The Courier

THE COURIER

By kittytrypsin

Rating: G, Action/Adventure
Disclaimer#1 Paramount owns the original characters; I’m only borrowing them.
Disclaimer#2 No profit is being made from these ramblings (I wish).

Archive: Gladly, just let me know where.

A/N: ‘italics’ indicates people’s thoughts.
A/N: **Mycros is the planet featured in “Dead Ringer”-plug, plug.

***********************

CHAPTER ONE

Captain Jonathan Archer was reclining on the bunk in his quarters, reading a novel, with his beagle pup, Porthos, snuggled on his chest, enjoying a little one-to-one attention from his busy master.

Enterprise, Star Fleet’s flagship, was currently travelling through unchartered space, and for several days now, they’d failed to turn up a single item of interest. Duty rosters had continued as normal, but nearly everyone on the ship was getting more than a little bored.

The exceptions to this were the Denobulan Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Phlox and the Vulcan Science Officer, T’Pol. Phlox kept a small menagerie of exotic pets in sickbay, and the lull in human occupants allowed him to utilise his time in cleaning out the animal cages. And according to T’Pol, Vulcans didn’t get bored!

Jon sighed as he came to the end of his novel. Scooping Porthos off his chest, he rolled off the bed.

“Come on, boy, let’s go visit Trip, see if he wants to watch some water polo.”

Porthos recognised by his master’s actions that they were going ‘walkies’, and that was fine by him. He raced ahead of the captain, looking back every now and then to make sure his human keeper hadn’t got lost. The little dog’s tail wagged hugely, a study in perpetual motion, as he ran through the corridors.

Before long, his master called him to a halt outside a familiar door. Porthos sniffed happily at the door and bounded into the room as soon as it opened. Jon grinned at the slightly dishevelled figure of his best friend, Commander Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III, Enterprise’s chief engineer. Trip swallowed a yawn when he recognised his visitors.

“Hi, Cap’n, come on in. What brings you out so late? Hey, Porthos, get off my bed!”

Jon stepped into the untidy quarters and gave Trip an assessing look. The younger man was still recovering from the severe beating he’d received on Mycros** and hadn’t yet returned to full active duty.

“Just a social call to see how you’re feeling. We’ve missed you at dinner for a while.”

The ‘we’ was the captain and the Sub-Commander. The three officers usually ate their evening meal in the captain’s private mess room, engaging in many a verbal sparring match, often between Trip and T’Pol. Jon loved to watch the sparks fly between his two most senior officers, and often wondered was there perhaps a physical attraction behind the arguments? He knew better than to suggest it to T’Pol, and he could imagine his friend’s reaction if he even suggested that Vulcan-baiting was a prelude to romance!!

“I’m fine, Cap’n, I guess I just haven’t got my appetite back, fully. But Doc assures me I’m doin’ ok, an’ I’ll be back to full duties in another coupla days.” Trip’s soft Southern accent reassured Jon, even though his friend still looked a little peaky around the edges.

“What’s the rush? It’s not as if we’re doing anything to strain the engineering department. There’s just nothing out there to explore. Take as long as you need.”

Trip grinned as he handed Jon a beer.

“Normally I’d be bored, too, but I’ve been kinda glad to have it quiet until I get back onto my feet again. I don’t like anybody takin’ pot-shots at us if I’m not there to keep an eye on the warp reactor.”

“You’re worse than a mother hen with that reactor. You’ve a perfectly good engineering team, doing just fine without you, Commander!”

Trip grinned at the analogy; he just didn’t trust anyone else to look after his precious engines.

“Yeah, whatever, but I guess you can take only so much peace an’ quiet. I’ve no doubt we’ll find somethin’ excitin’ around the next corner.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

Two days later, Jon called his senior officers to the situation room. He looked around as they arrived, eagerness for adventure shining in the eyes of Trip, Hoshi and Travis, with a degree of caution from Malcolm, and the customary blank canvas that was T’Pol’s face.

“Hoshi, how’s the translation coming along?”

Ensign Sato, Linguistics and Communications Officer, nodded as she spoke.

“Nearly there, Captain. It’s a complex language, but basically when it’s broken down, it’s a synthesised voice sending out a hail on a loop, repeating itself over and over again. It’s inviting travellers to stop off at the source, which appears to be a deep space station close by. I tried to send a response, but I don’t think anyone’s actually listening.”

“Ok, good work. T’Pol, does the Vulcan database have anything on this station?”

T’Pol stood with her hands clasped behind her. “Affirmative, Captain. This is a multi-racial, multi-cultural meeting place with a high crime rate. I would advise against visiting it, but should you choose to do so, I would recommend extreme caution at all times.”

“Aw, Sub-Commander, haven’t you any spirit of adventure?” Trip’s drawl sounded in her ear, too close for comfort. His accent seemed heavier than usual, done deliberately to provoke a response from her. T’Pol’s elegant eyebrow arched as she turned to face her challenger.

“”I would have thought that your most recent experiences might have dampened your own spirit of adventure, Commander, or does your head require frequent blows to remind you?”

“Nah, I don’t need a blow to the head when I’ve got you, darlin’,” Trip responded, smarting.

Jon sighed. Life on ship could never truly be described as dull when his two senior officers got started on each other.

“Ok, let’s keep this civilised. We’ll send a small away team in pairs. Watch each other’s backs at all times, and keep in touch with each other and the ship. T’Pol, you’re with me. Trip, you and Malcolm team up. Malcolm, break out some phase pistols and we’ll meet in the shuttle bay in two hours. Travis, bring us into orbit around the station as soon as we arrive. Dismissed.”

T’Pol considered the captain’s decision to visit this place as foolhardy, but she wasn’t entirely surprised by his actions. These humans were extremely inquisitive and their mission brief had been defined as seeking out new worlds and civilisations. Well, they’d certainly get their fill now.

**********************

CHAPTER TWO

The shuttlepod had docked with the space station and the four crewmembers were exploring the level they’d disembarked on. They’d only been on the station for ten minutes and already they’d lost count of the number of unfamiliar races they’d encountered.

“T’Pol, have you ever seen anything like this before?” Jon asked.

T’Pol turned to address the captain. “I have visited other space stations before, but this is larger. Logic would dictate that the larger the station, and the deeper in space it is situated, the greater the number of races inhabiting it.”

“A simple ‘yes’ woulda done, ya know,” Trip answered, sarcastically.

Jon decided he needed to put some distance between them before one of his officers said something they might regret.

“Trip, you and Malcolm head east, we’ll go west. Keep your heads up and don’t forget to check in regularly.”

The parties separated and Jon breathed a silent sigh of relief as he and T’Pol continued in companionable silence. The station was huge, with many diverse levels, twists and turns. They travelled in turbo-lifts from floor to floor, observing the social interactions unfolding before them, and the many species for which this alien place was home.

Trip and Malcolm had covered fairly similar ground and were presently standing open-mouthed, watching two alien females slugging it out in the centre of a small crowd. It couldn’t have been described even loosely as sport, but it had certainly attracted a lot of attention.

Trip, raised by his strong mother to respect women, couldn’t stand idly by while two ‘ladies’ tried to beat each others’ brains in, and was on the edge of the crowd, about to push through.

“Commander,” Malcolm called, warningly. “Sir, this isn’t anything to do with us. For all we know, this could be perfectly acceptable behaviour.”

“Acceptable? Ya call this acceptable? Where I come from, ladies don’t go pokin’ each other in the eyes.”

“Yes, but where you come from is a very long way from here. Sir, please?”

Trip grumbled in acknowledgment of the sense Malcolm was making. There was no point in meddling in something he knew nothing about.

“Ok, ok, lead on, I’m right behind ya.”

Malcolm moved off again in the direction they’d been heading before the floorshow had interrupted them. He smiled cautiously at the strange faces looming at him.

“You know, Commander, you really must learn to control your inclinations to rush into unknown situations. Some day your curiosity’s going to bite you on the bum.”

He turned round to see the reaction on Trip’s face, but his own face was a study in bewilderment: Trip Tucker was nowhere to be seen!

^*^*^*^*^*^

Malcolm looked around, frantically, yelling the commander’s name. He used his communicator to try to reach him, but got no reply. There were alien forms brushing past him on all sides, as he stood in the centre of the aisle like an island. He strained to see past them, frantic for a sight of Trip’s blond head, or a glimpse of the Star Fleet uniform.

Reluctantly, he resigned himself to the fact that Commander Tucker had disappeared, and as he wasn’t responding, was most likely unable to. He activated his communicator again.

“Reed to Captain Archer.”

“Archer, go ahead, Malcolm.”

“Sir, I’m afraid that Commander Tucker and I have got separated and he’s not responding to a hail.”

“Oh for crying out loud…Ok, stay put in case he turns up. Give me your exact location and we’ll join you.”

Malcolm looked at the wall behind him for some indication of his whereabouts.

“We’re on level 5 east, subsection B, about halfway along a wide promenade.”

“All right, Malcolm, keep trying the com., we’ll be with you as soon as we can. Archer out.”

Malcolm looked around apprehensively, seeing spooks everywhere, menace around every corner. ‘Trip, why does it always happen to you? You’re like a magnet to trouble!’

A nagging self-doubt was eating at him: he was the security officer, and knowing the commander’s propensity for attracting trouble, he should have kept him within eyeshot at all times.

After about ten minutes, all of which seemed to Malcolm to last an eternity, Jon and T’Pol appeared at his elbow.

“Still nothing, Malcolm?”

“No, sir, I’ve tried the communicator several times.”

Jon looked around at the melting pot of assorted aliens thronging the promenade.

“Ok, Malcolm, tell me exactly what happened.”

“There was a…catfight taking centre stage just over there. We stopped briefly, and Commander Tucker wanted to break it up, but I persuaded him to walk away. He assured me that he was right behind me, but when I turned back, he was missing. I’d only turned away from him for a minute.”

Jon could tell that Malcolm was berating himself badly. He clapped the solemn man on the shoulder.

“Take it easy, Malcolm, it could have happened to any one of us. Have you tried getting the ship to scan for his bio signs?”

“I thought of that, Captain, but now I can’t get through to Enterprise. Perhaps there’s something blocking the communicators’ signals.”

T’Pol had remained silent, watching the human interactions. The tricorder in her hand had also failed to locate Commander Tucker, but given the sheer volume of bodies circulating, that was hardly surprising.

“Captain, we should return to the shuttlepod and attempt to contact the ship from there.”

“Ok, T’Pol, you go. If you still can’t get through, take the ‘pod back to Enterprise and see what you can do to find Trip. Malcolm and I’ll keep looking.”

“That is ill-advised, Captain. One or both of you may fall prey to whatever happened to the commander.”

Jon gave her a hard stare, and then shook his head. “I know, and if I’d listened to your advice we wouldn’t be in this mess, but we are, so let’s make the best of it. I’m hardly going to call off the search after falling at the first hurdle. Come back for us in four hours.”

CHAPTER THREE

Trip screwed his eyes shut as soon as he’d opened them, the harshness of the light painful. For whatever reason, someone was shining a bright light directly into his face. The light cast dark shadows, making it impossible for him to see anyone behind it.

He shook his head to try to clear the muzziness in it, wondering why his head should be muzzy, and why he was sitting in a strange room, bound hand and foot? He wasn’t gagged, so he decided to exercise his lungs.

“Hey, lemme outta here! Hello? Need some help, here!”

His only reply was silence. He thought back to the last thing he could remember, vaguely recalling a fight that he and Malcolm had stopped to watch. ‘Malcolm! Was he ok, was he maybe tied up like him, maybe even next door?’

“Hey, Malcolm! Can ya hear me?”

Getting no response, his thoughts went back to the fight. Malcolm had urged him to walk away, against his better judgement, and he had been, only to feel something sharp and painful connect with the back of his neck. After that, all he knew was waking up to that blasted light.

He struggled against his bonds, but realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going anywhere, soon. Whoever, or whatever had tied him up had secured his legs not together, but to the front legs of the hard seat he was sitting on. His toes cramped a bit as he realised the bonds were very tight. His hands were secured behind his back, and when he flexed his fingers, he felt them tingle, too.

‘Great, Tucker, here ya are, once again singled out for whatever nefarious reason, and now you’re gonna lose your extremities into the bargain!’

“Hey, c’mon, lemme outta here,” he yelled, again and again, his only companion the silence which seemed to mock him.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Jon and Malcolm had begun a systematic search of the area round them. They’d decided against splitting up, and this slowed their search, but that couldn’t be helped. They’d had no contact from T’Pol, confirming that interference was affecting their communicators, and already they’d been searching for one hour. Jon was worried for his friend, anxious to know who had taken him, and why.

He looked at the faces of the people passing by. Most were totally alien, but a few were humanoid. Perhaps Trip had been mistaken for someone else. Somewhat belatedly, he thought of seeking out some form of authority on the station and reporting the situation. By using the UT he obtained directions from one of the humanoids for the location of the station’s Constable.

They were loath to leave the original site, but Jon realised that they weren’t going to find Trip without help. They took the turbo-lift to the next level and found themselves outside a grey door.

Jon’s heart sank when he looked at the man who opened the door to their knock; he was a Tandoran! They were invited into the office, and the two men entered with some trepidation.

“Ah, the famous Captain Archer of the earth vessel Enterprise. You’re making quite a reputation out here. Colonel Grat wishes to be remembered, and looks forward to the day he might meet you again.”

Jon felt alarm at the mention of the man he’d made an enemy of some months ago. This could be very awkward, indeed. The Tandaran watched the human’s expression.

“Relax, Captain, I don’t actually share Colonel Grat’s views on the Suliban. Not all Sulibans are in the Cabal, and not all Tandorans are like the colonel. Now, to your present problem…about one hour ago we received an anonymous message to this office, addressed to a Star ship captain. Until you came through my door with the tale of your missing engineer, I was at a loss as to whom it was for. We have so many ships calling at our station that it’s virtually impossible to keep track of everyone here.”

He handed over a message padd and Jon keyed the information with trepidation. It would have to be about Trip; no one else knew Enterprise was calling at the station.

The writing on the padd was in an alien language, which Constable Fee was able to translate. It was informative to a certain degree, but left as many questions unanswered.

‘“I have information regarding your crewman. Meet me on level 4 east, subsection 2 as soon as possible. Do not involve the constable any further if you wish to retrieve your missing person.”’ The message was unsigned.

“I know you’ll be keeping this appointment, Captain, and I can’t blame you for that, but I’ll provide a discreet back-up from a distance. This is my turf, and I don’t like anyone abusing my authority!” Fee seemed genuinely annoyed, and Jon was only too happy to accept his offered assistance.

^*^*^*^*^*^

The aliens on the station seemed to hold Constable Fee in high regard as they parted to let him through. Many called out a greeting, which the man acknowledged in a friendly manner. He explained that it made his job easier to keep the natives on his side. Jon and Malcolm followed like a flotilla, taking in the expressions of the aliens around them. Perhaps some of them knew Trip’s whereabouts, and maybe even some of them had had a hand in his disappearance!

It didn’t take long to reach the rendezvous point and Jon looked round, anxious to make contact. Fee arranged to see what he could find out from some of his contacts, and moved away far enough to be out of the picture, but still keep an eye on developments.

Jon felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down into the innocent face of a young girl. She handed him a padd and he was surprised that it was in English.

“‘We have learned your language. Follow this child, and come alone if you want your crewman back.’”

Jon looked at the small figure moving away through the crowd, and he just had time to yell at Malcolm.

“Stay with the Constable, Lieutenant. I’ve made contact and hopefully will be back soon.”

With that, he was gone, swallowed instantly by the throng of bodies on the promenade, before Malcolm had a chance to object.

********************

CHAPTER FOUR

Jon had lost track of the number of turns his journey had taken since leaving the promenade. The hustle and bustle had faded to silence, and the soft scuff of his small guide’s feet was all there was to hear. She turned to smile at him from time to time, making sure that he was still following, leading him deeper into the bowels of the station.

After about ten minutes of travel, she stopped suddenly outside a non-descript doorway, and when Jon looked at her questioningly, she merely nodded. He took a deep breath before testing the handle, and on finding it opening to his touch, edged cautiously into the room. The brightness of the light startled him at first, but the sight of his Chief Engineer strapped to a chair was even more startling.

Trip had his chin on his chest, seemingly asleep, and Jon’s mouth went dry as he looked around the small room for a third party. When no one was visible, he rushed forward.

“Trip, you ok?”

Trip slowly opened bleary eyes and gave the captain a weary grin.

“Cap’n, glad you could stop by.” His voice was slightly hoarse from the hours he’d spent yelling for help, and his body ached from being forced to sit still for so long in that cramped position. “What’s goin’ on, anyway?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I haven’t seen anybody to ask. The last thing I remember’s bein’ stuck in the back of the neck, then wakin’ here in the waitin’ room from hell, trussed like a Thanksgivin’ turkey. D’ya think there’s a cosmic conspiracy out there to get Tucker, no matter what it takes?”

Jon was busying himself, trying to undo the bindings on his friend’s limbs.

“I don’t know, Trip, but sometimes it certainly seems like it…I can’t get these off, they’re too strongly bonded. I’ll need to find something to cut them with.”

“Guess I’ll just wait here, Cap’n, but don’t forget to come back.”

“Your Captain won’t need to go anywhere, I’ll release you presently.”

The two officers had been so intent on working on Trip’s bindings that neither man had seen or heard the newcomer’s arrival.

They took in the humanoid’s appearance. He was male, of average height and build, but with a distinctive, unforgettable face. A ridge divided his face in two, running from the centre of his forehead, down over the tip of his nose, and ending on his top lip. The eyes were yellow and cold, and the pupils were reptilian. He held an ugly-looking hand weapon, which he had trained on Jon. He spoke again, a little haltingly, as if finding the words difficult to form.

“Thank you for your punctuality, Captain. I apologise for these melodramatics, but I need a small service from you and your ship, and for that I borrowed your crewman.”

“Borrowed?” Trip spat. He was fed up with being the fall guy for every crazy loon in the galaxy. He’d signed on to Enterprise to keep her running smoothly, to nurse and cajole the engines into giving their best, and what had he got for his troubles? ‘Bash Tucker’ time, in triplicate.

Jon didn’t like where the conversation was leading. If this alien thought that he wouldn’t co-operate without some threat to Trip hanging over his head, he figured he wasn’t going to be too keen on hearing what the service was.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Just a little delivery, nothing more. I was in possession of some vitally important information, which I need urgently delivered to my home planet, some light years from here. I don’t have access to a warp-capable vessel of my own, so I’ve…borrowed yours.”

“You said you were in possession. That implies that someone else is in possession of it now.”

“Patience, Captain, I’m coming to that. Your crewman…”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me that if I refuse to help you, you’ll kill Commander Tucker?” Jon interrupted.

“A Commander? I chose well. It’s always helpful to have someone of importance as your bargaining chip, don’t you think? No, I won’t do anything like that, and you’ll understand why if I may continue. I’m only too happy to release the commander, because he’s now in possession of said information.”

“I am? Since when?” Trip was getting dizzy trying to keep up with the ping-pong conversation taking place over his head.

“Shortly after you were delivered to me, I inserted an implant into your bloodstream. It’s a chemical compound which, when removed and analysed, will reveal its secrets to the educated eye. However, in order to prevent this information falling into the wrong hands, it can only be safely removed by someone in possession of a ‘key’.”

“And who has that?” Jon could feel his anger rising. This alien was so glibly messing with other peoples’ lives, and he hadn’t given any thought to whether his implant might adversely affect Trip. Trip’s mouth had taken on the qualities of a freshly landed trout.

“Your contact on my home world, a trustworthy individual called Mendos. I’ll give you all the information you’ll need to make the delivery in good time. I’ll be sending you on your way very soon, as I must caution you that the implant will start to degrade over time. I’m not familiar with your physiology, but the courier normally has seven days to make a safe journey. After that, or if an attempt is made to remove it without the key, the implant will implode. Death will be instantaneous.”

*******************

CHAPTER FIVE

Jon’s gut instinct was to smash the man’s head against the wall, to take the alien’s weapon and shove it into his throat and force him to remove the implant from Trip’s blood. For an instant, he almost did it, but the man was talking again.

“I know you think all you have to do is have me remove the information, but I don’t have the key. This is a sensitive matter, Captain. The information will save countless lives. My planet is in the middle of an ugly war, which we are losing. Without the information that Commander Tucker is carrying, many people will die. Is it too much to ask you to make a small detour from wherever you were heading?”

“Ya might have asked!” Trip felt it was time he added his two cents’ worth.

“I might have, indeed, but I couldn’t take the risk of you refusing. After you’ve delivered the data, you’ll all be free to resume your…explorations. Just consider this an adventure along the way.”

“And what about your contact, Mendos? Will he be happy to just let us walk away?” Jon had never felt so helpless.

“There’s no reason for him not to, but as I see it, you’ve little option. The deed is done, and if you refuse, you condemn the commander by your own hand.”

Trip had been listening with a pounding heart and dry mouth, as his life was discussed in black and white. He wanted to yell, hit something or someone very hard, but most of all, he just wanted to get out of here.

“Cap’n, let’s go. If I’ve only got seven days before I go ‘kaboom’, I don’t want to waste them hangin’ around here.”

The alien nodded. “A wise decision, Commander. You have an adventure ahead of you, with who knows what obstacles to overcome before you reach your destination. It would be better not to be wasting time here.”

“And who do we say to Mendos that you are?” Jon asked, not unreasonably, he thought.

“He’ll know, but in case you fall into hostile hands, I’ll keep that information to myself. If my cover’s blown here, I’ll no longer be able to filter out the vital data that I presently can. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be any more devious than I already have been, but this is to protect all of us. There will be forces out there that will try anything to prevent you from getting this data delivered. Be alert!”

The alien produced a small laser and severed his captive’s bonds. Trip stood stiffly, trying not to gasp as the blood coursed through his numbed extremities, sending vicious pins and needles along his nerve endings. Jon placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder to support him.

“Ok, you’ve got your messenger service, but if anything happens to Commander Tucker, I’ll find you, no matter what rock you’re hiding under. That’s a promise!”

^*^*^*^*^*^.

Enterprise was under way, the new co-ordinates entered into the helm’s computer. The senior officers were gathered in the captain’s ready room, and their faces were grim as he apprised them of the situation. They looked at Trip with faces showing a mixture of sympathy and horror. Ordinarily, Trip hadn’t a problem with being the centre of attention. As a handsome young man, he was well used to it, but this was different and it made him very uncomfortable.

Malcolm, especially, was having a hard time coming to terms with the situation.

“Commander, I’m so dreadfully sorry. I was supposed to be your back up, and I let you down. What sort of Security Officer am I that I can’t even protect on a one-to-one basis?”

Trip felt compassionately for his too-serious friend; once before he’d called him a grim reaper, and he was determined not to let Malcolm slip back into his black moods. The others weren’t much happier.

“Hey guys, I’m not dead yet. Let’s put the long faces on hold for a while, huh?”

Even T’Pol seemed affected. “I am sorry for your predicament, Commander. I will assist the doctor in ascertaining if there is anything that can be done to remove the implant.”

Trip simply nodded, embarrassed to his core. Jon dismissed them, but stopped Trip as he was about to leave.

“You stopped off at sickbay, yet?”

“Nah, what’s the point of wastin’ the Doc’s time an’ mine? He doesn’t have this key, an’ we both know what’s gonna happen if he tries anythin’ without it. Anyway, I’m better keepin’ busy, makin’ sure the engines don’t decide to pack up.”

“Still, I’d feel happier if you kept in close contact with him, Trip. We don’t know what way this might affect you.”

“Ok, I’ll stop off with him on the way to Engineerin’ if it makes ya happy. But I feel fine. Maybe that guy was spinnin’ us a line just to get us to do his dirty work.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

Dr Phlox, the Denobulan Chief Medical Officer, had encountered a large variety of alien races, but he was unfamiliar with the readings he was getting from Commander Tucker’s blood analysis. He crossed to the intercom.

“Captain Archer, would you come to sickbay, please?”

“On my way.”

A few minutes later, Jon stepped into sickbay to find Phlox and Trip looking at the scan results.

“What have you found, Doctor?”

“This is really a most ingenious invention, Captain. The implant, as you know, was injected into Commander Tucker in its purest form, a chemical compound; I’ve detected at least six elements in the commander’s blood. Very soon after that, it attached itself to the Autonomic Nervous System.”

“That doesn’t sound like good news!” Jon interjected.

Trip’s response to his friend’s somewhat guarded reaction was a rolling of the eyes in exasperation. “Ya think?”

“Indeed not, Captain. The ANS governs the human body’s functions that are not consciously directed, for example, breathing, and the continued electrical contraction of the heart. These are things we take for granted, but on which our very existence depends. At present, the implant isn’t interfering with Commander Tucker’s physiology, but I don’t know for how long that will continue.”

“Ok Trip, you’re staying here where the Doctor can keep an eye on you. If this thing starts messing with you, it would be better if you were within easy reach of help.”

Trip’s expressions were an open book, a mixture of anxiety and determination.

“Cap’n, I’m ok, honestly. At the first sign of anythin’ happenin’, I’ll report to the Doc. An’ I’m gonna call in each mornin’ anyway. Sir, if this thing’s gonna blow my brains out, I’d rather go…on active duty.”

Jon took in his friend’s pleading eyes and his heart went out to him. He knew Trip had to be frightened by what might happen, and being allowed to continue in his work was probably the only thing keeping him going.

“Ok, Trip, but I don’t want you alone at any time.”

“Cap’n that could get kinda embarrassin’ for a guy,” Trip blushed furiously.

“Get over it! Even when you have to answer the call of nature, somebody will wait outside for you. What if your heart decided to stop while you were alone, or you couldn’t breathe? And as for sleeping arrangements…you’ve two choices: Dr Phlox moves in with you, or you move in here, with him.”

Trip squirmed with embarrassment. “I guess I’m bunkin’ in here, Doc. I hope ya don’t snore!”

*********************

CHAPTER SIX

Three days had elapsed since the ship had started on its new heading. So far, nothing untoward had happened to Trip, apart from a deterioration in his normal good humour. He would be the first to admit that he tended to get cranky if he didn’t get adequate sleep, and he was having a great deal of difficulty in relaxing on the biobed in sickbay.

‘I’ve spent way too much time in here, as it is, without sleepin’ in here, too,’ he thought to himself.

The biobed was a lot narrower, higher and less comfortable than his bunk, and more than once Trip had found himself on the floor, having rolled over too far.

The noise was another problem; Phlox required little or no sleep and tended to regard the wee small hours as just another part of the day to continue his work and hobbies. He had chatted and chirped to his menagerie of exotic pets, until Trip had eventually yelled at him to ‘gimme a break!’

The doctor had been momentarily alarmed, thinking the commander was unwell, but had then remembered that his guest was only human and needed sleep to recharge his mind and body.

“So sorry, Commander, I’ll be right next door should you need me.”

“Some chance of that,” Trip had muttered, tiredly.

With that, Phlox had withdrawn to the glazed area beyond the biobeds. That way, he was able to observe his guest without being observed, himself.
__________

Now, as Trip sat at his desk in Engineering, he shook his head to clear the fog that sleep-deprivation was causing. He was having difficulty in focussing on the schematics he was trying to study. Thinking a cup of coffee would help, he made his way along the quiet corridors to the mess hall, smiling tiredly as he saw that Crewman Rostov was tailing him at a discreet distance.

At the drinks dispenser, he sagged wearily against the wall as he waited for his coffee.

“Commander, are you alright?” His Chief’s pallor concerned Rostov.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Want a piece of advice, Rostov? Don’t change your name to ‘Tucker’, ‘cause there are people out there who’ve declared open season on the Tuckers, an’ don’t try sleepin’ in sickbay. Come on, let’s get back. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a whole heap of work to do…Oh, I forgot, I’m your current assignment!”

The crewman had the good grace to redden under his commander’s gaze. Trip sighed as he blew across the scalding drink, and made his way back to Engineering. There wasn’t any point in getting angry with the man for following the captain’s orders.

“Trip, how are things down here?”

Jon had arrived whilst Trip was out of the department. As he took in the engineer’s pale face, he was concerned. Trip’s desk was piled high with work, and although he was normally a workaholic, just right now he needed to be taking things a bit easier. Trip gave him a weary grin.

“Just fine, Cap’n. The engines are purrin’ like kittens.”

“And you?”

“I don’t go in for purrin’ much, it tends to alarm the crew. But, I’m bearin’ up, thanks.”

The fact that he was having difficulty in bringing the captain into sharp focus was something he was going to keep to himself, otherwise he knew he’d be spending more than just nights on a biobed.

“Can’t you delegate some of this work?”

“Jus’ keepin’ busy, Cap’n. I won’t overdo it, I promise.”

Jon gave him a sceptical look, but dropped the subject and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

“Ok, but take it easy, huh?”
Trip gave his trademark quick, dipping nod and with a worried sigh, Jon left engineering. He called into sickbay to talk with Phlox.

“Commander Tucker left without an examination, this morning. I had been called away to the mess hall where chef required treatment for what turned out to be a minor injury. You know how much he’s given to histrionics; anyone would have thought his life was in danger. Whilst I was away, the commander took the opportunity to slip away. I was just about to hail him, and I’ll let you know my findings after I’ve examined him.”

____________

On the bridge, T’Pol occupied the command chair, looking intensely at the starry expanse visible through the main viewer. There was something about the view that puzzled her, but as yet, it was intangible. This inability to define annoyed her and her delicate eyebrow arched.

Jon exited the turbo-lift and appeared at her elbow. As she rose to relinquish the chair, she indicated the viewer.

“Does anything appear unusual, Captain?”

Jon studied the stars, a perplexed frown on his brow.

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking for, T’Pol?”

“Something out of place. I am unable to explain any further, Captain.”

She moved across to the Science station and activated the scanner. Studying intently for a few moments, she suddenly raised her head and addressed Tactical.

“Polarise the hull plating!”

“Sir?” Malcolm looked to the captain for guidance.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant. T’Pol, care to fill us in?”

Before the Vulcan had a chance to reply, a ship decloaked in front of them, and fired repeatedly. They were caught flat-footed, the speed of the attack leaving no room for return fire. Had it not been for T’Pol’s sudden statement, things would have been very ugly. The hull plating protected them from serious damage, but the ship rocked heavily under the repeated bombardment. Circuits blew with great displays of fireworks, smoke belched from disrupted panels, and the klaxons blared throughout the ship.

Jon had been fortunate to have been sitting when the attack had begun, but others hadn’t been so lucky. Malcolm had been thrown across his weapons console, but appeared to be just winded, but T’Pol was picking herself off the deck, a nasty cut oozing blood steadily above her eye. Travis had grabbed fiercely to the edge of the helm console and now struggled to bring the ship under control again.

“All hands, battle stations!” Jon yelled into the intercom. “Malcolm, can you get a lock on anything?”

“The sensors took a hammering. They’ll need recalibrating, Captain. I can try, but I couldn’t guarantee I’d actually hit anything.”

“Give it your best shot, it’s better than nothing. Try aiming for their weapons and main propulsion.”

Malcolm bent over his console and fired off the forward phase cannons. Two shots ripped out from Enterprise’s bow, but one went wide of its target. The other found a target and Malcolm looked up with satisfaction.

“That connected with their propulsion, Captain, but I’m afraid their weapons are still on line. They’ve been slowed down, but probably not too seriously.”

“Ok, let’s not hang around, then. Take a reading of their warp signature in case we encounter them again, then let’s put some space between us. Travis, warp five, resume heading. I guess we’ve just had our first encounter with the people who don’t want Commander Tucker to reach his destination.”

Jon turned to regard his second in command. “Sub-commander, might I suggest you pay a visit to sickbay?” He indicated the area above his own eyebrow when she gave him a slightly quizzical look.

T’Pol put her hand to her forehead and was surprised when the fingers came away sticky with green blood. She nodded in agreement and headed for the turbo-lift as Jon started to check all decks for injuries and damage. The call from Engineering sent an unexpected emotional reaction through her. She had to admit to herself that she was worried for the commander, and the attack would probably give his department an extra workload.

“Captain, we got badly tossed around, down here…well, the commander did, anyway. He’s just been taken to sickbay.”

*********************

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jon desperately wanted to go, personally, to check on Trip, but with an enemy vessel on their tail and a ship to put back together, he knew his first responsibility was to stay on the bridge. It would serve no one if their pursuers caught up with them.

“T’Pol, get down there and have your head fixed, then let me know how things are.” He didn’t need to elaborate any further.

T’Pol headed straight for sickbay as soon as the lift stopped. She was surprised to hear the commander’s voice, raised and annoyed, as she entered.

“Doc, I’m tellin’ ya, I’m ok. I got knocked off my feet an’ got a little bump on my head. Now, I’ve got a whole mess of things to fix in Engineerin’ an’ we don’t wanna be late arrivin’ at our destination, do we? Ya remember, ‘kaboom’?”

“How could I forget, Commander? However, you’ve suffered a mild concussion and may experience headaches. I strongly advise that you take some rest, but I know you too well for that, so be sure to come back if you require further analgesia.”

Phlox looked up to address the newcomer. “Ah, Sub-commander, you have also received a bump on the head. I trust you will be less vocal and more co-operative than Commander Tucker.”

T’Pol crossed to the biobed that Trip was sitting on, his legs dangling over the edge. She took in his pinpoint pupils and pallor, and again experienced that emotional surge. She had to admit to herself that living amongst these humans was having a detrimental effect on her self-control. She would have to increase her meditation time.

“Commander, you do not look well. Perhaps you should return to your quarters and allow your engineering team to effect the repairs without you.”

“For the last time, I’m ok, I just need to keep workin’. An’ ya don’t look so good yourself, T’Pol.”

“Vulcan physiology is much more adept at dealing with injury, Commander. I merely require the doctor’s assistance to seal the abrasion.”

“Yeah, well I’ve some doctorin’ of my own to do, so if y’ll excuse me. An’ tell the cap’n to quit shakin’ us around like that, somethin’ might come loose.”

T’Pol felt like saying that most likely something had already come loose, between his ears, but the commander, that most quixotically infuriating of all the humans on board, was off with a grin and a wave. Both Phlox and T’Pol expelled sighs as he exited.

Phlox turned his attention to T’Pol’s head wound, sealing it efficiently.

“There we are, Sub-commander, as good as new, it won’t even leave a scar.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She paused briefly. “I realise that doctors take an oath to protect their patients’ confidentiality, but the captain asked me to inform him of Commander Tucker’s condition. I do not believe he is as well as he pretends.”

Phlox nodded glumly, not his usual jovial self. He handed T’Pol a padd.

“As you know most of the details, confidentiality doesn’t apply in this case. This implant is starting to cause problems, not that the commander is admitting to that fact. I have to be devious in the way I question him, as he’s very good at masking his symptoms. However, he might hide pain from my scanner, but not facts. The commander is having difficulty in focussing and his balance is becoming impaired. According to Crewman Rostov, the shaking we all experienced knocked Mr Tucker off his feet as easily as if he’d been a child.”

“I also was knocked off my feet, Doctor. That in itself is inconclusive.”

Phlox nodded in acknowledgement of her words. “Agreed, but the fact remains that his balance is compromised, and Engineering is a hazardous place to be if you become dizzy.”

T’Pol regarded the doctor intently. “Do you wish me to have the captain confine Commander Tucker to his quarters?”

“I don’t imagine he would go quietly! We’ll just have to keep an even closer eye on him.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

The ship had been very fortunate, indeed, that the Science Officer had called for the hull plating to be polarised. The damage could have been much worse. As it was, a few systems were off-line, needing to be re-calibrated, and crew injuries had been minor. Some of the crew had been in the mess hall, and had sustained minor burns when their soup had landed unexpectedly in their laps. Phlox had assigned Ensign Cutler to deal with the injuries.

T’Pol exited the turbo-lift as she returned to the bridge and found the captain assessing her.

“How’s your head, Sub-Commander?”

“I am quite well, thank you Captain. However, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you.”

Jon gestured for her to precede him to the ready-room. “Malcolm, hold the fort.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jon ushered T’Pol to a seat and she perched on the edge, her back ramrod stiff.

“Ok, T’Pol, I’m curious to know how you knew to polarise the hull at exactly the right moment? Not that I’m complaining!”

“If you will recall, I was studying the stars, suspicious that something was amiss. I finally realised that the part of the expanse I was looking at didn’t contain any stars, and the logical explanation was a cloaked ship. I therefore deduced that if a vessel was as close as that and cloaked, their intentions would be hostile.”

Jon let his breath go in a whoosh.

“Phew, good reasoning, T’Pol. Thanks, you saved our hides.”

T’Pol’s eyebrow rose. “The safety of the ship is paramount for our continued survival, Captain. Your thanks is not necessary.”

Jon let it go, aware that he wouldn’t get any further with that conversation.

“So what had Phlox to say about Trip? Was he keeping him in sickbay?”

“Commander Tucker was leaving as I arrived, and refused both the Doctor’s and my advice to rest. The alien implant is starting to affect his balance and his eyesight. He stated that he planned to return to Engineering. He does not look well, Captain.”

Jon looked sharply at his First Officer’s face. As usual it was an impassive mask, but the words betrayed her.

“You sound concerned, T’Pol. That’s not very Vulcan of you.”

“Vulcans do experience many emotions, one of which is concern for others, Captain. The fact that we do not allow our emotions to govern our lives enables us to exercise greater control. I am concerned for the well being of the entire crew, but Commander Tucker’s circumstances are different. You should try to make him rest.”

Jon stood up with a sigh and crossed to gaze out at the stars.

“Short of ordering him to, I don’t think I’ll be too successful, and right now, keeping active’s important to him. But I’ll go have a chat with him, see if I can’t make him slow down a bit. You have the bridge.”

^*^*^*^*^*^

The accident, when it happened, might have been just that if Trip had been on top form, physically, but he had to admit that his blurred vision was getting worse, and his heart was racing.

‘Get a grip on yourself, Tucker,’ he scolded himself silently, pushing his body beyond the safety margin he’d promised the captain he wouldn’t cross. Taking a deep breath, and even that seemed to require a conscious effort, he climbed the access ladder up the side of the warp reactor. He knew he should get Kelly or Rostov to check the valves, but he hated admitting to himself that something was wrong with him. He’d always prided himself in his physique, regularly exercising in Enterprise’s well-equipped gym, and now that his body was starting to let him down, he chose to ignore the signs.

Up on the gantry, Jon had just entered Engineering and was looking around for the Chief Engineer. He enquired of his whereabouts from a passing crewman, and was horrified to spot him clambering about on the reactor. He was about to call out when, as if in slow motion, he saw Trip lose his footing, make a futile grab for the ladder, and fall in a heap to the deck, a drop of ten feet.

Certain that his friend had perished, Jon’s feet barely touched the steps as he hurried over. Several of the Engineering crew had already reached their fallen Commander and were carefully checking him for a pulse. Crewman Kelly rushed to the intercom.

“Engineering to sickbay.”

“Phlox speaking.”

“Doctor, Commander Tucker’s had a nasty fall. Can you come right away?”

“I’m on my way, crewman. Don’t attempt to move him.”

Jon knelt beside the still form of his friend, fearful of what he’d find. Outwardly there wasn’t much to be seen, a bruise or two already forming, but no bones sticking out through skin, and as he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Trip’s chest, Jon sat back on his heels in relief.

Phlox bustled in followed by two orderlies carrying a stretcher. The doctor bent over his patient, running a scanner over Trip’s body. He looked up at the captain’s worried face.

“I was afraid something like this would happen, Captain, but you know how headstrong Commander Tucker can be. Let’s get him to sickbay, and hopefully it’s not as grim as it sounds.”

Phlox supervised the careful transfer of his patient and followed the orderlies out of Engineering. Jon turned to reassure the crew.

“Ok folks, just try to carry on with your work. Rostov, have Lieutenant Hess report for duty.”

“Aye sir, and will you let us know…about the Chief?”

Jon nodded, understanding their concern. “Just as soon as I know anything…”

By the time Jon reached sickbay, Trip had already been loaded into the scanner and Phlox was studying the read-outs. The captain paced back and forth, fretfully. Trip hadn’t regained consciousness and Phlox wasn’t saying anything at all.

The engineer’s inert body was retrieved from the scanner and gently placed on a biobed, where the monitors hummed into life. Jon couldn’t wait any longer.

“Doctor, for pity’s sake, tell me something!”

Phlox looked sympathetically at the captain. He knew the bond between these two humans was a strong fraternal one, and the captain’s concern was almost palpable.

“He’s lucky to be alive, Captain. No serious organ damage, just a bit of bruising around the right kidney. But he does have a hairline skull fracture and four fractured ribs, all on the right side from the way he fell. As for his neurological condition, this accident allows me to keep him heavily sedated. Ordinarily with a head injury, I’d be reluctant to do so, but the implant is beginning to affect not only his balance, but also his breathing. How soon will we reach our destination?”

The sudden change in topics momentarily startled the captain. “If we’ve no further interference, and I hope to God we don’t, we should be there in 20 hours. Why do you ask?”

“Because at the rate of decay, I’d say that within 12 hours, I’ll need to place Commander Tucker on life support.”

*************************

Continued in Part 2 (Chapters 8-13)

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