Unbound- Part 9

Unbound
An "Enterprise" story

By Alison M. DOBELL

RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed.
EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com
WEBSITE: http://carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "Sub-Commander T'Pol turns detective while things get more and more difficult on the planet surface."
DISCLAIMER: The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Enterprise'
are the property of Paramount. No infringement of copyright is intended.

Part Nine

"NOTHING VENTURED"

* * * * *

Travis was weary beyond words, the weight of sorrow in his soul almost more than he could bear. He stared at the now clean room. The body bag an ominous reminder in the corner. He could not bear to think about the contents. Shaking from reaction he sat on the floor and bowed his head, tears running silently down his cheeks. He was remembering so many times, happy occasions, when they had all been together. The Commander was one of his senior officers and he did respect his rank and abilities as Chief Engineer of Earth's first warp capable star ship. But he respected his gift of friendship more. The simulacrum had been so vivid, so life like, that it had been hard to accept that it was a mere copy. It also made him wonder about the others. He was so wrapped up in his grief that he did not hear the door open and close. Only vaguely did he become aware of a hand upon his shoulder. Nightmare images haunted him as he imagined the Commander getting up out of the bag, his body reforming, then coming to reassure him. *It's all right Travis, bad joke.*

But it was no joke. He raised his head slowly, eyes reluctant to open stared for a moment in mute shock then fresh tears fell in silent relief. It was the Sub-Commander. She knelt in front of him and stared into his visor, her eyes making contact with his and giving him the strength he lacked. He was sobbing quietly. The Vulcan's words calm and soothing though afterwards he could not remember what she had said only that it had been the right thing. Somehow she had reached out and touched him. Shared his distress and shown him that there was a way forward. A way for all this not to be for nothing.

She helped him to his feet then guided him to a chair. "Ensign, listen to me. I have told the Captain."

He was not sure what to feel about that. On one level he was relieved and glad she had done so. On another he was worried that the Captain would over react. Over react. How the hell can you over react to something like this? Was it even possible? He was close to hysteria. Nervous laughter rising in his throat but trapped by the look in T'Pol's eyes. *Forgive me, Sub-Commander. Forgive me, Trip. I can't do this any more.*

"Ensign, this has been a great shock."

*If you only knew.*

"We must assume that Commander Tucker and the others are still down on that planet."

His eyes were confused blanks. "The Captain came back."

"Yes, Ensign. Captain Archer did indeed return unharmed."

"So did Hoshi."

"That is correct."

"I don't understand."

"I do not have the answers, Ensign. We may never know why the Zenari copied some members of the Away Team and not others. What was the criteria? Were they looking for specific attributes or was the selection random? A matter of the individuals concerned simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time as the Commander would say?"

Travis gave her an uncertain look, as if he wanted to say something but did not know how.

"You have a question, Ensign?"

"Um, yes Sub-Commander." He paused for so long that Sub-Commander T'Pol thought he had changed his mind. "I collected all the pieces like you said." He nodded awkwardly to the body bag over by the door. "They were so life-like." He broke off and shuddered. It took him a moment to steady himself again so that he could continue. "Was.... was my copy like that?"

She realised he was talking about their run in with the automated repair station some months ago. "The attention to detail is indeed astonishing, Ensign, but no they were not the same."

He frowned now. "I don't understand. I thought you said..."

Uncharacteristically she interrupted him. "They are alike in construction not in operation."

He blinked blankly at her.

"When you were copied Ensign your simulacrum was visually perfect, but you were more machine. Able to carry out simple commands but incapable of spontaneous acts beyond your programming. Unable to extend form and function as a living breathing counterpart would have done. You were what you needed to be, no more and no less. The Zenari had left the automatic repair station much as I believe humans left open cages with food inside for rodents."

"Mouse traps?" He could hardly believe his ears. "You're talking about mouse traps?"

She inclined her head then carried on talking. "This is theory only until the body can be examined under laboratory conditions, Ensign, but I suspect the reason Commander Tucker's copy was more interactive was because it was being guided by an intelligence."

Alarmed, Travis jumped up and took a step back, his eyes flicking over to the inert body bag as if afraid the contents would come back to life and throttle him. The Sub-Commander indicated for Travis to retake his seat. Though he wanted nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible he realised this was not a conversation they could take outside. He swallowed hard, sat down, and tried not to quake.

"The Zenari are *here*, Ensign." T'Pol explained quietly. Her voice calm and practical. "I believe they have the ability to directly animate and motivate their creations through proximity thus making them much more deadly and effective than those created in absentia on the repair station."

Travis could not stop looking round him, his skin crawling, imagining their enemies creeping out of the air ducts, hiding in every nook and cranny, listening to every word that fell from their injudicious mouths. He could almost feel unseen eyes boring into him from a hundred hidden hidey-holes. He was feeling spooked good and proper. "Should... should we be having this conversation, Sub-Commander?"

"Yes, Ensign. The Zenari may be highly advanced, have technology centuries ahead of either ours or yours, but they are *not* omnipotent."

Travis now stared at her as if she were off her head. How could she say that after everything she had just told him?

"They are *not* Gods." She said simply. Her eyes never breaking contact with his.

Ensign Travis Mayweather blinked. Not Gods. Not omnipotent. Not all-powerful unbeatable aliens. He took a long deep breath and began to feel his humanity reassert itself. He even managed a tentative smile though it was fleeting. Only ruined a little by the fact that he was trembling so hard. "Then we can beat them?"

The Sub-Commander's look was as grim as it was determined. This was one battle they could not afford to lose. "We *will* beat them."

* * * * *

Weeping. Definitely someone in distress but they were so quiet. Almost secretive about it. Trip felt his heart lurch. Oh hell, that meant there must be Zenari close by. Whoever it was did not want to give away the fact that they were conscious. He lifted his head slightly, trying to peer up through the pierced fretwork to see where they were but he could make nothing out beyond the frieze but shadows. All the light was below him in the vast crystal chamber. He was tiring rapidly now. After hours of climbing, clinging to miniscule hand and foot holds, using his balance to stop himself toppling, every muscle in his body was screaming. He bit his lip and refused to think about that. Someone was in need of urgent help and they did not have the luxury of simply being tired or having aching muscles. He dipped his head slightly, the light in the chamber still bright and with a quality to it that defied his ability to work out what was creating it.

There were no windows to the outside world. No light panels, no obvious sources of artificial lighting. Yet the place was ablaze. Not with bright areas and shadow areas but equally illuminated throughout the huge chamber. Obviously the crystal floors, wall friezes and ceiling friezes aided and abetted the quality of light but it did not explain it. He shook the thought from his head, not able to embrace such distractions. He had to find a way UP. Carefully he explored above his head with one hand, the other wrapped around the wall frieze he was clinging so precariously to. It seemed as if all above him was one huge unbroken frieze. His heart began to falter, panic crowding the edge of his consciousness. He held back the threat of tears. He would not fail. There had to be a way and he would find it or die trying. Just then a slight noise froze him in place. He opened his mouth and stretched his ears, the better to listen without his breathing drowning out whatever he heard. There. A noise like another sniffle. More crying. Soft, hushed weeping. Hoshi? Jon? He could not tell, it was too quiet, too subtle. But it spurred him on.

He decided to take a chance. As far as he could reach and feel with one hand he could not find a break in the frieze above his head. This was getting him nowhere. He listened carefully for a few minutes to get his bearings. Once sure of the direction he took a few deep breaths then wriggled his fingers up into the frieze above his head until he got a firm handhold. He leaned away from the wall frieze to test whether it would bear his weight. *Here goes nothin'* He thought. Then cautiously swung away from the wall frieze and hung from his fingertips. The sudden addition of weight made him gasp but determination stopped him from immediately giving it up as an impossibility. He would do this. He had to cross the ceiling hand by painful hand until he found their crew member. What he would do if he ended up in the middle of the ceiling with no way up he did not consider. Everybody had to die sometime. Better to do so trying to help a friend than standing by while their enemies tortured them to death. Why was it that thought was not more comforting?

Far below him, Lt. Reed was looking up with an expression of utter horror on his face. "Jesus Christ, Trip..." He murmured. Voice shocked and anguished but not calling out, aware that the slightest distraction could cause his friend to fall. From that height he was in no doubt it would kill him. "Stupid yank, is he trying to kill himself?"

He knew he was not. Knew his friend would have considered every other possibility before taking this suicidal option. Malcolm closed his eyes and began praying again, more fervently than ever. If anyone needed a guardian angel it was Commander Trip Tucker. No. Scratch that. He didn't need a bloody guardian angel, he needed a whole ruddy chorus of them. What the hell was he thinking?

Trip felt his mouth go dry. His fingers were aching, the bones in his knuckles cracking as his weight shifted from painful hand to painful hand as he slowly rocked his body to progress across the ceiling in the direction of the weeping. It stopped again but Trip did not dare to. Afraid that if he stopped he would seize up then lose his grip as his fingers numbed and plunge to his death. Knowing his luck he would probably land on top of Malcolm and kill him too. He almost sniggered at the image forming inside his head but the black humour quickly crumbled away. Yards. He had progressed five yards and the ceiling area ahead of him was vast yet it could not be too much farther. The weeping was quiet but clearer now. He was getting closer. Not close enough to risk speaking though. He did not want to alert their enemies and put not only himself but the injured crew member in greater danger. He tried to swallow but his mouth was so dry. His heart thudding painfully in his chest, hands in danger of locking on him. He carefully extracted his right hand, swung a little further out and took another hand hold almost slipping completely as something wet undermined his grip.

"What that hell...?"

He quickly adjusted his grip to a dry section of the frieze and sucked in a hard shocked breath. Blood.

"Oh God, I've found ya. Can ya hear me? It's Trip."

At first he heard nothing. Even the weeping had stopped then slowly, a soft pained voiced etched words out of unadulterated pain. It hurt Trip's ears to hear them. "C...commander Tucker.... Go back."

Another shock. "Doc, is that you?"

"Yes... go back... can't help me. Trap..."

He was confused. "Trap? How the hell can it be a trap?"

"You don't understand. The Zenari are not what you think they are."

"Doc, don't mean to be rude but I can't hang on much longer. You're gonna have to tell me how the hell to get up from this frieze. Is there a break near by that I can make my way to and haul myself up?"

He heard a gurgling noise and flinched as his imagination slotted in a number of unsavoury pictures to explain the noise. After a couple of minutes the Doctor spoke again. "You are not yet detected, Commander. Go, go while you still can."

"Trip."

"What?"

"My name's Trip."

"You are a most stubborn individual... Trip."

"You're welcome. Now help me get up from here before I fall."

"Go back."

"Too far out. Never make it."

Trip heard something that sounded like some colourful swearing but not in any language he had ever heard before. Must be Denobulan. A short silence followed then Dr Phlox spoke again. "There is a break in the frieze. I cannot see you from my position but you sound to be approximately three feet to the left of where I am. Move towards the sound of my voice. In another two to three feet you will find the frieze gives way to a section of grill. It is ornate but functional. It does not hinge nor does it fasten like the grills on Enterprise." He had to pause to recover enough breath to continue. Trip forced himself not to interrupt. He could tell that this was hard enough on the doctor. "When you reach the grill, you must pass your hand right across the middle of it."

"Ya mean there's some kind'a sensor?"

"Exactly. The section will then slide aside to permit access."

"That's pretty neat."

Dr Phlox did not respond. Did not tell the Commander that he was fastened to another such grill and that it had even more inventive properties. Had the situation not been so dire he would never have informed the Commander of this route. But neither could he allow the Commander to fall to his death for trying to save him. The irony of his situation was not lost on him.

* * * * *

Captain Archer turned at the chime on his door. "Come in."

The door slid open to reveal Lt. Reed. He had no idea what to make of Sub-Commander T'Pol's comments. Her assertion that Trip wasn't Trip. That Lt. Reed and the doctor might be imposters. It was all so fantastic and yet he had rattlers stirring in his gut. He looked at the Lieutenant, wondered if he was the same Malcolm Reed he had taken on as his Armoury Officer. The same Malcolm Reed who had such exacting standards both of conduct and service. The same Malcolm Reed who was fiercely loyal, proud, an exemplary officer in every way and possessing of as sharp an intellect as anyone he had ever known. He gazed deep into those storm-grey eyes looking for the man he had come to know and rely on. Hoping in those depths to recognise not just a member of his crew but a friend.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

Lt. Reed drew himself up to attention, his clear gaze pinned on the Captain's. A tentative look of worry in his intelligent eyes. The sensitive face showing a brief flicker of concern. "I apologise for disturbing you Captain but I have been trying to locate Commander Tucker and I cannot find him. I was wondering if you might know where he is?"

The Captain raised his eyebrows. Well. That settled that. This was the real Lt. Reed alright. A copy would hardly show concern for another crew member let alone bring any anomalies to the Captain's notice. He breathed a sigh of relief. "I haven't seen him either, Lieutenant. In fact, Sub-Commander T'Pol has come up with a very disturbing theory and to be honest with you I don't know if I believe it."

The Lieutenant's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Theory, sir?"

He nodded and moved round from behind his desk. "Yes. She seems to think that we were manipulated down on the planet."

"Manipulated? How?"

Captain Archer smiled slightly. It did sound pretty preposterous now he came to think about it. "I know it sounds ludicrous but the Sub-Commander thinks some of the Away Team never returned."

The surprise on Lt. Reed's face was almost comical. "That's not possible, Captain. We all came back together."

"I know, I tried telling her that but she insisted that the Commander Tucker who returned with us was not Trip but a copy."

Lt. Reed's mouth fell open. "A copy?"

The humour fled from the Captain's face. He looked worried now. "Yes. I would have laughed it right off but T'Pol says she went to see him in his quarters. As you know she had been helping the Commander's sleep disorder with neuro-pressure. When she went to see him she states he acted differently. They ended up in a fight and... Well, I know this is going to sound unlikely, but she killed him."

Lt. Reed never broke eye contact, his words slow and deliberate as if wanting to make sure he was hearing his Captain correctly. "Are you saying that Sub-Commander T'Pol has *killed* Commander Tucker?"

"Yes. No. I mean, she killed the *copy* of Commander Tucker."

"Pardon my asking Captain, but how does she know she killed the copy?"

"Um, the body parts."

Lt. Reed went completely pale. Concerned, Captain Archer brought a chair and made him sit down. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you."

It took a moment for the Lieutenant to find any words. "You saw the... body?"

The Captain shook his head. "No." He looked a little embarrassed. "To be honest with you I lost my temper. Accused her of working against us." He sighed heavily and looked very uncomfortable. "I don't know what got into me. Don't worry, I intend to apologise when I see her next but in the meantime we have to work out what to do."

The Armoury Officer was looking keenly at him. "Where's the Commander, sir?"

"Presumably still on the planet."

Lt. Reed got to his feet. "Then we have to go back down there immediately and get him back."

The Captain smiled, relieved at his reaction but knew he had to sound a note of caution. "We will, Malcolm, I promise you but we have to be careful. If the Sub-Commander is right we are in way over our heads. Their technology alone is simply beyond us. We have no idea what they want with Trip and until we find out more about their agenda we could just be putting more of this crew in danger. Much as I want to go down there and get Commander Tucker back we have to play this smart."

"What do you have in mind, Captain? You know I will help any way that I can."

"I know that Lieutenant, in fact I was counting on it. But first I need to speak to Sub-Commander T'Pol. I have a feeling she holds the answers we need."

* * * * *

Ensign Hoshi Sato had a headache. It did not help that no matter what she did she could not sleep without having the most horrendous nightmares. Shadows stalked her dreams and sucked her energy. Howling madness pulled at her mind and dragged her into cul-de-sacs of the imagination that reeked with images so horrific it flailed her senses into a ragged mass of twisted nerves. Yet most of them she could not remember. Only the terror remained. Feeling like death warmed up she slipped into her sweat shirt top and bottoms and made her way to sickbay. It was quiet and only the dull hum of the lighting teased her ears. She sighed with pleasure at the quietude, grateful not to have the bat screeching and the numerous other unsavoury creatures chittering and squeaking in the background. But it was still early.

She found Dr Phlox sitting in a chair by the full body scanner. He was sitting facing the door, his eyes closed as if in sleep. She smiled and almost turned around to go back to her quarters, not wishing to disturb the doctor if he was still sleeping. She could always come back a little later. As if aware of her thoughts his eyes suddenly opened. Hoshi resisted the urge to jump. What was the matter with her? Since when did Dr Phlox make her so jumpy? As the doctor's eyes came into focus, the compound retinas almost glowing, his face broke out into a huge V shaped smile. Hoshi smiled nervously back.

"Ah, Ensign Sato. What seems to be the problem?"

* * * * *

It was not often that anyone managed to stun the Chef into silence but Sub-Commander T'Pol had managed it. Ensign Mayweather kept his mouth shut and waited. Chef looked from the Sub-Commander to the Ensign then back again, his expression showing disbelief and disapproval in equal measure.

"Sub-Commander, your proposal breaks every rule of health and safety not to mention the contamination of foodstuffs and materials for the use in food preparation."

"I am quite aware of that, Chef, and I take full responsibility."

The Chef's lips compressed into an unimpressed line. "You misunderstand me, Sub-Commander. I was not about to endorse your request."

"We have no option but to commandeer one of your deep freezers."

He shook his head. "Impossible. I cannot allow it!"

"I could have the Captain order you to do so."

He crossed his arms not in the least intimidated by the Sub-Commander's rank or the threat of having the Captain breathing down his neck. This was his domain and no one was going to usurp his authority especially for such a dubious purpose as this. It was beyond unhygienic. It was totally unethical. The Sub-Commander took a moment to reconsider her strategy.

"I understand that you and Commander Tucker have an understanding?"

Chef's eyes narrowed.

"In exchange for which you create some of his dishes from home with more frequency that would be expected in the normal rotation of ship's menus."

"Your point, Sub-Commander?"

"The Commander is a friend of yours."

A statement not a question. The Chef eyed her suspiciously. "We have always got along very well, Sub-Commander, now I must insist you get to the point so that I may continue with my work."

Sub-Commander T'Pol sighed and for a moment looked so weary that the Chef felt his resolve weakening. "Chef, what I am going to tell you is in the strictest possible confidence. Can you assure me it will remain so?"

He considered her face for a long moment. "You can count on my silence."

She nodded then indicated to Ensign Mayweather to open the body bag. Alarmed, the Chef moved to stop him. "You can't open that in here!"

"Chef, you have already intimated in no uncertain terms that you will not allow us to place this material in the spare deep freeze until it can be treated in the appropriate manner. If you are unwilling to trust your First Officer then you leave me no alternative but to show you what is so important that we must take this unusual action."

The Chef looked uncertain. He stared down at the sealed bag. "Is there a body in there?" He asked quietly.

The Vulcan saw no reason to lie to him. "Yes."

He shut his eyes suddenly, recalling the Vulcan's words and questions. "Commander Tucker?"

Travis caught his breath but said nothing. After all, the Sub-Commander's selective questions did lead in that direction.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

Chef opened his eyes. A fiery quality in them she had not noticed before. "Do not prevaricate with me, Sub-Commander. Either the Commander is in that body bag or he isn't. Which is it?"

"There is a body inside this bag but it is not Commander Tucker. However, it does resemble him."

The Chef opened his mouth to ask another question then snapped it closed again. It occurred to him that it might be wiser if he did not know any more details. He glanced down at the bag and could not stop a shudder. "If you are going to use my facility I insist you put this bag inside a self sealing coffin. That will keep the contents airtight and minimise any risk of contamination before the body can freeze."

T'Pol nodded. It was an excellent suggestion and one she wished she had thought of. "That is acceptable. Thank you."

* * * * *

Conintue to Part 10

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A handful of people have made comments

GAH! Archer is such a dolt! This was a great chapter! Poor Travis. Thanks for giving him something to do.

Poor Phlox! And Archer...doh! This is really great stuff, Ali! Thanks!

Archer's mind is officially messed with. No one can be that stupid.

BTW, shoudln't someone have warned Hoshi?

Damn, I wouldn't let T'Pol put Trip in a meat locker... there goes the chicken...

Hmm... Archer is quite the dolt. You don't tell someone that you may suspect of being a saboteur that you have such suspicions. Oh well, hehe.

Talk about cliff Hangers!(No pun intended) This is great and eagerly awaiting the next Chapter. Yes, Archer is losing it, he needs to get a grip on what's going on around him.