Face of the Enemy - Part 5

Face of the Enemy

by SpaceCowboy

Disclaimers in Part One

‘You know, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help.’
- Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes)

Part Five

CAPTAIN ARCHER WAS STANDING in sickbay contemplating the news concerning Trip’s condition. “So what you’re saying, doc,” he started, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that there’s nothing physically wrong with him?”

“Not exactly, Captain,” responded Phlox.

“But you just said you couldn’t find anything medically wrong.”

“Yes, that is what I said,” replied the doctor, noncommittally. He walked over to his medical monitor and indicated the display. “It appears that Commander Tucker has all the symptoms of a violent influenza virus, but what is so baffling is that the medical scans are not detecting any infected cells or bacterial organisms. He should be physically well. But for some reason he’s not.” Phlox looked to the diagnostic bed where Trip was lying on his side protecting his eyes from the bright lights of sickbay.

Noting a sudden tension of muscles across Trip’s stomach, Archer grabbed an empty dispenser and rushed to the commander’s side. He got there just in time to catch the falling vomit as Phlox went down Trip’s other side and supported his torso. When Trip was finished, Archer rolled him onto his back and leaned over him.

Trip’s eyes were open and his dry lips were slightly parted. Despite what the doctor’s scans were saying, this man was definitely sick. “Phlox, there must be something you can do for him? At least ease the symptoms,” pressed Archer.

Phlox poised his medical tricorder over Trip’s body and ran it up and down as he read the life signs on the monitor. “I’m reading a temperature of forty-three degrees, which is dangerously high. But my analytical scans show no tangible physical evidence to support this fever. I can’t even hypothesize a cure for an illness that does not seem to exist. It’s like he has some sort of phantom illness.” Phlox lowered his tricorder. “I’m sorry.”

Archer would not accept this. All his science training at the Academy told him there had to be a reason for Trip’s sudden collapse and subsequent illness. Things did not just happen without reason. There had to be something the doctor was missing, and Archer would make sure he found it.

He looked down into Trip’s eyes, trying to portray some sort of confidence. How could Trip believe he would get better if he didn’t believe it himself? “Trip,” he said softly. “The doctor is going to do everything he can.” He threw a quick glance at Phlox to qualify his claim. “You just have to hang on.”

“Yes, Cap’n.” Trip’s response was feeble and cracked.

Then the doors to sickbay suddenly opened and Malcolm and Hoshi came in- T’Pol right behind them. “I tried to tell them to wait, but they refused,” stated T’Pol.

Archer waved them in. Trip had cleared decontamination moments after boarding Enterprise, so he didn’t see the harm in visitors. With the doctor’s permission as well, Hoshi and Malcolm approached the diagnostic bed and tried to cheer up their commander. Archer could see Trip trying to put up a brave front, but his pale face and feeble grin gave him away.

Archer stepped back and allowed the threesome some privacy, but he couldn’t help overhear part of the conversation. “Can I see the amulet?” Malcolm was asking.

Archer’s mouth dropped open. He stepped up to the bed interrupting the conversation. “What amulet?”

“The one he’s wearing around his neck,” replied Phlox, as he pointed to the commander’s chest. “It’s what the Beholder carries to the sacred ground for burial. It contains all the negative entities purified from Sacha’s soul. He tucked it away because the constant bowing became irritating.”

Archer’s eyes went wide; caught between bewilderment and anger. “And you know for certain it’s safe to be wearing this?!” He ran his fingers along Trip’s neck feeling for the chain- the skin hot and clammy under his touch.

Trip tried to resist by pushing the captain’s hands away, but his effort was futile. “No, please,” Trip uttered, his physical efforts quashed.

“Trip, this might be what’s causing you to be sick,” explained Archer, finally finding the leather chain and pulling it out from under Trip’s blue T-shirt.

Phlox stepped forward and placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “The amulet cleared bio-scan as well, and it’s not even registering on my medical tricorder. I believe it to be benign; otherwise my scans would have detected something.”

Trip tried to sit up, but both the doctor and Archer eased him back down. “Please, captain. Don’t take it off.” Then he paused and stared up at the ceiling. “Doc, you said this was like a phantom illness, right? So doesn’t that mean it really can’t hurt me? You said there was no evidence of a virus.”

“Theoretically, yes,” replied Phlox.

Trip blinked hard trying to focus. “I can live with being sick for a few days,” he started. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I betrayed Sacha’s trust.”

Archer smiled sympathetically. “I understand, Trip,” he said. “But I can’t say I like this.” Then he addressed the doctor. “Is he in any real danger?”

Phlox shrugged, his arms tight across his chest. “I don’t believe so. His physical biology in contaminant free. He is only mimicking symptoms of possessing a virus. The Commander is experiencing more of a psychosomatic response.”

“I thought the amulet was supposed to be harmless; real or psychosomatic?” voiced Hoshi, pushing up beside Archer to stand next to the bed.

“That’s what Sacha told me,” coughed Trip.

“Maybe it is completely benign to the Vhoorminians,” remarked Phlox. “But may I remind you, Commander Tucker is human. His physical constitution may not be able to protect itself against the amulet’s spiritual potency.”

“I’ll be fine, captain,” whispered Trip. “Maybe I’ll feel better after I get some sleep.”

Archer nodded, but didn’t like the situation at all. He didn’t so much mind the delay in the mission so much as he minded his best friend being confined to sickbay for the next few days. It was hard to watch anyone in his predicament, and even harder for Archer to watch Trip. They had known each other for years, and not once did Trip ever look so vulnerable.

“Bridge to Captain Archer,” came a voice over the com system.

Archer stepped over to the wall and keyed the pad- his eyes never leaving Trip’s form. “Archer here, go ahead.”

“There’s an incoming hail from the planet, sir. It’s Chancellor MiVix.”

“I’m on my way,” replied Archer, then he looked at the doctor. “I don’t want anymore surprises. Report back to me if you find anything new. I mean anything.” The doctor nodded, and Archer left sickbay with T‘Pol in tow.

~

Shortly after, Malcolm followed suit while the doctor retired to his office to study his scans. Hoshi remained behind to keep Trip company.

“You don’t have to stay.” Trip’s voice was soft and hoarse. “I know there’s a dozen languages down there waiting for your expertise.”

Hoshi watched in stunned silence as her commander rolled away from her and shielded his eyes from the harsh overhead lights. “Is that what you really think of me?” she asked, trying her hardest not to make it sound like an accusation. He was after all, not only the chief engineer, but one of the highest ranking officers on board. Protocol still had to be enforced.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” Trip grumbled, his face buried in the pillow.

Hoshi’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe the commander had just spoken to her like that. Senior officer or not, she still garnered the respect of being spoken to in a civil manner. She braced her hands on her hips and shifted her weight, unsure how to respond. “No,” she finally said with determination. “No, I’m not leaving. I stayed because I wanted to, not because someone ordered me to, or because I think I’ll find some hidden language in that amulet of yours. I’m staying.”

When the commander didn’t respond, she figured he had fallen asleep. She sat down beside the bed and grabbed an extra pillow for under Trip’s head. Then she inched closer and began rubbing his back just like her grandmother used to do when she was sick. She remembered how soothing it felt, and how it helped her sleep when it would not come naturally.

~

Archer was sitting in his chair centre bridge, his legs uncrossed and bracing both hands on his arm rests. He knew Trip’s condition was in no way malicious on the part of the Vhoorminians, but somehow Archer couldn’t contain the slight irritation in his voice. “Chancellor MiVix, nice to hear from you.”

“Captain Archer, I thought we had become friends,” he almost shouted through the view screen. Archer and T’Pol shared an incredulous look. “We have been more than hospitable towards you and your crew. And yet you keep technology that allows you to travel instantaneously from our planet to your ship a secret?”

Archer stared at the floor collecting his thoughts. This was definitely not what he had expected to hear. “I’m sorry, but there must be some sort of misunderstanding…”

“There was no misunderstanding, Captain!” interrupted the angered Vhoorminian. “You purposely withheld this technology from us knowing full well it could have aided Silla in getting to his brother’s Cleansing Ceremony. This shows us you have nothing but contempt for our friendship. And here we thought we had met a new friend.”

Archer stood and raised his chin in indignation as he responded to the Chancellor’s harsh accusation. “It never even occurred to me, Chancellor. You see, we don’t usually use the transporter for bio-transport. It’s usually used for cargo. I apologize for…”

“Then why did you use it for your own convenience? No! We Vhoorminians will not play flies to your games anymore!”

The remark, and the utter audacity of the Chancellor, angered Archer. A quote from an old Shakespearean play jumped into his head. ‘As flies to wanton boys, we are to the gods. They play us for their sport’.

Archer resented the insinuation. He’d had no intention of using the Vhoorminians; he had only wanted to give his crew some time off. Now he was being accused of offering false friendship in return for… for what? “Chancellor, if we were using you, would we not have asked for something in return? All I requested was that my crew be able to enjoy your planet. Nothing more. Which you so graciously agreed to, may I remind you.” Archer crossed his arms and waited for an answer.

“It has been brought to my attention that one of your crew members has acquired a matrix compression unit. This is very valuable to us. And I assure you, the Vhoorminian responsible in conducting the trade will be punished severely.”

Archer glanced around the bridge. “I was not aware of this transaction, Chancellor,” he responded. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned to look at his science officer.

“Captain,” interjected T’Pol, rising from her seat. “I was aware of this transaction.” She changed her direction to speak to the view screen. “But I was not aware that it was such a valuable commodity.” She returned her attention back to the captain. “It’s a simple compression unit that assists in the reversion of an electrical power into a usable form to feed the anti-matter stream. Lieutenant Hess traded some vegetable DNA for it, with my permission of course.”

Archer bowed his head annoyed, but more ashamed that he hadn’t been aware of the transaction. A star ship captain should know everything going on concerning his vessel and crew. But that would have to be dealt with later; there were more pressing matters to attend.

“I’m glad you find our technology so primitive, Sub-Commander!” retorted the Chancellor.

T’Pol stepped around her console to stand beside the captain. “That is not what I meant,” she started, but Archer’s hand on her arm stopped her from continuing.

“Chancellor, what if we returned this compression unit?” He looked at T’Pol questioningly.

“Lieutenant Hess has already integrated it into the ship’s systems,” answered T’Pol. But that was not what Archer wanted to hear, and he conveyed as much with his stern glare. “But I’m sure it can be reverted,” finished T’Pol.

“That will not be necessary, Captain,” came the voice from the view screen. “We do not want the compression unit back; we want you to leave our planet as soon as Silla arrives.”

Archer sensed a slight hesitation in the Chancellor’s voice, but he wasn’t sure what it indicated. He decided to play into what he saw as insecurity. “Perhaps an arrangement can be made?” he asked.

“We will contact you as soon as the true Beholder arrives so we can make the transfer of the amulet. Then we request you leave orbit.”

“Chancellor, please hear me out?” pleaded Archer, not wanting to lose another valuable ally; they were so hard to come by. “Maybe we can discuss this a little more. I propose my Sub-Commander and I meet with you face to face, maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement. I’d hate to loose your friendship.”

“I’m sorry. But the damage has already been done. Good-day, Captain.”

The view screen went blank for a second then the original view of the planet flashed back on screen. Archer glanced incredulously at his bridge crew. “Hail them. I just can’t leave it at this. We’ve had enough problems making friends out here. I’m not going to let a little misunderstanding get in the way of gaining their trust.” He strode across the bridge and up to the communication station to stand beside Hoshi‘s replacement.

“They’re not responding, sir,” answered the crewman.

Archer expected as much. He contemplated his options for a moment as his crew awaited his orders. “T’Pol, Malcolm, you’re with me. Travis, you have the bridge.” He started toward the turbo-lift, the lieutenant and sub-commander hot on his heels.

Inside the lift, T’Pol turned to her captain. “May I inquire as to what you plan to do?”

T’Pol’s face did not express any signs of intrigue, but Archer knew her words were about as expressive as a Vulcan’s stoicism would allow. She was very good at suppressing her emotions, but Archer had known her long enough that he could sense the underlying tones in her calm voice. “The Chancellor said our people had to leave the planet, right?”

“Correct,” responded T’Pol.

“He didn’t say anything about us not personally escorting them off,” he offered suggestively.

Malcolm hid a smile behind his hand. “And perhaps we will be so lucky as to run into him on the surface?”

“Perhaps,” smiled Archer. “We might just bump into the Chancellor while we’re searching for our crew members.”

T’Pol took an audible breath and straightened her shoulders. “Is this a wise choice of action?”

“I don’t consider myself an unwise man, Sub-Commander,” Archer replied. “But I’m not letting another first contact go sour. I’m sure we can work this out if he would just agree to talk to us.” He paused and leaned back against the wall. “But one thing’s for certain; the Chancellor is not getting his hands on our transporter. At first I might have thought about considering it, after all, they aren’t that much behind us in certain aspects. They’re even ahead in some areas. But now, the transporter is the last thing I’m willing to trade.”

“Is that your human pride speaking?” asked T’Pol.

“Maybe so,” answered Archer. “But I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy. I let all sides of my humanity speak.”

“Human pride aside,” interjected Malcolm. “Maybe you’re on to something here, captain.” He leaned forward to look at T’Pol. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t a society usually follow a certain progression of technological advancement?”

“You are correct,” replied T’Pol. “There is usually a certain amount of predictability in assessing a culture’s rate of progression.”

“And you said the Vhoorminians were behind in some aspects, and ahead in others?” Malcolm asked the captain. Archer nodded, so he continued. “Maybe the Vhoorminian’s more progressive technology wasn’t so much developed on the planet as much as it was acquired from other races? Perhaps they wanted our transporter, or some other form of technology, from the very beginning?”

“Then why did they just ask us to leave?” replied Archer.

“I’m not sure, Captain,” Malcolm stated. “Maybe they’re just devious on a whole other level were not familiar with.”

“Vulcans are not the only deceitful species out here,” said T’Pol, causing Archer to drop his jaw.

Jokes were not common amongst the Vulcan people. To them, stoicism was tantamount in a world of repressed emotion. But then again, this Vulcan had spent more time than any other amongst humans. But joke aside, Malcolm had raised a good point. “It’s definitely something to think about,” he replied. “But let’s not jump to conclusions yet.”

The doors to the turbo-lift opened and the three of them disembarked and headed for the shuttle bay at a brisk pace.

On the planet, Archer sent their shuttle pilot to gather the remaining crew, while he, T’Pol and Malcolm headed for the Great Hall. Malcolm, the ever no-nonsense security officer, suggested they bring phase pistols, but Archer did not want to appear hostile. He finally decided that Malcolm would carry one on his belt, and left it at that.

An when they arrived at the Great Hall, Chancellor MiVix was standing by the front door.

~

Chancellor MiVix switched off his view screen with a flick of his wrist and pounded the console before him. He hated the position he was in, but that transporter device would be so beneficial to his people. If only he could get his hands on it, the Vhoorminians would be able to move about their planet a lot faster- they’re ground transportation was becoming unreliable and taking to the skies was not an option for them. He also didn’t want to see his people slaughtered by the Klingons. And MiVix knew that was a distinct possibility if he didn’t contain Enterprise till their arrival.

He glanced around his office taking stock of who was present. The Kaine’s Military Cabinet Leader was to his left, shadowed by the Minx and Krolla counterpart. These three leaders would be crucial for what Chancellor MiVix was about to propose, so he began the deliberations.

Awhile later, the Krolla had already given in to the Kaine’s suggestion, but they had yet to convince the Minx to end their stalemate. They were still debating the pros and cons an hour later. But eventually, as was custom, they gave in and sided with the Kaine as well.

So it was settled. They would trade something that Captain Archer could not, and would not refuse. They would trade his sub-commander. Now all they had to do was get their hands on her.

Chancellor MiVix ended the deliberation and decided to go for a walk to clear his head. He needed to formulate a plan to apprehend the sub-commander, and the fresh air always helped him think.

On his walk he brought with him the Kaine Military Leader for advice. And to their astonishment, they were rewarded with an easy answer to their problem. The captain was approaching the Great Hall, along with his security officer and his sub-commander. As they neared, MiVix quickly sent the Cabinet Leader back inside for reinforcements- heavily armed. He had no idea what weapons the humans carried, and he wasn’t about to take any chances of his plans being ruined. Especially after they had just fallen into his lap.

~

Archer kept his focus on the Chancellor as they approached the Great Hall. He was starting to get a bad feeling, an his intuitions were rarely wrong. So as they neared, he let his eyes scan the area, making sure they hadn’t just walked into a trap.

“Ah, Captain. I see you’ve disobeyed my orders,” the Chancellor sneered as they stopped before him.

Just then, Archer saw the doors of the Great Hall swing open and ten armed guards, fully protected in grey armoured suits, came charging out.

“Captain!” warned Malcolm, his hand poised over his phase pistol.

“I’m aware, Lieutenant,” stated Archer, signalling with his hand to keep the weapon holstered. “Chancellor, we’ve come to rectify this disagreement peacefully. There is no need for weapons.”

Quickly they were surrounded by the armed guards and Malcolm- his pistol aimed at the ready despite his captain’s warning, stood to defend them against any aggression.

Archer hated it when his instincts were right. “Chancellor, I’m sure this can be handled diplomatically,” he offered, not taking his eyes off the armed guards. He wished now that he had taken his security officer’s advice and brought a phase pistol. Not that it would have done much against ten armed guards, but at least he wouldn’t feel so defenceless.

MiVix didn’t respond. Instead, he pointed to one of the guards who in turn, rushed forth to seize the sub-commander. Malcolm aimed his pistol and fired a stunning shot at the aggressor. The guard paused for a brief second, then realizing the pistol’s minimal effects against his armour; he carried out his order and grabbed the sub-commander.

Defenceless, Archer and Malcolm watched the guards jab a long needle into T’Pol’s neck. Then she fell to the ground.

Archer had to hold himself back from lurching forward and ripping the Chancellor’s arms off with his bare hands. “Chancellor! I demand you release my crew member now! We’ve done nothing to deserve this!”

The Chancellor shrugged and offered his apologies. “I’m sorry, Captain. But you must understand this transporter technology of yours is very appealing to us.” He glanced down at the sub-commander sprawled on the ground between his guards. “She will be released unharmed when we have this technology in our possession.”

“What have you done to her?!” demanded Archer, clenching his fists in helpless frustration.

“We only injected her with a sleep inducing narcotic. She will be fine if you comply with our demands.” His smug grin quickly changed to contempt. “You have till Sacha’s true Beholder arrives to make your decision. But if you don’t comply with our request, then your friend here dies. And believe me when I say, it won’t be pleasant.”

Archer turned to his security officer for advice, but Malcolm remained silent- his useless phase pistol trained on the Chancellor himself. A lot of good that will do, thought Archer. If we stun him, the guards will probably kill us all. No. They would have to find another solution. But if they thought he would just hand over their transporter now, then they had another thing coming. Enterprise could get down right ugly when it wanted to.

“You harm one hair on my sub-commander’s head, and I swear you will not live to regret it!” Archer threatened in reckless optimism.

“We will contact you when Silla arrives. In the meantime, I suggest you return to your ship.” The Chancellor bent down and ripped the communicator from T’Pol’s pocket and tossed it at Archer. “There will be no communications.”

Archer watched as the guards lifted T’Pol and followed the Chancellor back into the Great Hall. He decided to lay trust in T’Pol’s immediate safety. After all, she would be a useless bargaining chip if she were dead.

“Captain,” Malcolm said, pulling out his communicator. “Permission to jump to conclusions now?”

Archer nodded, his eyes still trained on the door of the Great Hall. “Jump ahead, Lieutenant. And contact Enterprise. Advise them of our situation and tell engineering to start a sensor sweep of the area. See if they can find where they’re keeping T’Pol.”

Malcolm stepped away and began the transmission. A moment later he replied, “They say they can only detect us and Vhoorminians. They can’t find a Vulcan signature anywhere in the vicinity.”

Archer expected as much.

(More to Come)

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