To Boldly Go Once Again - Ch 6

To Boldly Go Once Again

By Eratta

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1

A/N: I’ve never seen TOS, so all I know of the Tholians is based of “Future Tense” and some research on startrek.com. Also, spoilers for “Damage” are scattered around. And yay, I got this out in only two weeks! And as always, a huge thanks and hug to Jenna for being my beta.

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Chapter 6

At first he thought it was a nightmare. The sound of claxons, once affectionately known as the Reed Alarm, shook Trip from his already troubled dreams. He dragged on some pants as he stumbled out the door in a blind rush to engineering. Ensigns and crewmen ran past him, and it was with no small amount of irony that he realized some things truly were unchanging.

“What’s the problem?” he shouted, wondering what was taking so long to shut off the claxons.

“Everything seems to be working fine, sir.” Lt. Montgomery yelled over the din as he climbed up beside her to the main consol. Trip gave everything a quick once over, his brow creased as he confirmed what she had said.

“Bridge to Engineering” Archer’s voice resonated through the large metal room.

“Cap’n,” Trip said, reverting back to old habits, “what the hell’s goin’ on?”

“We don’t know; we’re caught in some kind of force field. Is there anything you can do to break us free?”

Trip grimaced at the typical request. “We’re already at 4.5. I can’t push the engines anymore without doing some serious damage.”

“All right, keep tight down there.” Archer said before cutting off the link.

Keep tight, yeah right, Trip thought, checking out the other ship systems. It was times like these that he wished he spent more time on the bridge. It’d be nice to know things as they happen, just for once.

Up on the bridge, Archer had fallen into the familiar habit of wishing he’d remained a pilot and never been promoted.

“Who are they?” he asked T’Pol, grasping the bar at the front of her consol. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable yet lacking the neutrality he was expecting. Her face, tinted blue by the dark lighting of the Tactical Alert, looked strangely young.

“Tholians” was all she said. That rang a bell somewhere in the Commodore’s memory, but he couldn’t place it.

“Bloody hell, sir they’re closing on us and the field is starting to exert pressure on the hull.” Malcolm cursed.

Archer looked at him hard, and then thumbed the comm. at the helm consol.

“Trip?”

“Yessir?” Trip called.

“Shut off the engines.” Archer said through tight lips.

“Cap’n?”

“We need to polarize the hull plating. The field is going to crush us if we don’t.” He looked towards T’Pol for confirmation, and she nodded.

“Aye, sir.” Trip said. A moment later, the gentle thrumming of the engines was gone as power was rerouted to the hull-plating.

“How do we stand on weapons?” Archer asked, striding over to Reed’s station.

“Full complement sir, but we don’t stand much of a chance against those three vessels.” The weapon’s expert looked up at his commanding office, blue eyes glinting with reflections of red and yellow from numerous panels in front of him.

“I’ve scanned them. Their weapons are comparable to ours, but they’re fast. I could take out one, maybe two before major systems are disabled.”

Archer said nothing when Malcolm stopped talking. He knew they didn’t have a chance. This was probably what happened to Columbia, he thought. He turned around once again to T’Pol. If there was a way out of this she would have mentioned it by now, but he went to her again anyway. They said nothing as they exchanged a look. She looked at him, her expression soft; a semblance of the T’Pol he had relied on so heavily. He knew she understood him.

“Little is known about Tholians, but the last time we encountered them, it had something to do with the Temporal Cold War.”

Archer nodded. He turned to Lieutenant Sato, who already had one hand poised over the keys and the other pushing her earpiece into better position. In a fleeting thought, he appreciated her ability to anticipate his actions.

“Hoshi,” he began. She nodded and in seconds had a channel opened to one of the Tholian vessels.

“I’m Commodore Jonathon Archer,” he stated, standing in front of the view screen. The image didn’t change as the sounds of a clicking, squealing and barking language came through.

Sato’s hands flew across the board, trying to clean up the translation.

“Hull pressure nearing critical,” Reed warned.

A handful of words, “entering . . . disarm . . . alien vessel” came though the com before it was cut off, but before Archer could even give the order T’Pol called out an update.

“Eight vessels approaching at high warp.”

“Please tell me they’re not Tholian.” He begged, easing himself down into the captain’s chair.

“I think you’d prefer they were.” She said, her tone bordering on wry. “They’re Suliban cell ships.”

Archer closed his eyes and paid reluctant homage to Murphy’s Law.

“Captain,” Reed said, “they’re firing on the Tholians.”

“So now we’re caught in the crossfire?” Archer demanded, standing once again.

“We’re still in the force field sir, but the Tholian weapons are drawing power away from it. We could attempt an escape.” Malcolm offered.

Archer gave him a tight grin. “Hope you’re in a mood to shoot someone.” He said.

Malcolm grinned back. “Always, sir.”

The com sounded and Trip’s voice flooded the bridge. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on out there?”

“Right on time Trip,” Archer said, ignoring Tucker’s irritated tone, “full power to the engines, now.” He then addressed Pallavi at the helm, “Ensign,”

They reeled around, freeing themselves from the disintegrating energy web with sheer force. Coming about, they fired on the retreating Tholian vessels. Once they were gone, a double beep sounded from the communication consol. Archer turned expectantly in Lt. Sato’s direction.

“Sir.” She said, indicating there was a hail coming through. He nodded and squared his shoulders, fairly certain of what was to come.

The view of the Suliban vessel blinked into a face, one he knew quite well. But this time, unlike all the previous times, Jonathon Archer was not surprised to see Silik. His pebbled face hadn’t changed, just as his smoldered yellow eyes retained their perpetual smugness.

“Captain Archer.” He said, the smugness in his eyes verbalized now in that insufferable voice.

“Actually, it’s Commodore.” Archer responded. “I suppose I should thank you for getting those Tholians off our backs.”

The smugness in the Suliban’s face increased three fold. “I’m not a philanthropist, Captain. I have a proposition for you, and if you don’t comply I’ll fire on you as well.”

Archer thought for a moment, just staring at the image of his most frequently recurring enemy. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” He answered.

Silik ended the communication, and before Archer could even turn around his senior crew began to bombard him with doubts.

“He’s nothing but trouble, sir.” Malcolm said. “It’s likely to be a trap.”

“I agree with Commander Reed.” T’Pol said from her station.

Archer looked at the two of them. “It might be a trap, but it might not be.”

T’Pol made a motion to say something again, but Archer silenced her with a raised hand. “If he didn’t need us, he wouldn’t have saved our lives. He needs something, and I intend to find out what that is.”

He turned to Malcolm. “Get two people and meet me in Launch Bay 1.” Reed promptly left his consol, and on his way out Archer called out over his shoulder to T’Pol, “You’re in command.”

He was stepping into the turbolift when she stuck her hand into it, triggering the motion sensors that prevented the door from closing.

“You can’t leave.” She hissed, her eyes glinting hard. Archer narrowed his eyes at her. “We don’t have time for this.” He replied, extending his hand to knock hers out of the door’s way. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed, making Jon grit his teeth.

“If he needs you, he can wait.” T’Pol said. Her tone was soft, but beneath it Jon sensed a good deal of tension, and it triggered a memory of darker days. “I won’t let you do it!” she had screamed. Then in one smooth motion had thrown all control out of the airlock as she smashed the PADD on his desk.” Archer had never found out what had happened to her, but the look she was giving him now, plus that fact that she was actually touching him, was too unusual to ignore. “I shut myself off from her before,” he thought, “I won’t do it again. Never again.”

He looked back at Reed, who nodded, and exited the turbolift. T’Pol released her grip on him and followed Archer to the Ready Room. He stepped inside and turned to face her as she also stepped in. Her face was downcast, her arms stiffly entwined at her back. He waited for her to begin.

“I apologize for my display.” She said. It was clipped and delivered in a monotone, and Archer recognized it in an instant. He was used to this game.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, knowing there was only one way to beat Vulcan prevarication.

“This is unwise.” She said, raising her face.

“We have no choice.” Archer reminded her. He peered at her, expecting her to throw some logic at him. But there was none. She remained stoically silent, like a scolded Vulcan child. He was getting impatient and shouldered his way past her when she finally finished the prevarication game.

“What if something happens to you?” she challenged, whirling around again to argue with him head on.

“Then you’ll carry on, just like you have every other time that I’ve left you in command.” Archer said. He was getting worried now. Her facial muscles were twitching; a collapse of her Vulcan composure seemed imminent again. Her eyes were wide and erratic, and he could tell by the flexing of her arm muscles that she was fighting hard to keep her hands clenched. Archer made a decision at that moment, betting on their friendship that some human comfort just might work right now. He slowly brought his hands up and placed them just below her deltoids, squeezing them gently.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, just as he should have asked over and over at the climax of the Xindi Mission.

T’Pol took a deep breath and closed her eyes, breathing meditatively until Archer took his hands away. When she opened her eyes again, she was her old self.

“I can’t be in command.” She said. It was simple, and yet it left so much unsaid.

“Why not?” Archer asked.

She took care to enunciate her words carefully, another Vulcan trick that Archer was overly familiar with. “I do not wish to be in command again.”

“Again, why not?” Archer pressed. As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of this, he had to go. Now.

“I just can’t, Commodore. I will not be left in command.” She restated, adding a touch of steel to her tone. Archer huffed in frustration, staring at her while he thought as rapidly as he could. He needed to count on her, but if she said she couldn’t be in command, she no doubt had a good reason for it.

“All right.” He finally said, “Get Trip up here.” T’Pol nodded, though she didn’t relax as Archer expected her to. But there wasn’t anymore time to ponder her strange behavior. He left the Ready Room and the bridge, preparing himself to deal with Silik.

Chapter 7

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