Face of the Enemy - Part 4

Face of the Enemy

by SpaceCowboy

Disclaimers in Part One

‘All technology should be assumed guilty until proven otherwise.’
- David Brower

Part Four

SILLA WAS BECOMING MORE and more agitated with the young woman on the monitor. “Please check again,” he urged, knowing full well the Chancellor had made his travel reservations.

“I will check again, but I’m quite sure your name will not suddenly appear,” said the voice.

“Please!” demanded Silla. “My departure for the capital is very important. I must leave today if I am to arrive in time for my brother’s Cleansing Ceremony.”

“Oh, I was not aware of the urgency,” conceded the travel agent.

Silla waited impatiently as the agent searched through countless schedules and reservation lists. It wasn’t a particularly busy time of the cycle for Transcarriers; but the Chancellor had insisted on making them, stating that since the trip was of such spiritual importance he would rather not take any chances.

The travel agents face blipped back on Silla’s screen. “I’m sorry, there in only one Transcarrier scheduled to leave for the capital today and there is a private booking that has taken up all the seats. It was made earlier today. I’m sorry. Maybe I can book you on a Transcarrier leaving for the Tuka province and you can transfer there?”

“And there will be a reservation for me once I arrive at the Tuka terminal?” Silla asked, biting back his anger.

“I will make them myself,” smiled the agent.

~

Trip Tucker was already in the shuttle bay when Doctor Phlox arrived at precisely 1000h the next day. He was wearing a colourful pant and tunic ensemble, and looked so proud of his outfit, Trip didn’t have the heart to tell him how inappropriate he looked. But then maybe the Vhoorminians saw this event as a time of joy? Trip couldn’t see how. Someone was dying; his new friend was dying to be more specific.

It was still uncertain if Silla would be able to make it on time since it took a long time to travel from the Vhorix province on ground. If only they were not so aviophobic, Enterprise could have sent a shuttle to fetch him.

Trip hadn’t known Sacha long, and the idea of taking Silla’s place as Beholder made him a little uncomfortable. Trip sighed and mentally kicked himself. He had been contemplating how all this was effecting him, meanwhile Sacha was dying and his own brother might not be able to take the place of his Beholder. Trip imagined how devastated both Sacha and Silla must be feeling. Then he shook the guilt from his mind and decided to be honoured to take Silla’s place, and do the best job he could- all things considered.

~

They travelled to the planet mostly conversing in small talk; Phlox trying to keep the topics light and playful for his friends benefit. Eventually the shuttle landed and Trip and Phlox disembarked. Without delay, they headed through the trees toward Sacha’s impressive home.

Four white columns supported a green veranda roof which jutted out from a white square building. The house was two stories high but only one floor. The ceiling was a transparent dome that revealed the bright sky above.

The main room where the ceremony was to take place was centrally located with doors and hallways located beside each corner. Sacha was sitting in a grand, high-backed chair at the far end of the room. He was accompanied by his aid, Chancellor MiVix and an empty chair- presumably for Trip.

To Sacha’s left was an elevated bed supported by a platform. The bed was elegantly draped in a silver blanket similar to the rescue blankets used on Enterprise. The only difference was that the ones in sickbay were used to wrap the cold and injured; the one here was to wrap the dead.

Phlox could feel Trip tugging on his elbow, directing them toward Sacha and his entourage. The Chancellor greeted them both with a sincere smile and open arms. Sacha was looking weak and attempted a smile that resembled more of a grimace.

“Ah, Commander, you’re here,” started the Chancellor. “We regret that Silla is not able to make it. Even with my influence he was not able to arrive in time. But we are honoured that you will be taking his place.” The Chancellor motioned to the empty seat.

“It’s my honour,” replied Trip, taking the seat gingerly.

“It is so reassuring that you humans take friendship as sincerely as we Vhoorminians. Now if you excuse me, we will be starting shortly and I have preparations to take care of.” The Chancellor knelt in front of Sacha and bowed his head before retiring out one of the doors.

Phlox noticed that Trip found the floor at his feet suddenly fascinating. Phlox didn’t know what to do either. He glanced around the room and examined the guests strolling about. Every once in awhile someone would bow in front of Sacha in a gesture of respect and offer their condolences.

Phlox clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels. Trip and Sacha were huddled in conversation now and Phlox really didn’t know what to do. He decided to leave the friends in peace and intermingle with the other guests.

~

Don’t leave me, was all Trip could think as he watched the doctor walk away. Get back here or I’ll… I’ll… Trip noticed Sacha looking at him quizzically, and his anger melted away. His friend really looked sick now, his change in decorum and been quick. One day he was lively and talkative, now he looked pale and in pain. “So, how does this Cleansing Ceremony work anyway?” forced Trip, trying to sound confident he had the right to be sitting in this chair.

Sacha laid a feeble hand on the arm of Trip’s chair. “Don’t worry my friend; my aid will guide you through it.”

Trip glanced behind Sacha’s chair. He had forgotten the aid was still standing there. Outside a low bell was ringing throughout the city echoing a sorrowful presence in the room. Trip smiled warmly and tried his best to look comfortable.

~

The Chancellor stepped into Sacha’s dining room and noticed his secretary pacing nervously back and forth. Another Vhoorminian was seated at the table adjusting his heavy red and gold robes. He was the Spiritual Sender, the religious leader who would be performing the ceremony. The Chancellor excused the Sender, and once he was out of hearing range, Roulla exploded into a nervous tangle of words and flailing arms.

“Chancellor, Silla will be here tomorrow… he is transferring in Tuka… what are we going to do?! Kintz said to keep them here!”

“I know, I know,” soothed the Chancellor. “They will be here in a few days.” He braced his hands on his secretary’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. “Are you forgetting who I am? I can make things happen on this planet. Even without a vote. Anything.” He emphasized the last word. “Now just relax. I’ll take care of everything. Which Transcarrier is he transferring to in Tuka?”

Roulla closed her eyes and drew in a much needed breath. He words slipped out slowly. “The 540A, which should put him here no later than tomorrow night.”

MiVix flashed an enigmatic smile at the young, nervous woman. “And the conductor’s name is?”

“Tustilla. Why? What are you planning?”

With a regretful sigh, MiVix replied, “I think sacrificing one lowly conductor is worth the preservation of our planet, don’t you?”

“I guess you’re right, Chancellor,” offered Roulla, in a voice defying her conviction. “But are you sure you don’t want to convene a deliberation? This seems too important to pass over the Cabinet’s approval?”

“There isn’t enough time, Roulla,” replied MiVix, dropping his head in regret. “But remember, I’m a Kaine. I’m fully capable of making a decision on my own. I don’t need the hassles of calling up other Sectates. Now,” continued the Chancellor as he dropped his hands and headed for the door. “Fetch the Spiritual Sender; we have a Cleansing Ceremony to attend.”

~

The Chancellor entered the main room followed by a Vhoorminian draped in red and gold robes and carrying a small box. “It’s time to begin,” whispered Sacha. “If you would help me to my bed?”

Trip darted up, and with the help of the aid, he escorted Sacha to the silver bed. Once Sacha was lying comfortably and the Chancellor and the Sender took their positions beside him, Trip tried to back out of the way, but he was motioned to stay put.

The surrealism of the situation began to overcome him. Trip could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, and his knees were finding it very hard to support his weight. His stomach was also jumping, making it hard to stand still. He clenched his hands behind his back and concentrated on his breathing.

Chancellor MiVix made a short announcement concerning Trip taking Silla’s place due to unfortunate circumstances, then turned everyone’s attention on the Spiritual Sender. The room went silent as he began the prayer. “To the sun, to the moon, to the final resting place you shall travel free,” he began. Trip contemplated turning off his universal translator to hear the prayer in its native language, but decided against it just in case reference was made to the Beholder.

“You lived like a bird that sailed, like the sun at night, a barren river wide,” continued the Sender. “I pray for the floods to wash over you. It’s here we will be with you in your journey.” The Spiritual Sender paused and produced a small black box. Trip almost jumped at the touch of the aid’s hand on his wrist. He motioned for Trip to approach the Sender who was holding the box out toward him. Trip took the box and looked around the room for Phlox.

He was standing at the back of the room craning his neck to get a better view. Trip felt much better knowing he was there, he was glad he had come along.

The Spiritual Sender lifted the lid off the box in Trip’s hands and produced a small bottle and a black amulet on a leather chain. The amulet was about the size of a poker chip with a mechanical device on one side. Trip turned from the Sender to look at Sacha. He looked more peaceful than anything else; which was the opposite of what Trip was feeling.

The Sender began to speak again, this time directly at Sacha. “Reach to the sky, to this land we will be with you till the sun bursts from your eyes. With our hands we will reach to you.” Trip found it ironic that when the Sender was saying these words, he was also supporting Sacha’s head and pouring the poison from the bottle down his dying throat. Trip watched Sacha swallow and rest his head back on the pillow. Then he closed his eyes.

Is he dead? Is that it? Thought Trip.

The Sender placed the amulet, mechanical side up, on Sacha’s forehead. The room of guests bowed to knee- even Phlox, Trip noticed. “May you arrive in your purest form free of all the negative entities that contained you in life,” finished the Sender.

The amulet began to glow a bright blue while Sacha’s body was laid to rest forever, never to move again. When the amulet stopped glowing, the Sender carefully removed it and attached the mechanical side to a silver clip resembling a sun burst. Out of the corner of his eye, Trip saw Sacha’s aid motioning for him to approach the Sender. He breathed deeply and cautiously stepped forward, thinking that if he stepped softly his knees wouldn’t buckle underneath him.

The Sender raised the amulet up to Trip’s head- who bent down to accommodate the shorter Vhoorminian. Trip felt himself shaking as the leather material brushed against his cheeks and the amulet fell softly on his chest. A wave of grief so powerful swept over him and he had to steady himself by leaning against the bed. He hoped it wasn’t disrespectful, but it certainly had to be more respectful than collapsing to the floor.

When he collected himself, the Chancellor said a few words on Sacha’s behalf which ended the ceremony. He and the Spiritual Sender bowed to Trip before leaving the stage. Trip hesitantly bowed back, then followed suit. The crowd rose as he descended the stage, but felt the need to bow before him as he made his way across the room. Getting dizzy from the constant up and down motion, Trip quickly found an empty chair next to Phlox and sat down before he collapsed.

Through the tangle of arms and legs he watched the aid cover Sacha with the ends of the silver blanket. Sacha was gone, and Trip could feel a heavy depression overwhelming him; like his heart tightening under a vice grip. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to leave now, but the Chancellor was approaching through the crowd. Trip rose in respect, but wished desperately to remain sitting.

“Commander,” greeted the Chancellor, bowing before him. “You must be feeling awful. Maybe a little food will help. Shall I get you some?”

Trip put up his hand in protest. “No, thank-you, Chancellor. I couldn’t eat anything.” He hoped that wasn’t disrespectful, but once again, he figured denying food had to be better than throwing it up all over the floor.

The Chancellor smiled and nodded. Someone passed by behind him and bowed to the Beholder of the Amulet before carrying on their way. This is going to get very annoying, thought Trip.

“Silla should be arriving in two or three days, and you can pass the amulet on to him then in a private ceremony. We are very thankful for our cooperation and friendship through all this. You will make a superb Beholder. In the meantime, if there is anything you need I am at your disposal.” He bowed again and retreated into the crowd.

Trip watched him disappear as he discreetly clutched his stomach. The feeling had come from left field. Funerals had always made him fell ill, but never this ill, and the need to lie down was becoming more and more persistent with each breath he took.

“Is everything all right, Commander?” asked Phlox. “Maybe you should get some fresh air?”

Trip exhaled deeply and swallowed hard. He could almost taste the bile forming in his stomach. “Doc,” he whispered. “Get me outta here.”

They walked out into the street, and with each step Trip felt closer to unconsciousness. He struggled to keep alert, but his head was spinning and his stomach was turning. It took all his efforts to place one foot in front of the other and not collapse to the ground. But he pushed on, dreams of his own bed urging him forward.

As they rounded the last corner before the park, a few by-standers noticed the amulet gleaming around Trip’s neck and stopped to bow. Trip, not in the mood for ritual, ignored the Vhoorminians and tucked the amulet inside his crew suit. Then his nausea overcame him and he grabbed for Phlox’s arm. “I’m gonna be sick,” he blurted, through clenched teeth.

Doctor Phlox put an arm around his shoulder and lead him behind a building. Once there, Trip’s stomach turned suddenly and regurgitated. He coughed up what little there was and wiped his mouth. Minutes later, and not feeling any relief, they were back on the street and quickly heading for the park. But Trip felt he couldn’t go any further. Every inch of his body yearned to collapse. The doctor’s strong arms were the last things he felt when his legs finally gave way and he crashed to the ground.

~

Archer and T’Pol had just finished making tedious arrangements for food supplies when they stepped back into the bustling streets. They were heading for the park when Archer noticed Phlox and Commander Tucker walking toward them. But Trip seemed strange somehow; he had lost his confident stride and was clutching his stomach. Then Archer watched as the doctor led Trip behind a building. “Did you see that, T’Pol?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the spot where the two had disappeared.

“I did indeed,” she answered.

Archer motioned for his sub-commander to follow him when he noticed Trip and Phlox returning to the street. But their walk quickly turned into a determined run when he saw Trip suddenly collapse into the doctor’s arms.

They arrived just in time to stop Phlox from dropping the commander to the ground. “What happened?” Archer asked, as he and T’Pol knelt beside the chief engineer.

“I can’t say specifically,” replied Phlox, reaching for Trip’s radial pulse. “I didn’t exactly pack a medical tricorder with me today. But after the ceremony, Commander Tucker said he needed some air, so we left and started back toward the shuttle. A short while later he told me he was going to be sick, and then he collapsed.”

Archer nudged his friend gently and called his name, but the commander wouldn’t respond. Trip was conscious, but definitely not alert.

Phlox reached for the commander’s forehead, a look of concern evident of his face. “He has a fever. We must get him to sickbay.”

Archer glanced around the streets. They were still quite a distance from the shuttle, and it wasn’t even due to arrive for another half hour. Archer contemplated using the transporter. He still had reservations about using it for bio-transport, but the current situation was starting to edge those feelings away. Then he noticed Trip’s head roll to one side. “Hey, Trip. You all right? Can you get up?”

Trip rolled back, wherein Archer could see his eyes. They were filled with pain. Trip was looking up at him, but his mind was obviously somewhere else. Then Trip’s body began to convulse. He threw up violently as Phlox and T’Pol gently eased him onto his side, and Archer supported his head. When he was through, Archer laid his friend back down. Trip quickly doubled over into the fetal position, clutching his stomach and shielding his eyes from the sun.

Archer couldn’t watch him suffer any more. He stood abruptly and ordered Phlox and T’Pol to help the commander to his feet. They headed behind the building, and before Archer made contact with Enterprise, he made a quick survey to see if anyone was watching. Then he pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. “Four to transport… and hurry,” he added, before feeling the tingling sensation of the transporter beam.

~

Chancellor MiVix watched quizzically as Trip and his friendly companion headed through the doors to the outside streets. Perhaps, he thought, this is more difficult for him. These humans must be congratulated for their commitment to friendship. He also had to make sure they weren’t up to anything, so he gathered up his robes and headed out the door in pursuit.

The Chancellor tried to follow, but found it hard to match their pace and fell behind several times. Out of breath, he finally spotted them again near the park. The Captain and Sub-Commander were kneeling beside Trip- whom did not look well. A wave of compassion fell on MiVix. He really didn’t want to see harm come to anyone; he just wanted to make sure his people were spared an ugly death from the Klingons. That, and he did want to get hold of the wondrous piece of technology the humans, and Klingons, seemed to posses.

MiVix had heard of its use during the Klingon’s last visit to Vhoorminia, but he had never seen it in action. And of course, any form of trade or negotiations with the Klingons never produced the technology either. He was beginning to think it was a myth.

So not wanting to lose track of the situation now, he called across the street to the captain, but he could not be heard over the din. And as he scurried across the street to offer his help, he saw Trip being carried around the back of a building. MiVix sped up and glanced around the corner just in time to see four members of the star ship Enterprise dissolve into thin air. His mouth dropped in exasperation. “So this is the precious transporter technology,” he breathed in disbelief. “The answer to our prayers.”

He quickly ran to the closest public communication station and called his secretary. “You say the conductor’s name is, Tustilla?”

“Yes, Chancellor.”

MiVix quickly hung up and made another call from a secured line.

~

At the Tuka Terminal, Sacha’s brother Silla was waiting patiently to board the 540A, bound for the capital. He was looking at an old picture of himself and his brother when a commotion at the ticket counter distracted his attention. He looked up to see the counter agent going into hysterics. Two constables were explaining something to the agent, and it did not appear to be good news.

Silla tried to ignore the commotion and checked the time on his ticket. He was scheduled to leave shortly, but not soon enough. He had already missed his brother’s Cleansing Ceremony.

“Attention Transcarrier patrons,” a loud voice boomed over the communication system. “Due to unfortunate circumstances, the 540A to the capital will be delayed. Arrangements have been made, and another conductor is on his way. The 540A should be able to depart in eight hours. We greatly apologize for the inconvenience.”

Silla’s jaw dropped open. It was imperative he got to the capital, and everything and anything that could go wrong, was. He jumped from his seat and rushed to the counter. He knew the delay wasn’t the fault of the ticket agent, but he was about to bear the brunt of Silla’s anger anyway.

Silla reached over the counter and grabbed the agent by the shirt. “Why is there a delay?” he asked, between clenched teeth. “I have to be in the capital immediately. If this Transcarrier isn’t going to leave for another eight hours, someone better be dead!”

“The conductor,” answered the agent.

“The conductor, what?” asked Silla.

“Dead, the conductor is dead,” replied the agent, struggling under Silla’s loosening grip. “He was murdered.” The agent threw Silla’s arm off and took a step back from the counter.

Silla dropped his head into his hands, bracing his elbows on the countertop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He took a deep breath and regained his composure. “You say it will be another eight hours before the next one leaves for the capital?”

The agent took another step backwards. “Maybe ten.”

(More to Come)

Continue to Part Five

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