Lone Wolf- Pt. 1

Lone Wolf

By Aquila

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the Trek universe
Summary: A sequel to The T’Key

==

The night sky was bright with stars and the glow of three moons that hung on the horizon. The smell of cooking drifted on the wind, causing his stomach to growl.

“Down boy,” whispered the man who concealed himself in the shadows cast by a copse of trees. “We don’t know yet, if these folks are friend or foe.”

==

He had been following the trail of the Xin’di freedom fighters for two weeks. The hunt had begun in a decrepit orbital that acted as a supply depot and recreation stop for the scum of the Expanse. Before docking, the former Chief Engineer of the Starship Enterprise had set his shuttlepod down on a barren asteroid. He had pelted debris at the hull of his craft for hours. The next step in his attempt to camouflage the shuttle was to obscure the external identification marks. His intention was to give the impression that he had been in space a long time with a stolen ship.

Satisfied with the ship’s disguise, he began working on one for himself. The neat, trim Starfleet Commander became an unshaven, greasy-haired, lout. He removed the civilian clothes that he had warn during his theft of the shuttle. Dressed only in his skivvies, he stuffed his wardrobe in a duffel in which he had placed debris from the surface of the asteroid. He donned the EV suit one more time. Once outside the craft he stomped on the bag, grinding the dirt and grime into the clothes. He shook the clothes free of dust, then returned to the shuttle.

When the shuttle lifted off, the only evidence of the time he had spent there was an empty duffel bag kicked about by eddies created by his engine.

“That’ll puzzle archeologists a thousand years from now,” he thought.

==

From the shadows, Trip scanned the scene before him. Flames leapt from barrels placed intermittently around the campsite. Three-sided makeshift shelters constructed of scraps were placed so that their open side faced a flaming barrel.

“Not exactly central heating,” noted the Southerner.

Trip could see bodies resting in a few of the huts. Other beings stood with their arms stretched towards the flames, which reminded him of the cold that was seeping into his bones. His stomach growled again.

A man standing before the nearest fire looked in the direction of the sound. Trip bit his lower lip. Had he been detected? A poke in his spine with something hard answered his question. Automatically he raised his arms in surrender. He stumbled into the camp when he was prodded harder, a second time. One better-aimed prod sent him flying into the dirt face first.

Without raising his head, he looked about at a dozen pairs of warm boots and shoes that surrounded him. The Xin’di translating device, for which he had played cards and won on the orbital, crackled to life. His captors had begun to discuss their next move.

“He is not one of us,” observed a female voice.

“What species is he?” asked a voice from behind him.

“Roll him over so we can see the spy.” A blow from a toe of a boot accompanied the suggestion

There was a gasp of surprise from the group when his face was revealed.

“He looks like an enemy of the State.”

Trip, now on his back, remained submissive, but took the opportunity to examine the faces of his captors. He was relieved that the emotion most evident was suspicion tickled by curiosity. Surprisingly, none of the beings displayed any immediate hatred. Perhaps the intelligence that he had gathered was true?

Shuffling and murmuring from the rear attracted Tucker’s attention. The circle of captors parted to reveal a male with gray hair and wrinkled complexion. All talking ceased in his presence. Trip lay still and watched.

The old man offered the prone human his hand. Trip accepted the offer. The power in the man’s grip belied his age. Once their captor was upright, the old man turned his back and began to walk away. Trip paused puzzled, until he noted that the group had parted, leaving an opening for him to follow the man, Trip presumed was their leader.

In what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, Trip called out, “Hey there, my name’s Trip Tucker and I’ve been looking for you for a week.”

His captors erupted into a buzz of consternation.

==

“We’re being hailed, Captain.” Sato looked to Archer for orders.

Archer automatically looked to the science station. She wasn’t there. In her place was a competent young ensign, who responded to the unspoken question.

“The ship is of unknown registry, Sir.”

Archer hoped that he had hidden his disappointment from the crewman. It was in moment’s like this that he truly recognized the degree to which he relied on T’Pol’s greater experience. It also reminded him that Phlox had not yet made his daily report on the condition of the Vulcan Science Officer.

“On screen.”

“I am Malik, Master Trader, of the vessel, The Delphic Star. Are you Captain Jonathan Archer?”

The face on the screen was humanoid, but not of a species Archer recognized. He knew T’Pol’s replacement was making a bioscan. There would be another new species to add to the data bank before this First Contact ended.

But was this really a First Contact situation, “I am Archer. I do not remember having met you before, Master Malik?” Archer hoped he had used a flattering form of address.

“Did you have a Chief Engineer by the name of Tucker?”

The bridge of the Enterprise fell unnaturally silent. The captain could hear the thrum of the engines, as if the heart of the ship had come to life at the mention of Tucker. Trip had always spoken of the engines as if they were living beings. A shiver scurried up Archer’s spine.

“Yes, my former Chief Engineer was called Tucker, Trip Tucker.”

Malik grinned, “We have a message for your eyes only, Captain, from the rascal.”

==

The biobed pinged an alert. The patient was awakening. Phlox read the monitor. He was pleased. For the first time in two weeks, T’Pol’s vital signs were nearing normal. She was stabilized at last. Her mental condition was unknown.

He had kept her sedated, to ensure her body had time to heal itself. He understood that interrupting her regular cycle of meditation for a prolonged period might have side effects, but he determined the risk was worth taking.

With a hypospray at the ready, he stood by her bed, silently watching her return to consciousness. Her eyes were open, but unfocussed. Her normally passive face twitched as she sorted through sensations. He witnessed the moment of clarity and the pain that suffused her face for a brief moment.

“I have lost the embryo.” She steeled herself for the confirmation.

“I could not save it.” The doctor sighed. “I almost lost you too.”

“Have I lost my ability to reproduce in the future?” She felt instantly cold at the thought of never bearing children.

“No,” Phlox reassured her.

She heard the hesitation in his voice, “But?”

“You have proven that a Human and Vulcan conception is possible,” the doctor began.

“Carrying the child to term is another matter.” The depth of her regret shook her.

“Another matter entirely,” agreed Phlox.

“I assume you understand the circumstances that lead to the conception.” T’Pol had never spoken to him directly, but she believed he would have made the necessary assumptions based on their use of his medical database.

“Actually, I have conjectured. It would make an interesting paper for the Intergalactic Medical Journal.” Phlox responded to her raised eyebrow, “ I will not break Doctor-Patient confidentiality.”

“I never thought you would, Doctor.”

==

“Doctor Phlox to Captain Archer.” The intercom interrupted the conversation in the Captain’s ready room.

“Excuse me, Master Malik,” Arched crossed to the intercom, “My First Officer is not well. I asked the doctor to report immediately any change in her condition.”

Malik nodded his understanding.

“Archer to Phlox, report.” Jonathan’s stomach muscles clenched in fear.

“T’Pol is awake and stable.”

Archer closed his eyes and bowed his head, before responding, “Excellent news, Doctor. Please tell her that I will visit as soon as I am able. Archer out.”

Archer returned his attention to the Trader, “Thank you for delivering Tucker’s message. I am sure you want to get underway. My first helmsman is a boomer, he says that meeting shipment deadlines was the best way to turn a profit.”

“He learned his lessons well, Captain.” Malik stood, but did not step away from the desk. “There is one more matter.”

Archer raised an eyebrow in a passable imitation of T’Pol, “You have already done so much for us.”

“Trip asked that if we were to meet, not merely passage messages, I was to deliver a message to your First Officer.” Malik passed a small device to Archer. “Trip said that is was voice activated, and would respond only to the First Officer’s voice commands.”

Jonathan took the device from Malik. “I will see that she gets it.”

*****************

Continue to Part Two

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