Through Fire

Through Fire

By JD1

Rating: PG-13 for some strong language later on, suggested adult situations, and mild violence
Pairings: Trip and T’Pol
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount.
Summary: What will happen onboard the Enterprise when a mysterious Vulcan suddenly becomes part of the crew? Why is he there, and what does he want?

Author’s Note: Hi, how’s everyone doing? Wow, I haven’t posted on this site in forever. You all probably thought I died or something, I know. I’ve just been very busy with Stargate stories. Sorry. But I’m finally posting here. Aren’t you proud of me?

Um, this story has been posted at FF.Net for about two and a half weeks, so some of you might recognize it.

Please enjoy the story, have fun, and R/R when you’re done. Hey, that rhymed!
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The Vulcan looked at the screen. He knew what it said; he knew the conditions first hand. His eyes closed, imagining what it must have been like. He remembered the other victims… those of their enemy and how they had looked… how they had suffered, how they had died. He remembered the young girl and her little brother and thought of all the children on the three colonies.

He thought of all the families he had seen die on that planet… thought of them as they slowly suffocated to death… their heart gradually coming to a stop… the numbness they must have felt.

And, for a moment, he wished he had been there. That he had been there to comfort them, to be with them in their final moments, to die with them like he should. He never should have left there… his father had been right, the military had not been a good idea for him. Just heartbreak… for everyone.

But, then, rational thought took over and told him how stupid that sounded. He needed to be in control, logical… emotionless if he was going to complete the mission his superiors were sending him on. No matter how crazy it sounded, it seemed better than living through the hell he called his life. He just hoped that it worked…

Enterprise, Bridge

“Captain, I’m picking up a distress signal,” Ensign Hoshi Sato announced, looking over at her Captain.

Captain Jonathan Archer stood, looking over at his Comm. Officer. “Xindi?”

“I don’t think so, sir. It looks more… Vulcan, sir,” she announced with surprise.

“Where is it coming from?”

“That nebula.”

“Travis,” Archer said, his order understood by the Helm Officer, Ensign Travis Mayweather.

“I’m on it, sir.” Expertly, Mayweather piloted the starship closer to the escape pod where the signal was coming from. As they got closer, it was easy to see the damaged condition the ship was in.

“Any lifesigns?” Captain Archer asked, taking in the sight of the grayish green pod against the swirling purples, pinks, and blues of the nebula.

“One, sir. And it is Vulcan.”

Archer nodded at his Comm. Officer before telling Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, “Can you pull it in with the grappler?”

“I can try, sir,” Malcolm answered, his English accent adding a different cadence to his voice than the Indiana-native. Archer turned back to the view screen, watching the mechanical grapplers grabbing onto the pod. “Got it, sir. I’ll try to pull it into our Shuttle Bay.”

“Good. T’Pol, come with me. Hoshi, tell Phlox to meet us down there.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded, not taking the time to watch her two highest-ranking superiors walk out the bridge.

Enterprise, Sickbay

Slowly the young Vulcan began to rouse from his deep sleep, starring blankly at the ceiling above him. Looking to his side, he found that his surrounds were completely unfamiliar to him. Lifting himself up on his elbows, he took a deep breath, trying to stop this head from spinning. Listening, he heard the sounds of a door opening and footsteps walking through the threshold.

Though he couldn’t see them, he listened to their conversation quietly; it was as if he was trying to assess where he was and who they were along with any threat they might pose him.

He could hear the higher pitched voice of a male, speaking to the others. He was telling them about his patient’s- presumably the Vulcan’s- condition. The next voice to speak- a deeper, commanding voice- asked something about his being a Vulcan and questioning that possibility.

A new, female voice jumped in. Her voice was more monotone rather than the giddy man and other, bewildered, one. She stated the possibility that he had come from one of the two Vulcan ships they knew had entered the Expanse.

The deeper male voice spoke again, seemingly accepting the possibility, and inquiring if the Vulcan could be woken. The higher pitched voice- the Vulcan deduced was the Doctor- responded with an affirmative answer.

At that moment, he could hear footsteps approaching his concealed bed. Acting as quickly as he could, the Vulcan folded his shirtsleeve up and removed the device it contained. Breaking it opened, he knew that whatever was in it would quickly spread throughout the large ship.

Three soft thuds were heard on the other side of the curtain and the Vulcan knew they had been the first to come in contact with the drug. Standing on two wobbly legs, he retrieved a circular object from his pants pocket.

It would take time to finish his work before they woke, which wouldn’t be for another twenty hours. Plenty of time to do what he needed done. But first things first…

Enterprise, Bridge

In one fluent motion, the doors to the turbolift opened. Archer, curious, turned to look in that direction just as Selak walked out. Dressed in his crisp uniform, he walked without thought to his position at the engineering console. Even through all of Trip’s complaints, he had still been put as the second in command of Tucker’s engine room, and the man had been furious at the time. Of course, over the past few mouths, he had warmed up to the Vulcan.

Archer shot a suspicious look over at the Vulcan. He still didn’t know how much he could trust the young officer. But, just as it happened with T’Pol, he was beginning to get used to the man as he, too, was starting to integrate himself into the crew.

Looking back out the view screen, he looked at the large nebula they had been investigating. Nothing had turned up as important and they were preparing to leave. But something seemed out of place about that, Archer just couldn’t pinpoint it. Shrugging it off, he ordered Travis to take them away and start back on their destination.

The stars whizzed by, enchanting Captain Archer as he slipped back into his mind to contemplate his latest situation. They were on their way to an old mining colony, Trip and Selak having volunteered to help fix some of their broken equipment. In exchange, they were to receive the necessary dilithium Enterprise needed to continue running.

But, as long as those two were occupied leaving nothing else to accomplish, Archer wanted to explore some of the other interesting features the area had to offer. He wanted to go back to the old ways. To the days when they were able to explore and meet other people rather than seeking to fight off another in order to save themselves.

Archer sighed. Looking around, he saw the familiar faces that- for most of them- had been there since the beginning. Those officers who had gone with him to fend off the Suliban and save Klaang. Those who he had immense respect for and those he knew would go as far as it took to save their world. And that was what he loved about his dedicated crew.

His eyes continued to wonder, to remember every fact about every officer on the bridge. To remember their names, their families, some of their interest. And, when they settled on Selak, he paused. It was true he knew very little about the young man. That, as a Vulcan, he isolated himself from the crew most of the time. But Archer knew that, no matter what, the man would give his life to protect the ship, the crew, and Earth… even without the blood or genetic ties to any Humans. And that was something he envied about the emotionless Vulcan. Both Vulcans that he knew.

His eyes turned back to the view screen, once again enchanted by the white stars stretching as warp speed distorted them…

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility

“Are you guys all set?” Captain Archer asked his long time friend over the comm., his eyes set on the planet they were currently orbiting.

“Yeah, I think so,” Commander Tucker replied, glancing over to Lieutenant Selak- the Vulcan talking to some of the workers. Trip looked the aliens over quickly, noticing immediately their pale skin tone and cheek and forehead ridges. “We’ll see ya in a few. Have fun without us.”

Archer nodded, even though he knew Trip couldn’t see him. A soft smile tugging the corners of his mouth and a long forgotten feeling crept into his stomach. He was excited; finally, a break from the Xindi, even if its only a few hours.

With that, Archer closed the comm. link between them just prior to giving Travis the order to go to warp.

Trip walked over to Delert, the owner and manager of the dilithium mines, “You wanted us to fix somethin’?”

“Right this way, Commander, Lieutenant.”

Enterprise, Mess Hall

“Hey! Valiente! Come sit over here.”

Lieutenant Valiente looked through the afternoon crowd that had formed, coming in for a quick meal before their shift. A few tables down from where he stood, he could see his newest friend, Gary White, sitting with two others he didn’t recognize. With his tray in hand, Valiente strolled over to their table, very conscious of the fact that all three were MACOs.

The other two watched as the blonde man sat down, noticing his pips and the red lining of his uniform. He, too, took in both of them, seeing that little was the same except for their MACO uniforms. The woman’s short, dark hair, deep drown eyes, and darker skin separated her from the brunette man and his green eyes, his skin ghostly white by comparison.

“Oh, guys, this is Lieutenant Dixion Valiente. Valiente, this is Sergeant Glen Anthony and Sergeant Nila Eveleen.”

“Hello,” Dixion said hesitantly to the other two, suddenly feeling far more awkward than he had at Starfleet Academy.

Anthony merely nodded at him, looking back at his food. Nila, however, gave him a pleasant smile, saying, “Nice to meet you,” in a very thick accent- it sounded French or something. African perhaps, but that was hardly Dixion’s department.

A blanket of silence fell over them, only disrupted by the endless chatter and sounds made from the others in the room. Dixion sighed, he hated to feel like the odd one out, perhaps he shouldn’t have sat with them, but then there really wasn’t anywhere else to sit.

“So, how’s engineering been? Like it down there?” Gary asked, his freckled face splitting into a teasing smile. Dixion shook his head, reminding the man that he only worked on the environmental systems. “Well someone has ta do it.”

Dixion smiled at his friend’s accent; it was clear that he came from Ireland, his firry red hair only standing to prove his claim. Valiente had always loved the Irish cadence in their voice, it made them sound jovial all the time.

“Yeah, but it sure can be boring work.”

“Well, at least it keeps others from having to do it,” Nila joked. Apparently she didn’t mind the young, Starfleet engineer.

“So they stick it on me?”

“Who else would want it?” Gary retorted.

“You can have it for all I care.” Dixion sighed, admitting, “To be honest, I’d clean the warp injectors for the entire trip, just as long as I get to be in space on a starship, I couldn’t care less.”

“But you’d rather have some cushiony position, right?”

“That would be preferable,” Dixion told Nila, finding that he really liked her odd accent. Maybe it was a little English.

“We should be going; our shift starts in five minutes.”

Dixion looked over at the other man- introduced as Glen. This was the first time he had spoken since he sat down, it shocked him a little to hear him interrupt the conversation with his rough, almost scratchy voice.

“Yeah. Sorry, Dixion, but we’ve got to leave. I’ll see ya later, huh?”

“Yeah. Later. It was nice to meet both of you,” he said politely, receive a grin from Nila and a scowl from Glen. Sitting back down, he looked at his tray. It was only half eaten but he was hardly hungry.

With a sigh, he picked up the tray and followed the three MACOs’ course out of the room.

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility

“Hey, kid. Think ya could go in there and turn off the main power relay? I’d rather not get electrocuted when I try t’ fix this,” Trip joked, pointing at the shaft he wanted him to go into.

Selak looked up from his work, nearly done but relatively unimportant for the time. Following Trip’s hand, seeing it pointing at the hatch door. The Vulcan stood, walking in his regular, long paces to reach the shaft. With ease, he pulled the door off and set it aside.

Trip heard the sudden sound of quickened breathing. He looked up at where the sound was coming from. For a moment, he was shocked to find the condition the young Vulcan was in. His normally bronze skin paled, his breathing quick and shallow, and his eyes starring with untold fear as he gazed into the small shaft.

“What’sa matter?” The southerner asked, standing and walking over to Selak with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he responded, suddenly pulling himself out of his stupor.

Trip grabbed his arm, looking at him with concern. “Are ya sure? You don’t look too well.”

“I am fine…” The Vulcan stopped as he saw the knowing look the Commander held in his eyes. “I am… claustrophobic.”

“Really?” Selak nearly smiled, amused at how shocked he seemed at the revelation that Vulcan’s truly did have fears.

He raised an eyebrow, a seemingly natural Vulcan gesture, and informed the Human, “Vulcan’s do have fears just as Humans. We merely do not display them as often or casually as your species does.”

“Right… well, would ya like me to do this? You can do my part instead.”

“That would be… most appreciated.”

“No problem,” Trip responded with a smile, handing over his tool and slipping into the shaft.

Selak moved away from the opened hatch. His heart was still pounding in his ears and he knew he was struggling to maintain control over his breathing. His mind was flooded with old memories, even as he tried to force them away. For the past two years he had not been able to even think about entering something like that without freaking out, now was no different.

Taking one last deep, calming breath, Selak knelt down and began finishing the Commander’s work. All the while, he banished all thoughts and memories, focusing solely on the problem at hand.

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, A Few Hours Later

“I’ll be right back, ok? I just have t’ ask Delert something,” Trip informed his coworker, standing and heading out the door, the Vulcan hardly acknowledge his statement.

Walking along the quiet corridors, he tried to recall the path they had traveled earlier to find Delert’s office.

Strolling up to the door, he paused as he heard voice speaking rather loudly inside. Trip, even though he knew that he shouldn’t, pressed his ear to the door and listened in on the conversation. He could barely hear through the thick door but was able to make out most of the words.

“Just give them a little longer. They seem to be working quite well with the pumps; they’ll have them operational in a day or so,” he could hear Delert plead.

“We can not wait any longer. Their ship might return at any moment,” said a second voice. It was powerful, commanding.

“They can fix the pumps faster and better than we can, which means more deuterium for you.” Delert sounded desperate. Even more so, he was afraid of this other man.

“They have thirty more minutes.” Footsteps sounded in the other room and Trip knew they were leaving. Hiding around the corner, he saw three Reptilian Xindi walked out of the room.

Sighing with silent relief, he watched them walk away, thankful they were heading in the opposite direction. A thought dawned on him: they had been talking about Selak and him. And, in thirty minutes, they would be coming to get them.

Enterprise, Bridge

“Ain’t that a sight” Archer smiled, marveling at the view he and the bridge had.

Barely a few thousands kilometers ahead of them, a pair of twin stars filled their view, and, just behind that, a large gas nebula provided a backdrop; the sensors indicated that it was almost one kilometer long and wide.

Ensign Mayweather let out a low whistle. Never in all his travels- which had been his whole life- had he seen anything as breathtaking. And he had seen some interesting things in his life- gas giants, new species, super novas, nebulas, and thousands of other such things.

All Ensign Sato could do was awe at the site. With her mouth slightly a gap and a tiny smile forming on her lips, she found the beauty to be a great relief from the war and death that had been raging on for almost eight months.

Even Malcolm, though unimpressed with many natural wonders, couldn’t help but find himself the least bit intrigue and stupefied by the image. The sheer size and color- the bright pinks, purples, and reds and blues- that created the nebula.

But T’Pol, ever the scientist, took little time to admire the view. Albeit, underneath all her Vulcan logic and control, she was amazed, her “Vulcan-ness” wouldn’t allow for any “drooling” over the find.

Once over his initial shock, Archer could still only mutter, “It’s good to be back to exploring.”

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility

Trip’s heart pounded in his chest, racing faster and faster until he feared it might explode. Though he had managed to quiet his breathing, he knew it was still unusually fast and labored. He strained to hear outside of the familiar walls he and the young Vulcan had taken refuge, the pounding against his ribcage causing a problem.

He glanced over at Selak, noticing his pale complexion and shallow breaths. The engineer knew that he didn’t want to be in there; that his phobia was scaring him more than the immediate threat outside. He was still curious where his fear had developed and how but chose not to push the already tender subject, not that now was the time.

The noisy footsteps of their hunters echoed in the small area, alerting the two to the movements outside. Words were exchanged in a foreign language, sounding like orders in the form of harsh shouts.

Trip’s eyes shut tight, hoping that they weren’t going to check their location. They had successfully evaded them three times, finally hiding in the shaft. But, as they knew might happen, the Xindi had found them before their shipmates.

Trip heard the cold, mechanical lock disengage and the hatch being pulled opened, betraying the shaft’s hidden refugees. The soldiers beamed with pleasure, pulling the occupants from their hiding place and holding them with firm grips.

Selak watched the scene as it seemed to fly by him in slow motion. His mind flashed with recognition, recalling similar events happening in his life but not daring to speak of them. He hardly allowed his mind to retreat to those memories at all.

The Xindi commander walked up to them, his height allowing him to look down at his captives, giving an even more intimidating look to the ugly alien. His lips tugged up in, what appeared to be, a boastful grin.

“Well, well, well, I finally get to met one of the vile Humans.” Trip tried hard not to flinch away at the smell of his hot breath, his ears not missing the sarcastic note the man had put on ‘Human’.

Trip struggled against his captor, trying to make himself more comfortable rather than any attempt at escape. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw Selak gaze on with a cool look, masking his former fear.

“Take them away,” he spat and spun around to leave.

Location: Unknown

Trip and Selak were taken somewhere by the Xindi, their destination was still unknown to them. Selak looked around the dark interior of the alien facility, unsettled by the eerie feel it had to it.

Walking along the long corridor, he observed the two Xindi guards in front of them. They were in no position to attack quickly if Trip or Selak did anything. But the other two, standing behind them with their weapons aimed at the Human and Vulcan’s back, were the true problem.

Selak’s eye caught something on the floor, his mind hurrying to find a way to use this to his advantage. It was only when the other two guards turned down the opposite hallway, that Selak took the opportunity. Reaching behind himself, he grabbed for the alien’s weapon, trying to pull it out of his hold. But he wasn’t quick or strong enough to remove it from his captor.

His jaw made a horrible cracking noise as the butt of the weapon made contact with his face. Selak was forced to the ground, the back of his head hitting the wall. After several seconds of not moving Trip, who was being firmly held by the other Xindi despite his protests, was fearful that he had blacked out.

When the Vulcan moved it was only when he felt the Xindi’s foot make contact with his right side, the pain practically blinding him in its intensity. His breath caught, his eye shutting in pain. A soft moan escaped his lips, his mind able to at least stop the scream from leaving his throat.

“Get up!” The harsh yell echoed in his ears, his mind telling him to obey but his body not able to comply. Cold, leather covered hands grabbed his arms, leaving behind bruises as he pulled the young man to his feet and pushing him along.

Enterprise, Bridge

Captain Archer’s mind was on the passing stars, flying past at warp speed. The sight, he had to admit, was beautiful, but all too familiar. He smiled, though. Familiar. That was what exploring had been; now it was fighting.

Archer relaxed back into his chair. Relaxing, as well. He hadn’t had the chance in some time. No, not in a long time. Even during the first two years of their mission he hadn’t thought of himself relaxed for half the time- he had no idea what stress really was then, though.

But now he knew it all too well. The stress, the pressure, of not knowing where some of your men were. The stress of sending men to their deaths- his own people or others. The stress of finding the weapon, of not failing his people… his world.

Sighing, Archer thought back to his two officers. They- at least Trip- would have enjoyed the sight, the exploring. He wasn’t sure how much Selak could appreciate it, after all the Vulcan had spent most of his life on Vulcan studying and a year or so with Humans. He couldn’t possibly understand what it had been like for the crew to have those few relaxing hours.

Trip would have as well. He would have liked the chance to take a break- or as much as was possible for the man. He probably would have taken all the time fixing his engines or something. But, like that, he probably had a ball fixing their problem- anything he could get his hands on. He seemed all right with being left behind, right?

But, truth be told, Archer and his long time pal were slipping away from each other. The war with the Xindi had pulled Archer into it, into finding the weapon. He hadn’t had time for Trip- but couldn’t he have made it for him? Trip did, after all, lose his little sister. He should have been there for him. But there were more than one person hurt from what happened. More than just Trip at risk in that moment.

And he had, after all, plunged himself into his engines. He had worked constantly to hold the ship together. He had contributed to why it was only official reasons that they saw each other now, except the occasional breakfast and dinner. Right?

Archer had tried to rationalize their problems, their friendship, but it all came back to the Xindi. It always did- or was that just an excuse?

Archer sighed again, shifting in his chair. And then there was T’Pol. She seemed to have been there for Trip. She was starting to become a close friend with the engineer, and Archer wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Did it bother him? No, not really. It was just… different. Was he jealous? He had tried, after all, to get closer to the Vulcan himself. He wasn’t sure. Was he over her? Maybe. He liked how things were between them at the moment, he liked how Trip and T’Pol were no longer constantly bickering. But did he like them together?

“Sir, we’re approaching the rendezvous coordinates,” Travis announced, pulling Archer out of his musing.

“Slow to one quarter impulse.” Archer looked out the view screen, seeing the stars go from stretched to small, points of light. He looked around, his eyebrows creased in confusion.

No one was there…

Archer could feel the bottom drop out of his stomach. They weren’t there. They should have been, Trip had assured him that it wouldn’t take any longer to fix. He would have been able to contact Enterprise almost an hour ago, had he needed to.

What if they had been intercepted by the Xindi? What if their shuttle had been destroyed? But Archer didn’t want to think that way. No, he couldn’t. The more logical side of his brain took over- they were just running late. They had lost track of time or something. Or thought that Enterprise was going to take a little longer. That was it. Nothing was wrong.

At least he hoped that was true.

“Malcolm?” The voice that came out was almost whispered, but loud enough for the Security Chief to hear.

The British man shook off his surprise. Looking down at his console, he announced, “No debris within ten thousand kilometers. No ion trails. They haven’t been here, Captain. Not yet.”

Good, they weren’t dead. Not necessarily. No, they were still on Darius Prime. Something else had popped up unexpectedly. Nothing to worry about, Enterprise could just go and pick them up. No problem, right?

“Maybe they’re having trouble with the repairs. They may have just not left yet,” Hoshi said, hopeful that her friend- and, perhaps, friends- were all right.
Archer nodded, that’s what he hoped. That’s what they needed to be true. “Let’s hope so, Hoshi. Travis, lay in a course to Darius Prime. I’ll be in my Ready Room,” the Captain said as he got up, walking off the Bridge.

Location: Unknown

Selak dropped to the floor, leaning heavily against the wall as he desperately tried to hide his pain from the Commander. Without his permission, his mind raced back to the last time he had been incarcerated… when he had bought freedom with the wound that still haunted him…

His feet felt heavy, his breathing labored. His lungs burned, his throat dry. His muscles were tight, barely willing to function. The adrenaline in his system five times what it should be. But his eyes, they were focused on his destination: Freedom.
A mechanical clicking alerted the four; locking mechanism were sealing all doors and halls were about to be blocked by doors. They sped up, their escape dependent on it. The first man ducked underneath the descending door, making it to the safety of the other room. And then the next man, following the first, made it under easily. The women ducked under, the Vulcan urging her to go first. Then he dropped to the ground, trying to roll under the door to make it through.
He was almost out… almost to freedom…
Hands grabbed his feet, turning him awkwardly under the closing door. A sudden white-hot pain ran through his torso, spreading over the rest of his body. A shriek of pain alerted his friends of his distress. They turned, seeing him trapped underneath the door, crushing him to the floor…

“How are you doing?” Trip asked quietly, oblivious to his memory.

“I am fine. But I do believe the guard bruised one of my ribs,” he explained.

“I meant… other things.”

“This cell is relatively large, it will not bother me.”

Trip nodded, thinking it was, even to him, a tight confinement. But that must have gone to show how much Selak knew of cells… and probably how he came to be claustrophobic. Throughout the mouths the two had known each other, he had barely ever told him a thing. Only his claustrophobia had been revealed to the man, besides his exemplary engineering skills.

Trip watched him, knowing that the distant look on his eyes spoke volumes about his fears. Yet, at the same time, revealed nothing about himself to the southern man. Perhaps, as time went on, Trip would learn more about the Vulcan.

Or, rather, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to wait much more than a few hours to discover what he wanted to know.

Enterprise, Bridge

“Delert. It’s good to see you again.”

“Captain Archer,” the alien replied over the comm. “I did not expect you back.”

“We’re here because our men weren’t at the rendezvous coordinates. I thought they might have run into a problem with the pumps and hadn’t left,” Archer informed the man, pushing himself out of his seat and approaching the view screen.

Delert seemed to be nervous, his expression not showing any of the concern Archer thought he should have when he said, “No. They are gone. They left some time ago.”

“I don’t think so, Delert. If they had, we would have seen them,” the Captain protested, not really angry but more upset by the news.

“I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about, Captain. You are people left hours ago, just as they were supposed to. Now, I really must be going, Captain. Lot of work to do.”

“Wait just a second, Delert. What are you talking about? They’re not there, no one was. Which means they must be here,” Archer told him, trying hard to mask his anger and concern.

“Well, they are not. Just… just leave. There is no longer anything we need from you.” With that, Delert closed the channel, leaving the bridge crew starring at the view of his planet.

“Malcolm. You’re with me,” Archer announced braking the silence that had fallen over the usually noisy bridge.

“Captain?” The tactical officer question, looking up at Archer, the man rising from his chair and heading for the turbolift.

“I’m going down there myself.”

Location: Unknown

“Ya know, even after all this time, I don’t think we’ve ever really… ya know, talked,” Trip stated suddenly, braking the uncomfortable silence that had existed for almost two hours.

“No, Commander, I do not believe we have,” Selak admitted, looking up from his place in the cell opposite the Commander.

“Well, tell me ‘bout yourself,” Trip suggested, looking up with mild expectation in his eyes. After he saw Selak’s raised eyebrow, he tried, “Do you have any siblings? Big family?”

“My family is relatively small.” Trip nodded. He had underestimated the Vulcan ability for stating the obvious. “Yours?”

Trip raised his head in surprise. He hadn’t really expected him to ask. “Well, my older brother and his wife live in Ireland with their two sons, Matt and Brian.”

“How old are they?”

“Matt’s twelve and Brian’s… seven.” Trip was surprised at how much Selak seemed to be interested in his family.

“Your sister? She… died in the attack on your world, correct?” For an emotionless Vulcan, Selak’s voice seemed to reflect his sympathy well.

“Yeah,” was the hushed reply.

“My brother is dead as well.”

Trip looked up at the admission. He could see in the young man’s eyes that he reciprocated his feelings, understanding what it was to lose someone as close as a sibling. “Was it… recently?”

Selak sighed; a curt nod was his only response. “Did you lose any other family?”

“No, thankfully. My parents had moved north and my brother lives in Europe. So, no.”

“My home was not as lucky.” Selak could see the confusion in the engineer’s face, knowing that he had heard the quiet sentence.

“Where do you live?”

“No where on Vulcan, at least I did not grow up there. My brother and I were raised on a science and research colony.”

“What happened?”

“A rare viral outbreak killed everyone there. It has been too contaminated to return. I was… fortunate enough to be away because of my job.” Trip could hear the faint emotions in his tone, see some flicker of pain and sorrow in his eyes as he fought to remain in control through his story.

“So you lost your entire family to an epidemic?”

“Both directly and indirectly.” Selak was content to finish there, Trip’s curiosity remaining unspoken while known. “My parents wanted both my brother and me to go into the medical field and work there with them. But… I wanted to be an engineer and my brother, Vir… he just wanted to get away.”

“What did he do? As a job, I mean?” Trip was intrigued by the Vulcan’s story, listening closely and watching with interest to his tale.

“He became a medical researcher. Vir had always been quiet intelligent, a genius perhaps. The pressure he put on himself was enormous. And, what he explained to me about his work, he dealt with some… appalling projects. When our parents and friends died, he just… killed himself. I do not blame him…”

If the story hadn’t been so depressing, Trip would have smiled at the Human mannerisms he had introduced into his speech. And I thought my life sucked, Trip mentally scolded himself, easily understanding that what Selak had explained was only the tip of the iceberg in his complicated life.

“Well… that was depressing,” Trip commented, trying to lighten the mood but saw how little effect it had on the Vulcan. Then began, “You know…”

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility

“Where are my officers?”

“They left, I already told you that, Captain. Please-”

“No, I don’t think they did, Delert,” Archer interrupted.

“Captain-”

“If they really left, then why did we pick up their shuttle pod in your docking bay?”

Delert seemed nervous- scared like something was going to jump out of the walls and eat him alive. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying desperately to hide their shaking, as he stuttered out, “I-I don’t k-know w-what you’re t-talking about.”

“Oh, but I think you do,” he taunted. “Just like I think you know where my officers are.”

“I-I, uh, I-” Delert paused, taking a deep, cleansing breath. “I think you should j-just leave now.”

His sudden change from stuttering to firm hardly startled Archer, rather the Captain just smiled. Looking over at Malcolm, his nodded. “Very well, if you insist, we’ll leave. But we’ll be back. Count on it.”

Archer marched away, his security officer following behind. Delert turned his head, watching them leave with little relief.

Once outside the door, the beeping of Archer’s communicator caught his attention. As the pair turned a corner, he pulled down harder on his zipper than he had intended. Pulling the object out, “Archer here.”

“Captain, what has Delert said?”

“Not much except that Trip and Selak left. We’re on our way back now. Was there something you wanted?”

“Yes, while running scans of the planet, I discovered a dampening field covering the lower levels of the facility.”

“It might be worth checking out,” Archer replied, making sure that Malcolm heard what was being said. “We’ll be back within the hour.”

“Aye, Captain. T’Pol out.” Using his thigh to fold the communicator, Archer continued walking, Malcolm only one step behind.

Location: Unknown

Selak dropped to the floor, his arms too weak to blunt the impact, making him land hard on his face. His body throbbed all over, aching from the physical torture he had endured for hours. The old wound on his side had gone numb from pain some time ago and now, he found, that he was paying for it as a feeling, similar to stabbing of needles, slowly woke it up.

Through the soreness of his neck and pounding of his head, he managed to turn it enough to see the Commander being forced to his feet and hauled out of the room, his protests being easily silenced.

Selak’s head settled back on the cool metallic floor. He was exhausted, both from the energy of struggling but also of fighting against the memories the place evoked. He just wanted to forget about that place in his mind but he was finding that it wouldn’t leave him alone.

With a grunt of effort, Selak slowly managed to push his pained body off the ground. His back leaned against the back wall, his eyes squeezing shut from the pain it cause. His back, he knew, was covered with fresh bruises, over lapping the old, almost invisible scars he already owned.

Running his right hand over his face, Selak noticed the tinted imprints on his wrist. Pushing his shirtsleeve back, his fingers ran over the old scar, his mind racing back to how he had gotten it.

The shackles dug deep into his skin, sending small streams of green blood down his arms. His arms were tired, practically asleep, from being held in an upright position for so long. The strain on his arms grew as they had to support his body for a longer and longer period.
His upper body was cold; they had stripped him of his thin shirt. His eyes stung, dried tears on his checks from when they had watered at the sudden bright lights. His voice he knew must have been hoarse after all his screaming.
The smell of copper hit his nose in steady streams. Thick, green blood covered his torso. Burns had been placed all along his back, glossed with green. His chest was sliced; a sharp knife, he barely recalled, had been repeatedly run across his bronze tinted skin. Light green stained his body; the Vulcan’s dried blood was uncomfortable. And, hardly visible through the blood, he knew fresh bruises were growing.

Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. A single tear escaped his hold, streaming down his cheek.

He just wanted it all to end…

Location: Unknown

Trip’s resistance faded away, his mind feeling like it was floating or maybe soaring. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about much. His body’s struggle against the restraints dimmed, before he went completely limp.

A single tube ran into the vein on his neck, slowly pumping an amber liquid into Trip’s unaware body. His vision doubled and unsure. His body was numb, he felt almost nothing. He hardly even remembered struggling against its implantation.

In the distance, he could hear a voice but couldn’t put a name or face to it. Whipping his head around, he tried to find the man but couldn’t. He wasn’t in there… perhaps the voice was a delusion.

Trip tried to blink the haze from his eyes, trying to bring his mind back to reality. But, in the end, the attempt was in vain. Whatever they had put him on, it was far too powerful to fight… to escape from…

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Lower Levels

“I wonder what’s so important down here that they don’t want anyone to know about it.” Malcolm thought out loud, turning to see if Archer was going to say anything, as the two of them carefully crept down the halls of the lower level. The dark hall unnerved him slightly, kept him on his toes, as they made their way somewhere- nowhere.

“Who knows, it could be as easy as extra dilithium they don’t want anyone to know about.”

“True. Or maybe-”

Archer cut Malcolm off when he pushed him back, making the security officer hit his head on the metallic wall. With a stifled moan, he looked around the corner, trying to see who was coming.

Both pairs of eyes peered out, watching as two Xindi came out of room off the far wall. The two- seemingly guards or lower ranking soldiers- carried with them an unconscious body. The man looked dead. His thick head of blonde hair and tanned skin indicated that he was definably not one of Delert’s people.

“Was that-”

“Two Reptilians,” Archer nodded.

“That would be something worth hiding,” Malcolm remarked. “That must have been Trip with them; they must be keeping Trip and Selak down here. Sir, we’re going to need more back up. We need to bring some backup down here.”

“Agreed. Let’s get back to the ship.”

Location: Unknown

The alien grabbed his face, forcing open his mouth.

He looked at the monitor, starring at the man. He fell silently, his eyes remaining open even with his death. A loud applause erupted.

His eyes snapped opened. Looking around himself, Selak tried to get his bearings. For a moment, he thought he was there, in the same place in his dreams. His heart was beating feverously in his chest, his breathing fast and shallow.

Before he was able to calm himself, his body still trying to fully wake, the door slid open. Almost instinctually, he shrank back into the corner, unconsciously making himself as small as he could. He couldn’t help it; it was as if his old habits, his instincts, were taking over and his mind thought he was again at the hell that lived in his dreams.

The Vulcan watched as the limp body of Commander Tucker was tossed into the cell. The two Xindi scowled, mostly emotionless as they shut and locked the door on their two prisoners.

As soon as they had left, the Vulcan unfolded himself and scampered over to his CO. His appearance was daunting; he was haggard and was in dire need of a shower and shave, not to mention change of clothing. Looking the unconscious man over, Selak recognized several familiar factors of illness.

Though the room was rather cool, he was sweating badly and seemed to have a high fever. Checking his eyes, Selak found they were dilated. His pulse was erratic; beating much faster than Selak knew a Human’s heart should go.

What he noticed most was the tremors. The Commander’s body was shaking uncontrollably and it troubled the Vulcan to see the man in such a condition.

But he found his lack of ability to help much worse. He had no water to cool the man nor did he have any way of knowing what was wrong with him. He could do nothing more than watch him and hope that he would improve.

For some time, Selak watched in hopeless silence as he waited for Trip to wake up. He couldn’t know for sure what they had done to the man. His trembling had decreased very little, if at all, and he was still sweating badly in the cold room. Trip’s brow was beaded with sweat, his hairline damp making him look as if he had recently gotten out of the shower.

Leaning against the far wall, he looked emotionlessly at the sleeping Human at the other end of the cell. After the guard had tossed him inside, he had positioned him more comfortably over there, no true reason to his action just that they seemed… right to do.

Sighing, he rested his head against the wall. Closing his eyes, he tried hard to stop the onslaught of old memories, trying to control his mind into silence. To meditate, even if it were only for a moment.

But his mind refused to quiet; to give him any moment of peace that he so deserved.

After several minutes of failed attempts, Selak opened his eyes. First, he quickly looked over at the engineer. Unfortunately, he was still asleep. Looking down at his arm folded in his lap, a soft smile graced his lips. It was a smile of satisfaction; of triumph and pride that even a Vulcan felt deep down inside their hearts.

Reaching down the sleeve of his shirt, his hand extracted a tiny, broken piece of haul plating. Lucky for him, the ship seemed to have recently suffered damage on that level, his “failed” attack giving him the opportunity to grab and hide the object. He had planned to use it for his escape but- looking at Trip- it seemed that he might have to adjust his plan. Or, at least, wait until the man could move properly.

Slowly, wearily, Trip’s eyes opened. Selak, startled, returned the metal slab to its hiding place before rushing to his side. All the while hoping he wasn’t too weak to at least tell him what had happened.

But before he could get his question out, Trip was forcing his tired body away from the young Vulcan. He seemed delirious; his face etched with horror and fear as if he saw some horrible creature instead of the Vulcan that was bending over to help him.

Trip watched through blurred eyes as the distorted form tried to approach him. His head whipped about on its own accord as he tried to understand the frightful tricks his mind was playing on him. His ears could hear a voice, most likely the unknown form, speaking to him. The words were jumbled; confused beyond the man’s understanding of the language.

“It is all right. I am not going to hurt you,” Selak assured the man, even though he knew his calm words were having little effect on the disturbed man. But Trip continued to fight him. Unfortunately, in his state, his arms continued to try and grab his shirt just as much as they were trying to bat him away.

Selak moved back a bit, not wishing to be hit again by his disturbed CO. But, before he could move too far away, Trip’s hand grabbed a hold of his shirt, ripping some of the material in his fit.

Startled, Selak jumped back, not bothering to look at the damage to his uniform. “Calm yourself, Commander,” he scolded, trying to push through the- most likely- drug induced haze.

Soon Trip did just that. His flailing calmed; his eyes drooped as body relaxed against the metallic floor. A frustrated sigh escaped the Vulcan as he saw that the Human fell back into unconsciousness.

“Humans,” he breathed with a shake of the head. “What did they give you?” Looking at the Commander, it appeared that many of the symptoms- shaking, sweating, and so on- had not dissipated. His mind was still clouded with the drug; it must have been powerful.

Turning his attention away from the sleeping human, he turned back to his former position against the wall. For the first time, he noticed what Trip had done. His shirt had been ripped from the left half of his collar until almost the end of his shoulder. Without knowing it, the Commander had just exposed a touchy part of the Vulcan’s past.

Enterprise, Conference Room

All the senior staff, Commander Tucker’s position replaced by Major Hayes, huddled around the conference table. Looking over the schematics to the mining facility, their rescue plan to retrieve their officers underway.

“You said there’s no guards to the lower levels- a few of my men could beam down and retrieve them,” Major Hayes announced, looking to Archer for permission or some type of acceptance of his idea.

“Captain, it may not be that simple.”

“What do you mean, T’Pol?”

“With the dampening field over the lower levels,” she said, adjusting the screen to show a visual, “we can neither beam in nor out of that area of the facility. In addition, it will not allow our weapons to work. Your men,” she told Hayes, “will be defenseless. I doubt they are prepared for hand to hand against Reptilian soldiers.”

“Then how do you propose to get the Commander and Lieutenant?” Hayes retorted. T’Pol only rose an eyebrow, not dignifying his remark with a response.

“Doctor?” Archer suddenly spoke, an idea coming to mind as he turned to the Denobulan. “Is there anything that could knock out the Xindi? Something we could release into their ventilation system? Something that won’t harm our officers?”

Phlox though for a moment. “I might be able to synthesize something, but-”

“Good, get working on it,” Archer ordered, turning away from Phlox in fashion to dismiss him. With a sigh, Phlox walked out, missing the last half of the meeting.

“If a small team beamed here,” Malcolm said, pointing to a section of the facility, the computer zooming in on the area. “They could release the gas into the ventilation, then beam out as the second team beamed down… here. It’s the best access to the lower levels, the same one we used to get down there.”

Archer nodded, the plan set. “Malcolm, you lead the second group. Have two MACOs escort an engineer for the first group. You, Hayes, and two other MACOs will retrieve the Commander and Selak. Get masks from Dr. Phlox to protect you from the gas. Dismissed.”

Location: Unknown

Trip’s body trembled violently as he slowly surfaced into consciousness. His first instinct was to just turn over and vomit, the thought only stopped by his inability to stop shaking and to move his body.

He could faintly hear someone else in the room; another body moving around. Maybe closer to him. Maybe away from him. Maybe he was just imagining it. Trip couldn’t tell.

Turning his head to the side he found that the effort of doing so was hardly worth it as his vision was too blurred to make out any more than an outline of something. A black figure… moving closer and closer, at least he though it was coming closer. Maybe away from him…

Trip wasn’t sure. He just wasn’t sure of much…

He couldn’t remember much.

A low murmur… distorted words, perhaps… echoed in his mind. None of the sound made sense to him… meant anything to him. The dull sensation of someone touching his shoulder registered somewhere in his mind.

Slowly- very slowly- the words started to clear out. Started to sound like words. Something- the figure- was telling him to stay calm. His features began to clear, become less distorted. Soon Trip was able to see a Vulcan standing over him.

Selak…

The word came to mind. The name… he knew him. Knew the man but couldn’t place it.

“Commander. Commander?” The figure asked again. Trip tried to respond, his mouth moving but nothing coming out. “I’m right here, Commander. I’m right here.”

Trip tried to focus on his face, on his voice. He tried to recall where he knew him from, who he was, and where they were. But all he could focus on was something on his chest. A design… a picture of something.

The longer he looked at it, the more pronounced the lines became. The lines were thicker… connected in loops… straight lines here and there connecting everything together. His eyes followed the lines, his mind trying to use it as a focal point. His mind absorbing the image.

“Commander? Can you hear me? Please answer,” the man coaxed. A moan escaped his lip as he tried to answer. “I’ll take that as a yes. Commander, what happened to you? Do you remember?”

Trip tried to remember… to work back further into his mind to recall what had happened to him. Did something happen? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he didn’t want to remember.

His eyes drooped closed. The dark was much more peaceful, there was nothing there to remember… just the darkness. Just the peace.

But Selak’s words didn’t stop. He kept talking to Trip, tried to wake him back up… but Trip tried not to listen. He wanted to tell him to shut-up and go away; to leave him alone. But the words wouldn’t come… they started to slip from him mind, he was no longer able to make out what Selak was saying, what he was asking.

He just let the darkness engulf him…

Enterprise, Sickbay

“Captain, I must remind you that I am still protesting against using this, it could be very dangerous for all concerned,” Phlox stated when Archer entered the room, Malcolm and Lieutenant Valiente right behind him, and two MACOs on their tail.

“Your concerns are duly noted, Doctor, but this may be our only option.”

Phlox’s nod was solemn as he handed over the gas, knowing he would get it back for they would only need a third of what he had created.

“Thank-you, Doctor.” Archer took the container, looking down at the silver cylinder. For a split second, he almost entertained the thought that nothing was inside, but, just as quickly as it came, it left.

Valiente stepped forward, taking the object from Archer, looking it over. “Lieutenant, release only 200ccs. Anymore can kill everyone; it may even complicate the filters on the masks.”

“And the masks?”

The British accent reached Phlox’s ears; he recognized it as Malcolm’s voice. “Those two crates; I modified them already. They should be able to filter out the gas efficiently for… at least an hour. But I wouldn’t push it much past that.”

Malcolm gestured to the crated, the MACOs grabbing a side to carry them out. The Britishman followed, clearly keeping an eye on the crates he was now in charge of.

“Go to the transporter room,” Archer ordered the Lieutenant, the man nodding to both of them.

“Captain,” Phlox said, his voice almost dismissive.

“Doctor.” Archer turned, walking away, he would talk to Phlox about this later.

Location: Unknown

Selak pivoted on his heels, turning to face the other wall. If his counting was accurate- as he was sure it was- it was the 258 turn. He sighed- that meant it was his 1,290th step… 1,291st…

Pacing. He found it was quite useless, pointless thing. A waste of time, a waste of energy. It solved nothing, it accomplished nothing. Just a waste of energy…

But, then, perhaps that’s what it was meant to do… help clam the adrenaline rush in times that you could do little more than pace… had little more than enough room to pace…

… 259th turn…

Perhaps he was only doing it because of his nerves; his anxiety… or even boredom. He still- ever since a few years ago- dreaded small spaces. A turbolift or the cell he and Trip shared could be managed- albeit a large annoyance. But anything smaller- such as a crawl space- scarred him to death. He was lucky enough to be spared, to have his own people understand, just as he could weasel out of such things on the Enterprise.

… Maybe it was just the waiting… maybe he only paced because he had nothing else to do but wait…

… 260th turn…

… Maybe it was his fears of the Commander never walking again. Or just waiting for him to do so…
… 261st…
‘Maybe they will come for us soon,’ Selak thought, pausing on his 1,309th step. Even after he thought it, he couldn’t decide who he meant: the Xindi or the Enterprise crew.

He turned, not taking the final step in his pace…

… 1,310… 1,311… 1,312… 1,313… 263rd turn…

Trip moaned, stopping Selak. The Vulcan turned toward him, surprised by his sudden movement. He knelt down, once again checking the Commander’s pupils and then pulse. His fingers pulled away, satisfied with the results.

But it was just then that he noticed something on the tips. Something red- blood… human blood, he had seen enough to know.

Selak tried to move his head, carefully as to not cause him any more pain. There it was, a small stream of blood trickling down his neck. He pulled away at the Commander’s shirt collar, trying to find the source. A small, but noticeable cut was placed just at the base of his neck- he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed it before.

The cut was deep and not bleeding a lot. The Vulcan noticed that there was no dried blood; an easy assumption that the Commander had move, braking opened whatever had held it closed.

Selak looked around; he needed something to stop the bleeding and cover the wound. Looking down at the Commander, his eyes caught the seam of his shirtsleeve. It might be tricky with the placing of the wound, but he could manage.

He would have to manage…

Enterprise, Transporter Room

Lieutenant Valiente trembled as he stepped onto the transporter pas. He had, of course, heard of and studied them but he had never before been through one. As an engineer, he knew that he would- in theory- be fine, but- in reality- he was petrified of the thing.

He turned around, a clear view of the transporter room. His hazel eyes took in the room around him, watching the MACOs opening the two crates they had just set down.

His eyes turned away, his nerves amplifying the sound of someone walking into the room into far more eerie noises. Captain Archer walked in, looking around the room- most likely checking their progress.

“Here, Dixion, you’re gonna want this,” Gary joked, shoving one of the masks into Valiente’s hand. “Don’t worry about this; trust me, I’ve been through this thing a couple-o-times. It’s a piece of cake.”

“Right,” Dixion sighed, his breath coming out in shaky rasps. Even with his friend’s assurances, he wasn’t sure about transporting; it just wasn’t right to have your body scrambled and put back together.

Passing over the cylinder to White, he slipped on the mask, finding it odd to breathe with the thing on. He took back the cylinder, amazed that he was less frightened by that than the transporter.

“Good luck, you three,” Captain Archer told them, nodding at them as he spoke. Valiente looked to his left, noticing that a second MACO had joined them, his own mask hiding most of his face.

“Don’t forget, we’ll beam you down right where the environmental system is. On your signal, we’ll beam you back up. We’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Archer nodded; the transporter chief beaming them away. Dixion swallowed, trying to keep his breathing even and steady; all the while unsure if it was the butterflies in his stomach or his molecules being scattered that was bothering him.

Dixion’s breath caught, only releasing itself after saw that he was no longer in the transporter room. He looked down at himself. Well, at least he didn’t materialize backwards. Everything seemed ok.

He barely heard the quick movement of the MACOs as they secured the area, the other guy guarding the door as Gary beckoned him into the small room. Gary’s weapon was pointing at the far wall, his eyes taking in the area in record time- they both knew this had to go quickly.

“Do what you have to do but make it fast,” he warned, stepping closer to the door.

Dixion nodded, trying to shake off his nerves from the transporter and now the danger he just realized he put himself in.

Taking a deep breath he moved over to the control panel. It was easy enough to access what he needed, but much harder to try and figure out the language. As far as he could tell, he did it right; but they would find that out in a few minutes, wouldn’t they?

Dixion looked over at Gary, everything was going smoothly as far as he could tell. Now just to release the gas… right, what did the doctor tell him again? 300ccs? No, no it was lower than that. Not 100, that couldn’t do much, could it? Was it 200 or 250?

Dixion’s heart quickened. He couldn’t get this wrong. The Doctor had said that he would kill everyone if he went over, including the Commander and Lieutenant they were trying to help. Not to mention that he could harm himself and the rest of the teams.

This had to go right…

He wanted to say 250, it sounded right. But what if it was too much? 220ccs, that would have to work well enough. Right? He hoped.

Dixion opened the valve, watching the numbers carefully. At 220, he stopped it, closing the valve quickly. There, they were still alive… but, then, he’d imagine that it’d take a few minutes to work.

“I’m done,” Dixion reported through his mask, his voice odd, even to his own ears.

Gary nodded, pulling out his communicator as Dixion finished off the last few details. “Captain? White, here. Valiente’s finished with the gas, we’re ready to get out of here.”

Captain Archer listened from the transporter room, looking up at Malcolm and his team up on the pad. He nodded to the transporter chief, telling him to beam them down first- it was better to get moving before the gas’s effects had even a slight chance of wearing off.

The five crewmembers disappeared before him, all of them armed with weapons, though they knew they would do little good. It still seemed a prudent idea and it made them feel better.

“We’re locking onto you now.” Archer looked to the chief, waiting for him to ask permission to beam the small team up. But the request never came. Instead, the engineer seemed confused, frantically trying to figure out what was wrong. “Ensign?”

“I’ve lost their signals, sir. I can’t get a lock.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, sir. It looks like some kind of energy field is blocking the scanners,” the Ensign reported, looking to his Captain.

Archer nodded, telling him to work on it. “White. Are you still there? We’re having a problem with the transporter. We can’t beam you up. Did you get that?”

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Lower Level

“Do you have any idea where they might be kept?” Hayes asked after they had materialized, as his men- or rather Glen Anthony and Nila Eveleen- secured the area.

“No, the Captain and I only saw Trip for a short time on the lower level. We didn’t follow.”

“Than we have a lot of ground to cover in the short time we have,” Hayes stated, some of his words messed up by the mask over his face, Malcolm able to figure out he meant without them.

“We should go right… I think that’s where they went.”

“Ok, let’s go. Eveleen, take point. Anthony, watch our six.” Malcolm watched the Major walk away, following Eveleen. He scowled, annoyed at how he always seemed to find some way- even if it was only a small thing- to take over command.

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Environmental System

“Captain? Captain, are you there?” White asked into the communicator, his cries catching the attention of the other two.

“What’s wrong?” The other MACO asked, not letting his fear get in the way of his duties as he continued to stand at his self-ordered position.

“I don’t know. We’ve just lost contact with Enterprise.”

“Which means they probably can’t lock onto us. They won’t be able to transport us,” Dixion stated, feeling like he couldn’t breath with the bulky mask over his face much less talk.

“Then we should try to find some way off the planet. That, or Major Hayes. They might be able to contact the ship,” Gary suggested.

“It might be a temporary glitch; Enterprise might fix it in a few minutes. If we move around they might not be able to find us.”

“The only problem with that, Samson, is that whole ‘might’ part. They might, they might not. We need to get out of here, we only have an hour with these things. That’s not a lot of time for those engineers to work their magic,” White retorted, seemingly solving their problem.

“I agree with Gary, we should try to find the Major and Lieutenant. That or the shuttle pod.”

“What do you mean, shuttle pod?” Samson asked, looking at him.

“The Shuttle Pod Commander Tucker used to get down here. It’s still here. We could use that to get back to the ship. Maybe our communicators will still work internally. We could tell Lieutenant Reed where we are and what’s happening.”

Gary looked from Samson to Valiente. He smirked, amused with his friend. “Damn, you’re good. Lead the way, I don’t have a clue where the pod might be.”

Location: Unknown

Selak’s head leaned back against the cool surface of the wall. All he wanted was to fall asleep; to never wake up again. He wished that he could just stopped remembering, that his dreams could be blissfully nothing… that he could have something remotely close to rest.

But it seemed that, especially where he was, that was close to impossible. With a sigh, he opened his eyes again, looking up at the Commander. He was still out since the last time he had slipped into unconsciousness.

Ever so slowly, trying not to agitate his pained shoulder or aggravated ribs, he crawled over to Trip. He had had much experience with Humans- with many species- enough to know how to check the pulse and a few other vitals.

Pressing his fingers to Trip’s neck, he felt a steady- albeit slightly fast- beating. But it had begun to slow some, he assumed that was a good thing. Carefully, he opened each eye, finding that the pupils reacted properly to the light. Which meant there was no brain trauma- at least that what he thought it meant.

Falling onto his side, Selak realized just how tired he really was. How much he needed to sleep. But, he sighed, knowing that would be near impossible with how on edge he was- how much adrenaline was pulsing through his veins.

He took a deep breath, hoping it would calm him. But the action made him cough, an odd feeling at the back of his throat. His lungs seemed to itch, the sensation growing, making them feel as if they were on fire. His breathing became more labored, the burning making it hurt to breathe.

A sharp pain filled his chest, as if he were having a heart attack. But, somehow, he knew that was not true. The pain dulled; as it did, his mind blanked out, his vision blurring. He just concentrated on breathing, trying to keep from slipping into unconsciousness.

As the pain grew to almost nothing, he realized how impossible that goal might be. His eyes slipped closed…

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Lower Level

Malcolm took a deep breath, having to constantly remind himself to do so. Subconsciously he was quite aware of the toxin that was in the air. Just as he was aware that, with the mask on, it wouldn’t harm him. But that didn’t quiet his feel of paranoia, especially at the thought of just suddenly keeling over from it.

He looked to his right, seeing Hayes easily walking through the hall just a step or two ahead of him. The Major didn’t seem to be having any trouble breathing, his mind to focused on the goal ahead of them. On the reason that they were there.

Malcolm wanted to sigh, but wasn’t sure if his lungs would take it. Instead he just looked away, trying to do the same. He shifted his weapon, knowing that it was useless but holding it anyway. It made him feel better to think that he was armed, even if he may not be.

A small creak behind him caused Malcolm to whip around. The MACO behind him halted immediately, startled at suddenly having three weapons pointed at him. The team relaxed, realizing that it had been nothing more than the man stepping on a lose plate or something.

“Sorry,” was his muffled response, the mask garbling his voice.

Malcolm turned back around, he felt better- less humiliated- to noticed that the noise had startled Hayes as well. Perhaps that was a childish thought- his constant competition with Hayes- but it just came to him, thoughts like that. And, no matter how much he tried not to be such a prick about the matter, Hayes always did something to start the cycle all over again.

Malcolm shook his head. No matter how much thoughts of Hayes kept him from thinking about the air, he needed to focus. Focus on Trip. On Selak. He needed to focus on the mission. To think about the two of them, to commit to memory where they were and where they were going. To mentally map the place out.

But, after a few minutes of that, his mind was once again bored, moving back to the thoughts of what he was breathing in. Of all the chemicals that had been released into the air. Of how he would be unconscious in a few minutes without the mask.

But then his thoughts traveled to Trip and Selak. They had been in their cell, or wherever, for nearly ten minutes with a constant stream of the chemicals in the air. They would be unconscious by now- that would mean carrying them back to the transport site. It would also mean they’d need Phlox there to help them, just incase something went wrong.

But, they’d need to get them first…

Enterprise, Transporter Room

“What’s wrong? Can you fix it?” Archer asked impatiently, wanting to know in that instant and to get his people out of there. This new situation wasn’t a good thing, not by far. They needed the transporters for this to work.

“I don’t know, sir. It’s not the transporter. There’s nothing for me to fix, sir. It’s the force-shield.”

Archer looked at the transporter chief- an Ensign, one of the newer arrivals before their mission to the Expanse. Looking at him now, Archer could see that he was only a boy, probably not that long out of the Academy. His curly blonde hair hung just above his fear-filled eyes. Archer’s brow creased: was he afraid of him? Of Archer for his wrath, or that he couldn’t return the rest of his crew?

Archer couldn’t tell- or merely didn’t want to know. He looked away, sighing. “Keep working on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Archer nodded at the new tone in his voice, he seemed to realize that the Captain was only being snappy because of the stress he seemed to have been under. The young man looked away, absorbed by his work before the Captain even left.

Location: Unknown

The buzz of activity around him caught his attention. Selak focused in on the voices, on the sounds. He could faintly make out a voice- a familiar voice- saying something about finding some… something.

Finding him?

Selak’s mind didn’t bother to dwell on the thought long at all, his mind preoccupied with opening his eyes. He wanted to see what was going on, to see what… who… was there.

But he found that he was too weak to open them. That his heart was near stopping, that much he could tell. He didn’t have the energy to move; he was barely staying as conscious as it was.

His head was moved. Someone was touching him. Something was on his face. But, again, he couldn’t open his eyes to look, to see what it was. To feel the object.

For a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, his diaphragm having to strain to force air through and into his lungs. But something was different… the taste- was there a taste to air?- was less sweet. Something was different about it.

Selak wanted to struggle to take it off, his mind fearing for a moment that whatever was on his face was starving him of oxygen or something. That it was filtering out air… or that it was feeding him something equally deadly.

But then he relaxed. It was then that he realized it was the sweeter thing in the air that had knocked him out, that had been the cause of his semi-consciousness. He focused again on his breathing, taking deeper and deeper breaths.

A new burning hit his lungs; perhaps purging them of the sweet air. Cleaning his systems.

Soon he found that he was able to open his eyes, having the strength to move limited muscles. He looked around, finding that his limp body was now being supported by two people- he had never even felt them lift him off the floor.

His ears could faintly hear the signs that someone was behind him. The Commander? He had been in the room with him. Had these people helped him as well? Where were they taking them…

He stopped, trying hard to remember where they were going. Who these people were. He couldn’t remember. He knew they were familiar, and that they couldn’t be the people who had put them in the room… but who were they?

His mind was too sluggish to remember, to think… to push back so far. It all seemed so long ago… everything was so long ago…

Malcolm walked awkwardly with the Commander’s arm around his neck. His weight throwing him off balance, only the fact that Anthony was supporting him on the other side kept him from collapsing.

But, as they continued down the corridor, Malcolm found that he might well do that any way. Even though he knew it was because of the extra strain of the filter, he felt as if he were barely getting any air. As of a few minutes ago, he had begun to feel light headed, knowing that, most likely, it was all in his head. Just the hypochondriac in him.

He moaned under his breath, remembering just as they turned the last corner that they would have to pull the Commander up a flight of stairs, no turbolift leading to the lower level that they were currently on. Looking in disgust at the stairs, he tried hard not the snicker, remembering that it was the cost of his discomfort over two officers’ deaths.

Slowly, taking one stair after another, Malcolm and Anthony managed to get the Commander up the stairs as they followed a few stairs behind Hayes and Eveleen.

Once they reached the top, Malcolm was starting to get the impression that it wasn’t just his mind that was making him feel like he couldn’t breathe. He was about to suggest a moment of rest, to set down the two and see how they were doing, but he never got the chance.

Reed looked up at Hayes, surprised by the chirping of his communicator. Carefully using his other hand- which was of course the wrong one to get into that pocket- he unzipped and pulled out his communicator. Malcolm flicked it opened, made difficult because of his clumsy left hand.

“Reed here.”

“Lieutenant-”

“Who is this?”

“Ensign Valiente, sir.”

“I thought you had already beamed aboard.”

“No, sir. We lost contact with the Enterprise shortly after you beamed down.”

“That was nearly thirty minutes ago.”

“I know that, sir. But we couldn’t contact you after you had entered the lower level.”

Malcolm looked up at Hayes, not sure if he should sigh in frustration or worry. “Where are you now, Ensign?”

The facility’s shuttle bay, sir. We found Shuttle Pod One, sir.”

Malcolm nodded, not sure why since he knew that the man couldn’t see him. “Very well. Have it ready to leave the minute we get there.”

“Yes, sir. Do you know how to get here, sir?”

“No.” Hayes almost smirked at his tone, almost bashful- ashamed, perhaps- that he wasn’t as omnipotent as tried to be.

“Go straight, then to your right when you can’t go any further. Keep going straight until you come to your second left, turn there. You’ll see where to go from there.”

“We…” Reed paused, suddenly out of breath. Ignoring the look he got from the other three, he continued, “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Reed out.”

He flicked the object closed, struggling to get it into his pocket. “I do hope you were paying attention to the directions.”

“I’m afraid I’m terrible with such things,” Hayes joked.

“Better hope you’re not.”

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility, Shuttle Bay

Ensign Valiente hit the last sequence. The shuttle warmed up and ready to go, now all that they needed was the other six.

He turned, his eyes quickly looking over the pod. It was hardly built to comfortably hold nine people, but it had the ability to hold much more. At least the trip wouldn’t be longer than a half an hour.

He sighed; the mission not going as planned. But, at least, this got him out of a second trip through the transporter. That was always a plus in his book… after that first time through, he still couldn’t get over the feeling that something was wrong or that something hadn’t been put back correctly.

He spun his chair back around, looking down at the controls. He may not have been a very experienced pilot, or very skilled one, but in addition to his engineering classes, he had learned to fly a shuttle from its landing pad to an orbiting ship. It really wasn’t that difficult… of course that had been almost a year since his last time in the pilot’s chair.

Skimming over all the controls, he familiarized himself with the basics, hoping that autopilot would do most of the work. He could get them out of there at least, what else was needed he feared that he didn’t really remember.

With that thought, all he could thing about was, ‘This could be one interesting trip…’

Enterprise, Bridge

“Captain.”

Archer looked over at T’Pol, the Vulcan perched comfortably in her chair as he walked in. He stepped closer to her station; after three years with her, he knew that look. She had something important to tell him, something he would want to hear.

“Yes, T’Pol?”

Her eyebrow arched at his curt tone, a tone she had learned meant he was either annoyed or tired- most likely both considering the circumstances. But she nodded anyway, knowing that he did not intentionally mean to be rude- another of the many annoying yet curious things about humans.

“It appears that, as soon as Ensign Valiente released the virus, a second forceshild was engaged. This one appears to cover the entire facility.”

“Is it the same thing as the one covering the Lower Levels?”

“Yes, identical. It will allow for something- or someone- to pass through it either way, but it will prevent either our sensors or the gas through.”

“Pretty nifty,” Archer commented, looking out the view screen. “It’s probably to contain leaks.”

“Captain?” T’Pol’s emotionless voice hit his ears.

“Nothing, T’Pol. I guess this means we just sit and wait, and hope that they find some way out.” The Captain sighed, his eyes still on the viewscreen. The next half an hour or so would be a long wait… a very long wait.

Darius Prime, Dilithium Mining Facility

Malcolm breathing was steadily growing more strained as they went. He could feel his focus slipping away, his head hurting more and more as time went on. He couldn’t help but feel like he was going to fall at anytime.

His lungs felt like they were on fire, his heart being wretched from his chest. It was an awfully painful feeling. His instincts kept telling him to stop, to drop to the ground. He even considered ripping off his mask, for some reason thinking that it would allow him to breathe easier.

He could hear Anthony’s breathing get louder as they went, he could imagine that the MACO felt the same way. The burning lungs, the searing sensation… the pain in his chest… dizziness. He even felt him slip once or twice as they walked, almost succumbing to the feeling.

Malcolm looked to his left, counting the number of doors they past. He had just hit two- somehow that seemed wrong- when they saw a turn. The first turn. They would have to continue down the hall until the second turn.

Malcolm continued to look at the wall. A second door came and past, again the number seemed wrong. And then a third and a forth… a fifth… then a third. No, no there had been more. There had been…

Malcolm’s thought trailed off, he couldn’t remember how many there had been. All he could remember was that it hurt to breathe. That it hurt to move his legs, but he did any way. He stepped forward, forcing himself to keep going.

Just ahead, he saw a second turn- it was the second, right? His eyes set on the next door, the tenth. No, third. No…

He stopped trying to count. It wasn’t worth the energy. Turning his head away, he focused on the opening, the turn- the last turn- that would take them to the shuttle bay. They were almost there, almost home… just a few more steps…

Malcolm suddenly felt the weight of Trip’s body force him down, the event happening so fast he had no idea what happened. He landed flat on his face, not able to move quick enough to put his arm out to blunt the impact.

“Lieutenant? Anthony? You all right?”

Malcolm heard Hayes’s voice, he too was having trouble breathing. “Fine,” Malcolm grunted, struggling to push himself up. Anthony slowly got off the ground, a large red spot on his face indicated where he had hit when he feel. His eyes were only half opened, his movements sluggish. Malcolm could only guess that he had tripped and pulled the two down with him.

Carefully they picked Trip back up, again moving in synchrony to get them to the shuttle. Only a few more meters, they could make it.

Malcolm turned the corner, and immediately stopped, almost bringing the three down again. He had expected another corridor or something, not… this.

There in front of him was a huge shuttle bay, nearly two kilometers in width and three in length. And there, several meters away, was the shuttle.

Malcolm started walking again, grateful to see that the three on the other team were exiting the shuttle and running to met them. Malcolm allowed one of the MACOs to take his place, walking next to them to the shuttle.

He looked up at Selak, noticing absently that he was walking with the help of the second MACO. He hadn’t really paid attention to the Vulcan, he never noticed that he had woken up. Apparently he had a better resistance to the gas than Commander Tucker had.

Malcolm pulled himself into the shuttle pod, plopping down in one of the chairs. He closed his eyes, too tired to think about anything else but sleep, though he didn’t quiet let himself slip away just yet.

He felt the engines fire up, the shuttle lifting off the ground…

Enterprise, Bridge

It had been close to an hour since they had been sent down. The effects would be starting to fade on the Xindi and Delert’s people, but that also meant that his people would start to succumb to the gas, the left over particles would slip through their masks and start knocking them unconscious as well. If they couldn’t find away to escape or hide, they would all become prisoners of the Xindi.

Archer looked up from his PADD- one he wasn’t really reading- when he heard his Comm. Officer’s “Captain!” His eyes first went to her, while annoyed at being interrupted in his musing he was curious enough to ask what it was.

But she wasn’t looking in his direction. Instead, her eyes were focused on the view screen, starring excitedly, while suspiciously, at something there. Archer, too, looked, wanting to know what had grabbed his entire bridge’s attention.

And there it was… Shuttle Pod One. Trip and Selak had used it to get down to the surface. Was that them returning safely to the ship? Did Malcolm remember they had never brought it on board and was using it when they found that they couldn’t return by transporter? Had he found the other three members of the first away team? Were the away teams still down there, only Trip and Selak on the ship? Had they missed something? Had Delert really had nothing more to hide than Xindi soldiers?

Or was this whole image a ploy? Had the away team not succeeded in their mission? Had they all been captured because the transporter malfunctioned? Did-

Archer’s silent fears and rambles were cut short when the comm. chirped; the shuttle pod was hailing them. Archer didn’t need Hoshi to tell him, but she was just doing her job. He nodded to her as he stood, telling the Asian woman to open the frequency. Soon, he would find answers to his questions.

On the screen- thankfully- was Malcolm and Ensign Valiente, the Ensign flying the pod as he tried to ignore the tactical officer leaning over his shoulder.

“Malcolm?” Archer asked, his unspoken question not lost upon the British man.

“We got them, sir. But Trip’s in pretty bad condition.”

“Bring him to Sickbay as soon as you dock. Good job.”

Malcolm’s curt nod was the last Archer saw before the view screen went black, replaced by the image of the shuttle growing closer.

The Captain sighed, he had all his people back once again. At least they had managed to complete one of their missions, now came the harder one. Now they would continue their mission to save Earth… to save all of them.

Shuttle Pod

Selak sat next to Malcolm on the bench. The British man looked about ready to pass out, as did Hayes and the two MACOs across from him. Selak, on the other hand, was slowly becoming less and less disoriented.

With the oxygen in the shuttle at one hundred percent, their lungs were quickly filling with the much needed supplement, their bodies able to expel the foreign agent. It seemed to help, at least some. But it was Trip that still worried the young officer…

He hadn’t woken at all, not while being carried- like Selak had- and not since they entered the Shuttle. It seemed that only his fever had gone down some, though his trembling was getting worse.

Selak looked out the view port, having to turn awkwardly to see. They were closing in on Enterprise, in a moment they would be able to dock. After that, Trip would be brought to Sickbay, not unlike the rest of the away team, to be helped. Soon, they would get there and he would be helped.

But not Selak… he couldn’t risk it. He could easily slip out… at least he hoped that he could. Claiming that he was fine and having the doctor believe him were two very different things, two things that had to happen. He just hoped the doctor was gullible enough when bombarded with all of these cases that he would let the Vulcan leave.

He hoped…

Enterprise, Sickbay

“Get him on the bed!” Phlox ordered as soon as he saw his friend being carried into the room. Valiente and White didn’t stop to answer as they helped Trip inside, one under each arm as support.

“What happened to him?” Phlox questioned as the two settled him on the bed, the rest of the away team shuffling into the room.

“He was like this when we got there.”

Selak looked at Malcom, annoyed at his waste of time, before jumping in with, “He has been exhibiting withdraw symptoms for nearly twenty hours.”

“Withdraw from what?” Phlox’s question came out without so much as a glance in Selak’s way, his focus completely on his patient.
“I do not know. He was taken away for… an hour at most. I do not know what they did to him.”

“I’ll have to try to detoxify his body quickly before anymore damage is done.”

Selak stepped back, watching the scene play out in front of him. In his daze, he barely heard the murmur of the doctor advising himself. Detoxification…

Watching Phlox, the young Vulcan couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on when he had been unconscious… when he had been in a similar situation as the Commander. The doctor rushing to heal his body, to help his battered body… to save his life.

“What happened?” Archer’s voice boomed as he entered the chaos.

“The Xindi injected him with large doses of some kind of drug, perhaps hallucinogen. He’s starting to withdraw from the substance,” Phlox reported, holding down Trip as the Commander tried to move away.

“Lieutenant!” Phlox ordered, Trip’s thrashing growing. Both Malcom and Selak moved to his side, each holding down the squirming Commander as Phlox went about his job.

“How long has he been like this?” Archer inquired, stepping farther into the room to better see the scene.

“Do you mean delusional?”

“Yes.”

“They took him approximately twenty hours ago, ever since then he’s been like this. Only conscious for short periods of time,” Selak explained, finding no problem in speaking while he held down Trip.

But Phlox disregarded the conversation going on around him, quickly putting a cylinder into the hypospray. He never even flinched when the hissing on the hypo reached his ears. Almost immediately, the Commander slipped into unconsciousness, his body no longer resisting against his friends.

“Is going to be all right?”

The doctor looked up at Archer, not sure if his concern was any longer directed towards his long time friend or his need for a chief engineer. “He will survive but his withdraw will be extremely painful.”

Archer nodded, ordering, “Tell me when he wakes up. And Selak, I want to know everything that happened in the morning.”

“Aye, sir.”

Without second glance, he walked away, most likely heading for the bridge.

“What about you? Are you hurt?” Malcom asked, the concern finally able to be relaxed off of Trip, his condition stable.

“I am unharmed.”

“Are you sure?” Phlox persisted.

“Yes. If I may, I wish to retire to my quarters.”

Phlox nodded at the request. “Of course.”

Enterprise, Selak’s Quarters

Selak opened the door to his quarters, his feet moving on autopilot as his mind wandered, too tired to be bothered with thinking. Walking past his meditation candles, he headed straight for his bed, not in the mood to try and tame his exhausted mind.

Selak’s eyes closed, his head sinking very little on the firm pillow, his body finally relaxing. His mind calmed, his muscles loosened from their constantly ready positions. The adrenaline in his system was nearly drained, his heart finally slowing to normal.

But then he sighed, knowing that there was something he had to do first. With a grunt of effort, he put his feet back on the ground, forcing himself to sit up. He bent over, his left hand finding and pulling out a small case from under his bed. Setting it next to him, he opened it, pulling out a cylinder device. Pushing a button, he nodded in satisfaction at the red light on his palm.

Gingerly, he lifted his right hand and undid the straps on his jacket- two under his left arm and two on the left side of his chest. Carefully, as to not aggravate the pain in his shoulder, he shook out his left arm, pulling the jacket off the rest of the way. With his chest bare, Selak was easily able to see the dark green on his collar bone. Slowly running the device over the wound, the green disappeared, leaving nothing but healthy skin.

Selak’s eyelids drooped, his movements sluggish as he went to put the device away. After that he removed a hypospray, his mind taking a moment to remember its use. After a few minutes, he opened a small compartment on the top, removing one of the cylinder vials. Mechanically, he put the vial into the cylinder, before injecting the blue liquid into the vein on his wrist, the slight sting never reaching his neurons- perhaps from exhaustion or merely from being accustom to the feeling, Selak didn’t bother to try and figure it out.

After putting the instrument back, Selak groaned, putting the case back where it had been. Falling back onto his bed, his eyes slipped closed. He was able to relax more, the pain in his shoulder and head gone. At least he had that- that small bliss to comfort him.

Tomorrow, after some rest, he would check up on the Commander, that would give him an excuse to be there, to look around for what he needed. But that was tomorrow… he still had all night before he had to thinking about that.

Enterprise, Sickbay

“Well, good morning, Lieutenant,” Phlox said happily to Selak as he walked through the door. The Vulcan resisted the urge to respond with Human platitudes as he knew many of the crew might.

Instead, he walked farther into the starship’s hospital, asking, “How is the Commander this morning?”

“He’s doing much better,” Phlox reported, looking over at the closed curtain, Selak assuming that was were he was.

“And… his withdraw?”

“Well, I was able to purge the substance from his body while he was sedated but… there is little I can do for the physiological part of the withdraw. Unfortunately it might be sometime before he’ll be fully better.”

“Do you know when he’ll be able to return to duty?” Selak asked, in hopes that the doctor would assume he was trying to get a frame of reference of when he’d be better.

But, by the look on Phlox’s face, he was torn between that thought and another. One would assume that he was thinking that, as a Vulcan, the man only wanted to know when he could work.

“Well,” Phlox finally said, “A week at most. But, we’ll just have to see how he responds.”

Selak nodded as he followed the doctor’s path as he fed his animals- if one could call half of them that. The Vulcan tried hard not to cringe at the sight of the food the Denobulan was giving to them… or the smell of it.

Selak stopped at the counter- Phlox’s workspace- even as the doctor continued on. “Is this what you used to free us?” Selak inquired of the doctor as he picked up a cylindrical container and looked it over. His eyes caught the label and knew immediately that it was.

“Yes. Quite effective, huh?”

“It did appear to help in the rescue of both the Commander and I,” he replied, looking over at the Commander’s space, surrounded by medical devices to aid him in his recovery.

The Vulcan turned his head, looking at the slightly disgusted look on the doctor’s face, just as he had heard, though subtly, in his voice. “You do not agree with the idea of it, do you? What, exactly, does it do? I… was unconscious through most of my experience.”

“It… it slows the heart. Only enough to knock them unconscious with the amount we used but-”

“If used to a larger degree it could easily stop the heart completely,” Selak determined. “How were you able to create it so quickly?”

“I did some preliminary research some time ago; it never went much further than that, but I had enough to synthesize this,” Phlox explained, the words almost lost upon Selak as his mind went back to an old memory.

A pale, young girl of fifteen starred up at him from her place on the ground. Her gray eyes shouted with pain and grief; anger directed towards him. In her arms, she cradled a boy of barely four, no longer crying but gasping for breath.

His parents sputtered; blood coming from their mouths. Next to them was the young girl; accusing him, starring at him, silently pleading with him to help.

“Why do you not destroy it?” Selak asked. Phlox looked back at him. He had thought, after the long stretch of silence, that the Vulcan had lost interest. Apparently not…

“I had asked the Captain about it but he seems to think that we might be able to use it against the Xindi.”

Selak nodded, a long analyzed question resurfacing in his mind. “Why do Humans… any species… seek to harm or humiliate others that did something to them? Why seek revenge for anything?”

Phlox gazed at the Vulcan. By Human standards, he seemed almost twenty-four, twenty-five. At least double as a Vulcan. But… but in his eyes he seemed more like an innocent child, one with pain burning at his core. Yet, at the same time, an old man far beyond his time- a wise, old man who had seen much.

The doctor shook his head, sadly. “I don’t know why, Selak. I just know that they do, for whatever reason they may have. For many, I would think, it makes them feel better if they had to suffer, so should the person who caused the pain. Or, at least someone should as well. Why do you ask?”

Selak looked back at the metallic cylinder, his eyes glazing over in memory. Remembering the heart wrenching moments of discovery… of the message he received in the middle of the night. Of the mental image of what it must have been like… of what all those people had gone through when many of them didn’t deserve it.

Selak’s mind jumped back to the present, just in time to force back his emotions bubbling extremely close to the surface. “No reason, doctor. None at all.”

Enterprise, Engineering

Trip’s hands trembled, almost making him drop his hypospanner. Nausea washed over him in incessant waves. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, trying to focus on his work.

Work… that was he did for the past three days, it seemed. But it kept his mind occupied. Kept it from wondering back to…

The sound of the door opening hit his ears, making Trip look at the new comer. He gave a weak smile, watching the Vulcan enter and regard him curiously. Her eyes took in his haggard appearance and quickly- easily- deduced that he had not been sleeping lately. In truth, he had hardly slept at all since… well, since before he had been abducted.

“Commander, why are you working? It is late, you should be in bed,” T’Pol told him, bending down to look the man in the eye. But he continued to work even through her warning, mumbling something about wanting to get it done.

“Commander, I will finish this for you. You should sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Trip insisted, his hands trembling violently a stronger wave of nausea hit him.

“You are shaking-”

“I’m fine!” He interjected his irrational mood swing not fazing her.

“You are not ‘fine’,” she replied, taking his warm hands in hers. They continued to shake, helped only by the firm hold T’Pol had. “You should be resting, Commander. Someone else can do this for you.”

“I should-”

“Someone else can do this,” she repeated, more firmly. His blue eyes looked up into her brown ones, his pain and fear shinning in them, touching T’Pol in a way she would never understand.

Trip’s head nodded, emotionlessly. He was drained- emotionally, physically, and mentally. He just needed a break and T’Pol intended to give him one.

Walking the engineer back to his quarters, T’Pol walked in with him, escorting him to his bed. She had rarely entered him room, finding it unnecessary or inappropriate, but found herself seeing that it reflected him well. There was an organized chaos to the room; something its owner was in more ways than one.

“Could ya hand me my shorts, right there?” He asked, his voice reflecting his exhaustion. Without responded, T’Pol picked up his clothing and set them on the edge of the bed while he pulled off his boots.

She watched him for a moment, determined to stay until she was sure that he was asleep. It was in that moment, as she waited for him to dress, that she noticed his sent throughout the room. It was not something she usually missed but, perhaps, she had merely grown used to humans’- or Trip’s- scent and merely ignored it.

She watched as he stood, stripping from his uniform. Looking away to afford him as much privacy as she could, his soft, tired chuckle caught her attention. “Ya don’t hafta look away. It’s not like ya haven’t seen me nude before.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow, looking back at his half-clad body. In the few seconds she had looked away, he had already donned on his shorts, leaving his upper body still uncovered. That was nothing new to her; after months of neuropressure sections it was almost becoming second nature to see his bare chest every few nights.

“Commander, have you slept at all in the past few days?” She inquired, having noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“Not really,” he admitted, sheepishly looking away from her.

“I could…”

“Neuropressure sounds good,” he interrupted her, as if reading her mind. Nodding sluggishly, Trip laid down on his back, getting comfortably with his pillow tucked underneath his head.

T’Pol watched him, a strange, unidentified feeling approaching the surface. After years of practice, she merely pushed it down without second thought. Approaching the bed, she warmed her hands slightly, but quickly found that it had been unnecessary.

“Commander, your temperature appears several degrees higher than normal,” she told him, placing her fingers on the correct places on his burning skin.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” he complained, a soft moan escaping his lips as he felt the pleasant effects of the neuropressure. T’Pol just arced an eyebrow, continuing with her job.

It took only a few minutes before Trip had relaxed into sleep. She stayed there a few moments longer; watching the pain slip away from his features as his subconscious took hold. He seemed so much more peaceful in sleep than he had awake in the past few days.

She knew the memories of what had happened to him and the pain of his withdraw were the causes, but she didn’t have a clue as to what had happened. She knew that asking the sleeping man in front of her was out of the question; he definably wouldn’t want to speak about it. But, perhaps, she might be able to ask Selak what he knew…

Enterprise, Sickbay

Slipping into the Infirmary without a sound, the young Vulcan walked across the metal floor. With the crew asleep, the probability of them coming near the medical ward was slim. But, as he knew, Phlox slept within those walls, as did his pet collection. Any wrong moment or noise could wake any number of them.

But his training had taught him well in the art of “breaking and entering”, along with theft and escape. He was an old pro but barely put his skills to use. Now it was a matter of life and death for millions- perhaps, billions- if he didn’t.

Sneaking further into the room, he walked soundlessly to the counter he had seen the cylinder earlier that day. His eyes scanned the area, but it wasn’t there. Raking his brain, he recalled hearing Phlox open one of the cupboards when he had left.

On a whim, he opened the first and scanned the contents. Nothing. Moving onto the others, it wasn’t until the third he opened that he found what he wanted. Carefully, the Vulcan lifted it out and away from the other items in its way.

Releasing a small sigh, he closed the door. Looking down at his prize, he gave a satisfied nod and left the room. His next step was to erase its existence from the computers, making sure that it wouldn’t be remade or left on record. He doubted Phlox would agree to remake it from scratch, at least he hoped not.

Enterprise, Mess Hall

“How are you feeling, today, Commander?” Selak inquired, setting down his tray- with only salad and a cup of tea on it- and seated himself across from Trip.

“Better.” Selak raised an eyebrow at hearing his rested voice and noticing that the circles under his eyes weren’t as pronounced as they had been before.

“That is good to hear. Were you able to sleep through the night?”

“Why is it that everyone knows I don’t sleep well?” He asked, suddenly agitated. His frustration only growing as he dropped his fork on the ground during his outburst. Sighing and taking a deep breath, he muttered an apology.

Selak just sat there, watching in anticipation for his next mood swing. “Calm yourself, Commander. I merely noticed that you seemed more relaxed than our last encounter.”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean t’ snap at you. I’ve just been… a little edgy, that’s all,” he said, trying to justify his earlier actions.

“There is no reason to explain, I am quite familiar with drug withdrawal. Sudden shifts in emotions are quite common,” he told him, his voice cool but the hidden emotions in his eyes telling a different, more emotional, story that his words did not.

“Yeah… part of yer whole psychology thing?” Trip asked, eating his breakfast with a new utensil Selak had offered him. Selak merely raised an eyebrow, not verbally answering his question. Perhaps it had been a mistake to explain to Trip how he held a degree in alien psychology.

“How ‘bout you? How’ve you been doin’?” Trip asked, concern flashing in his eyes for his fellow sufferer.

“I am unaffected by anything that happened there.” Selak’s eyes were downcast, starring intensely at his food but not taking a bit of it.

“Now that’s bullshit,” Trip told him, his voice a wealth of untamed, human emotions. “Come on, I saw the look in yer eyes when ya told me ‘bout… past experiences. That was difficult for you to be there. To even tell me that stuff.”

“It was easier to tell someone about my experiences than suffer simply replaying them in my mind.” Trip had to agree with that logic, no matter how un-Vulcan it sounded.

“I guess. I’ll see ya later, then.”

“You are not working, are you?” The concern that had leaked into Selak’s controlled voice touched the man. During their imprisonment, it was obvious some kind of bond had formed between them and it seemed to be affecting the Vulcan’s emotionless façade.

“Nah. I have an appointment with the Doc.” Selak nodded, feeling his emotions come back under his strict control once the wave of relief had washed over him.

“Then I shall see you at a later time.” He watched Trip go, wobbly walking toward the door. Selak sighed. An old memory resurfacing, one he’d rather not remember. Closing his eyes, the details came back to him with more clarity than ever before…

Everything was a blur… images were merely mixed and double vision plagued him. Reality was warped to him; even his Vulcan mind had trouble comprehending what was happening around him. The forms of people long since dead showed themselves to him, people he knew weren’t there appeared in front of him.
It just seemed so real…
Seemed so much better than what reality was…
It was so much better… he never wanted it to end…

He knew how it felt to have the promise of paradise fill you for a short time only to have it suddenly turn to hell. And then all that suddenly being ripped away and pulled back into reality.

He was already beginning to tire of his masquerade. Of the power he wielded in his hands. With ease he could change things; adjust moments as he pleased. He already had… and he still would. But that was later… and what he was doing was an exact science. Something that required patients- something he was quickly losing.

He just wanted to go home…

But more than that, he wanted to escape from what others knew as “life”…

Enterprise, Bridge

“Captain!” Doctor Phlox called out as he stepped off the turbolift, relieved to find that the man he wanted was right there. “Captain, I need to talk to you,” he told him in a hushed voice as he approached Archer, the Captain turning away from the Ensign who had just handed him a PADD.

“This way,” he said, leading him into his Ready Room. “Yes, Doctor? What is it?”

Archer said down at his desk, looking up at the Denobulan doctor. It was easy to notice that his normally jovial manner had disappeared and was replaced by one much more anxious.

“When I was feeding my animals this morning, I noticed that the gas was missing.”

“The gas? The one you made to free Trip and Selak?” This had definably caught the Captain’s attention, causing his to sit up straighter in his desk.

“Yes.”

“And it’s missing?”

“Yes, Captain,” the Doctor sighed. Hadn’t he already said that? How could this man be a captain if he couldn’t catch onto such easy matters?

“How could this happen? Could you have miss placed it?”

“I don’t think so, Captain. I put it away after Lieutenant Valiente brought it back.”

“You don’t think someone could have stolen it, do you?” By then, Archer was standing, pacing in fact, as he tried to figure the matter out. How could such a dangerous gas have gone missing? Maybe he should have just let the doctor dispose of it, he could always make more if it were necessary.

“I don’t see why anyone would want it, but that’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Very well. I’ll have Malcolm run scans to try and locate it. In the mean time, would you place look over Sickbay. I’d rather find out that it had been miss placed over stolen.”

“Of course, Captain. And, one more thing.”

“What is it?” He said, still focused on the gas.

“After seeing this, I checked my medical logs. There’s absolutely no trace of it in the system. Not of any of the away team being treated for exposure to it, not of it’s creation or usage. Or even my notes on it. All of it was erased. And rather well; I can’t track down any of it.”

“Well, it appears someone doesn’t want us to have this.”

“It would seem so, sir.” With that, the doctor left, having his own duties- and search- to perform. Archer just sighed, plopping himself down in his chair. Who would do this?

Enterprise, Selak’s Quarters

“Wait, wait, wait! I can’t just leave, not now. Can’t you just skip ahead a week or two and get me then?” Selak hissed at the viewscreen, anger and confusion shinning in his eyes as he argued with the man.

“No, it was hard enough getting a lock on you at this moment. You accomplished half of your mission, that will have to do,” the human told him.

“Half? Have to do? What, you aren’t sending me back?”

“I’m afraid we can’t. I only have authorization to retrieve you. That’s it,” he explained, not overly apologetic.

“But… I’m not ready. I’ll need at least two days to adjust the program. You can’t pull me out now,” Selak complained.

“We don’t have the time or the lock. It has to be now.”

“But… what are they going to think. They all will be put up for insanity charges when they report back to Starfleet saying that they lost the other Vulcan,” Selak remarked, standing in frustration.

“That’s just something we can’t avoid. We’re pulling you back now.”

Taking a deep breath, he sat back down, looking at the balding man in the small screen. “Fine. Just give me a mi-”

Enterprise, Archer’s Quarters, A Day and a half Later

“Captain’s Personal Log: January 3, 2154.

“So far our search for Phlox’s missing gas has turned up nothing. It’s definably not in Sickbay- learned after an extensive search. Nothing has turned up, either, in our search of the ship.

“In addition to this, we discovered, after Lieutenant Selak failed to report to duty, that he is missing. After another search for him, it was discovered that he is not on board the ship. I can’t help but to think that his disappearance had something to do with the missing gas from Sickbay.

“But, if he did steal it, what would he need with it? And how did he leave? All shuttles are accounted for, no one beamed off the ship, and no other ships have been in the area in the past seventy-two hours. Even the search of Selak’s quarters have proven fruitless.

“This is, by far, one of the most intriguing mysteries Enterprise has seen yet. Computer, end log.”

With a sigh, Archer looked down at his long time friend, lounging on his bed. “So, what do you think, Porthos?” The dog just gave a soft whine, not moving from his spot. “Yeah, that’s all I got so far, too. But I’m confident we’ll find him and the gas… at least I really hope we do. Otherwise the Vulcan’s will have my ass.”

Archer rubbed his face with his hand, running it through his hair before using it to shut down the computer. “Come on, boy. Let’s get some rest, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Enterprise, T’Pol’s Quarters

T’Pol sat comfortably on her mediation mat, starring blankly into the flame. For two hours she had attempted to achieve a state of mediation to properly clear her mind, but it seemed that her mind was just too “noisy” to do so.

She found that her mind kept retreating back to Commander Tucker. Thinking about how he was doing and feeling; how he was adjusting to his withdraw. He seemed overly anxious lately, far more prone to emotional shifts. Though he was getting better, he still had lapses of motor function and emotional control. Many times T’Pol had been a witness to them.

He also seemed to be having trouble sleeping again, perhaps that was even some of the fault of his lapses. She could only imagine the nightmares he was now plagued with; thoughts and dreams of his imprisonment and forced addition. It was something she would have been more than willing to help with.

The buzzing of her door chime brought T’Pol out of her musing. She stood, curious as to who would be at her door at such a late hour.

“Commander?” She asked once she saw the occupant outside her door.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t’ interrupt-”

“No, you are not. Is there something you need?”

“Um, well, I know that it’s not the day for it… it’s just that… well I can’t sleep and-” he stuttered out, stopping only when he saw that her eyebrow had risen.

“You came for neuropressure.”

“If it inn’t too much of a bother.” She nodded, stepping aside and allowing him in. At the sight of her meditation mat and lit candle, he asked, “Were ya meditating?”

“I had just completed my meditation for this evening,” she lied, not wishing to speak about it further, though slightly disturbed at how easily such a fib came to her. Without remaining on the thought for more than a moment, she gestured for him to sit down on the pad already laid out.

“Oh,” Trip said simply, kneeling down as she had said.

Trip looked over at the candle she had burning through every session. He remembered scolding her years ago when he first saw candles in her quarters- that seemed like so long ago now, a different lifetime almost.

“How have you been feeling, besides the insomnia?”

“Not bad. Can we not talk about that?”

“As you wish. Please, remove your shirt.” Though T’Pol was hardly scared by Trip’s agitation, she wasn’t about to test his control and provoke him- she had already been on the receiving end of his frustrations many times in the past few days.

With his shirt off and politely tossed to the side, T’Pol settled herself closer, pressing her hands against his bare chest. Pressing on various pressure points, she could feel the practice rhythm of his breathing- the steady rise and fall, almost hypnotic as see watched.

“So,” Trip sighed, trying to think of some way to break the deafening silence- at least talking about his “condition” they would say something, he just wasn’t in the mood to go over such things again and again, Phlox was enough.

“How’s everything goin’ with the search for Selak and the gas?”

“Not well. Two days of searching have provided nothing. It would appear that whomever took the gas destroyed it,” T’Pol told him, still focused on his bare chest.

Trip nodded. It seemed likely; why else would they erase all the data if they didn’t want it destroyed? Not even that was going according to plan- the engineering crew couldn’t find a single word in all the files deleted. Whoever was responsible, did a great job; there was quite literally nothing left.

“Yeah, but they just couldn’t “destroy” Selak. He’s gotta be somewhere. Do ya think it was him? Selak? Cause, I mean… he is capable of this.” Trip looked at her, seeing her glance up at him as he spoke. It was evident from her face that she didn’t think a Vulcan would do so- or at least that’s what she wanted to believe.

“I am uncertain. It is a possibility that he took the gas, but there seems to be no logical reason for him to do so. He is Vulcan, he does not need it for anything.”

Trip nodded, sighing as he did so. “Yeah. But someone did… just wonder who.”

Enterprise, Captain’s Ready Room

The doors to Archer’s ready room slide open, the Captain conversing with his two senior most officers. He turned back around, finally seeing his desk. His words trailed off; his feet stopping at the sight of Selak sitting comfortably behind his desk.

“Selak? What are you doing in here? Where have you been?” Archer paused, finally taking in the appearance of the Vulcan. His hair had grown at least an inch, his ears almost completely covered over. A few days worth of stubble had collected on his face, just adding to his gruffly, unwashed hair and haggard looking clothing.

“What the hell happened to you?”

The Vulcan almost laughed at his surprised statement, his eyes- and that of the other two- taking in his slouched posture as he comfortably settled back in the Captain’s desk chair.

Standing, he seemed to almost bounce with an air of insanity, he told them, “I was… recalled for a little while. Actually, I’m not supposed to be here. But what the hell…?”

Archer listened to the Vulcan, a concerned frown growing over his features. The more he looked at the man, the more he could have sworn that he had snapped. “Are you ok?”

“You know, Captain, that in some cultures, by my appearance, they’d think I’m fine. In others- such as your own- I must appear to be quite insane. Insane, that is another interesting word, don’t you agree.

“Insane is defined as being mentally unstable or out of sane mind. Yet, you would assume from the word, that you are within sanity. In sane. In sanity. Shouldn’t the word truly be… ex-sane. Ab-sane. Those prefixes do you come from Latin, correct? I took that class once, rather dull if you ask me but interesting none the less, only at times of course.”

The three listened on to the Vulcan’s rant, surprised with his odd sense of… insanity. Archer, looking over at T’Pol and Trip, silently asked for their opinions on the matter, while hoping that the Vulcan didn’t notice the exchange.

“It’s all right, Captain. I’m not really insane; I just enjoy acting that way. Then, again, perhaps I am. Oh, well. But it is much more fun than serious, wouldn’t agree? Although, being cooped up on this ship having to pretend to be the ever stoic Vulcan might have driven me mad.” Selak laughed as he plopped back down in the Captain’s chair.

“Well, go ahead. You want to know what I’m talking about. Why I came back. And so on and so forth. Go ahead, fire away. Not like I give a damn about all that secrecy and crap,” he told them, finally calming some.

“Ok,” Archer started, not really sure that the answers he was about to hear would have any valid point to them. “Where have you been for the past two days?”

“Two days? I thought I had miscalculated more than that. Oh well, no big deal. Actually, Captain, from my perspective I’ve been gone for… hmm, almost four- no, five- months.” Seeing the confused looks on their faces, he said, “Time travel’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Time travel? You’re from Daniels’ time?” Archer asked, trying to piece together what he had heard.

“Daniels? No clue who he is.”

“When are you from then?” Trip asked, stealing Archer’s next question.

With a grim smile, he said, “The 29th century. All that time has to show for is a bloody long war and a couple o’ new ray guns.” A soft laugh escaped him, the Vulcan standing to his full height. “Not a very glamorous time, Captain.”

“Is that why you have come here? To change that?” T’Pol asked, albeit skeptically.

“Ah, Sub-Commander T’Pol, hardly the believer. But yes, for the most part. To change some things, make parts better.”

“Parts?”

“Can’t change everything, no matter how much I’d like to. Love to just send you home and tell you to never come back into space but I know that will never happen. Not like it’d help anything,” Selak mussed, turning away from his audience.

“Then what, exactly, are you here to change?”

He smiled at Archer’s obvious question. “I would tell you, but then it wouldn’t be half as fun.”

T’Pol’s eyebrow raised at the taunting retort. “Should you be telling us this? It is my understanding that the more you tell us, the more chance there is in harming the timeline.”

“That’s the beauty of the way we use time travel. It won’t. Not really.”

“Not really?” Trip inquired, slipping just that much farther into the room.

A wry smile grew, a rather interesting expression on a Vulcan. “Mind control. Or “mind manipulation”, as the government calls it. One of the few true benefits of the war. How sick is that?”

“I do not understand.” Selak’s gaze fell upon T’Pol. He could easily see how much she was trying to forget that he was Vulcan. Oh, if she only knew…

“Using mind control, I was able to… program your minds to believe that I’ve been with you since the beginning. Program discussions, events, and so forth into your minds. Change the computer files so that you’d truly believe that I belong here.”

“You mean, everything that we remember about you, never happened?” Trip questioned.

“Not everything. As of two months ago, anything that happened was completely real and out of my control. Before that, much is manipulated,” he admitted.

“What about when you leave? Will you just erase your existence?” Archer asked, his voice trying to cover some type of hidden anger.

“No, that would not be wise. I will merely make you think that anything that passed between myself and anyone else was a different, imaginary crewman. One that never really existed. The day that I leave, he supposedly died. That’s how the history books will see it. You’ll never remember me once I leave. I never existed,” he said spitefully, showing some type of annoyance or rage. Towards what, none of the three knew.

“Mind control? I just can’t believe that Starfleet would resort to using that. Create that at all,” Archer said, almost daring the Vulcan to counter him.

“The Starfleet you know now and the one I joined are two very different organizations in two very different situations. While you test out space, we’re in an all out war. Mind control has played a large part in everything so far. Starfleet only uses it in extreme cases. And for interrogations- it’s seen as less brutal,” Selak explained, his once jumpy and spasmodic personality replaced by one much more serious.

“Mind control less brutal? I doubt that Starfleet would see it that way,” Archer stated, more not wanting than truly not believing the Vulcan’s tale.

“Compared to some of what our enemies have been known to do, that’s rather kind, Captain. Trust me, I would much rather be at the hands of Starfleet than any of them,” Selak told Archer, his tone and expression serious.

“In times of war, stories like that are often fabricated purely from rumor,” T’Pol explained to him, not intentionally meaning to get him off topic.

Turning to the other Vulcan, Selak smile. “True, very true. Some of the stories I’ve heard are slight exaggerations, but hardly all.”

“How do you know that?” She countered.

For a moment, he froze. His gaze didn’t falter; another smile grew, covering over his suddenly blank expression. Glancing in Trip’s direction he could have sworn that the Human understood.

“That doesn’t matter. I just know. But I believe you are taking this off topic. I would bet your next question, Captain, is ‘what is my mission’. Correct?” Archer’s head nodded, however slightly, to tell the Vulcan to answer.

“Right. Well, it started when the war hit an all time low. No one was winning, no one was losing. Just hundreds of thousands of people were dying every week. Starfleet wanted some way to end it- a quick, swift end.

“So they got together a small team of scientists, many of them specializing in the medical science. Starfleet wanted them to create the worst and deadliest bioweapon. Wanted one with no cure, no way of stopping… In our time, scientist just… don’t know how to think that way. So they looked back through the centuries. They knew that, in the past few centuries, very little that wasn’t already being used would help them… so they looked as far back as Dr. Phlox’s medical reports.”

“What could they have possibly used that Phlox created?”

“Two things: one you know of, the other you’ll find soon. The first thing they looked into was a gas agent that infiltrates the body through respiration- once in the blood stream it attacks the heart, slowing it until it stops.

“The other is a genetically enhanced virus, one that was made into an air born toxin. Once it gets into the lungs, it starts to close off the air sacs, making it harder to breathe, all the while liquidating the lungs. You die from suffocating on your own blood.

“The two are deadly enough on their own, extremely fatal when combined. I already erased all data about the first, destroyed its existence practically. Now I just have to bide my time until the second part comes along.”

Selak turned away, trying hard to hold himself together. Trying to push out the imagines- both real and imagined- out of his head.

“So, you were the one to steal the gas, weren’t you?”

Selak turned to faced the Captain, his face scrunching up in an uncharacteristic fashion for him as he seemed to think of some way around the accusation. “I didn’t steal it… per se. I more… eradicated its existence. There’s a difference.”

The Vulcan paused, turning away from them again. He seemed ready to go off on another rant, but before he was able, Archer cut in saying:

“I understand that it must be a horrible weapon that was created, but why destroy it? That I don’t understand completely.” Though, from an ethical humanitarian way, he knew why it should never be made but, from a warring government perspective, he had no idea.

“Because… it turned out to be worse than we thought. Far worse. Then our enemy got a hold of it… the war just… got a lot worse… a whole lot worse and we didn’t know how else to stop it,” Selak admitted.

“Then why make it in the first place.”

“You don’t understand, Captain. This isn’t a war you’re familiar with, not in the slightest. This war…” he explained, walking closer to the table. “It has no rules, no mercy. They hit us, we hit them harder. They attack, we attack them. It’s just an endless cycle. One day, when Starfleet decided that they’d play god, they wanted to just wipe out our enemies, clean the slate, rather than deal with their mistakes.”

The three watched the Vulcan as he flailed his arms for emphasis. They starred, almost opened mouthed, as they became more and more sucked in by the story while, at the same time, more horrified by what they heard.

Turning with Selak, they watched him walk around the table, continuing his tale of the future. “My brother was a medical doctor. He was in charge of that team. He was ordered to find some way to combine the two- to make the weapon. And he did… he found a most deadly combination of two.”

“He created the worst bioweapon your era has ever seen?” T’Pol inquired, seemingly annoyed or curious by his obvious change from ritual Vulcan to an emotional one.

“Yeah, that’s what they said. They… what was it?… ‘Ushered in a new era for mankind. Their… creation may just bring about the end to this war’. What a load of bullshit that was. Yeah, now you can have your heart stop as you drown in your own blood- what a load of fun, we should all try it,” Selak mocked, unsure why he felt so angry at T’Pol but not stopping his venting.

“We have three enemies, Captain. Only one is really a true threat to us. One was even ready to surrender to us, but we still released it on all three of them- hitting their major science colonies. It killed millions, most were innocent civilians.” The news seemed to shock- and horror- his audience as the enraged Vulcan turned his back to them once more.

Just then, a curt laugh escaped his lips, the Vulcan spinning around to look back at the Captain. “And then there was my job. I was sent in; told to take whatever information I could get my hands on, whatever technology. But no…” He drawled out, walking almost like an insane man over to the Captain, paying little to no attention to those around them. “I wasn’t supposed to care about the five year old dying from her slowly liquidating lungs or care about the young mother coughing up blood as she cradled her dying baby. That wasn’t my job- I wasn’t trained to give a damn.”

Suddenly, as if realizing his unprovoked rant, he turned away, trying to force back the tears rising to the surface. Trying to push back the gruesome and vivid memories of the colony- colonies.

“They retaliated,” Trip stated, something he’d almost forgotten clicking into place. Looking up at the Vulcan, his back to him, he said, “That was the rare viral out-break you told me about. That was why yer brother killed himself. He created that… thing.”

Pivoting around, the Vulcan smiled a grim smile. “I told you my life sucked.” Turning back, he walked up to Archer. “Tell Travis to set a course for these coordinates.”

Archer looked down at the PADD Selak handed him. “Why?”

Raising an eyebrow, he told him, “Because that’s where we must be.”

“You do remember we’re on a mission?”

“Of course. Trust me, Captain, I could hardly forget such a thing. They have something you might find useful. Something I am sure they would be willing to give for a small price.”

“What would we have to give them?”

After a moment, Selak sighed, knowing he could not stare down the Captain’s question. “I’ll take care of it.”

“The cost, Selak.”

He hesitated, only a moment. “Like I said, I’ll worry about that.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

He smiled. “The Amocku are… a complex but arrogant race. Someone who knows them could be able to… manipulate their opinions.”

“Not something very becoming of a Vulcan,” T’Pol commented.

Selak’s grin only grew wider. “True, but that unbecoming aspect of my personality may very well be the difference between success or failure of this mission.” With that, he turned, walking out, his cool outward appearance once again intact.

Continued in Part 2

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