Service - Chapters 6-10

"Service" by Marsha L. Robertson
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG13 (a little language, a little violence)
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all this. I'm just happy I get to play here.
Summary: This wasn't on Trip's itinerary for shore leave.

Chapter 6

Archer, T’Pol, and Hoshi were in the ready room. Archer was pacing behind his desk, Hoshi was standing by the guest chair, and T’Pol was by the door. Hoshi was reading from her padd and Archer interrupted her.

“Drafted,” Archer said, still unbelieving. “Pregnant, mugged, stranded, captured, and now drafted.”

Hoshi stopped reading, watching Archer carefully. He waved a hand at her and kept pacing.

“No, no, keep reading.”

“A server’s family is entitled to repayment, equal to their living expenses for the entire two year term of service. Families should provide financial documents to the Service Department to begin payments. Any questions about this letter or service in general may also be directed to the Service Department.”

Hoshi looked up at the captain as she finished. By this time, Archer was standing at the port, tiredly staring at nothing.

“Well, that’s just great,” Archer said. He was tempted to pound the wall as he turned around, but thought better of it. Wouldn’t that be a great display in front of T’Pol?

“And there’s no trace of his biosigns?”

T’Pol answered. “We’ve scanned a five kilometer radius around the inn with no success.”

“Find Malcolm. Explain the situation, tell him to check out Trip’s room at the inn, and while he’s there, see what he can find out about this Service Department.”

Archer turned to his communications officer. “Hoshi, make contact with everyone that’s ashore now. Have them keep a low profile, and prepare to be recalled. Send one shuttlepod down immediately, and alternate until everyone’s home. Save room for Malcolm on the last trip. We don’t want to be conspicuous about this, but we don’t want anyone else to get drafted, either.”

T’Pol had a suggestion. “After I’ve contacted Mr. Reed, I’ll check with everyone who came back this morning and see if they heard anything about the Service as well.”

“Good. We need all the information we can get. Use that and anything Malcolm comes up with to narrow the search radius. In the meantime, start on ten kilometers. Any questions?”

Both officers replied “No, sir” and Archer dismissed them. They went out to their bridge stations and got to work.

Travis looked over at Hoshi as she started to work. He wanted to ask what was happening, but saw that she was busy and changed his mind. As he heard the conversation, Travis tried to catch Hoshi’s eye. She kept talking but watched him ask silently, “Is this for real?” Hoshi nodded, the look on her face saying, “Afraid so.” Finally, Hoshi finished a conversation with the shuttle bay, pushed some buttons, and turned to Travis.

“I sent you the new recall schedule. The first shuttlepod will launch in 10 minutes.”

Travis looked down at his panels, nodded, and made some adjustments.

“Thanks,” he said, “All set.”

Hoshi signaled the ready room.

“Archer.”

“Captain, everyone in this morning’s shore parties is accounted for and we have started recall.”

“Understood. Have Lieutenant Reed report to me as soon as he gets back.”

“Aye, Captain."

Chapter 7

Archer was ready to pull someone’s hair out. He was standing in front of the view screen on the Bridge. On the screen was a bureaucrat who was explaining why they couldn’t just send Trip back. He was going on and on about why they had to go through channels, and why it probably wouldn’t change anything anyway, and why wouldn’t they just send their financial requirements and come back in two years like everyone else? The bureaucrat finally paused, and Archer didn’t wait any longer.

“I understand that you have procedures that need to be followed. I’m sure you can understand that we have procedures as well. I’m required to talk to my officer and confirm for myself that he is unharmed.”

“Captain, I assure you that he is lacking for nothing. I can’t authorize any contact, but I can add that to your list of requests!”

“And does your service always recruit off-worlders, or is our officer just one of the lucky ones?”

“Service has no barriers, Captain. The privilege of service is open to all, not just our citizens.”

“I see. How is it that we weren’t informed about this privilege when we first contacted you? Wouldn’t that have been important to tell us?”

The bureaucrat shrugged. “You should have been given information on the Service Department along with all the other protocols. If it was left out, I’m sorry.”

Archer started to lose it. “Sorry doesn’t help me get my officer back, now does it?”

The bureaucrat just stared at him, confused at the outburst.

Archer stopped and collected himself. He smiled his best diplomatic smile and said, “You’ll be sure and speak to your superior about our requests as soon as possible?”

The bureaucrat brightened. “Oh, yes, Captain, I meet with her tomorrow and I’ll be sure and bring it up!”

Archer nodded politely and said, “Thank you for your assistance.”

He signaled to Hoshi and she terminated the link. Rather than starting to trash the bridge, Archer took a deep breath, and turned to look at T’Pol.

“’Tomorrow.’ Do you think they have another day in their calendar besides ‘tomorrow’?”

T’Pol gave Archer her “Do you really want me to answer that?” look. Archer looked exasperated and walked over to Malcolm’s station.

“Anything?”

“I think I’ve found all their bases, sir. I’ve narrowed the search coordinates to those areas.”

“Good. Keep me posted,” Archer said, and started to walk away.

“Sir, there is one odd thing.”

Archer turned back.

“When I scan for biosigns, I don’t always get the same ones from the same people.”

Seeing Archer’s puzzled look, Malcolm explained, “I know it makes no sense, sir, but I’ve checked and double-checked the readings. Sometimes I get one set of biosigns, sometimes I get another, and sometimes I don’t get any at all. It’s as if they’re somehow being rotated.” Something dawned on him and he went back to his panel. “Maybe… “

Archer waited patiently, and watched as his tactical officer came up with his own answer.

“They’re wearing transmitters that alternately block a scan, allow a scan, or reflect back an alternate set of biosigns. It’s almost like wearing a personal shield. It’s going to make finding Commander Tucker a little more difficult. We’ll have to use visual sensors to keep track of him once he’s been located.”

“I understand.”

Archer turned back to T’Pol.

“Reallocate processing resources to give the visual sensors priority. Get Malcolm any other help he needs.”

“Aye, Captain.“

Archer walked to his ready room, and as he went through the door, he called to Hoshi.

“Let me know if any of our friends at the Service Department happen to call back.”

“Aye, sir.”

Archer tried to accomplish something useful at his desk, but he couldn’t concentrate. Damn those people! And damn Trip too! What had he done to get into this mess? Archer leaned back, put his feet on the desk and stared at the ceiling. Be fair, Jon. Trip didn’t set out to spend his shore leave in boot camp. But it sure does seem like he’s jinxed. Poor guy can hardly get off the ship without something unexpected happening. Which you would think would be good for an explorer, but it never seems to turn out that way.

What he really wanted to do was go back out on the bridge. Unfortunately, staying out of the way was the appropriate course of action. Let the crew do their job, and you do yours, buddy.

He sat up and started to edit a status report. Oh, yeah, I’m mister big shot starship captain. Mister big shot technical writer is more like it. Hmm. I wonder how many reports I’ve written per light-year? And how the hell am I going to tell Admiral Forrest about this, anyway? Better idea. Wait until Trip gets back and make him write the report.

He leaned back in the chair again.

Starfleet didn’t tell me this part, either. My crew should explore nicely and stay safe. Not go running around where I can’t find them. Or get shot at or fall down in caves or get kidnapped or do anything else dangerous. Dammit, Trip, where are you?

He checked the time.

Hmm. It’s a while yet until dinner. I could sneak into the galley and maybe Chef wouldn’t kill me. That’s a good idea. Get away from the bridge so I’m not even tempted to help. But I really could help! No, Jon, get out. No helping. And especially no trying to do it all yourself. You have the best crew in Starfleet, and Trip is their friend too. Get out now and leave them alone. Supervise later.

Archer went out of the ready room and up to the bridge. As he was entering the turbolift and about to close the door, he told T’Pol:

“You have the bridge, Subcommander. Let me know the minute you find anything.”

He made it into the galley without being noticed, or so he thought. Archer rummaged around in a cabinet, pulled out two slices of bread, and laid them on the counter. He then opened a door on the cooler and stood there, staring at the contents.

“Trying to spoil your dinner, are you?”

Chef’s voice startled Archer out of his reverie. Uh-oh. He turned around, expecting to face Chef’s wrath.

“I can’t be spoiled for chicken Marsala, Chef, you know that.”

Chef reached past Archer into the cooler, so that the captain had to move out of the way. Chef pulled out a couple of anonymous food containers, shut the door, and walked over to the counter where Archer had laid out his bread.

“Any word on Commander Tucker?”

“No, not yet. We’ve narrowed the search to the bases for this Service of theirs, but it’s still going to be hard to track him down. Their troops evidently wear transmitters that make it almost impossible to search by biosigns. Once we do find Trip, we’ll have to keep track of him with visual sensors.”

Chef was busy constructing a sandwich. Archer objected.

“Don’t go to any trouble for me, Chef. Just throw a piece of ham on there and I’ll be fine.”

Chef ignored him. “Mister Reed will want to get his hands on one of those transmitters.”

“No kidding. Once he figured out what was going on, you could just see his eyes light up. Maybe we’ll get lucky and recover one with Trip.” Archer chuckled. “I should tell Malcolm he has to wait for his birthday to dissect it.”

“I thought Starfleet didn’t approve of torture.”

Chef reached underneath the counter and pulled out a small plate and a cloth napkin. He put the finished sandwich on the plate and then went to the cooler, returning the original containers and bringing back others.

“Chef, please, don’t bother.”

Chef continued to ignore the captain and went about his business. “How’s the crew holding up?”

“The senior staff’s worried, but at least they’re occupied with trying to find Trip. Hess is holding Engineering together, but I’m sure they’re pretty distracted. I got questions in the corridor a couple of times on the way down here, too.”

Chef nodded in understanding. “There’ll be plenty of comfort food out for dinner tonight.”

Chef pulled a tray out from under the counter and placed the plate and napkin on it. Instead of a piece of ham on white bread, Archer now had a gourmet ham and Swiss on rye, complete with garnish and a pickle. Chef picked up the tray and handed the whole thing to the captain.

“I trust you can find your own iced tea?”

Archer nodded. “You really didn’t have to, Chef, but thanks!”

“Now get out of my galley.”

“Yes, sir.”

Archer carried his tray out into the connecting corridor from the galley to the Mess Hall. He took a look down the hall. Nope, too crowded. He went on into the Captain’s Mess and set the tray down on the table. Archer picked up the sandwich and went over to the port. He took a bite and stared down at the planet.

Come on, Trip. Morse code, smoke signals, anything. Help us out here.

Chapter 8

Trip waited in line for his turn to run the obstacle course. It was hot, and he was starting to sweat through his uniform. He took off his helmet and wiped his face with his sleeve. He leaned out of line to see what was happening at the front.

Someone had just started the course. Two helpers watched her go and then stepped back to the next person. One was taking biosign readings and one seemed to be giving instructions. Trip put his helmet back on and looked around. A firing range, a swimming pool, and a track, combined with the obstacle course, made up the training facility, and all were fully occupied.

As he watched, Trip’s thoughts drifted. There was something he was supposed to remember. I’m…pleased to serve. No, that’s not it. I’m… Come on, it’s important! I’m…

Trip came to the front of the line and the two helpers were ready for him. The one with the scanner read a number off Trip’s pocket.

“Okay, 319,” and entered it.

That must be it, Trip thought. I’m 319. He relaxed and looked at the helpers for instructions.

The other helper asked Trip, “All set?”

He nodded. “I am pleased to serve.”

“We thank you for your service. There’s just one more thing. Close your eyes.”

Trip obeyed.

“Your key word is coordination.”

Something clicked, and Trip was hit with a flood of memories, all about running this obstacle course. Now it was as if he had run it a hundred times before, and it would be easy to do again. Trip took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Seeing this, the helper put a hand on Trip’s shoulder and looked to make sure the course was clear.

It was, so he slapped Trip on the back and said, “Serve well!”

Trip took off. He went over and under and around and through and finished the course at a run. He pulled up at the finish line, and another helper handed him a drink. Trip caught his breath and took the drink. As he finished it, the helper pointed downfield where some others were lining up.

“The firing range is next. Line up down there.”

Trip handed back the empty cup and took off at a trot.

“I am pleased to serve,” Trip called back over his shoulder.

“And we thank you!”

The helper turned to someone else. As Trip ran, he chanted to himself, timing it with his steps.

“I’m 319 and I’m pleased to serve. I’m 319 and I’m pleased to serve.”

Chapter 9

The bridge lights were dim. It was late second shift, going on third, and most of the ship was asleep. Second shift officers were manning the main stations.

Malcolm, Hoshi, and Travis were sitting on stools around the situation room display table. Each was monitoring several displays on the table and the walls. Watching for the one blip from the sensors that was Commander Tucker was tedious, and they were tired.

T’Pol came out of the turbolift, carrying a tray of sandwiches and drinks. No one noticed her until she set the tray down on a corner of the display table. Hoshi and Travis gratefully reached for the food, trying not to be distracted from their task. Reed looked at T’Pol, curious.

“Food on the bridge, Subcommander?”

“It is illogical to assume that you can go indefinitely without nourishment and still complete your assignment.”

“I won’t tell the captain if you won’t.”

That earned Malcolm a stare. He grabbed a sandwich and a drink and demolished them both.

T’Pol stayed with them after their dinner, taking her share of the displays to monitor. A short time after their impromptu feast, Captain Archer came back onto the bridge. He was in civvies and carrying his water polo ball, with Porthos at his feet. He stopped at the edge of the Situation Room.

“Anything new?”

“No, sir.” T’Pol answered.

Archer sighed. He spotted the empty tray on the floor. “You got some dinner, good.”

Malcolm looked over at T’Pol and got another stare in return. Archer walked down to one of the displays and stared at it, willing Trip to show up. After a couple of minutes, he gave up and moved on to the ready room door.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Porthos had been waiting by the door and followed the captain on through. The door shut behind them.

A minute or two later, Hoshi looked up, puzzled. T’Pol looked up as well. Hoshi listened for a minute and then smiled. She looked over at T’Pol. T’Pol just shook her head slightly in disbelief. What they could hear, and Malcolm and Travis evidently could not, was the rhythmic thumping of Archer’s water polo ball against the ready room bulkhead.

Hours later, they were still waiting. Suddenly, one of Hoshi’s displays started beeping. She turned to it and immediately perked up.

“I’ve got him!”

Hoshi worked a panel and all the displays changed to match hers. T’Pol and Travis studied the pictures. Malcolm tapped a button on the nearest companel.

“Bridge to Captain Archer.”

Archer came out of the ready room door quickly, trying to appear calm.

“Malcolm, give me some good news.”

“Gladly, sir. Hoshi spotted Trip’s biosigns, and we have visual sensors set on his current location.”

Archer looked where Malcolm was pointing. “Good job, everyone. Is your plan in place?”

”Yes, sir. Travis and I can leave at first light.”

“Excellent. Hand the monitoring off to the night shift, and everybody go get some rest.”

“Aye, Captain.”

They dispersed to finish their tasks. Hoshi joined the crewman manning the science station and explained the monitoring, her relief clearly showing in her face. Malcolm and Travis cleared the monitors in the situation room and locked everything down for what was left of the night. Their worries seemed to have vanished as well. T’Pol, impassive as usual, picked up the empty tray and waited for the others to finish.

Archer had disappeared back into his ready room, but now reappeared with the ball and Porthos. The group deferred to the captain to let him enter the turbolift first, but he declined and offered the small privilege to Hoshi. She accepted with a nod, and led them off the bridge.

Chapter 10

Trip and his helper were walking through the aisle of chairs. Cleaned up and in nightclothes, Trip was on his way to bed. He flopped down in his chair, and the helper went through the familiar routine: patch the drug tubes to Trip’s right arm and start the flow, put the correct disc in the back of the chair, give Trip the earpieces to wear. As Trip put on the earpieces and settled back, the helper covered him with a blanket.

“Something new tonight.”

He showed Trip something that looked like old-fashioned flying goggles.

“A movie, to go with your music.”

“A movie?”

“Yes, something to watch. Look up here”.

Trip did, and the goggles were pulled over his head, held in place with an elastic band. Trip could still see his helper, but only as a blur. Something about movies was familiar. Oh, I remember, movies are fun. Where’s the popcorn?

Trip settled back and waited for the usual floating sensation, but it didn’t come. This was different, not relaxing at all. He then noticed that his helper was wrapping soft cuffs around his wrists. They were attached to the chair, with room to move five or six inches, but he could not really reach anything. Trip didn’t like it and protested. The helper rubbed Trip’s arms to comfort him.

“It’s okay. They’re just so you won’t knock your viewer off accidentally. Don’t worry about it.”

Trip relented, but still tried to pull on the cuffs once they were on. Then the music started. He closed his eyes and tried to float, but nothing was happening. A voice with the music encouraged him to open his eyes. He watched what was playing, but it wasn’t very nice. This is a bad movie. Who picked it? Trip closed his eyes again, but found that he was too wired to keep them that way for long.

Now the movie was making him angry. This shouldn’t be happening. Someone should stop it. Wait a minute! What’s going on? That’s my family! Somebody help us! I can’t…

Dreading what was next, the helper turned his back on Trip and took a couple of steps away. The supervisor came up to him, being sympathetic.

“I hate this day as much as you do.”

“I don’t know why I still let it get to me.”

“You know the drill. Just keep him from going over the edge. It has to be done.”

The helper shook his head and went back over to Trip. Trip, his breath ragged, was now very agitated. He was trying to get away, pulling on his restraints, and frantically asking for help. The helper checked Trip’s biosigns, adjusted something in the drug flow, and then checked the biosigns again. Trip’s breathing steadied a little, but he still didn’t calm down. The images finally overwhelmed Trip and he began to scream. The helper looked away.

Eventually, morning came. The helper had managed to fall asleep, but now he woke up and went to check on his charge. Trip was drenched in sweat and lay twisted in his chair as if he had tried to climb out. The helper removed Trip’s viewer and earpieces and then released him from the cuffs. Trip shied away from any contact. The helper checked Trip’s biosigns one more time, and made an adjustment to the drugs. With this, the engineer-turned-server seemed to relax and fall into an easier sleep.

A little while later, a bell rang in the room, and Trip woke up. He looked around, slightly dazed, and obviously not rested. His helper got him up, and they went out to prepare for the day.

Continue to Chapters 11-15

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