What Lies Within Us- Chapter 15

What Lies Within Us

by Gabi

Disclaimers in Chapter 1

*******

Chapter 15

Jonathan Archer turned around to his prisoner and noticed the alien watching him intently. The strange features didn't seem to be able to express a wide range of emotions, at least not the kinds of emotions a human would have recognized. But if anyone had asked Jon to interpret the feelings he saw on the alien's face, he'd have guessed it was something akin to curiosity. What was taking Hoshi so long? He needed answers.

Raising his thin, bony hand, the alien pointed at one of the instruments lying on the table outside the cell. Jon picked it up.

"That one?" he asked. The alien made an affirmative gesture. "Do you have any idea what this is, Ensign?" Jon asked, looking at Hanks. The young crewman shook his head. "I don't think you should give it to him, sir."

"What harm can it do? Hopefully he won't be stupid enough to try and fire a weapon in here. Open the door, Ensign, and watch out in case he tries anything."

Carefully, Jon entered the cell which was now noticeably cooler than before, and handed the alien the strange device. Taking it from his outstretched hand, the prisoner pulled a few switches, and suddenly some kind of mechanical voice came from a speaker.

"Maybe we can understand each other now."

Startled, Jon took a step backwards. An advanced translation computer. Their high level of development provided this species with means that the Starfleet technology still lacked. Jon turned to Hanks.

"It's alright, Ensign. Notify Ensign Sato I won't need her here." He looked back at the stranger. "I'm Captain Archer and my ship's name is Enterprise. We're from Earth. May I ask who you are?"

The alien bowed his head. "I thank you, Captain, for adjusting the temperature to a level I feel comfortable with. My people cannot endure heat for a very long time. And I also want to thank you for giving me the respirator. Breathing your air is very difficult for me."

"We are no torturers," Archer said. "May I ask who you are and what you want?"

"I am the Captain of my ship," the alien answered slowly. "My name is of no importance to you, as is the name of my species. You would not be able to pronounce it, and the translation device fails when it comes to transferring our names. Besides, we rather keep our privacy on most occasions. You can call me Captain."

"Alright, Captain, what do want from us? Why did you attack my ship?"

"We did not mean to attack your vessel. The plan was to pay you a short visit without any of you noticing that we were there. I am indeed rather surprised you were prepared for our boarding team."

"Well, we were, thanks to quick thinking on part of our Chief Engineer and quick reaction on part of our Security Officer." Archer smiled sourly. "So, what do you want?"

"We want the technology you stole down on that moon."

Archer pressed his lips together. "We are no thieves," he said through gritted teeth.

"You are not? Your men break into our research complex, download our complete database and then use weapon force to get out of the building again. I do not know what you would call actions of that kind. We call it stealing. But maybe your species is used to doing this kind of thing."

Jon remembered what Trip had said, how he himself would react if someone tried to steal Enterprise's database. Taking a deep breath, he fought to master his anger.

"We are explorers," he said then. "Enterprise was sent on a mission to make friendly contact with new species, but also to explore unknown space and map undiscovered areas. We ran across this solar system some time ago and found the atmosphere down on that moon intriguing enough to run a few scans of it. When our instruments picked up an unidentifiable area on the surface, my Chief Engineer and my Security Officer went down there to take a closer look at it. As they came across the building, their scanners didn't pick up any life signs. So they thought it was deserted. But as I said, we are explorers. My Chief Engineer is very gifted in that area, and he loves to study new technologies. He wanted to find out why someone had built that big a complex on a deserted moon, and didn't leave anybody in charge. That's why he downloaded the database, to have our expert linguist translate it for him and find out what he wanted to know. But then my officers were attacked by your men, Captain." Archer's voice took on an angry undertone, but he refrained from saying anything about Trip. The humanoid gave him a long look, interlacing his long, spider-like fingers.

"I understand," he said finally. "And what about the cloaked shuttle you used when you boarded my ship? The vessel was certainly not designed by your species."

"No, it's a Suliban cellship. Have you heard of the Suliban? Some time ago they tried to drag us into a war of theirs, and took me prisoner. I was able to escape with that vessel, and to be honest, I didn't really feel like giving it back to them afterwards." Jon glanced at his prisoner to whom he had to look up even though the man was sitting. "You really think we're pirates, don't you?"

"I admit we are a little paranoid as far as alien races are concerned. We are not very eager to make contact with new species. We have made very bad experiences in that area."

"How's that?"

"When the inhabitants of our homeworld's neighbor planet had developed spacefare, they tried to steal our resources. It ended up in a war which lasted for many years, made half of our planet uninhabitable and nearly destroyed our world's ecosystem. Our planet cannot provide for all its inhabitants anymore."

"So that's why you're trying to adapt the moon to your needs."

"We spent a long time looking for a suitable system where we would not disturb anyone, and even more importantly, where no one would disturb us. We found that moon to be suitable since it has a gravity similar to that of our homeworld. The first experiments, however, did not go all that smoothly. We were able to produce an atmosphere, but it was too dense to be breathable. But we managed to build that dome and the building, and some of our best scientists are currently working on the project of making the whole moon suitable for our people."

Archer nodded. The whole business suddenly made a lot more sense.

"The scientists refused to have Security assigned to their complex," the Captain continued. "They said the guards' presence would only hinder their work, and claimed the system was so unappealing and out of the way that no one would come there anyway. When your men entered the building, they panicked. They did not mean to harm your crewman, they simply did not know what to do."

Well, maybe they didn't, but in any case it's too late for Trip, Archer thought bitterly. But he didn't say anything. Trip's condition was not the topic here.

"I believe you when you say you are explorers," the stranger said. "Still I must insist you give us back our technology. We have very strict guidelines concerning the handing-over of technology to less developed species."

Jon snorted derisively. "Less developed species." He looked up. "You don't happen to know the Vulcans, do you?"

"We heard of them. Why?"

"They have a similar codex. Listen, Captain, I see your point. But I can't agree with you when you say we're "less developed" just because we aren't as technologically advanced as your people. It's not like we don't know what to do with your technology. My Chief Engineer does understand these configurations. And do you have any idea what an improvement your cloaking technology would be? Or a more advanced warp engine?"

"I am sorry, Captain Archer, but I cannot allow that."

Archer felt anger rise within him. How many times had he heard this particular argument from the Vulcans who refused to share their technology with the humans, saying they mustn't interfere with their development. Were all advanced species that arrogant? Archer hated feeling so small standing in front of that being who was almost a hundred and fifty centimeters taller than him.

"You're my prisoner, do you really think you are in the position to make demands?"

He hadn't been intending to say this, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The stranger's rigid face changed into a slight grimace.

"I noticed you are an intelligent and sensitive man, Captain Archer," he said, and the translator even managed to transfer some of the benevolence in his voice. "The way you risked your own life to save your crewman from my ship impressed me. I admit that at that point I started wondering if all of this might be some sort of cultural misunderstanding, and if you might be more than the thieves and pirates my people deemed you to be. I am glad that I was confirmed in my opinion about you. But if I decided to destroy your vessel, you would not stand the slightest chance against us. I could easily kill you with my bare hands, and I could do so before your guard out there would even get the chance to open the door. But I would prefer to retrieve our technology in a peaceful way and end this first contact positively despite all misunderstandings."

Jon was fighting an inward battle. His pride wouldn't allow him to give in that easily. Damn it, these people had sent Trip through hell, and he was still suffering from the consequences of what these aliens had done to him. And the alien Captain's arrogance only served to fuel Jon's rage. On the other hand Archer realized that the stranger was right. Enterprise was no match for the alien vessel, and he had to protect his crew. Moreover, Jon understood the alien Captain's motives. If he'd been in his place, he probably wouldn't have acted any different.

"Maybe I can offer you something that will make up for the loss of the technology," the stranger said, startling Archer out of his thoughts.

"Something non-technological?"

"Yes, but I think you will be quite interested once you hear what it is."

"Let's hear it. I'm all ears."

-###-

When Hoshi entered sickbay, she saw Malcolm and T'Pol sitting at Trip's bedside. T'Pol raised her head.

"Ensign Sato! I assumed you were assisting Captain Archer in his efforts to communicate with the alien?"

"The Captain doesn't need me down there. Looks like the aliens found a way of communication."

Stepping up beside the bed, Hoshi smiled at Trip. A second later, however, her skilled ears picked up a sound that didn't belong here, and Hoshi stopped in her tracks, frowning.

"How long has the Commander had trouble breathing?"

"What?" Malcolm exclaimed, half-rising from his chair. Raising an eyebrow, T'Pol gave Hoshi a questioning look.

"Hoshi, you ol' traitor." Trip's voice sounded weary. "D'you have to blab on me?"

"I'm sorry, Commander." Hoshi took a step backwards, shaking her head in dismay. "I didn't know you wanted to keep it a secret."

The look of shock on Malcolm's face changed into an expression of deep sadness.

"Don't do this to us, Trip," he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse. "Please don't do this to us."

T'Pol got up as well. "I will call Dr. Phlox."

"No need." The doctor came around a corner, hypospray ready in hand. "The monitor's alarm already told me what I needed to know."

He pressed the hypospray against Trip's neck, and there was a small hiss as its contents emptied into Trip's circulation. "This will regulate your breathing for the next two to three hours, Commander."

"And then what?" Hoshi looked from one to the other. "What's going on here?"

"The paralysis is taking possession of the Commander's respiratory system", T'Pol explained. "When his breathing fails the doctor will hook him on life support."

"And that is exactly what Trip doesn't want us to do", Malcolm said flatly. His face had gone pale. "He doesn't want artificial respiration."

"But... but that would mean..." Hoshi broke off as the full meaning of Malcolm's words became clear to her. Retreating a few steps, she leaned against the wall for support.

"You were aware of that?" T'Pol asked, as calm and composed as ever, but for the split of a second her voice wavered.

"The Captain told me earlier." Walking over to Hoshi, Malcolm grabbed her by the shoulders. "Try to get a grip on yourself, Ensign. Don't you see why Trip doesn't want this?"

Hoshi held on to him, tears running down her cheeks. "I do understand, Lieutenant. I understand very well. But what about us if he dies? Malcolm, what are we going to do without him?"

Putting his arms around her, Malcolm pulled her into a gentle hug. "I don't know, Hoshi. We'll just have to try and go on, somehow. But now we have to be strong for him, do you understand?"

Hoshi nodded, raising a hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

"Hoshi?"

Letting go of Malcolm, the young woman raised her head. "Yes, Commander?" Wiping her cheeks once again, she stepped up beside Trip's bed.

He smiled at her. "Now jus' forget about the Commander for once, Hoshi. I'm sorry I scared you like that. Maybe you ought to go to your quarters, get some rest. It's the middle of the night, and you look dog-tired."

Fiercely, Hoshi shook her head. "No, Comm... Trip, I certainly won't. If you choose this way, we certainly will not leave you. We'll be at your side as long as we can."

"Archer to T'Pol," a voice came from the speaker on the wall. Getting up from her chair, T'Pol went to answer the call.

"T'Pol here."

"T'Pol, has any part of the alien technology been integrated into the ship's systems yet?"

"Negative, sir. We did not yet have the time to finish the calibrations."

"Good. Listen, T'Pol, the whole database needs to be deleted."

"Deleted?"

"Yes. Everything. The back-ups as well. All data we got from the moon must be erased. Oh, and don't forget about Trip's padds. Do you understand?"

"Aye, sir."

"Get to work. Make it quick, T'Pol, but be careful to delete everything. The aliens are going to check on their scanners if we really got rid of all their data. I'll beam with the alien Captain to their ship, and I'll take your call there."

A voice came from the background, and T'Pol turned back to the speaker. "The Commander says be sure to put on some warm clothes, Captain."

"Are you in sickbay, T'Pol?" Archer sounded alarmed. "How's Trip?"

"He's had slight difficulties breathing. Dr. Phlox gave him a hypospray that will help the symptoms. He assumes, though, that the difficulties will set in anew in two or three hours time."

T'Pol's voice sounded as calm as ever when she told Archer that Trip had only a few hours to live.

There was a moment's silence, and when the Captain finally answered, his voice sounded croaky. "I'll be back until then. Call me immediately if there are any changes."

"What are you going to do on the alien vessel, if I may ask, Captain?"

"The aliens promised to give me something in return for deleting their technology from our database. I'll tell you later, time's a-wasting. Archer out."

"Pity," Trip said. "I had hoped we might be able to keep at least part of it. The cloakin' field, for example. Or that warp technology." His blue eyes lit up. "Jus' think of what we coulda done with that." He sighed. The thought of giving up all that technology just like that hurt his very soul. "I'd really like to know what they offered in return. What could possibly compensate for all that data?"

"I am sure the Captain will tell us about it." T'Pol looked at Hoshi and Malcolm. "Lieutenant, Ensign, may I ask for your assistance? We have our orders."

Hoshi stroked the back of Trip's hand. "I'll ask Travis to come and keep you company. Or would you rather like to sleep a little?"

"No, Hoshi, I'll have enough time for that later. I don't want to waste my last hours sleepin'. It'd be nice if Travis could come."

"We'll be back too. As soon as possible." Forcing a smile, Malcolm gave Trip a short pat on the shoulder, then followed T'Pol who was already on her way to the door.

-###-

Ninety minutes later they were done. T'Pol reported to Captain Archer that the alien technology had been deleted, and that the Commander's condition was not yet showing any signs of deterioration. Again, they all gathered in sickbay around Trip's bed. Conversation was a little tense since they all were harshly aware of the fact that Trip didn't have much time left, but the Commander himself seemed to be simply glad to have all his friends gathered around him.

"I'd really like to know what the aliens're gonna give the Cap'n," Trip muttered. He was trying to get conversation going again, and besides, he needed something to distract himself. He was itching all over, and the harder he tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation, the more troublesome it got. Of course he couldn't very well ask his friends to give him a good scratch, but maybe the feeling would subside if he tried to concentrate on something else.

"Technology, probably," Hoshi said in a slightly disparaging tone of voice. "The Captain'd better ask them for a cure. Maybe they have something that would heal your paralysis, after all."

Trip sighed. "No, Hoshi, they don't. The antidote for the poison was in the database. If there was another variation we woulda found it there, too. Why should the aliens have developed cures for species they have never seen before? Sounds rather illogical."

"Maybe they developed one after you'd been on their vessel," Malcolm said.

"Why should they? Tell me one reason why they woulda done that. Out of the kindness of their hearts?"

Malcolm grimaced. It didn't seem like kindness was a characteristic feature of that species, at least not where humans were concerned. Trip was probably right. The fierce determination with which they had clung to that one small hope had probably only been their desperate wish to save Trip from his fate.

Conversation quickly died again, and Trip fixed his gaze on the ceiling, thinking. Even if the aliens had been able to provide them with a cure, it would have been to late. He could all but feel his time running short. It was a strange feeling, lying here and waiting for death. Scary, somehow. The fact that with every second the inevitable was drawing closer and closer without him being able to do anything to prevent it frightened him. Still, he was not afraid to die. In that case he would have picked the wrong job working on a starship. Space was a dangerous place to be, and Trip had known right from the beginning that it was very possible that he was going to die out here. When he'd thought about that, however, he'd always imagined it happening on a dangerous mission or maybe in an engineering accident. Never like this. He'd never pictured himself lying in sickbay, unable to move, helplessly waiting for death to come. He wondered how his parents were going to react to it. The news how he had died. Trip felt a deep regret when he thought of the people who were closest to him. He'd meant to ask Jon to call his parents so he could talk to them one more time, but somehow there had never been time. And now it was too late. Well, maybe that was just as well. Trip knew it was going to be Jon who'd break the news to them, and he felt strangely reassured at the thought. Jon would find the right words. And his parents were going to remember their son the way he had been. Outgoing, optimistic, and, most important, full of energy and enjoying life the way it was.

No, he wasn't afraid of the end. Phlox would give him a sedative and he'd simply fall asleep to never wake up again. Still, Trip hadn't planned on going just yet. He mourned for the things he would leave behind, his friends, his work. He so wished he could see Engineering one more time, and, for a moment he considered asking his friends to take him there. If they really tried they might even be able to convince Phlox. But Trip decided against it. He wanted to spare the crew the sight of a paralyzed Chief Engineer whose head would dangle limply to one side if no one held it. They didn't need that. The crew didn't, and he didn't either. That was not the way he wanted his staff to remember him. He only felt sorry that he had to leave them, just like that. That he couldn't even tell them how proud he was of them.

Trip ran his tongue over his dry lips. "Would you mind gettin' me some water, Malcolm?"

Malcolm nodded, getting up, and a moment later he returned carrying a glass. T'Pol carefully lifted Trip's head so he was able to drink. Trip tried to remember if she had ever touched him that gently before. As she lowered his head back onto the pillow he smiled at her. "Do Vulcans believe in an afterlife, T'Pol?" he asked.

"One might say so."

"Will you tell me about it?"

"If you are interested, Commander?"

Trip would have nodded, but as it was he only gave her an encouraging look.

T'Pol took a seat next to his bed. "Shortly before we die, Vulcans give their katra-"

"What's that?" Trip interrupted.

"Maybe the best description would be "essence of the soul". As I said, shortly before we die we hand over our katra to a close relative or under certain circumstances a close friend, who then takes it to the Hall of Ancient Thought on Mount Seleya on Vulcan."

"This "handing-over"...how does it work?"

"In a purely telepathical way."

"So I couldn't do it?"

"No, Commander. Only Vulcans have a katra. Humans have their own belief in an afterlife."

"I'm wonderin' how it's gonna look like there," Trip muttered. He soon would know. He felt it. That uneasy feeling, as if someone were sitting on his chest taking away his breath grew stronger again. His time had come.

Again it was Hoshi who first noticed Trip's breathing becoming louder and more labored. A cold fist seemed to close around her heart when she looked at him. A moment later Phlox appeared, pushing a respirator. Trip, lying flat on his back, didn't see it, but Malcolm got up.

"Phlox, you know..."

"Yes, Lieutenant, I know," Phlox interrupted. "But I want to be prepared in case the Commander changes his mind, after all."

"Good." Malcolm sat back down on his chair, frowning. Trip's breathing was becoming more and more labored as the minutes passed. Phlox ran his scanner over the Commander's chest.

"You said two to three hours, doctor," Hoshi said accusingly. "It hasn't even been two!"

"It looks like my estimation was not quite correct, Ensign," Phlox said, dismay written all over his usually serene features. "The paralysis is more rapidly progressing than I thought."

"How much time does he have left?"

Phlox closed his eyes. "It will be too late for the sedative to take effect if I don't give it to him in seven or eight minutes time."

"What?" The officers turned around to the doctor. Nobody had been prepared for it happening so fast. They only had a few minutes left with Trip. Phlox tried injecting him with another hypospray, but it didn't help. By now, Trip was panting.

"Jon," he whispered.

The officers exchanged glances. "Damnit," Malcolm muttered under his breath, getting to his feet. In their shock they'd forgotten about calling the Captain. Malcolm flipped open his communicator.

"Reed to Archer."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Captain, Trip has very little time left. The symptoms came back all of a sudden, and his condition is deteriorating rapidly. Phlox said he has to inject him with the sedative in a few minutes time. You need to hurry, Captain."

A moment of dismayed silence followed. "On my way," Archer said then, his voice sounding strained. "Tell him to hang on. I'll be right there."

In the meantime, Trip had started panting harder, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. No matter how hard he tried, somehow he wasn't able to draw enough air into his lungs. How came it had all happened so fast? Only ten minutes ago he'd had hardly any trouble breathing, and now he was fighting for every lungful of air. And what was taking Jon so long?

"Malcolm."

His friend bent down over him. "Don't talk, Trip. Save your breath."

"Ask him what they gave him," Trip breathed. "I want to know what we got for all that technology."

"Sure, Trip." Malcolm smiled sadly. That was just like Trip. An engineer to his very last breath. "I'll ask him as soon as he gets here." Malcolm took a step backwards when Trip started coughing and gasping for air.

Stepping up at the head of the bed, T'Pol placed her fingers on Trip's temples. "Breath with me, Commander." Her voice became more intense as she spoke. "Listen, Commander, I want you to let me guide your breathing."

Again, Trip coughed, and a trace of saliva made its way down his chin. Using the corner of Trip's pillow, T'Pol gently wiped it off. "Take a breath, Commander, take a deep breath. Now let it out again."

It took Trip a moment to be able to concentrate on her voice, but then he managed to follow her instructions. He was still not getting enough air, but the panic that had seemed to overwhelm him quieted down. With T'Pol's assistance, his breathing became a little less labored. Jon. He had to wait for Jon. He had to say goodbye to his best friend. From the corner of his eyes Trip saw the hypospray in Phlox' hand. The sedative. The stuff that would save him from the slow agonized death of choking. The stuff that would end his life. He would not wake up again. Trip didn't want to die. He wanted to stay here, be with his friends, talk to them, laugh with them and share their adventures. He wanted to know what Jon had gotten from those aliens, if it was something to improve Enterprise's engines. But he couldn't. Never again would he go down to Engineering, never again see his beloved warp engine, never again feel the familiar humming of the warp drive or watch the passing stars on observation deck. He had to go and leave Enterprise and his friends behind. But maybe that was just as well. He didn't want to go on living in this condition, his body immobilized by the paralysis. It had never been his way to idly lie around, and he hated the thought of being a burden to his friends or family. It was best to go, even if it was hard. His lungs were on fire, his breathing becoming more and more labored. Desperately, Trip gasped for air.

All of a sudden his senses became clear again. He heard Hoshi cry and felt Malcolm and Travis squeeze his hands. And there was T'Pol's calming voice, her fingers massaging his temples, her gentle instructions to keep breathing. His friends, his comrades who had stuck to him through thick and thin. He wanted to say goodbye to them. Wanted to see them one more time, Malcolm's sharp British features, T'Pol's controlled face and Hoshi's smile. But they had disappeared from his view, and there was no time left. Phlox stepped closer, sedative in hand.

"Jon," Trip whispered with the last bit of air he had left.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC

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Three people have made comments

Another excellent chapter. Heartbreaking too.

Cruel little lady, they'd better have made a cure, they wanted to heal him so it makes sense they might have.........

:'(

Oh you are evil truly wickedly wonderfully evil!

Hurry post more now!