Face of the Enemy - Part 7

Face of the Enemy

by SpaceCowboy

Disclaimers in Part One

‘When NASA first started sending up astronauts, they quickly discovered that ball point pens would not work in micro gravity. To combat this problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and 12 billion dollars developing a pen that writes in; micro gravity, upside down, under water, on almost any surface including glass and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300C. The Russians used a pencil.’
- Unknown

Part Seven

T’POL HAD HEARD OF a practice on Earth called astral-projection. It was a rare practice, and usually frowned upon by the scientific community. But for a Vulcan Science Officer, it had been worth further analysis. Astral-projection required extreme mental discipline; of which the Vulcan mind was highly capable of achieving. And although T’Pol had informed her superiors of this Earth practice, they too had shunned the idea.

T’Pol had not. She had continued her earlier studies based on pure interest alone. But she had neither practiced it, nor considered practicing it till now. Not one to sit idle in the face of adversity- or imprisonment, T’Pol decided it was the only way she could contact Enterprise.

But of course, the practice required the projector to have a specific destination. One could not travel through space, merely to a specific point in space. T’Pol contemplated her options. Captain Archer was the obvious choice, but his whereabouts were unpredictable. At any given time, he could be in any given place. Ensign Sato was also an option. If anyone on board Enterprise could accept astral-projection, T’Pol felt it would be the communications officer. But again, her location could not be specifically determined.

In fact, no one’s position could be predicted to the level required for projection. And since the practice required the visited person to act as an anchor pulling the projectionist to them, an empty room would not suffice. No. T’Pol needed a person.

Commander Tucker.

T’Pol lay back on the bed the moment the name popped into her head. The commander would be in sickbay; she was sure of it. She closed her eyes and relaxed her body as she fell into a meditative state. She pictured sickbay in her mind- every corner, every detail. Then she added Commander Tucker to the picture, lying quietly on the diagnostic bed where she had last seen him.

She felt her body grow heavy, like it was sinking into the hard mattress upon which she lay. The she realized she was longer in her body, but floating above it. She could see the two guards standing by the door, oblivious to what was happening before them. She felt free. She felt unattached. Then she felt a sharp tug, like a rope tied around her waist and pulling her across space and time.

~

Trip Tucker folded his arms over his face; he wanted to shrink away into nothingness. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He felt empty and depleted of anything good he had ever experienced. He felt misdirected anger. He felt sadness beyond anything a human should endure. He felt a hole inside him that could not be filled. And it was like all these negative feelings were feeding off each other, battling for control of his mind and body and leaving in their wake nausea and pain.

But the pain he had been feeling before was incomparable to the pain he felt now. For now it was not just confined to his physical well being, it had penetrated deeper into his mind and heart. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears he did not want to let fall. Then he heard a voice- distant, yet familiar.

“Commander, you must wake up,” said the voice again.

“Doc?” he mumbled. But he knew the voice had not belonged to the Denobulan. The voice was soft and sounded more like… “T’Pol?” He lowered his arms from his face and opened his eyes. Sub-Commander T’Pol was standing beside the bed. Trip blinked, tried to focus. T’Pol seemed almost translucent, if not truly there. “T’Pol, I can barely see you,” he said with a hoarse voice.

“You must listen to me, Commander,” stated T’Pol.

Trip reached out a hand to touch her, but his fingers passed right through her. “You’re barely there…”

“I don’t have much time, Commander. You must relay a message to the Captain,” started T’Pol. But Trip just stared through her, not sure is she was just a dream. “You must build something that does not exist.”

Trip furrowed his brow, let his eyes close briefly. “What? How?”

“The transporter,” urged T’Pol. “Give them the transporter. Give them what they think they’re getting.”

Trip let his tongue roll across his lips as he stared up at her. She wasn’t making any sense. But then, the last two days were like a blur to him, he could barely remember anything past the pain and depression. “Transporter?” he finally asked, unable to form a full sentence.

“Yes,” replied T’Pol, her voice insistent. “You must tell the Captain to construct a transporter that does nothing. Let the Vhoorminians think they are getting what they want.”

The sub-commander’s words meant nothing to him, but he could tell by the intensity of her voice they were significant. He nodded back his understanding, unable to find his voice. A persistent urge to sleep overcame him and he struggled to stay awake. He nodded again and hoped the sub-commander wouldn’t be offended as he drifted off to sleep.

~

T’Pol arched a single eyebrow and tilted her head. Had the commander heard her? Had he understood? Because now it was all up to him.

She could not say Trip Tucker was the last person she would trust- he had proven his reliance long ago and on many occasions. It was his current state that gave T’Pol cause for concern. Was he even capable of understanding?

She looked at him, letting her eyes follow the muscular contours of his legs up to his chest, only to have her eyes rest on his pallid face. His cheeks were sunken, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. Beads of sweat dotted is forehead, and a slight grimace was etched on his sleeping face. The effects the amulet was having on the commander could not go unnoticed, and T’Pol had to commend him for his loyalty and endurance through all this.

Then she felt a tug from behind; the rope was pulling her again. T’Pol had momentarily let her mental discipline drop and her body was calling her back to her prison. She woke up back in her cell where the two guards still stood by the door. She swung her legs to the floor and began to rise. But this caused a reaction from the guards T’Pol had not expected. One aimed his rifle directly at her chest while the other spun away and raced out the door.

~

Chancellor MiVix was alone in his office when his door burst open. Roulla barged in, excited and out of breath. “Chancellor,” she huffed. “Silla is here to see you. Shall I send him in?”

The Chancellor bolted upright. “Yes, right away,” he urged. The woman stepped aside and motioned for Silla to enter. The Chancellor circled his desk with arms open to embrace the Beholder. He felt guilty for refusing Silla his rightful place, but he put on his most sincere face anyway. “Silla, it is so nice to see you again. I’m only sorry it isn’t under better circumstances.”

“Yes, Chancellor,” nodded Silla. “If only the situation were a happy one. I trust you are doing well?”

The Chancellor looked at the floor and sighed. “I’ve been better. We are experiencing some diplomatic problems, but nothing we can not handle. Now, I’m sure you are eager to get on with the transfer of the amulet.”

“Yes, I would like to see my brother’s amulet put to rest,” conceded Silla. “Where will the transfer take place?”

“First I must make arrangements with the Spiritual Sender and with the honorary Beholder. You understand?” The Chancellor smiled. “I don’t want to bother you with the details, so why don’t you freshen up and get something to eat. I’m sure your trip was long and exhausting. I’ll take care of all the arrangements.”

Shortly after Silla’s dismissal, the Chancellor was walking through the tunnels under the Great Hall. The sub-commander’s cell was just down the hall, and he was eager to question her one last time before contacting the captain.

He approached the door and nodded to the guards- causing them to jump to attention. They quickly acknowledged the Chancellor’s presence as he approached his prisoner’s sleeping form. “Sub-Commander,” he said as sternly as possible without yelling.

The prisoner’s body did not so much as flinch. The Chancellor called her again, this time nudging her shoulder. The body was limp, and her arm fell off her chest to dangle off the side of the bed. The Chancellor jumped back. He spun and started at the guards. “What has happened to the prisoner?!”

The two guards looked at each other and shrugged. They inched forward for a better look while the Chancellor tried waking the prisoner again. There was still no response from the sub-commander. The Chancellor’s eyes went wide as he stared at what he thought was a dead prisoner. He could feel himself start to tremble.

He swallowed hard and backed toward the door. “No one is to find out about this,” he threatened. “No one!” He spun around and practically ran down the hall.

~

Captain Archer leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head as far as he could reach- every muscle straining to its maximum elongated form. It felt good, and he allowed himself the brief pleasure before diving back into his work. Engineering had gotten nowhere with locating the Vhoorminians weapon, and they were still having difficulties penetrating their internal energy field.

“Bridge to the Captain.”

Archer replied to the hail and was told there was an incoming transmission from the planet. It was the Chancellor. “Transfer it to my ready room,” Archer stated. Then the image of the Vhoorminian appeared on his screen. He seemed irritable to Archer. Like a man with too much pent up energy. The Chancellor kept fidgeting and would not meet Archer’s gaze.

“Greetings, Captain Archer,” said the Chancellor. “Silla has arrived and we are ready for the transfer of the amulet. We will be waiting for you outside the Great Hall.”

Archer stared blankly at the screen. It was close, but not close enough. He raised an eyebrow and replied with carefully chosen words. “I suggest we make the transaction indoors,” he said. “I’m afraid the commander has taken ill, and he won’t be able to withstand too much commotion. He would prefer a more solitude atmosphere. Or perhaps we can have it sent directly to you in the Hall?”

“We will clear the steps than,” replied the Chancellor, his body stiffening. “And the amulet must not be removed from your Commander’s neck! He must be wearing it up until the Spiritual Sender removes it himself and puts it on the rightful Beholder.”

Archer dropped his head but did not avert his eyes. He leaned in closer to the monitor to make his presence more threatening. “Other arrangements will have to be made.”

“There will be no other arrangements,” stammered the nervous Vhoorminian. “We shall meet in one hour at the arranged coordinates.” Archer watched as the Chancellor’s demeanour suddenly changed. “And I’m sorry to hear about your Commander’s illness. I hope it is not as serious as Sacha’s,” he added, before abruptly ending the transmission.

Archer stared disgusted at the blank view screen. How dare he wish for Trip’s well being when he was holding his sub-commander prisoner! Archer wanted to smash the monitor, but knew that would not accomplish anything. And the notion of moving Trip was not boding well with him either. The last time he’d seen him, Trip had been so weak and helpless it took all of Archer’s willpower not to yank the amulet from his neck and shove it down the Chancellor’s throat.

And he didn’t even want to think about how he was going to convince the doctor to release Trip. But it was now or never, so after a deep breath, Archer informed Malcolm that a contingency plan was going to have to be made. And then he left his ready room and headed for sickbay.

He saw Phlox next to the diagnostic bed and made his way over. “Doc, the Chancellor has informed me that Trip must be present at the transfer. We can’t just take the amulet down to the planet.”

“I see,” replied Phlox. “And I guess it doesn’t matter what my opinion is concerning this matter?”

Archer ran a hand down his face. He didn’t want to move Trip any more than Phlox did, but as he saw it, there was no other choice. “I’m sorry, Doctor. Will that be a problem?”

Phlox thinned his lips and raised his brows. “It is against my advice. But I get the impression you will go against it no matter what I say, so I will prepare him for transport.”

“T‘Pol,” mumbled Trip from the bed.

Archer looked at him, unaware that he was conscious. “Trip,” he said softly. “T’Pol’s not here.” He shared a look with the doctor who just shrugged back.

“Yeah, she’s gone… she had to go,” struggled Trip.

“He must be still experiencing the effects of the last sedative I gave him,” offered Phlox. “He had an outburst earlier- albeit, a subdued outburst.”

“Is he all right?” asked Archer. The doctor nodded, and Archer looked back at Trip. He was reaching toward him, feeling his uniform between his fingers. Then Trip suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Captain, I can feel you,” he announced, waning quizzical looks from both Archer and Phlox.

Archer put his hand over the commanders. “Of course, Trip. I’m right here.”

“T’Pol… I couldn’t feel her,” smiled Trip. Then he rolled his head away. “I must have been dreaming… Just like Hoshi.”

“You had a dream about T’Pol… And Hoshi?” asked Archer, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Must have been a dream. Hoshi was here,” drawled Trip. “But not with T‘Pol… different...”

Archer was going to leave it at that, but Trip’s next comment intrigued him. Trip mentioned that in one dream, T’Pol had given him a message to pass onto him. Archer leaned closer to Trip, barely able to hear his soft words. He put his hand on his friend’s chest and a sudden wave of nausea overcame him. He felt dizzy and his face went flush.

The doctor quickly pushed Archer’s hand of Trip’s chest. “What happened?” stuttered Archer, feeling the blood returning to his face.

“You put your hand on the amulet, Captain,” replied Phlox. “I suggest you don’t do that again unless you want to be as sick as Mr. Tucker here.”

Archer nodded and rested his hand on the side of the bed instead. “Trip,” he started. “What did T’Pol tell you?”

Trip furrowed his brow, looked back at him with a confused expression. “She said give them the transporter.”

Archer stepped back from the bed. He couldn’t have heard that right. T’Pol would never tell him to give up the transporter. But then, it had been a dream. Trip was just rambling. The sedative was still in his system, right? But how did he know about the transporter? He looked at the doctor with a sense of urgency. “Has anyone told Trip about out transporter situation?

“I don’t believe so, Captain,” answered Phlox. “But I wasn’t here the whole time. I did have other duties to attend to outside sickbay.”

Archer was confused. “Trip, how do you know about the transporter?”

“T’Pol…”

“When?”

“Earlier,” answered Trip.

Archer was really confused now. There was no way the sub-commander was in sickbay recently, yet there was no way Trip could know about the transporter either. “Trip, do you know why T’Pol said to give the Vhoorminians the transporter?”

“No… no,” replied Trip, waving a feeble hand. “She said, she said… I can’t remember.”

“Try, Trip. This could be important,” urged Archer, trying not to express his frustration. He could see the commander was struggling to contain himself, and was beginning to drift off.

“She said build a transporter to do nothing,” Trip finally replied. “Make them think they’re get’n what they want…” his words trailed off.

Archer watched him grimace in pain, but it soon resided and his facial muscles relaxed once again. Archer stared down at him, letting the implications of what Trip had just said run through his mind. T’Pol wanted them to fake it! Fake a transporter to satisfy the Vhoorminians. It was so simple. Archer wanted to run to engineering and have them start on it right away, but first, there had been a reason for his visit to sickbay.

“Trip,” he said. “You’ve been very helpful, but I’ve got some good news for you. Silla has arrived, and against the better judgement of me and the doctor, we’re going to transport you down to the planet to make the transfer. Of course, Malcolm and I will be accompanying you. But if anything goes wrong, anything at all concerning your health or with the transfer itself, I will not hesitate to send you back here- transfer or no transfer. Understood?”

~

Trip nodded, not believing his ears. He was beginning to think Silla would never arrive. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be well anymore. He was so sick, he imagined feeling well being no different than feeling ill.

But Trip was finally going to get rid of Sacha’s amulet. He kept repeating that notion in his head until the words started to sound harsh. Trip didn’t want to get rid of Sacha, but he was so tired of feeling so sick. To not vomit at the mere mention of food, to not feel the pain, to not feel the anger and loneliness anymore- these were the things he wanted to get rid of. Not his friend.

He looked up at his captain and thanked him. Archer smiled back and informed him that a crewman would bring him a uniform for the journey. Trip was glad Archer had mentioned the uniform. He wanted to get back into it more than ever before.

~

With Lieutenant Reed beside him, Archer entered main engineering. And again, on instinct, he searched for Trip. But a tiny voice inside him stopped him steps from the engineer’s office. With a sigh of regret, he turned to find Lieutenant Hess.

Archer quickly explained the details of the new plan regarding T’Pol’s rescue, and how after the initial idea had been put into his head, he had expanded it. He explained how they would give the Vhoorminians something disguised as a real transporter, but was really another completely different piece of technology.

Instead, Hess would build a unit that would act as a signal relay station. When the Vhoorminians tested the transporter, the entered coordinates would be relayed to Enterprise and a crewman would use their transporter to move the object- or person if the Vhoorminians were daring enough, to the designated coordinates.

The plan was simple. It was brilliant, and Archer could tell Malcolm liked it. But he could also tell he had some lingering questions. “What is it, Malcolm?” he asked.

“What about the escape? We can transport through the external shield, but will Enterprise be able to locate us?”

Archer thinned his lips. “If all goes well,” he replied. “We’ll inform the Chancellor that transporter technology does not work within an energy field- he’ll have to drop the one he has erected around the Great Hall. When they drop the shields, we’ll transport ourselves, including T’Pol, back to Enterprise. But again, this is only contingent on T’Pol being top side when the transaction occurs. If she’s still down beneath the internal field, we’ll have to resort to something more drastic. But right now, let’s get this amulet transfer done with. I’d like you to accompany Phlox, Trip and I to the planet. I have no way to tell if the Chancellor will have anything up his sleeves.”

Malcolm nodded, rocked back on his heels. “I assume, sir, we’ll be taking the shuttle down to the planet this trip, not the transporter?”

Archer furrowed his brow. “Are you trying to be funny, lieutenant?”

“No, sir,” he replied. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Archer couldn’t help but smile back, even though it was the last thing his body wanted to do. “Well, as much as I like a sense of humour in my crew- especially coming from you, Malcolm. I can’t say now is the most appropriate time.”

Malcolm flushed, stared nervously at the floor. “Sorry, sir.” Then he followed his captain out of engineering.

When Archer and Malcolm arrived in the shuttle bay, the other two members of the away team were present. Archer helped Trip into the shuttle and laid him on one of the bench seats. His body had felt light and damp under his touch. Archer could even feel the heat emanating through Trip’s uniform. Archer also knew Trip well enough to know he was putting on a brave face. Trip had walked to the shuttle bay, but it was evident now that it had drained all the remaining energy he had.

Archer could see it in Trip’s eyes. How each movement seemed like a painful struggle. But Archer went along with Trip’s brave front, knowing it would all be over soon. “Are we ready?” he asked, taking the jump seat behind Malcolm at the helm.

~

The Chancellor was staring wide-eyed at the resurrection from the dead. His prisoner was standing defiantly before him; arms crossed behind her back and as alive as any sentient being could be.

“Is something wrong, Chancellor?” asked T’Pol.

“I thought you were dead,” gaped the Chancellor. He pointed at the bed, then back at her. “We could not wake you… We thought…”

“Vulcan’s are deep sleepers,” replied T’Pol. “Perhaps you did not try hard enough to revive me.”

“But I tried…” His words trailed off as he tried to figure out why this person was alive and well before him.

“Perhaps you should try and learn about the species you kidnap instead of concentrating on what you can steal from them,” stated T’Pol, her face impassive.

The Chancellor eyed her sideways. “But I could have sworn…” he paused, then waved his hand dismissively. “That doesn’t matter anymore. I won’t be fooled twice.”

“Why are you here, Chancellor?” asked T’Pol.

The Chancellor looked at her quizzically. For a prisoner whose life was on the line, she was quite flaccid in her demeanour. And her lack of concern for her immediate safety started to make him nervous. He decided to turn on his threatening voice. “I’ve come to see if you’ve changed your mind about the transporter?”

“No,” replied T’Pol.

“Very well. I guess you put a lot of faith in your Captain.”

“Faith has nothing to do with it,” replied T’Pol. “I simply know I will be leaving this planet unharmed, and that you will not gain possession of our transporter.”

“We’ll see about that,” huffed the Chancellor. He spun on his heels and headed out the door.

~

Feeling there was no need to have Trip walk the distance from the park, Archer ordered the shuttle to land before the steps of the Great Hall. As they stepped outside, Archer noticed Trip stumble and fall forward, but the quick reflexes of Phlox caught him before he hit the ground. Malcolm helped Phlox support Trip on his feet, as Archer glanced up the front steps of the hall.

The Chancellor was coming down the steps with three armed guards and two people he did not recognise. Archer crossed his arms around his waist, casually resting his hand on the phase pistol attached to his belt. He knew it wouldn’t do much against the armed guards, but he felt better knowing it was there.

“Captain,” started the Chancellor, offering his hand in a friendly gesture. Archer looked at the hand, but made no intention of accepting it. “Ah, I understand. You want to get this over with as fast as we do.”

“Let’s get on with this, Chancellor,” stated Archer in a clipped voice. “My commander has suffered enough.”

“Suffered?” questioned the Chancellor. “It is an honour to be a Beholder and wear the great amulet.”

“Commander Tucker has been confined to sickbay ever since he’s had that amulet around his neck. It was only out of loyalty to Sacha that he kept it on. If that isn’t a sign of our good intentions, than I don’t know what is.” Archer tried his hardest to contain his disgust, but he knew his voice was betraying him.

The Chancellor shrugged. “Well,” he started. “At least you have one honourable person amongst you.”

Archer was fuming, and he knew was going to lose his self control any minute. “Let’s get this over with.”

The Chancellor made the proper introductions, then Archer and the rest stood back. But not too far. Trip was unsteady on his feet and Archer did not want to see him fall to the ground. Trip was trying real hard to look dignified, and Archer didn’t want to let him falter. He was so proud of his friend for holding up so well under these conditions.

The ceremony progressed without incident, and finally the Spiritual Sender removed the amulet from around Trip’s neck. Archer watched as the commander took a deep breath of relief. Archer couldn’t see an immediate improvement in Trip, but that would take time. He stepped closer to Trip, indicating to the Chancellor the ceremony was done whether they wanted it to be or not. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “How ya feeling, Trip?”

The commander rubbed the back of neck. “Like a giant weight’s been lifted,” he replied. “But I thought I’d feel a little better than this.”

“Repercussions of the amulet’s effects,” stated Phlox, taking up position beside him and pulling out a medical tricorder.

Then Silla approached, his hand outstretched toward Trip. “I just wanted to thank-you,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to know each other. My brother must have thought quite highly of you. But I must be leaving soon.” He placed a hand on his chest, covering the amulet. “It’s time I put Sacha to rest.” Silla bowed graciously, and then walked away with the Spiritual Sender following behind.

Noting that Trip was fairing much better, Archer turned his attention on the Chancellor. It was time to get to the next piece of business.

But the Chancellor spoke before Archer had a chance. “Captain, you will return to your ship now and retrieve the transporter. Bring it to the Great Hall and I will return your sub-commander.”

The Chancellor had taken control of the situation, and Archer didn’t like it one bit. He would not allow this arrogant Vhoorminian to tell him what to do. “How do you know we’re willing to cooperate with your demand?”

“I believe you have no other options,” replied the Chancellor, in a cool voice.

“There are always options, Chancellor,” sniped Archer.

“Yes,” nodded the Chancellor. “But are you willing to exercise them?”

Archer folded his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. Here it goes, he thought. This better work. “You read me well, Chancellor,” sighed Archer, trying to sound defeated. “I will bring you your precious transporter but it will take some time. It’s incorporated into our ship’s systems. We’ll have to construct a portable one.”

“Very well,” nodded the Chancellor. “We will reconvene when the transporter is complete. In the meantime, we will hold on to your sub-commander.” He smiled smugly, and every muscle in Archer’s body tensed. He could not look at this man any longer. He turned from the Chancellor and retreated back to the shuttle with the rest of the away team in tow.

(More to Come)