The Messiah- Pt 2

The Messiah

By JD1

Rating: PG, Mystery, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount. No profit was made

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Part Two

*Alien Ship**

Shiloh was carefully escorted back to his room. His frail and weak body aching more with every step. The burn, he now had on his arm, stung every time it brushed the wall or a person walking by. Even the slightest breeze that dared to touch it shot pain up his arm with a new found vengeance.

The door appeared from its hiding place in the multicolored wall. He walked in and the door closed behind him before disappearing again. Though he knew where the door was, he had no intention of trying to escape. They were not going to harm him as long as he cooperated and he was not going to see what happened if he challenged that.

He looked over at the far corner and saw that a tray of food was set there. Realizing how hungry he really was, he walked over to it and looked at the food given. There was a plate of salad in the upper right hand corner and a bowl of Pecan soup in the lower. In upper left corner there was a cup of tea and water. Below that, was his fork, spoon, and napkin.

He sat down and ate the soup and most of the salad along with drinking the water. The food was not that bad, but much blander than his human taste buds were used to. Even so, it was still enough to quench his thirst and hunger.

The door opened and a child walked in. His brown hair was ruffled and he stood only a few inches shorter than Shiloh. The boy was about thirteen or so and looked like a human. His golden pants went only to the middle of his shins and the vest he wore did little to hide his chest and stomach.

In his hands, he held a small tray with medical supplies. "I thought you might want that arm looked at."

"Thanks," Shiloh replied to the kind voice of the boy. He walked over to the bed and sat down while the boy set the tray next to him. He carefully took his arm and Shiloh flinched went he did so.

"Sorry."

"It's ok. I'm Shiloh, what's your name?"

The boy looked up just as he finished applying the anti-bacteria. "My name?"

"Yea."

"Deacon."

"Hello, Deacon. How'd ya get here?" Shiloh asked as Deacon finished putting on the bandage.

"I was born here. They told me my parents were killed and that they wanted me to help them."

"But why would there be humans on this ship?"

"I don't know. They don't tell me that kind of thing." Deacon cleaned up the mess he had made and stood up with the tray in hand. Then he set it down at the table Shiloh had eaten at. After placing all the silverware and dishes onto the medical tray, he put that tray on top of the other.

"You don't have to do all this," Shiloh told him, "I can handle it.”

"No, it is my job," Deacon said, in an almost absent-minded tone.

"One question. Why am I here? I mean, why do they want me here?"

"I should go."

"You know?" As he scurried toward the door, Shiloh stopped him by placing his right arm out. "Wait! Will you come back?"

"And why would you want me to?" Deacon retorted.

"I want my answer," Shiloh replied. Deacon just nodded and walked out the door.

**Admiral Forrest’s Office**

The only way Trip could hack into the computer was directly in Forrest’s office. He walked up to the door and punched in the combination to grate him access to the room. The door slid opened and he ran into an unexpected person.

“Captain Tucker,” the emotionless Vulcan voice said.

“Soval, what are ya doin’ here?”

“I was looking for the Admiral to remind him of a meeting. And you?” Soval answered.

“Lookin’ for the Admiral. What meetin’?”

“Merely a closure on an… old trade agreement,” Soval said. Trip noticed the slight change in his voice, the blush of his skin tone, and the fact that he wasn’t looking him in the eye. All those things were signs that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Right. Anyway, the Admiral in?”

“No.”

“Then, I’ll be on my way.” Trip turned the corner and slightly waited for him to leave. When he could no longer hear the swift and even footfalls, he peaked over.

The hall was empty, so he walked up to the door and keyed in the code again. The dark room immediately lit up when it detected his presence. He stealthily walked over to the computer and turned it on.

He typed in 14869 and the computer answered, “Access denied.” He tried three more passwords before he tried 45821. “Access granted.”

Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday
Andorian leave for Osat
Meeting Vulcan meeting
0300 1200 hours

Trip looked through the planner and skipped ahead to Tuesday. “Osat…osat, that’s taso backwards,” he muttered to himself. He thought for a moment about the information in front of him and noticed the Vulcan part. “Why go to Vulcan if they weren’t involved?”

He took of the PADD that he had brought with him. After the information was downloaded onto the PADD, he could hear the sound of footsteps coming toward the door. Quickly he deactivated the computer terminal and rushed up to try and find a hiding place.

The door opened and Admiral Forrest stood outside. “Captain? What are you doing here?”

He was frozen; standing in the middle of the room. With the Vulcan teaching he had been given, he pushed his fear and embarrassment away. “I came to look for you. The door was opened and I assumed you were in. But ya weren’t so I was ‘bout t’ leave.”

“Well now that I’m here, what do you need?”

The Admiral walked over to his desk and sat down. All while his back was turned, Trip’s face showed his panic. By the time Forrest had looked at him, Trip seemed calm and had formulated a plan in his head.

“Well, sir. I was hopin’ t’ be allowed t’ visit the California with Admiral Archer.” Trip’s excuse seemed logical considering that was the plan.

“Really? I had no idea Jon was going to the California at all. Isn’t that your wife’s ship?”

“Yes, I figured I could get a look at ‘er ship and see my wife at the same time.”

“Well then, I have no objections,” the Admiral replied.

“Thank-you,” he turned around and exited the room. He leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked around and ran down the hall to find Jon and T’Pol.

**The Next Day**

Deacon came back in the morning to serve him breakfast. "Will you tell me now?"

"I don't think I should."

"Please, I want to know." He stopped and then said, "If you won't tell me why I'm here, can you at least tell me where we're going."

"The Taso's master's homeworld."

"And why are we going there?" Shiloh asked.

“Fifteen years ago, your parents were captured by a race known as the Taso, the people who have captured you. They are a brutal race that only their masters can control. Under their masters’ orders, they tortured your parents. Using medical data collected over a span of ten months. They altered their physiology; it was just enough to work but not enough to be detected by the scanners of that time.”

“I don’t understand, what was the point of doing that?” Shiloh.

“So that when you were born, you would be like you are; strong, intelligent, and have the knowledge of everything you need to know to accomplish what you must.”

“What am I here to accomplish?” Shiloh.

"Your life is merely a planed timer. Your existence is only a perfectly executed plan, flawless in its creation. You are here today simply because this is the time the Taso’s masters wished you to.”

“But why?” Shiloh.

“Millennia ago, there was a prophet who saw and made many of the prophecies that have shaped the Taso’s masters enormously. She saw a young boy, a messenger sent from the Gods to save them. In a time of great illness and death, he would come and help them.”

“But I know nothing about medicine. And besides, if I was sent from the Gods, why was it so important to create me?” Shiloh.

“You ask many questions that have the same answer.”

“You’re making no sense, you know that right?” Shiloh.

“They are the dream and the dreamer. You are their messiah, the messenger sent to them from them to help see them through this time. To help them.”

“But you do not believe that.” Shiloh.

“I am human, remember? I have seen the prophecy the way it was directly written and, over the years, I think they had begun to miss interpret the meaning. You are a messiah; that I am certain of. But not to them, to all; to your races.”

“How can I be a messenger to my own races when they already know me and have seen the message I represent? I show that there is a chance of unity between us; some accept that, others do not. I cannot make them listen to something they have already heard.” Shiloh

“Then don’t just make them listen, make them see. I should go. Do not forget what I have said.”

Once the door closed, Shiloh carefully lay down on the bed. He placed his right arm under his head and found, that in this bed, lying on his back was the only was to lie on it. He was completely motionless as he thought of what had just been said.

He was timed perfectly. His parents, simply unwilling souls that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were taken without reason and altered so that he would have the special advantage he had before he was even an embryo. His parents, himself, and probably many other people were just pawns in a game.

But the words, “You are a messiah,” kept playing inside his head. These were people he knew nothing about. People he had only heard about moments ago and they thought that he could help them.

And what Deacon said about him being a true messiah to his people. How could that be? He was famous; his name spoken on both planets with awe and admiration for some and others with disgust and annoyance. His parents were the same. Their marriage known to both worlds not long after it happened. Just as his conception was quickly spread and the date of his birth was well known.

They knew the only message he could ever send to them; that it is possible to be a unified race. But not many listened then or now. How was he going to change that? What had Deacon said, “Then don’t just make them listen, make them see.” Make them see? See what? His ears to prove he was a Vulcan? How well his parents work together and that they love each other? What then? He didn’t know and, for once in his life, that scared him more than anything.

**California, Captain’s Ready Room**

“I don’t think Starfleet’s the only one workin’ with the Taso,” Trip commented as he, T’Pol, and Archer walked into T’Pol’s ready room.

“What do you mean?” Archer asked.

“Look at the schedule, why would they be going to Vulcan if the High Command weren’t involved?”

“How do you know that’s why he’s going; to see the Taso?”

“Two days later, about how long it would take to get there, it says he has a meeting with the Osat. As far as I know, they don’t exist. Plus, osat is taso backwards.”

“If that is the case, perhaps they are meeting in neutral territory,” T’Pol said, trying to defend her people.

“No, I don’t think so. I caught Soval comin’ out of Forrest’s office. He said that he was there to remand him of a meetin’. Something about closing an old trade agreement.”

“I’d say fifteen years, possibly longer, qualifies as old. But you don’t know that’s what he was referring to,” Archer added.

“The way he said it, I got the impression that he was lying…or not tellin’ the whole truth. If the Taso want Shiloh, then they would have to trade somethin’ for their silence and cooperation.”

“What’s the price for a child’s life these days?” Archer mused before asking, “When’s the meeting?”

“1200 hours on Thursday.”

“Can you get us there by then?”

“Of course,” T’Pol answered.

“Captain, there are two people here that wish to speak with you,” the comm. chirped.

“Send them in.”

The door opened and two people walked in. Both wore Starfleet uniforms; one red and the other gold. The one in gold had dark skin, hair, and eyes while the other had pale skin, blue eyes, and dark brown hair. The one in gold was a Lieutenant and the other was a Lieutenant Commander.

“Malcolm? Travis? Whacha doin’ here?” Trip asked, slurring his words together.

“We heard about Shiloh. We’re sorry and want to help,” Malcolm’s British accent said.

“We know you’ve got something brewing,” Travis piped in.

Archer smiled and asked, “You still remembered how to fly one of these things?” Travis grinned and nodded his head while T’Pol gave her own nodded indicating that she agreed.

They walked onto the bridge and T’Pol headed for her spot in the center of the bridge. “Ensign, relinquish the helm to Lieutenant Mayweather.” Though the ensign was confused, he stood up and gave the helm to Travis. “Set course for Vulcan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Vulcan Transport Vessel, Wednesday Night**

He stood and watched the stars go by. He sighed as he thought about what he had done and was about to do. “You could not sleep?” Soval said from behind him.

“No, I was…thinking,” Forrest responded.

“This is no time for second thoughts. It is almost done; we both have fulfilled our parts.”

“Yea, I know. It’s just…this doesn’t seem moral. He’s only a kid,” Forrest said.

“A child that will live a life most people only dream about.” Soval stepped closer and looked at his home planet as it came into view.

“Yes, but when does that become separate from what we are doing?”

“For one child’s life here, with his family, we will save three races from destruction. And if his purpose is true, a fourth as well.”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one,” Forrest recited, nodding his head.

** Meanwhile, on the California**

“I demand to know what is going on here! We are supposed to be going to the next system not Vulcan! Those were the orders!”

“Our orders have changed, Commander,” T’Pol said calmly and smoothly, just as a Captain should to an officer out of line.

They were in the situation room (AN: I finally found out what it’s called!) discussing what was going on. Trip and Archer had voted on not telling Commander Darwin what they were doing and T’Pol had agreed. Which was why they were in this situation in the first place. T’Pol was trying to dismiss the Commander so they could talk to Malcolm and Travis privately.

“You are in no place to be demanding anything, Mister. The orders you heard have changed and are now classified, even from you. If you don’t like that, deal with it. I can have you locked up for the time being so you don’t have to be a part of it.”

“That won’t be necessary, Admiral,” Darwin said through clench teeth.

“Good, you’re dismissed.” He turned on his heels and stormed out onto the bridge; rage and anger controlling his movements.

“Finally, I thought we were never goin’ get rid of ‘im,” Trip commented.

“Here’s the scoop. We have reason, good reason, to believe that this whole situation has gone back a long time.”

“How long?” Malcolm inquired.

“About fifteen years long. It was probably right around the time Trip and T’Pol were captured by the Taso,” Archer continued. “We believe that Starfleet and the High Command are working for them. If not out of fear, then for something that could be valuable to them.”

“What do you mean, ‘working together’?” Travis asked.

“For some reason, the Taso need Shiloh. To have pulled off what they have done, they would have needed an inside source. Why else would the Admiral have not permitted anyone to look for him if he was not that source,” T’Pol explained.

“Yea, but he did say that the orders were not his entirely, implying that he only knows everything. He may not be in charge.”

“The president?” Travis asked.

“No, I don’t think it goes up that far,” Archer said.

“How do you know the Vulcan’s are apart of it?” Malcolm asked the question on both of their minds.

“When I went to Admiral Forrest’s office, I saw Soval coming out. He said that he was there to remind the Admiral of an old trade agreement that they were going to close. He had on one of those faces that Vulcans have when they’re lyin’. Plus, why would they go t’ Vulcan if they weren’t part of it?” Trip gave his explanation.

“We figured the trade was whatever they got from the Taso for their help and the Taso got the kid. It’s definably old and they are probably closing the deal tomorrow,” Archer added.

“Alright, so what are we going to do about it?”

“To make it look as legit as possible and keep it a secret, they’re going to be at one of the secure diplomat buildings. Since there are only four, we can scan them all for Taso or human/Vulcan DNA. Trip managed to get the codes for all of them so it wont matter which one. There’s a Starfleet presence in each of them so we just have to pretend to work there. We get in, find the kid, and get out before they know what hit them.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Travis commented.

“They always do in the beginning, it’s when you execute them that it becomes hard,” Malcolm said with his natural pessimism.

**Alien Ship, the Next Day at 1200**

He was sitting on the bed, not tired enough to sleep and yet completely bored. Suddenly, he felt the ship slow to a much slower pace. They had dropped out of warp. But why? The door slid opened and the Doctor and Terion walked in.

“How is the arm?” Terion asked with sincere concern. Shiloh looked down at it and shrugged. It no longer hurt unless something hit it and he was sure it was not infected, for Deacon changed the bandages regularly.

“You must come with us,” the doctor said.

“Why? Where are we?”

“You will see soon enough.” The doctor walked up to him and guided him to the door. Then, they walked out the room and went to their transporter.

Once they were on the planet they had been orbiting, the three walked down a mass of hallways and passages. They were completely empty and it was as though they had been cleared for a purpose. The gray coloring of the walls hurt his eyes after becoming accustom to the multi-colored room he had stayed in.

When they arrived at a door, they stopped and keyed in an access code. The doors opened and they walked in. What Shiloh saw then, shocked and dismayed him. For there sat four representatives of the Vulcan High Command, two being his grandparents, and four representatives of Starfleet.

His captors steered him inside the room. Two others of their species were already seated and bowed their heads at him when they turned around.

“Ah, you got the little thing. Good,” one of them said.

Shiloh barely heard a word of their discussion as he looked around. His grandparents and Soval, along with another Vulcan he had never seen before, sat on the left looking at him with stoic eyes. All except his grandparents who both appeared on the verge of tears.

He looked at the other side and his eyes immediately locked with those of Admiral Forrest. His eyes were sad and regretful. Shiloh could see this decision was weighting heavily on his mind. When he looked at the others, he didn’t know them but one wore a Starfleet uniform.

“See, just as we have promised, he was not hurt at all,” announced the Taso that had spoken with Terion a moment before.

“I will be the judge of that, Tecion,” his grandfather spat at the tall man. “Did they hurt you?”

Shiloh looked up at his captor when he tapped him on the back. The look said to tell him a lie and say no. He thought that, perhaps if he said yes they would get him out of there. But then if he said yes his captors might have hurt him.

The lesson he was listening to at the Academy flowed back to him:

“When your enemy is the only one you can trust to not hurt you, do as they want. But when an opportunity arises to try and escape, take it.”

“A little,” Shiloh shrugged and his bandages became clear to those sitting at the table.

“You went against our agreement!” Admiral Forrest yelled.

“We had to be sure, this was the only way,” the doctor defended himself.

“I’m sure it was, Uion,” Soval growled.

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