water. He remembered being humiliated, tortured and abused over and over again. He allowed himself to see and feel all of the horrible things that under normal circumstances he had to fight to push out of his mind. He conjured up the worst images and feelings he had pressed down and stored in a place and locked it such that no one, even himself dared open it. But he did it, he unlocked all of the bad places and conjure them up from the deep until he could feel his anger rising. He could feel himself getting hot like a fever was brewing inside of him. He felt sick, dizzy and nauseated.
Suddenly he shot up from the floor, shaking. Kaatia looked up and saw it. Trip's eyes were red as fire and red veins protruded from his face and neck.
"Get out of here!" he bellowed to Kaatia. She shook her head, no.
"I will not leave. You need me to help you through this."
"Go!" he said, "or I will not be responsible for what I do to you."
"You will not harm me! You can control the rage!" With that Trip leapt upon her, knocking her onto her back. He placed one hand around the front of her throat, where her life line was located. He pressed it such that she could not breathe. Kaatia struggled to get free, she tried to remove his hand from her life line. She finally was able to remove his hand and pushed him off of her.
"I told you to leave!" Trip bellowed again. "I will kill you if you don't!"
"You will not kill me because you do not wish to. You will control the rage, you will not enter into the blood chill!"
Trip then flew over to where she stood faster than he should have been able to and pushed Kaatia against the wall. He held his forearm against her throat.
"You're a fucking Lisyrian, I ought to kill you just on principle!" he hissed.
"You do not hate all Lisyrians! I am not your enemy!"
"You're one of them!" he said pressing his arm further against her throat. She winced. "Fight back!" he demanded.
"I will… not! You… do…not wish to k-kill… me," she choked out. "I am your … friend." Then Kaatia became afraid. Trip's eyes started to flicker between red and black. She knew she didn't have much time.
"Y-you need to harness… the rage," she said. "Do not enter into the…blood chill. Not until …the appropriate… t-time. W-when you confront your… greatest fear… your greatest…enemy, M-master K-klegg."
Trip had a compelling urge to bite her throat, to rip out her life line, but suddenly he stopped pressing against her neck. He allowed his brain to process what Kaatia was saying. And with everything in him, he let her go and she slid to the floor. He was breathing deeply. He screamed and yelled, then started tearing the place apart. He ripped up the stationary bike and hurled it across the room. He hit a punching bag until it flew off the hook holding it in place. Then he fell to his knees.
"For such a time as this! For such a time as this! he shouted. "I am Charles… Anthony …Tucker, III and I will rise above it! Once again, I will rise out of the ashes to live again! I am… unconquered!" he shouted.
Kaatia stood back watching with her hand to her mouth. She saw him fall over onto the floor. She started to go to him, but she held herself back. Trip stayed there sprawled out on the floor for some time. Kaatia waited and waited to see what would happen next. She didn't know if Trip would suddenly leap from the floor and finish her off, or worse, if he would tear out of the gym and cause harm to someone else. The few minutes he lay on the floor breathing heavily and sobbing seemed like an eternity.
Then slowly, Trip started to move. He finally pulled himself up from the floor and turned to face Kaatia. His eyes were as blue as the ocean. He was calm. He had not entered into the blood chill. Kaatia let out a gasp when she saw him. Then she started to cry. This human that she had met so long ago, whom had endured the worst torture of his life, had stayed alive and lived to tell about it. Now, this extraordinary human had experienced the blood rage, and conquered it.
"Kaatia slowly moved over to her friend. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"I will train with your friends," he said. "I need to be ready…If I'm gonna really understand this thing and fully embrace what I am now." Kaatia closed her eyes.
"There is one more thing Trip," Kaatia said.
"Yeah, what's that?'
"You also need to know how to kill a Lisyrian, and it is not easy. But Master Klegg is out there, and now he knows that you live. Need I spell it out for you?"
"You know," Trip replied, "this just keeps getting' better and better."
Over the next few days Trip spent time with the Lisyrian males. He learned how to wield their powerful sword and how to kill a Lisyrian; how to tear out their life line to the heart. That was the secret of killing one of them. Of course decapitation would also do the trick, but good luck with that one. The life line either had to be severed, damaged beyond repair or torn out completely. Trouble was, where it was located, behind the breast bone of the powerful Lisyrians chest. He was told he either had to cut his opponent in half thus severing the lifeline, break the breast bone and rip it out or cut it out. Then he had to be careful not to eat it. Trip couldn't see himself doing anything of the kind, but Rajah had assured him, that if he experienced the blood rage, it would become instinct. He might as well know the technique. He might as well be prepared.
Rajah also explained that when their blood ran cold, or when they experienced the blood chill, evidenced by their eyes becoming black, that is when they were most deadly. That is when they could kill most effectively and efficiently without hesitation or remorse. Trip thought he would be sick when Trellis and Bra'ron worked with him about suppressing the blood thirst. In other words he got a crash course in how not to eat your neighbor's dog, alive! He also learned how not to kill your best friend and drink his blood… or eat him. Trip was certain he would never, ever do any of this stuff, but he allowed himself to be taught, just in case he was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire...to taste flesh and blood.