Unbound- Part 7

Unbound
An "Enterprise" story

By Alison M. DOBELL

RATING: G.
STATUS: New. SEQUEL to "NO GAME"
ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed.
EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com
WEBSITE: http://carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html
SUMMARY: "The Sub-Commander is forced to take a leap of faith. Captain Archer finds it harder and harder to keep a lid on his control. While the Zenari advance their plan, Trip and Malcolm consider taking a desperate chance."
DISCLAIMER: The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Enterprise' are the property of Paramount. No infringement of copyright is intended.

Part Seven

"SUSPICIONS"

* * * * *

Travis Mayweather was tired. He had spent several hours in the gym before showering off and getting ready for bed. Quite why he felt so edgy he could not say. He would be glad to get to the edge of the Expanse even though it meant taking on the MACOs. He knew he should feel relieved, grateful, comforted even that they would have help on their dangerous mission but for some reason felt they would be safer without them. Damn if Lt. Reed's reservations were not rubbing off on him. He smiled slightly, his natural good humour too buoyant to be submerged for long.

The chime on his doorbell surprised him. Who could be calling this late at night? Only one person came to mind. It seemed that Hoshi was as unsettled as he was. With a smile of welcome bowing his lips he opened his door only to be struck dumb by the sight of an agitated Vulcan on his doorstep.

"S...sub-Commander? What can I do for you?"

Fortunately T'Pol ignored his stunned surprise and stepped in to his quarters as calmly as if she visited him at this time of night on a regular basis. To the Ensign's knowledge this was the first time she had ever visited him in his quarters and he began to feel curiosity overtake his feeling of alarm.

"Ensign, I apologise for calling so late."

He nodded and swallowed slowly. Waiting until his door has hissed closed. "How can I help you?"

She was pleased he did not try to make 'small talk' as the Commander called it. This was going to be difficult enough as it was. "Ensign, I wish to discuss something with you. Do you remember the automated repair station?"

The surprise and shock momentarily robbed him of his senses. With an effort he forced himself to concentrate. Nothing could have been further from his mind at that moment but it was obviously important if it brought her here at this time of night. He spoke slowly, his voice careful, his eyes glued to hers looking for clues. He already knew that conversations with T'Pol could be like picking your way through a minefield. "Yes."

T'Pol bit back a sigh. "Ensign, what I am about to tell you must not leave this room, do you understand?"

He paled slightly then nodded. Oh God, what the hell was going on? He found himself sitting before he fell down, not sure his legs would keep him upright much longer. If he felt this unsteady before she even told him what was wrong he dreaded to think how he would react when he knew. "Yes, Sub-Commander."

The Vulcan watched him closely, noticed his skin was beginning to become clammy. "We never found out who created that service station. Never met the builders or discussed it with them."

"Forgive me, Sub-Commander, but I'm more than happy that we didn't. That place was so in advance of anything we have I don't know that we could have survived the encounter."

She watched him keenly. "Exactly."

He hesitated. "Exactly?"

"You were captured, linked up to it, and used as a source of raw material while a copy was left to mimic your duties aboard Enterprise."

His eyes widened. He could not quite prevent a shudder of dread going through him. "Are you saying you think the Zenari are the people that created that place?"

"I do not know but that is becoming a definite suspicion."

He looked alarmed then as he got a little more used to the idea interest sparked in wary eyes. He had not forgotten his own experiences aboard the repair station and how close he had come to never getting out of it alive. But for the curiosity of their Chief Engineer his adventures in space might have ended there. "What makes you think the two are connected, Sub-Commander?"

There was a long pause before she responded. "Ensign, do you trust me?"

He almost bolted at the words but his common sense was cautioning him not to panic. "Yes."

"Then please come with me. I believe you have a saying, a picture is worth a thousand words?"

Despite how tense he felt she made him smile. A Vulcan quoting Earth sayings was something to be savoured. "Yes, we do."

In silence they walked down the corridor, took an elevator and made their way to Commander Tucker's floor. Travis was surprised when he realised where they were going but held his tongue. He knew the two officers often worked closely together; perhaps the pair of them had come up with this idea between them? But if they had why had it been the Sub-Commander who came to get him and not the Commander?

* * * * *

The Zenari aide was getting a little anxious though he hid it well. His voice was calm as he sought to caution the Ambassador without offending him or insulting his position in the hierarchy.

"Excellency, we must stop. The Denobulan is dying."

He felt rather than heard the Ambassador's amusement. "Be assured, Kentak, he is not dying. He is merely going into respiratory hiatus."

"What is that?"

"Denobulans can lower their body temperatures. Slow the beat of their hearts inducing a coma like state."

The aide was baffled. "For what purpose, Excellency?"

The Arms Master, Ran Tok, stirred and took a step towards them. Answering for the Ambassador. "They call it hibernation."

"And this does not harm them?"

The Ambassador was watching Dr Phlox, his skin clammy and seeming to exude a thin clear liquid. Not conscious but definitely breathing. After a fashion. "No, it is apparently a necessary retreat. I had our scientists research his species most thoroughly before examining the spy."

"He is not dying then, Excellency?" Repeated his aide a little uncertainly.

The Ambassador inclined his head slightly then reached out to touch the weeping flesh, the forearm feeling tacky and unpleasant. He managed not to recoil too violently. "No." He mused. "He is running away."

Kentak did not state that the physician was not capable of moving let alone running anywhere. He wondered if the Ambassador had asked him to attend so that he could witness the manner of his death. He felt a stir of disapproval in his mind at the direction of his thoughts and bowed deeply to hide his shame. "Forgive me, Excellency. I thought that as a spy once his usefulness had been exhausted you would surely extinguish his life. I did not mean to imply criticism."

"We will keep him alive while his shade is on their ship." The Ambassador paused. Little sparks of light flickering as the folds of his heavy robe shifted. After a moment he settled and stilled again. "The Chief Engineer's shade is non responsive. This is not acceptable.

"No, Excellency."

The Ambassador turned to his Arms Master. "What of the Armoury Officer?"

"Lt Reed? His shade is not compromised, Excellency."

"And the Vulcan?"

They looked at each other and the silence stretched. Ah. The Vulcan. Worlds coalesced into existence and died in the space between their spoken words. Not even distance dulled the exquisite nature of their subtle art. The Ambassador could sense her with ease but was careful to go no further. Not even to the reading of thoughts. The spoken word he could home in on and absorb without risk. If she detected the merest hint of a mental intrusion it could upset the balance of desires planned. Unfolding was a delicate operation for the new species. Peeling back the Human genome would be delicate work. Interfacing the skills and attributes they found and deemed useful would sweeten the concourse of their deliberations. Before they were ready to take that step he wanted to sate some of their desires. Fulfill unspoken wishes and monitor the results the better to merge them to their will. Let his consciousness in part play out the reactions and taste the sensations of relief, pleasure, and ultimately - awe. The Zenari were not Gods but power was seductive and at times they enjoyed submersing themselves in the exotic expectations of others. Manipulating the events around them while rewriting the physical parameters of those who populated this sacred space no matter how temporarily. The Humans could hardly complain at their manipulation. This after all was Zenari territory. Even the Vulcans knew better than to cross that line.

He moved closer to the Denobulan. Admired in a somewhat abstracted fashion the intricate pierced carvings that held the spy in thrall. Allowed his impassive eyes to follow the convoluted contours that bound his flesh. So far he was still intact. The Ambassador gave a silent call and his chief scientist Vot rose in a column of charged particles before taking his form alongside the Arms Master so that he could face the Ambassador. He bowed low. "You wish me to wake him, Excellency?"

"No, Vot. I wish you map the connections between his internal organs then probe the brain stem and monitor him closely."

"For what are you looking?"

Only Vot would dare to ask such a thing, his whole attention being on providing whatever the Ambassador requested of him. For that reason he could ask questions the others would never dare consider. "This state of hibernation interests me. Explore the limits of his senses while in this state."

"All of them, Excellency?"

A partial incline of his head indicated agreement. Vot looked at the Denobulan for a moment, sent tendrils of energy pulsing through comatose veins. Drove his thoughts thereafter, slithering and sliding between folds of flesh, winding around cells and exploring tissues and muscles as if all these things lay upon the surface of his skin not within the confines of a physical body. Vot looked up suddenly, a flicker of something like surprise relieving the glossy black depths of eyes that never blinked or showed emotion. "He is aware of us."

Ambassador Chot absorbed that fact. "The spy is deep."

"His body is capable of extensive compartmentalisation, Excellency."

A long pause. "Indeed."

The chief scientific officer continued to probe with his mind, using his own energy to open up parts of the body that resisted intrusion. Interesting. How had the Denobulan been able to do that? He should not have been able to detect him at this level. Curious. He found the nervous system and flicked a thought back to his Ambassador. Wanting to know how invasive to make this.

"I want to know everything Vot including the real reason he is with these Humans."

"As you wish. Even though he is in self inclined status he is resisting me, excellency. Too weak to keep me out but a surprising ability given his status. This will hurt him."

"Pain is not my concern. If he chooses to resist he must accept the consequences."

Vot inclined his head then asked one last question. "Do you wish him to emerge whole or in part?"

"Whole." A pause. "And alive. His body *will* betray him. Cell by cell will give up their secrets to us but I want to hear the spy confess when this is over." He paused and glanced at Kentak. "How unlike the Human Captain he is. We will not even need to scar his memories."

Vot ignored the rest of the conversation even when it went sub-vocal. His energy was probing deeper now. The Denobulan body twitched. He closed off all other thoughts and concentrated. If the scalpel of his mind slipped the spy could be killed prematurely by the shock, and if that happened the Ambassador would find himself needing a new chief scientific officer. He was not yet ready to join the sundered souls of his ancestors. Not when there was work still to be done.

* * * * *

Captain Archer commed Trip for the third time. Still no response. The water polo game was just the distraction he needed to calm down his ruffled and rattled nerves but he did not want to watch it on his own. He looked down at Porthos. "Where do you suppose he is, Porthos?"

The Captain smiled and bent down to fuss his dog then straightened with a sigh. "Okay, looks like we'll have to com Engineering and drag his sorry ass out of there." He leaned on the wall com to activate it.

"Engineering. Lt Hess."

"Lieutenant, is Commander Tucker there?"

"No, sir."

The Captain frowned. "No?"

"His shift ended several hours ago, Captain. Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head even though the Lieutenant could not see him. Somehow he did not think Lt Hess would appreciate being dragged out of Engineering to watch water polo. "Uh, no thank you Lieutenant. Archer out."

He was just straightening up when Sub-Commander T'Pol and Ensign Mayweather turned the corner walking towards him. Now *that* was odd. "Sub-Commander, Ensign? What's going on?"

Was that a flicker of warning in the Sub-Commander's eye as she looked at Travis? Nah, he was getting paranoid. The Expanse had that effect. The Vulcan kept walking when Travis came to halt several feet short of Commander Tucker's quarters. She stopped right in front of the Captain, taking in his casual clothing, the damp sweat shirt indicating he had been running. His smelly quadruped no doubt slobbering saliva along the corridors as they went. As distasteful an image as this provided T'Pol was relieved. This meant that this was indeed Captain Archer. "Captain, I need to speak to you."

His eyebrows rose, his look of boredom vanished in a heartbeat. Water polo all but forgotten now. "Of course, Sub-Commander."

"May I suggest your ready room?"

Surprised he tried not to show his reaction. "Okay, may I ask what this is about?"

She gave him a look, a slow brow rising in caution.

"Oh, okay." He belatedly remembered that Travis was still in the corridor. Did not think it odd at the time that he had not simply kept walking leaving his senior officers to their conversation. "I'll see you later, Travis. If you see the Commander, tell him I have that water polo game he was wanting to see."

"Yes, sir."

Sub-Commander T'Pol took up a brisk pace almost whisking the Captain off down the corridor. He glanced across at her. "Is everything alright, Sub-Commander?"

"Why do you ask?"

He paused a second, not wanting to rub her up the wrong way. He seemed to have a knack for doing that lately though he did not know why. "You just seem a little tense."

Her look gave nothing away then they were at the elevator and all pretence at conversation stopped. In silence they stepped inside and did not speak again until they were in his ready room, the door hissing shut behind them as if to hermetically seal them in. When T'Pol finished speaking he stared at her in stunned shock. She had to be kidding? "Sub-Commander, that automated repair station is light years away and why would you even think it had any connection to the Zenari? I know you don't like them and..."

The Sub-Commander had started pacing. Her patience fragmentary at best though she struggled to hide the fact and appear outwardly calm. It did not help that images of a tramatised Commander were undermining her ability to remain detached and unaffected. "Captain, this has nothing to do with my personal feelings about the Zenari and everything to do with protecting this ship and crew from harm."

He looked at her seriously, taking in her slightly flushed face, the tightness around her eyes, the way she seemed on edge and ready to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. Come to think of it she could do that without any provocation at all. He wondered how dangerous this made his Science Officer but the thought was fleeting. She was worried and anything that could produce this state of agitation in a Vulcan was not to be ignored. He took a deep breath then urged her to take a seat. Only when she had done so did he sit down, hands folded on the table, leaning forward on his elbows as he watched the complex contours of her face for the slightest indication as to the thoughts she hid so well.

"Very well, Sub-Commander. Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that your suspicion is correct. How does this tie in with the Zenari and what does it have to do with members of my Away Team?"

"I believe, Captain, that not all the Away Team returned..."

* * * * *

They had no idea how long they had been in the crystal chamber. Odd that it did not echo, that sound seemed to get swallowed up almost as effectively as space. For such a huge place it had properties that were quite unique. Lt. Reed found himself itemising them inside his head, no longer looking for a way out. Though he did not say so he had accepted that there was no visible way out. He watched the Commander going over every inch of the walls and doors again and again, his sensitive hands feeling the carved surfaces, his fingertips exploring every little crevice for a hidden pressure switch. It frustrated him to watch the continued unrelenting search.

"Commander, why don't you bloody admit that we're trapped in here?"

He looked up in surprise at the outburst, his hands slowing but not stopping. The Lieutenant idly wondered if he even knew how to stop. Was it adrenaline, fear or unrelenting determination that was driving the engineer? "Malcolm, there has to be a way out."

"What if the only way to get out is if someone on the outside lets us out?"

Trip's lips compressed. He was so tired but he could not give up, couldn't Malcolm see how wrong that would be? It would be like rolling over and waiting to die. Something flickered in the Armoury Officer's eyes and he walked over to where the Chief Engineer was kneeling by one wall. The apology was in his eyes and in every line of his body. He was not angry at Trip. "I'm sorry, I need my ass kicking it's just that I'm so bloody frustrated."

Trip rubbed his eyes wearily. "Me too but what else can we do?"

Before Malcolm could answer a strange strangled wailing sound assaulted their ears. Both men stiffened and listened, trying to work out where the sound was coming from. Malcolm had his phaser out not that either of them thought there would be anything to see that he could blast to smithereens but Trip got a odd kind of comfort out of pretending it would make a difference. They stepped back towards the centre of the vast room, heads turning slowly, seeing nothing. The sound repeated. Less volume now but more like a cry than a wail. They looked at each other, both thinking the same thing and reluctant to voice it. Suddenly Malcolm stepped back. The movement drew Trip's eye to him.

"What's up?"

"Aside from being trapped in an ornate tomb big enough to dwarf the Taj Mahal?"

"The what?"

"It was an elaborate mausoleum."

"Cheerful soul, aren't ya?"

Malcolm was about to say something when he yelped and jumped back. Thoroughly alarmed now, the Commander was looking right and left, his posture poised for attack but still seeing nothing. "What the hell's the matter with ya?"

The Lieutenant stepped back and looked at the floor. Puzzled, Trip copied him and noticed several red spots on the polished crystal. As they stared another red spot landed inches from Malcolm. He took another step back and more spots appeared, some bigger than others. Slowly Lt Reed raised his head and stared with horror at his friend. Trip felt his mouth go dry with fear.

"Oh... my... God!"

"What is it, Malcolm?"

"It's blood."

Trip wished he had not asked but there was nothing he could do to wipe that information from his mind. He did not even dare to wonder whose. Not sure his heart could take the answer. The only thing he knew for certain was that it was not T'Pol's. Thank God Vulcan's had green blood.

Lt Reed was staring down again, his eyes growing even wider. "I don't believe this."

"What? What don't ya believe Malcolm?"

He looked up again, his expression stricken as he met the Commander's eyes. "Whoever it is, is bleeding in Morse code."

Commander Tucker was stunned. He stared uncomprehending at the spots of blood, aware that even as he watched other spots were adding to the gruesome pattern forming at their feet. "Ya have got to be kiddin' me?"

His friend shook his head, no colour in his face now. He resisted the urge to be sick. "I assure you, Commander, humour is the furthest thing from my mind."

The Chief Engineer looked up slowly. The intricate ceiling at least forty feet above their heads. "But that means..."

Malcolm nodded. "Yes. Whoever this is, is trapped." He pointed above their heads. "Up there."

For a moment neither spoke then the silence began to become oppressive, alleviated only by the quiet drip drip drip of falling blood. Trip swallowed slowly and peered up once more. "How the hell are we gonna get up there?"

"Maybe they have some equivalent to a high tech pulley system?"

The Commander looked at him in disbelief. "For what?"

He indicated the intricate friezes that decorated the high vaulted ceiling. There were dozens upon dozens of them. "I assume they must need to clean them occasionally or take them down to replace or repair them."

Trip shook his head. "Mal..."

"Well? Do you have a better idea, Commander?"

A heavy silence fell. Trip's shoulders sagged in defeat. He could not look at Malcolm. "No, an' at least you're thinkin' Malcolm." He paused and looked around him, ten times wearier than he had been a minute before. He could not seem to drag his eyes away from the bright splashes of crimson. "What does it say?"

"Pardon?"

Trip nodded to the floor. "What does it say? Ya said it was Morse code."

Lt. Reed swallowed painfully, his voice hoarse and hushed. "S.O.S."

For a moment they did not speak, each contemplating what that meant. One of the Away Team was injured, losing blood, and trying frantically to call for help. Trip tried not to follow the dark procession of thoughts that were haunting him. The mental image of a badly wounded and dying Captain or an equally injured communications officer using the last of her skills in a desperate bid to get rescued. He bit back the threat of tears and decided to look for a way to help. Nothing else mattered.

"C'mon, let's check an' see if we can find any controls and lower the friezes."

"And if we can't?"

The Commander looked at him and gritted his teeth in determination. "Then I hope ya have a head for heights!"

* * * * *

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Three people have made comments

I admire how you found an explanation for the automated repair station.

I hate to be nitpicky but T'Pol tell Travis "You were captured, linked up to it, and used as a source of raw material while a copy was left to mimic your duties aboard Enterprise."

And that's not true. Phlox specifically said that the station couldn't produce anything alive. That's why the whatchamacallits in Travis's blood were dead. That's how they knew it wasn't really Travis- because the shock should have caused them to replicate, not die.

Other than that, this story part is good. I wish we'd gotten to see more T'Pol/Travis conspiracy stuff before they found out the Captain was real, though.

Oh this is an interesting story!

I love the Trip/Malcolm convesation about T'Pol and their whole interaction.

I do not like these aliens one little bit!

PHLOX!!! OMG the torture! NO!!!!!!

Bleeding in Morse Code! Cool but very gross.