Author's note: First, I found some glaring errors in Chapter 8, including an omitted scene between Hoshi and Travis. Have corrected and reposted, so you might want to reread that chapter before proceeding with this one...
Second...the symbol I've used for the rolled/trilled "r" is likely incorrect but seemed the best candidate. Should probably also note that G'l Benai from different provinces will pronounce some words differently from one another (much as people from different parts of the same country do), so some G'l Benai roll/trill more than others. You can chalk it up to differences in accents, dialects, or whatever. Will try to spell words pretty much as they are pronounced, providing notes about differing pronunciations as needed.
PRONOUNCIATION GUIDE:
Lightly rolled or trilled 'r's are indicated by ř.
Do-Veen: doughVEEN
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Even if he'd wanted to—and between the embarrassment, frustration, and the sheer agony of the situation he truly did want to—Reed couldn't have screamed. The blow had doubled him over and drained all air from his lungs, and from the feel of things had quite possibly endangered hopes of Stuart and Mary Reed ever becoming grandparents. Though he was foggy on the details of how exactly it had happened—he'd been a tad distracted by the excruciating sensation flaring from the point of impact and flowing through his entire being—he now found himself trapped in the alien's powerful grip. His left arm was pinned firmly behind his back, his casted right hand pawing desperately at the large, partially bandaged arm wrapped snugly around his throat. His bare feet were barely touching the floor as the beast held him just enough aloft to prevent him gaining any leverage. The privacy curtain had been shoved aside, and God only knew where the phase pistol had wound up.
Damn it all to hell, this was not how things were supposed to have gone! 'Should have just shot the hairy S.O.B. and had done with it...' Great-Grandmother Reed's sausage recipe was looking better with each passing second.
With the crook of the behemoth's left elbow encasing his throat it was increasingly difficult to replace the oxygen his lungs were beginning to scream for; his mouth gaped as he unsuccessfully pried at the appendage and gasped for air. The arm loosened enough to allow an intake of precious air but nudged his chin upward, forcing his head back painfully. A reflexive shiver ran up his spine as the alien's cold, wet nose brushed against the nape of his neck and snuffled along the back of his head. As the creature brought its mouth near his ear Malcolm flinched, remembering the video T'Pol had shown them before this merry adventure had begun. As he waited to feel sharp teeth tearing into him, furred lips gently grazed his flesh. The G'l Benai murmured in his ear, the sounds coming out of him mingling with the output from his translator.
"If I had placed Crew-man in a position such as this before speaking with him, that would have been an 'interrogation'. That is the difference between 'interrogation' and 'conversation'." Malcolm didn't need to see the huge furry face—he could hear the grin in the G'l Benai's voice. "Now that I have taught you this," the warrior continued, "what did you wish to teach me? You said you wanted to teach me a lesson."
"Never mind," Reed hissed, forcing his voice through his constricted airway. "Not important."
"Hmm," his captor purred, "regrettable. I was…eager to learn from you." Movements rapid and fluid, he moved his arm and grasped the man's throat with his bandaged, massive left hand. Adjusting his grip on the Human's neck, he hoped the Ancestors wouldn't think less of him for having a little fun. Besides, he had to be certain the little general fully understood his intentions. "It would be such an easy thing…so many ways to kill you if I desired it. Tighten my grip here," he cooed seductively, increasing the pressure against Reed's Adam's apple, "and cut off your air. Or here," he indicated, twitching his fingertips beneath Malcolm's ears, "and interrupt the blood supply to your brain. If I let go soon enough you would survive but likely be permanently incapacitated from lack of blood flow to the brain. Extend my claws," he whispered, letting the lieutenant feel sharp pinpricks beneath both ears, "and simply slice through the veins and arteries. Effortless for me, but messy and painful for you.
"One bite," he continued, moving his head to allow his teeth to graze the base of Malcolm's skull, "and I could sever the spinal cord. If properly done death would be almost instantaneous, virtually painless. Or perhaps I could tear off your arm," he suggested, mirth in his quiet voice as he gave the man's left arm a playful, painful tug, "and beat you to death with it."
"But instead," Malcolm quipped in a strained whisper, toes still barely touching the floor, "you seem to have decided to talk me to death."
The G'l Benai chuckled—he hadn't expected humor from the man—and slightly eased his grip on Malcolm's throat, letting Reed's feet rest fully on the floor. "That option had not occurred to me." Reed stopped straining against the alien's grip, finally able to breathe unhindered. The alien's voice became suddenly serious; the time for fun was over. "On my captain's ship I reveled in the prospect of killing you. It was all that kept me alive. I was satisfied with the opportunity to avenge my people against those who had attacked us, and I was convinced that you were the ones responsible."
Malcolm unsuccessfully tried to look over his shoulder at the G'l Benai. "I told you before—we weren't the ones who attacked you!"
"I thought you were trying to save your own life by deceiving me, but after speaking with Crew-man I know now that it was not so—I know now that you spoke the truth. A short time ago I wanted to kill as many of you as possible, but now I cannot. It is not honorable to kill one who attempts to render aid." Further easing his grip on Malcolm's throat he heaved a sigh, not eager to admit his failings but knowing that it was necessary. "In the weapons room you regained your feet and took me off of mine, and I saw in your eyes that you would kill me. Regrettably I allowed instinct and impulse to guide my actions—I pushed you away when I should have surrendered, should have welcomed the deathblow. Even flat on my back, it would have been a great honor to die at the hands of such a worthy opponent, and my entry into the Great Hall would have been assured.
"I will let go of you, but I have a request to make. I do not expect to be allowed to live and I cannot ask to be spared, but as one warrior to another I would ask that you…delay my execution for a brief time. There is an obligation which I must first tend to."
Before the stunned lieutenant could respond the doors opened to admit Hoshi with her translator in hand, Dr. Phlox, and Crewman Atkinson. Seeing the situation Atkinson drew her weapon, positioning herself between the alien and the door as she motioned for Phlox and Hoshi to get behind her.
The startled G'l Benai growled, instinctively tightening his grip on Reed's neck and left arm as he locked his eyes on the armed woman. "Leave this place now."
Miranda opened her mouth to reply but Malcolm spoke first. "Atkinson, get them out of here," he commanded, his voice strained from the renewed pressure on his throat. When she hesitated he barked, "That's an order, crewman—out, now!" She nodded grudgingly, motioning for the doctor and ensign toward the door.
Scowling, Phlox shook his head angrily. "We're not going anywhere," he snapped curtly. Shoving aside the curtain that still surrounded the last bed he crouched next to Rossini. "Crewman, Ensign, help me with this man." As Phlox revived the unconscious guard he spared a moment to address the lieutenant tersely. "Mr. Reed, I have not yet declared you to be medically fit for duty. Consequently you have very little authority to issue orders." He stood and faced the men as Hoshi and Randy helped Keith to the exam table. And you," he added, casting a withering glare at the G'l Benai, "have even less authority here than the lieutenant does. This is my sickbay, and the authority to give commands here lies with me. If you don't unhand my patient I shall not be responsible for my actions toward you."
The hand gripping Reed's throat dropped away and braced firmly against his chest to hold him close; the other hand kept Malcolm's left arm twisted painfully behind him. Whiskers tickled the side of his neck as the G'l Benai again leaned close. "Why does he want me to remove your hands?"
"That's not what he said!" Malcolm hissed in protest.
"He said to unhand you," the warrior replied without hesitation. "Have you behaved inappropriately toward one of his mates?"
"NO!" Reed hoarsely shrieked in panicked disbelief, straining uselessly against the alien's viselike grip.
Ensign Sato tapped furiously at the UT as the men talked, hoping to find a way to get through to the alien.
"Release that man at once!" the doctor angrily insisted.
"No, don't!" Hoshi shouted in panicked desperation as she looked up from the readout on the UT. 'Oh godohgodohgod...Okay Sato, pull yourself together. You've got one shot at this. Just remember to stay calm and be intimidating. Besides, you outrank him...I think.' Steeling herself, she strode purposefully to the two men, locking a ferocious stare up at the G'l Benai. The most ungodly sounds Malcolm had ever heard—sounding like an amalgam of several Earth languages, a healthy dose of Klingon, and an angry cat being slowly strangled—streamed out of her mouth as she gestured sharply from herself, Reed, and the others then to the alien. From the volume and tone, and the positively terrifying expression on her face, he guessed that buried somewhere in all those noises rapidly pouring out of her mouth, there had to be a string of threats and maybe even a few obscenities. The only words he could make out were the ships' names as well as 'medical', 'communication', and 'tactical', and even those innocuous terms sounded menacing and alien.
The sounds stopped as abruptly as they'd begun and Sato stood her ground, her murderous glare fixed unwaveringly on the massive alien. Malcolm braced himself, certain that the huge alien would toss him aside and attack Hoshi and equally certain he was in no position to prevent it. 'For the love of God, Hoshi, run...'
Instead the warrior cautiously eased his grip on Reed's arm and chest then carefully backed away from the lieutenant; Malcolm felt his newly liberated arm drop numbly to his side. He looked down at the useless limb then at Hoshi, whose venomous eyes were still glowering at the alien.
"Malcolm, come here," she snarled, still staring up at their hairy guest. He struggled to obey but took only a single step before his shaky legs betrayed him, folding beneath him like a defective lawn chair. Before he could hit the floor a huge bandaged arm came from behind and wrapped under his left arm and around his chest, hoisting him upright.
"I have you," the alien's deep voice assured him. The arm tenderly cradled him as the G'l Benai's other hand probed his shoulder, spine, and neck, fingers skillfully caressing some areas and pressing into others. A tiny voice in the furthest corner of Reed's mind urged him to get away but it was overruled, mainly because he knew his legs wouldn't hold him but also because the impromptu acupressure session seemed to be helping. Besides, whatever Snowball was doing felt bloody marvelous. Sensation was fast returning to his previously numb arm, and his legs were beginning to feel almost useful again. There was a sudden brief sensation of weightlessness and he realized that the warrior had gently slid an arm behind his legs and lifted him. Setting him on the center biobed the G'l Benai slinked away, cautiously shifting his alien gaze from the floor to Hoshi then back to the deck plating. What the hell had she said to him?
"You," Hoshi snapped at the alien, eyes still blazing. "Sit. Down. Now." The warrior complied instantly, giving a small yelp as he dropped onto his bed. "What's wrong?" the ensign asked crossly.
"Apologies, En-tier-přice First Communication…it is a minor thing," he replied with embarrassment. "I…forgot to move my tail." He shifted uncomfortably as they looked; his tail was pinned crookedly beneath his derrière.
"Well fix it," Sato sharply demanded with an impatient wave of her hand. He stood just long enough to rescue the injured appendage then perched on the end of the bed with a nervous glance at Sato. Folding her arms across her chest, UT still firmly in her grip, she stared daggers back at him and sent his gaze crashing to the floor. Sparing a glance at Miranda, Hoshi sent a curt nod toward the phase pistol. "Atkinson, put that away." The crewman mutely, hurriedly complied.
Still stunned, Malcolm couldn't help gaping at the woman as he pondered her unnaturally brusque, aggressive manner. What in the world had gotten into her? If he didn't know better he'd think she'd somehow been exposed to the same damned 'combat stimulant' that Furface had shot into him.
"Excuse me…Ensign Sato?" he risked. "Are you…feeling all right?"
Arms still folded she slowly turned to face him, her eyes still radiating cold fury. Her reply was calm, measured, and arctic. "I'm feeling perfectly fine, Lieutenant." She took a slow, deliberate step toward him and Malcolm found himself wishing for a subtle, dignified way to dive under the bed. "What makes you think that anything's wrong?"
'Aside from the fact that you look more than willing and eager to kill someone with you bare hands?' Somehow he stifled the impulse to blurt out the thought aloud. As he tried to think of something to say that would placate her he saw the corner of her mouth quirk upward just the tiniest bit.
She winked at him.
'What the bloody hell?...Ohhh,' Malcolm's boggled mind finally registered her silent message: sit there, shut up, and play along. Okay...right, then. He had to give an answer, though, didn't he? "Um...well...you didn't seem to want our guest to let go of me at first...just curious, mind you." He saw a flicker of worry in her eyes before she regained some of her previous calm demeanor.
"There are some words that are translating differently from our language to theirs. 'Release' seems to have a far more...permanent meaning in their language."
"A more…permanent meaning?" Reed asked, puzzled all over again.
For the first time since she'd addressed the alien Hoshi looked uneasy. "It looks like it means..." She faltered for an instant but rallied quickly, deciding that the faster she said it the better. "He would have killed you."
"What?" Stunned, he turned his attention again to the alien. "Is that right? You would have killed me?" At the G'l Benai's nod Reed lunged from the bed, right arm drawn back to land a solid punch right across that big furry face. 'Devil take the cast.'
The warrior easily, gently caught hold of Malcolm's arm in his huge, bandaged hands but otherwise sat unmoving on the bed. "Apologies, En-tier-přice First Tactical, but it might be best," he suggested with annoying calmness, "if you used the other hand. This one is damaged." With that he let go of Reed and sat calmly waiting for the man to strike him.
Malcolm found he couldn't do it even though he was still seething; he settled for pacing alongside the bed and having a bit of a rant. "Do you have any idea how damned frustrating it is trying to figure you out? First you try to kill me, then you latch hold of me and tell me all the ways you could kill me but say you don't want to kill me, now you say you would kill me...would it be asking too much to have you make up your bloody mind which it's to be?" He stopped pacing and tried to ignore Phlox as the doctor approached and scanned him.
Confused, the G'l Benai studied the little general then sighed. He was unaccustomed to having to comprehend the ways of alien people; it was obviously going to be far more difficult than he'd surmised, and the flaws in their language weren't making the task any easier. "When I first encountered you I thought you were the ones who had attacked my captain's ship, so of course I tried to kill you—it was the only proper response. After speaking to Crew-man I knew that I was mistaken, but then you came upon me and issued a challenge. It was necessary to not only answer the challenge without injuring you too severely but to also help you comprehend that I did not wish to harm you." He watched the Denobulan move to, and scan, the still-sleeping Crew-man.
"And you thought telling me all the ways you could kill me would convince me that you weren't going to follow through on it?" Reed asked sarcastically. It clicked an instant later. "Because...if you'd wanted to kill me you'd have just done it instead of chatting about it." 'Just like he could have easily killed Rossini instead of just knocking him out,' Malcolm realized. He sank slowly onto the edge of the bed.
"Yes," the alien sighed with relief. 'At last the little general begins to comprehend.'
The doctor looked up from his hand scanner, puzzled. "But how could you think my telling you to let go of the lieutenant meant I wanted you to kill him?"
"You did not say to let go of him...you said to release him. And before that you told me to remove his hands."
Hoshi held up a hand before Phlox could argue the point then consulted the readout on the UT. "Some words and phrases are being translated more literally than others. You told him to unhand Malcolm. As far as release...I haven't got all the subtleties figured out yet, but it looks like releasing a person means relieving them of pain or illness, like a mercy killing."
"A mercy killing," Reed repeated softly.
"Of course," the G'l Benai replied. "What else would it mean?"
The fingers of Malcolm's right hand twitched as he suppressed the urge to slap the alien senseless. "Oh gee, I don't know," he spat back sarcastically, "maybe it meant he wanted you to bloody well let go of me!"
"It is not my fault that your language is so imprecise," his former adversary haughtily retorted. "For example, your reference to a water source containing blood makes no sense. Clarify."
'Water source containing blood?' "I didn't say anything about a water source, you twit. I said—"
"'Bloody well'," Hoshi interrupted. "You said 'bloody well'. I'm guessing his translator processed it as meaning an actual well." She turned to the G'l Benai and mustered her earlier commanding air. "It's a figure of speech, not meant to be taken literally. I'll explain in more detail another time. Right now I think we'd all like to know what the two of you were doing when we came in." Her eyes narrowed as she studied their guest. "You said that the lieutenant issued a challenge?" They all turned their attention to Malcolm. One of Hoshi's eyebrows arched exactly like he'd seen T'Pol's do innumerable times and he was certain it meant exactly the same thing as when the Subcommander did it: the ensign was using Vulcan body language to scold him.
Reed straightened, unrepentant. "You're damned right I challenged him. I woke up to find Rossini unconscious on the floor and this…this fuzz-bucket standing over Saunders with his hands around the man's throat."
"I did not have my hands around his thřoat," the warrior objected.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Malcolm glared at him. It was really getting hard to hold off smacking the brute.
"I am calling you mistaken. Your vantage point was compromised and therefore your conclusion is flawed." He aimed his comments at the doctor. "You had said Crew-man needed to rest, but I had questions that required answers. Once he had provided answers I helped him return to sleep."
"May I ask how you did that?" Phlox asked as he scanned Saunders again, giving special attention to the man's throat.
"There are points on the body which, when properly manipulated, help one sleep. Some of those points are on the back of the neck, near the base of the skull. It was necessary to place my hands behind his head in order to reach those points. That is what First Tactical saw. It is no different than what I did for First Tactical so he could more quickly regain sensation and circulation in his legs and arm."
The doctor nodded knowingly. "I am familiar with the concept, though I'm surprised that you would use such skills to help people that you had previously attempted to kill."
"I attacked because I believed these people to be enemies of the G'l Benai," he patiently explained to the Denobulan. "Under the circumstances my actions were proper, just as First Tactical's challenge was proper since he believed me to be a threat to Crew-man. But, knowing now that my conclusion was flawed, I must act accordingly. That is why I asked First Tactical to delay my execution—earlier I heard you say that Crew-man requires a transfusion. You must give him my blood."
Phlox was momentarily rendered speechless. "I can't do that," he finally managed to object.
Now it was the G'l Benai's turn to be surprised. "But it is a simple procedure. When we are trained in emergency battlefield medical procedures, it is one of the first things we are taught. I can teach you if you wish."
"It's not a matter of knowing how to perform a transfusion," Phlox explained. "Crewman Saunders is Human and you're G'l Benai."
The warrior pondered it a moment. "There is some sort of cultural taboo?" he ventured.
"No…it's just very doubtful that your blood would be compatible."
"Phfah," the alien scoffed. "Blood is blood…except for Ahn-doořian blood, which is…blue," he observed, nose wrinkling at the memory of it. The taste hadn't been unpleasant, but the color was definitely off-putting. "And Vahl-kahn blood, which is poison."
Phlox took a few seconds to think that over and resolved to ask about Vulcan blood later. "Perhaps among your own people all blood is the same, but Human blood differs even from one person to another. Without proper testing I wouldn't even be able to give Crewman Saunders blood from another Human let alone from a non-Human donor. And even if your blood did turn out to be compatible, there's still the little matter of that stimulant that's still in your system. It would be too risky to give him a transfusion containing even a small amount of that substance."
Turning his attention from Phlox, the warrior stared mournfully at Saunders a long while before facing Malcolm. "I had asked you to delay my execution, but if I cannot give back to Crew-man the blood I have wrongfully taken from him there is no reason to delay any longer. I am ready." With a cautious glance at Hoshi he stood then crouched under the head of Malcolm's bed. He emerged with the missing phase pistol carefully cradled in his left hand and studied the weapon a moment before looking again at the lieutenant. "It is wrong to leave a fine weapon for long upon the ground…even a tiny one such as this," he observed with a slight smile, then grew serious and looked at Saunders again. "If I were among my own people and had committed this crime, I would stand before him and publicly admit my wrongdoing. I would give to him my dagger so that I might die honorably by his hand.
"But he is still weakened from his injuries and unable to avenge himself." Fixing his eyes on Malcolm he nodded knowingly. "But your blood is also upon my hands, En-tier-přice First Tactical. And even if this was not so, you are his superior officer and can act on his behalf in this matter. I confess before these people that I have attacked and injured you and Crew-man, and acknowledge that dishonor has come upon me. For the blood that I have wrongfully taken from both of you, I give my own."
Dropping to one knee in front of Reed he held out his left hand, offering the weapon to the shocked lieutenant. "It is not a dagger, but in the hand of a warrior such as you, it will surely suffice." As Reed took the pistol the alien tipped his head back and far to one side, exposing his throat. "I surrender."
Malcolm looked at the man kneeling before him then at the pistol clutched in his own hand. This was the first time he could remember a weapon feeling so cumbersome and clumsy to him; shame flooded over him as he remembered his earlier gleeful fantasies about killing the alien. Looking back at the man desperation began to set in as it dawned on Malcolm that the G'l Benai was going to remain kneeling submissively before him until he pulled the trigger. He looked at the others, silently pleading for their help.
Atkinson came to his rescue. "He can't kill you."
"Of course he can," the G'l Benai countered calmly without even looking at her. "It is a simple thing. I have confessed my crime and surrendered my life to him. Now he can execute me and in so doing avenge himself and Crew-man, and allow me to regain my honor in death. That is the way of things."
"That may be the way of things for you," Miranda replied, "but that's not how we do things. Besides…" She struggled to think of some way to get Reed out of this situation. "He doesn't have permission to execute you," she blurted.
"Permission?" This time he sent a disbelieving stare her way.
"Of course. He can't execute you without the captain's authorization." Miranda looked to Reed for some sign that she'd done the right thing and gave a small sigh of relief as he silently mouthed 'Thank you.'
Now the G'l Benai looked at Reed again. "That is absurd. If your captain has to authorize every execution, how does he get any work done? That is a very ineffective way to do things."
"Well," Reed explained, "we don't execute people for every little infraction. In fact, we try very hard to avoid killing people."
"Little infraction?" the warrior said, incredulous. "Have you so soon forgotten that I attempted to kill you?" he mocked. "That I almost killed Crew-man? That I forced you to fire upon your captain's ship? That I accused you of having questionable lineage?"
Malcolm's eyes narrowed in anger, then softened as he realized that the man was trying to goad him into firing. (Admittedly, the reminder of his mother being called a whore had come perilously close to doing the trick.) "No…I haven't forgotten. But killing an unarmed man would bring dishonor upon me, don't you think? Besides, if I kill you my captain will be very angry with me. Surely you don't expect me to act against the wishes of my captain, do you?"
The alien's chin fell to his chest. He had been so certain that he would soon be reunited with his family, and now…'Ancestors help me. How am I to regain my honor and come into your presence now?' Still, Loo-ten-ant was right. "I comprehend…it would be improper for you to go against your captain's wishes or to risk casting aside your own honor." He looked up, grasping at one last hope. "If I confess before him as well, then would your captain authorize my execution?"
"I…very much doubt it. As I said, we try to avoid killing."
Pained by the implications the G'l Benai closed his eyes and sighed heavily, bowing his head and remembering the advice of his uncle. Punishment for his transgressions was to take another, far more terrible form, and to regain his honor he would have to accept and endure what no G'l Benai in all of remembered history had ever been able to. Failure meant na'oosh tcha'a, but failure was inevitable—unless, perhaps, Loo-ten-ant could be convinced to aid him. Surely a fellow warrior of such strength could be convinced to bestow an honorable death upon him. Besides, he'd grown fond of the little general and felt an obligation to warn him of what would eventually happen.
He looked up at his former opponent. "With respect, En-tier-přice First Tactical, I would request that you petition your captain on my behalf and convince him to allow my execution."
"I'm quite sure he won't allow it. We came here to help you, not kill you."
The warrior nodded solemnly—he'd half-suspected that this would be the man's response, but he'd had to try. "I comprehend. But if I am to be made to remain alive, there is something which you must know, something of which we never speak to outsiders." He paused to gather himself, struggling against the knowledge that he was divulging a closely-guarded secret. "But you are a worthy opponent and fine warrior, and I desire that no further harm come to you or those on your captain's ship.
"In the time of our ancient ancestors, the G'l Benai were as animals and walked upon four legs, but as our world changed they evolved and came to walk upon two legs. Other changes came upon our world and we adapted to those changes as well, for those who cannot adapt cannot long endure. But there is one thing to which no G'l Benai has ever been able to adapt: captivity. My fellow warrior, you know what it is to have the rational mind overpowered by the animal mind, for that is what the stimulant can do to a man. You have felt it, experienced it, and know how difficult it is for the rational mind to regain control.
"Now, I accept that I will be made to remain alive, but you must be made to comprehend that for my people, captivity does not overpower the rational mind…it kills the rational mind. I have vowed to my ancestors, to my revered Uncle, eldest brother of my father's father, that I would accept whatever punishment your people chose for me in order to regain my honor and rejoin my family in the Great Hall. I will endeavor to endure for as long as I can, but eventually my rational mind will perish. When that happens only my animal mind will remain, and I will strike out blindly, attempting to kill any whom I can reach. Your people will be in great danger, and as your captain's First Tactical you must protect them as is the First Duty. Promise me, En-tier-přice First Tactical, and vow before all gathered here, that when that time comes you will kill me. I plead with you, my fellow warrior, when my rational mind perishes, do not allow me to harm any others who serve your captain."
Reed stared deeply into the man's eyes and nodded slowly. "I give you my word, you'll not be allowed to harm anyone else." He looked at the others, wondering if they found the situation as surreal as he did, and noted the shock on their faces; they thought, as did the alien, that he'd just committed to killing the man. 'So much for our imprecise language, my furry friend,' he thought. 'I never actually said I'd kill you, just that I'll not let you hurt any more of us.' He wished he could shoot a reassuring wink to Hoshi the way she'd done for him, but the G'l Benai was still staring up at him. "Oh, do please get up."
The G'l Benai wordlessly complied, casting another nervous look at Hoshi before straddling the foot of his biobed. He stared at the floor as he tried to gather his thoughts and comprehend this strange species. So many questions…and with the aftereffects of the stimulant creeping up on him, thinking was becoming more difficult. 'Think about other things,' he told himself. Sometimes the mind could be distracted from the discomfort. Besides, there were things that needed doing: he couldn't afford the luxury of withdrawal symptoms just yet. "With respect, En-tier-přice First Tactical, I would request an audience with your captain."
The perplexed lieutenant looked at the others then at their guest. "If you're planning to ask him to kill you, I've already told you he won't do it."
"I know," the warrior nodded, "and I accept that. But I have attacked his vessel and members of his crew. It would be improper to not confess before him and offer myself to him for punishment."
Malcolm nodded—'god help me, the brute's reasoning makes sense'—and looked to the doctor. "Would it be possible to contact the captain and ask him to come down here?"
"Of course. In fact, he's been looking forward to chatting with our friend," Phlox replied as he went to the comm. "I daresay it should be an interesting conversation."
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Hesitating unobserved just outside Sickbay's glass doors, Archer studied the occupants. Ensign Rossini, a far paler shade than usual, was perched on the edge of the exam table, Atkinson standing next to him with a steadying hand on his shoulder. Hoshi and Phlox were near the biobeds seemingly visiting with the patients there. 'Koshneer Third Tactical' was straddling the foot of his bed with a hangdog—or would that be hangcat? Archer silently wondered—look on his face and Malcolm sat calmly on his own bed, facing the alien and casually holding a phase pistol on his lap.
Wait a second…phase pistol? Oh hell, that was just great. It would have been nice if Phlox had mentioned that Malcolm had gotten his hands on a weapon, especially in light of the Armoury Officer's recent murderous bouts of temper. Still, everyone looked to be pretty much intact, the alien looked thoroughly subdued, and Reed seemed perfectly calm. Of course, he'd also seemed perfectly calm right before he'd tried to bludgeon the G'l Benai—and everyone else within range—with a chair.
'Guess I won't find out what the hell's going on from out here,' he told himself. Putting on his best poker face and remembering Hoshi's advice, given during their recent meeting, to maintain a dominant attitude Archer tapped the door control and entered the room.
Six heads turned in unison at the sound of the doors opening; Phlox and Hoshi respectfully straightened their posture as the captain entered but Reed, Rossini, and the G'l Benai leaped from their respective beds and snapped to full attention. Atkinson, too, came to attention but had to break stance when Rossini's knees weakened and she reached to steady him. Malcolm looked for an instant as if he'd falter, too, but quickly recovered.
"As you were," Archer told them. Everyone except their large guest complied, with Rossini and Reed returning to their seats and the others relaxing their posture. The G'l Benai shot a confused look at the others, his questioning eyes finally resting on Reed.
"That means you can go back to what you were doing before," Malcolm quietly explained. "Sit down." Obviously still uncertain, the warrior slowly perched on the edge of the bed with an uncomfortable glance at the others. His eyes met the captain's before he quickly fixed his gaze on to the floor.
Archer approached the alien, standing at the foot of the bed and remaining silent a long while as he studied the uneasy man. "Doctor," he said without looking away from the alien, "has our guest been causing…problems?" He cast a meaningful look first at Rossini then the phase pistol still held loosely in Malcolm's hands.
Phlox gave a hesitant shrug, pursing his lips. "There was a brief bit of tension earlier, but he's feeling far more sociable now."
"Goood…I'm glad to hear that." He slowly shifted his attention to the security team, his voice deceptively jovial. "Mr. Rossini…feeling under the weather?"
"Um…I…" Damn. "I'm afraid I let my guard down, sir. Not sure exactly how he did it—I mean, he didn't hit me or anything, he just…knocked me out."
Phlox nodded. "There are no injuries and no signs of any outward trauma, but he was apparently unconscious for several minutes so I'll be keeping an eye on him for a bit longer before releasing him to his quarters. Barring any complications, he should be ready for duty in a few hours."
Hands clasped behind his back Archer nodded his approval, pacing slowly past the foot of Reed's bed, stopped at Saunders' bed, then returned to Malcolm's bed before looking at his Armoury Officer. "Lieutenant," he said almost cheerfully, "mind telling me why you've got a weapon?"
"Oh…um, I uh," Reed stammered as he tried to answer. 'Bloody hell.' He'd forgotten he still had the pistol.
"Apologies, En-tier-přice Captain," the G'l Benai interrupted as he stood, "but…I would speak." He finally looked Archer in the eye, waiting for the captain to nod consent before continuing. "He believed that I was attempting to injure Crew-man and sought to protect him, as is the First Duty." He shifted his gaze, looking over the captain's head at the far wall and setting his jaw. "I have been told that you must authorize my execution. First Tactical is awaiting authorization…that is why he still has the weapon in hand."
It took a bit of doing to keep the surprise from showing on his face but Archer succeeded. "Hmm… interesting." He looked around at the others. "Who told him that I had to authorize his execution?"
Atkinson stepped forward and stood at attention. "I did, sir. When he asked Lt. Reed to execute him I, uh, reminded the lieutenant that he needed your permission to proceed."
"Well, naturally he'd need my permission for something that important," Archer replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact. He was starting to look forward to hearing the whole story behind what had been happening down here. "And you want this little ghallas to order your execution?" the captain asked their visitor, somehow keeping his tone neutral as he threw the earlier insult back at the man. When the warrior nodded, eyes still fixed on the opposite side of Sickbay, Archer stepped in close and craned his neck to glare up at the man. "That's very interesting," he purred menacingly, "but I thought you were going to be my executioner."
The alien's eyes left the wall and met Archer's. "I admit that I once hoped to be, but that is not the will of The Ancestors. When I saw that your people had boarded my captain's ship I thought you sought to claim it as your own and that you would defile the bodies of the fallen, so I sought to protect them and Koshneer. The Ancestors have provided guidance and I now know that you sought only to render aid. Some would say that my actions were honorable because I strove to fulfill the First Duty, but there is no honor in attacking those who seek to render aid. I have wrongfully attacked your crew and your ship, and in doing so have condemned my captain, his passengers, and crew. Only by accepting whatever punishment you pronounce can my honor be restored. I surrender."
Stepping back, Captain Archer took a moment to think through what the warrior had just said so he could figure out how best to proceed. Probably easiest to take things pretty much in the order they had come, he decided. "If our places had been reversed I would have done anything I could think of to protect my ship and the people on it. I'm glad that your Ancestors helped you figure out that we came here to help. As far as punishment goes," he hesitated, looking at the others, "we don't usually execute people. We don't believe in killing unless we absolutely have to."
Apprehension and disappointment clouded the G'l Benai's features and he closed his eyes, shoulders slumping and ears drooping. He had hoped that Loo-ten-ant had been mistaken, or that En-tier-přice Captain would change his mind…he knew now beyond all doubt that it was not to be. When he finally looked again at the captain his eyes were filled with resignation. "I comprehend. Your First Tactical told me that this would probably be so, and I have already explained to him what captivity does to my people." He drew his shoulders back determinedly, ears perking forward. "If my punishment is to be captivity, so be it. I vow before the Ancestors I shall maintain my control as long as possible. And when my rational mind flees from me, En-tier-přice First Tactical knows what must be done."
"That's…good to know," the captain replied with a 'we'll-talk-later' glance at Reed. "There's only one problem, though. You're a guest, not a prisoner. So unless being our guest is going to adversely affect your rational mind, my…First Tactical…" he shot another look at the lieutenant, "won't need to take any action against you, will he?"
"Guest?" The warrior was incredulous. "I do not comprehend…I assaulted members of your crew, and attacked your ship. Surely there must be some retribution that you demand?"
"I'm not going to punish a man for protecting his fallen crewmates and his captain's ship," Archer stated. Then he again stepped up close to the warrior, tipping his head back to stare up at the man's face with a steely glint in his eyes. "But I do expect you to conduct yourself as a guest while you're here. There will be no more physical altercations with my crewmembers or this little ghallas will personally kick your tail so far up your ass that it'll tickle the roof of your mouth. Do you comprehend?" He sincerely hoped that Hoshi and Travis had gotten it right about officers issuing threats to subordinates, and that he'd not overdone it—if so, he had little doubt that Phlox would soon be mopping him up from several locations throughout Sickbay.
Anticipating that they had been right, he'd expected the man to snap to attention—Malcolm sure as hell would have, and almost did even though he was seated—but instead the G'l Benai shrank away from him, all but cowering as he stared submissively at the floor and answered with a meek, "I comprehend, En-tier-přice Captain."
Relaxing the tiniest bit Jon took a step back. "Good. Now, I have a few questions about your captain and the others. You said you've condemned them, but I don't understand what you mean," Archer admitted, then remembered how the G'l Benai had expressed himself to Trip earlier. "Clarify," he demanded firmly.
"You came to render aid, but I have attacked your crew and ship," the warrior began sorrowfully. "The offer to render aid will be withdrawn. My people's first priority will be to secure our territory, in keeping with the Second Duty. They will only begin a search for my captain and those with him after that task has been completed." His voice trembled ever so slightly. "There were many who were injured…some critically. My captain's First Medical is very well-trained and talented, but without adequate medical equipment…it is doubtful that the more seriously injured will long endure.
"As for the others…it is likely that they will soon begin to feel the strain of confinement. As I have explained to your First Tactical, we cannot endure captivity. It will kill them…all of them…and their innocent blood will be upon me as surely as is the blood of your crewmembers." His eyes filled with tears. "I have cast aside their only chance of survival, and have condemned them to death with my actions against you. Without the aid you would have rendered they will surely die. I have slain my captain and those under his protection."
As the G'l Benai sank back onto the bed and buried his face in his hands Archer stepped away and looked at the others, his stern façade having long since faded. All eyes were on the alien, even Malcolm looking sympathetic to the man's distress. God, he really thinks we're going to just abandon them, Jon thought as he looked back to the distraught warrior.
"Koshneer Third Tactical," Archer said quietly, "look at me." It took a long moment for the man to gather himself and meet his eyes, but the captain patiently waited for him to do so. "I have a question. If Humans had been attacked without cause by a G'l Benai ship—"
"That would not happen," the warrior interrupted, stiffening with indignation. "Only if they entered our territory without authorization would they be attacked, and even then the attack would only be for the purpose of stopping the vessel and ascertaining the reason for the incursion. We would not wantonly attack without cause, and we do not kill civilians—it would be dishonorable."
Archer couldn't contain the sigh that seeped out of him. "I'm speaking hypothetically. What if it did happen? If such an attack were launched by a G'l Benai ship…how would your captain react to hearing about such an attack by one of his fellow captains?"
"His anger would have no limit, I am certain. For one of his fellow captains to issue such an unlawful order would be abhorrent on its own, but that the crew would obey such unlawful orders would be beyond toleration. He would intervene."
"And if he couldn't stop the attack, would he try to help the victims?"
"I am certain that he would, yes."
"Because your captain is an honorable man, isn't he?"
"He is one of the most honorable men I have ever known," the man confirmed, straightening with pride.
"Such an unprovoked attack on civilians would damage the honor of all G'l Benai, wouldn't it?" Archer guessed.
"Yes." There was no hesitation in the firm, deep voice.
"Well, that gives us something in common. Your people think that all Humans are their enemies because of the attack on Koshneer. The dishonorable actions of a few of my people have damaged the honor of all of us. I came here to try to make things right—to help your captain as well as prove to your people that not all Humans are their enemies—and I don't intend to leave until I've done that. We couldn't get here in time to stop the attack but we can still try to repair some of the damage that's been done. The offer to render aid is not going to be withdrawn."
The alien stared with slack-jawed disbelief. "You would still render aid, despite my actions against you?" At Archer's silent nod the alien's expression slowly morphed into relieved, happy comprehension, head tipped far back as he broke into grateful laughter. "Do-Veen…they seek to follow the path of Do-Veen," he happily announced to the ceiling.
'I'm not sure I even want to know what that means,' Archer thought. "There's still a bit of a problem," he interrupted the warrior's revelry. "We can't help them if we can't find them, and we're unfamiliar with G'l Benai territory. I'm hoping that you'll be able to help us."
His mirth stilled, the G'l Benai met Archer's gaze with a long, thoughtful silence. "I will do all that I must to aid my captain and those under his protection. And you seek to follow the path of Do-Veen. It would be improper to deny you assistance in that endeavor." Brow furrowing, he considered carefully what needed doing and in what order. These were sensitive matters and had to be tended to properly, after all. The first course of action was obvious. "The first thing I must do is return to my captain's ship," he announced.
"I think not," Malcolm stated firmly, drawing a stern frown from Archer. "Sir, with all due respect, how do we know he won't decide to open fire on us once he gets back there?"
Any response from Archer was cut off by the G'l Benai. "You still do not trust me. Good—now I know that you are an excellent First Tactical, for trust cannot be handed to a person the way you would hand meat to a hungry child. Trust must be earned. You should know that I am not entirely certain that I trust you, either." He smiled, eyes twinkling. "But I am willing to begin to make the attempt. To answer your question, you don't know that I will not attack, and I have no way to prove that I will not. All I can do is pledge before my Ancestors that I will behave honorably and cause no further damage or injury to your captain's ship or crew."
The captain cleared his throat to catch the warrior's attention. "Mind telling me why you need to return to Koshneer? Or how you're planning to do so? Life support is gone over there, and your EV suit is damaged."
"Eeee-Veee suit? Ahhh," he realized an instant later, "you mean the zero-atmosphere light armor. Very well, then—the first thing I must do is repair my armor. Then I must return to Koshneer. From there I can contact my people and try to convince them to not destroy you."
Archer shot Malcolm a 'keep your opinions to yourself' warning look before addressing the alien. "You can contact them from here, you know—we've got a pretty good communications system, and an excellent Communications Officer."
For an instant the soldier thought the man was joking, then realized that the man truly thought that would work. He shook his head. "With respect, En-tier-přice Captain, that will not suffice. The message must be sent from Koshneer." Seeing that the Humans were still puzzled, he elaborated. "Unauthorized communication with a non-G'l Benai vessel is forbidden. Any message sent from your ship will be ignored."
Hoshi perked up. "Is that why your captain didn't answer our hails when we tried to contact him?"
"Of course," he nodded. "Even if he had wanted to respond, he could not. Had he done so, his First Tactical would have immediately executed him for treason." He turned his attention back to Archer. "If I attempt to contact my people from your ship, my messages will be ignored and I will be executed as a traitor upon their arrival. Initial contact must be made from my captain's ship, at which time I can secure authorization for future contact with your ship." Sensing their continued uncertainty he pressed forward, risking prolonged eye contact with their captain. "When I spoke earlier of what will happen when my people arrive, I did not exaggerate. Your crew will be annihilated, and I will be condemned as a collaborator and will be killed also. The only good that will come of it is that I will die in the company of honorable people…but that will be of little use to my captain, or to you."
Atkinson broke her silence. "Maybe they don't realize that we're here," she ventured hopefully. "We haven't seen any sign of them yet."
Amused laughter erupted from the warrior. "Apologies," he finally managed, "but…such naiveté was unexpected." Composing himself he smiled gently at the young woman. "There was a scout vessel in contact with my captain. That pilot would have reported all activities—communications, ship movements, everything they have observed—and they would have been ordered to stay nearby and continue reporting any and all activity in the area."
"We would have detected another ship in the area," Malcolm objected, earning another chuckle from their guest.
"The same way you detected my presence on my captain's ship?" he countered. Getting no reply from the little general, his smile broadened slightly and he continued, shifting his attention to the others and speaking as though explaining rudimentary facts to youngsters. "They know you are here, they know this ship is damaged…and they know there is presently no hurry to reach you because they know you cannot leave. So, they will tend to any other Human vessels in our territory before turning their attention to you. And once their attention is upon you, it will be far too late for talk."
"Phlox," Archer said softly, eyes still on the warrior, "where is his armor?"
"Stored with the rest of his personal effects."
"Get it, please." As the doctor went to retrieve the armor, Archer again approached the G'l Benai. "Dr. Phlox won't be happy about you leaving Sickbay before you've fully recovered, so you're not going alone," he announced firmly, ready to counter any objections from either the alien or his own Tactical Officer. "That should help keep the doctor from worrying about you having any health problems while you're there. Besides, you might need some help repairing damage to the communications system over there." Bracing for Reed's inevitable protests, he continued. "Ensign Sato and I will be going with you."
"Captain," Malcolm piped in, "I don't think that's wise. Better to send a security detail with him."
"We're already shorthanded in the Armoury," he gently reminded the lieutenant. "And I'd rather have all available hands working on repairs to weapons and shielding. My decision stands." He looked back to their guest. "Any objections?"
The soldier stared unabashedly into the captain's eyes and liked what he saw there—the Human's gaze had taken on a determined hardness that rivaled the best-tempered sword, reminding him of his own captain. He nodded his satisfaction. "Assistance with repairs to communications would be appreciated," he admitted. "My skills in that area are…mediocre at best. As for repairs to your defensive systems, he offered, looking at Malcolm, "I would respectfully advise that once weapons are repaired they be kept offline. Activating them would be interpreted as an aggressive act." Seeing the disapproving expression on his former adversary's face, he continued. "Shields are deemed to be a passive system and would be less likely to provoke an…unpleasant reaction from my people. If active weapons are detected it will be assumed that you intend to use them against us."
Already peeved by the captain's decision to accompany the G'l Benai, Malcolm was intensely unhappy with the alien's 'helpful' suggestions. "Are your people always so paranoid?"
The alien's head canted slightly as he considered the man's question. Head finally straightening, he smiled softly at his little general. "You think us overly cautious because we are distrustful of outsiders. Not an unreasonable conclusion…but our distrust is not without cause. Many years ago Klingons entered our territory. At first we thought little of it—other species had traveled in our territory in the past and caused us little concern, so what did it matter that one more traveled within our borders? We discovered our error in judgment after they made it known that they were not simply traveling through our territory but that they sought to…annex our territory…to claim it as their own." His voice filled with sarcasm, his lips curling with disgust. "We were to become subjects of their empire, our world and our people claimed as their přoperty. We chose to…decline their offer.
"But our initial inaction proved costly, for they had already begun to entrench themselves within our territory. It took several years and many thousands of G'l Benai lives to drive them out, and even now they occasionally attempt to again venture into our domain. We vowed that no others would be allowed the same opportunity that our carelessness had given the Klingons. All who now enter our territory are presumed to be aggressive until they prove otherwise; those who are not aggressive may secure permission to travel within our territory, those who are aggressive are dealt with…harshly. So I say again, En-tier-přice First Tactical, with respect…activation of weapons will be perceived as aggressive. Shielding will not."
Malcolm tiredly rubbed his good hand over his face. Part of him knew that this fellow really was trying to help but he was having a dashed hard time turning off his own paranoia. Hell, thinking at all was a becoming a bit of a task. "Sorry…I know you've already said you don't want anyone else to get hurt. I just…" Sighing, he let the thought die off.
"I do not comprehend the reason for your apology," his G'l Benai counterpart commented. "You are First Tactical. Trust is not supposed to come easily to you—part of the responsibility of a First Tactical is to see the potential for danger or betrayal and to alert your captain to those potentials. I would be very concerned about you if you did not display…misgivings."
Though he tried, Malcolm couldn't entirely erase the displeasure from his face; he couldn't decide whether he was more annoyed at the prospect of the captain and Hoshi traipsing off to the alien's ship without proper security precautions, or by his former adversary commiserating with him. His scowl deepened as Phlox wheeled in the cart holding the alien's armor.
The doctor looked almost as unhappy as the lieutenant as he stopped the cart in front of the soldier. "Though I acknowledge the need, I very much dislike the idea of you leaving Sickbay before you've fully recovered. I expect you to return here as soon as you finish doing what you need to do over there."
"Of course. Your captain has already told me you would be displeased by my departure, so he and First Communication intend to accompany me."
Surprised, Phlox looked at Archer and relaxed oh-so slightly. "Well, that should be sufficient," he consented doubtfully, "but I still want you back here as soon as you're finished. Sooner if there are any problems."
"Don't worry," the captain assured him. "We'll take good care of him."
"I appreciate that—I'd hate for him to undo my hard work." He motioned to the cart's contents. "I wasn't sure what you'd need to repair the damage, so I took the liberty of contacting Engineering and explaining what you needed to do. Someone should be here soon with the necessary materials." He hesitated a moment before adding, "I didn't get a chance to completely tidy up the inside."
The warrior nodded his approval as he surveyed the armor, trying to ignore the smell coming from it. "Thank you for your assistance. It is my armor, and cleaning it is my responsibility…but if you have some sort of cleaning agents suitable for the task, it would be appreciated."
"Of course. I'll see to it shortly. First, though," Phlox smiled faintly as he turned his attention to Ensign Rossini, "let's see about getting you out of here, young man." After a few passes with the hand scanner his smile broadened. "Ms. Atkinson, would you do me the favor of seeing Mr. Rossini to his quarters?"
Miranda hesitated, shooting a quick glance at their guest before looking uncertainly at Malcolm. "Sir?"
He started to tell her to go ahead then caught himself. "Don't ask me," he quipped with a faint smirk and a nod toward the doctor. "He hasn't declared me medically fit for duty, so it's not my call." With a quick glance at the alien Reed thrust the pistol toward Rossini. "Probably best to give this back to you…just to help me avoid temptation."
Exchanging a look with Keith, Miranda stifled her own smile and escorted Rossini through the door. Moments after they left the doors reopened to admit the Chief Engineer carrying a toolbox.
Ears flattened back against his head the G'l Benai leapt from his bed, hissing and baring his teeth. Before anyone could react he raced across Sickbay and stopped mere inches from Tucker. Glaring down at the engineer, the growling warrior raised his hand, claws fully extended.
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Slowly retracting his claws the soldier balled his bandaged hand into a tight fist and extended his index finger at the engineer's face. "I have promised your captain that I will not engage in any further physical altercations with his crew," he growled angrily as he glared down at the man. "He requires this of me so I shall comply. But," he warned, the claw of his index finger again slowly extending until it almost touched the tip of Trip's nose, "to the best of my knowledge he does not require that I like you."
"That's enough!" Archer snapped as he stormed toward the men. A glance from Trip stopped him midway.
"S'okay, Captain," Tucker said softly. "After the stuff I said to him, I figure he's got a right ta be sore at me." Crouching slowly, he set the toolbox on the floor then straightened with equal care and met the alien's glowering gaze apologetically. "When I was here before, I got pretty angry atcha—you'd attacked my crewmates, people I know, people I care about, and you damn near killed them—an' because I was angry I said stuff that I shouldn't have. I didn't think about the fact that you'd just got through watchin' people you care about get hurt, too, an' that some of them did get killed. Can't really blame you for holdin' a grudge, an' I don't expect that we'll ever be best friends or anything, but I'm hopin' that by the time we finish helpin' your people you'll be willing to accept an apology from me."
Withdrawing his finger, the G'l Benai straightened and intently studied the man as his animal and rational minds briefly quarreled—his rational mind reminded him of his promise to En-tier-přice captain and urged him to ignore this insignificant, unworthy creature and walk away, while his animal mind wanted the satisfaction of disemboweling the vulgar beast before him. At last squelching the desires of his animal mind he wrinkled his nose disdainfully. "Doubtful," he softly rumbled before taking a step back.
Trip nodded. "Kinda what I figured, an' I can't fault ya for it. But even if ya don't wanna accept an apology, maybe you'd at least accept my condolences on the loss of your family." He waited a moment as he tried to gauge the alien's mood before deciding to risk saying more. "I, uh…I know you were worried that we'd do something to their bodies, or that we'd done something to 'em already…but nobody's touched 'em, an' nobody's going to."
The warrior's nostrils flared as he sniffed the air for the scent of deception coming from the man. It surprised him that there was no change in odor—he'd been so certain that the fallen would have been subjected to untold defilements at the hands of these aliens, and even more certain that this honorless pahthi would be incapable of truthfulness. Even with his nose verifying what he'd been told he craved further confirmation, so he looked over his shoulder at Archer. "This is correct?"
"Yes. We don't make trophies out of people's bodies, or parts of their bodies. When we go over there to start repairs the remains of your friends and family members will be shown the highest level of respect, and any member of my crew who fails to do so will answer to me." He stepped between the men and fixed a fierce look on the warrior. "Now, are you finished trying to intimidate my engineer, or am I gonna have to climb up there and start plucking your whiskers out by the roots?"
"Trying to intimidate?" Trip whispered under his breath.
Ignoring the comment, the warrior canted his head slightly and bowed respectfully toward the captain. "Removal of my whiskers will not be necessary, En-tier-přice Captain." Still not quite willing to expose his back to the man, he took several backward steps away from Tucker. "I shall comply." He considered what these people would need to know about respectful treatment of the fallen. "As to the remains…they must not be touched," the G'l Benai said softly. "For any reason. They must be left where they have fallen until the proper protocols can be followed. Only members of their families or battle brethren may touch them. If there are none of these available, those from their home province may touch them but only if absolutely necessary. Any others who touch them will die."
"I'll let my people know that they can't touch the bodies," Archer assured him, "but I hope you don't expect me to kill anyone who mistakenly come into contact with them."
"You will not have to," the warrior stated flatly. "The scent of death is very strong, and lingers a long while. If the bodies are touched, we will know, and the families of the fallen will seek their own justice."
Archer risked a small, crooked smile and hoped it looked convincing. "Well, since no one's going to touch them, we're not going to have to worry about that. Now, if Commander Tucker is done here," Archer cast a meaningful look at the engineer, "he needs to get back to work. If you need anything else for your repairs let the doctor know and he'll contact Engineering for you. As for me, I've got a ship to run, so unless there's anything else you need to discuss with me, I'll be leaving too."
The warrior pondered what else needed to be done to increase these people's chances of not only success but survival. "There is one other thing," he said slowly. "A small...formality." He waited respectfully for a reply.
"What kind of formality?" Archer asked.
"You must yield your ship." Objections from Trip and Malcolm were immediate, loud, and simultaneous.
"You gotta be kidding! That's one hell of a formality—no way are you gettin' this ship!"
"If you think for an instant that we're just going to hand the ship over to you you're out of your bloody mind!"
Their protests went on until Archer held up a hand to silence them. "I'm inclined to agree with my men—I have no intention of surrendering to you or anyone else."
The warrior's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Surrender? En-tier-přice First Communication," he looked at Hoshi, "I do not comprehend. Why does your captain think I want to kill him?"
Glancing back at her UT, Hoshi looked first at the alien then her captain. "Sir, some of our words don't mean quite the same thing in his language. It looks like 'surrender' is what they do when they willingly give themselves to be killed. Remember, Lieutenant, how he said he surrendered when he wanted you to execute him?"
"That's right, he did," Malcolm confirmed.
"So," Trip asked, "what does 'yield' mean?" Sato's uncertain shrug didn't inspire much hope.
Jon was still studying their guest. "What does it mean?"
"Yield means yield," the G'l Benai answered. "What else would it mean?" Seeing that they still didn't comprehend, he tried a different approach. "It is a way to acknowledge an honorable defeat in battle. I fired upon your ship and caused sufficient damage to be considered the victor. By yielding you are admitting that I was victorious and promising that you will not engage in further hostilities against the G'l Benai."
"We didn't engage in hostilities against you to begin with, "Malcolm objected loudly, "and I'm getting a bit tired of having to repeatedly explain that to you!"
"Settle down, Mr. Reed," Archer warned softly before returning his full attention to the alien. "I'm still not entirely certain that it's a good idea. Why don't you try to convince me?"
The frown of concentration slowly eased off the felinoid face and a slow smile took its place. "You desire a display of trust from me, yes?" Archer nodded cautiously and the soldier continued. "I am willing to attempt this, but I ask you for display of trust in return. All that is required is for you to say the words, to yield your ship. As I have said, it is a formality...but it is a formality that will prove helpful to both of us."
A long, painful silence followed as the captain thought it through. "Very well," he said at last. "I yield my ship."
The warrior snapped to full attention, all seriousness, then bowed with a slight cant of his head and stared unblinking into the Human captain's eyes. "On behalf of my captain, I accept." After a few seconds he relaxed, cracking another slight smile as he nodded his satisfaction. There was no turning back now. "It is done, En-tier-přice Captain. Now, you have said that you must tend to your ship, and I must begin repairs so that I can contact my people and convince them to not kill your people." As he watched the men and woman walk toward the door another thought sprang to his mind. "Thelik," he stated.
They turned to face him and Archer spoke. "Excuse me?"
"When you were here earlier, you asked my name but I answered with only my rank and position. I think that, if I am going to trust you with my life, perhaps I should also trust you with my name. I am called Thelik."
Jon allowed himself a smile. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Jonathan Archer." Their guest again nodded before retrieving the toolbox and pushing the cart holding his EV suit toward his bed. 'Finally, things are starting to go right,' Archer thought. 'Wonder how long that will last? '
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