Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 25 Jan 2004 14:58:25 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: daria@ameritech.net (Daria) Title: Loss Author: Daria Contact: Daria@ameritech.net Series: ENT Part: 2/8 Rating: [PG-13] Codes: Tu, R, A Summary: When an away mission goes wrong, a friendship is damaged, Archive: ASC* Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, so naturally I'm not making any money off them. Please do not link directly to this story without asking. *** He woke some time later, unsure how long he had slept. The night had been long and cold, the pain in his body making it hard to rest. He could hear something in the distance, and he recognized that it was this that had woken him. It was a high-pitched, eerie sound. Screaming. A human screaming. The voice wasn't familiar--it was too distorted to be recognizable--and yet he had a feeling he should know it. But he didn't, and for that he was grateful. His body still ached, and his head throbbed, but his thoughts were becoming a little clearer. He struggled to remember how he had gotten here, and found that this time some information was available to him. He was the chief engineer on a starship. He knew that. His name was Charles, but everybody called him Trip. His captain was Jonathan Archer, a long-time friend. He was from a planet called Earth, and he was a long way from home. He knew these things, but he knew them as he knew historical or scientific fact-- bits of information that didn't seem in any way connected to his present situation, and carried no emotion. He knew other things, too. He knew that the planet he was on was called Dorlog. He had been sent down to this planet by Captain Archer on what should have been a routine mission to purchase some needed supplies. It had gone wrong, but he couldn't remember how. They--yes, there had been a they--had gotten into trouble. As he tried to remember, the sick feeling of anxiety came back, so he quit trying to put the pieces together. He knew he should care that he couldn't remember what had happened, or who he had been with, but he didn't. He was glad to not know. *** The noise had stopped again. He didn't know if the person was gone, had lost consciousness, or had simply run out of strength. Screaming was exhausting--he knew that because he had done a lot of it in the very recent past. He was glad the person had stopped, and he hoped they were getting a reprieve from their suffering. *** He had slept again. He woke to sudden noise in the room. He didn't want to wake and return to this terrible place, but the sound made staying asleep impossible. The door had opened, and the stone room was filling with people he didn't recognize. Most of them, he realized slowly, were not of the same species he was. They were from this planet, not his. But at the end of the entering crowd he saw humans. They spotted him, and recognition lit up their faces. They worked their way through the now crowded room to his corner of the bench as he sat up slowly, trying to make sense of this new information. "Commander! We didn't know what had happened to you! Are you okay?" the human that spoke was tall and darkly colored, and seemed genuinely concerned. He knew this man. This was his crewmate. He stared up at him, unable to think of anything to say. The woman seemed equally concerned. She knelt next to him, and touched him with a small delicate hand. "Are you all right, Commander?" she asked. Her voice was soft, soothing. The sound of her familiar voice pierced the fog surrounding him, dispelling it. His stomach clenched and he began sweating as other memories began to surface. Fighting off the panic, he tried to halt the flood of images, but was only partially successful. He dropped his head in despair, and then realized the young woman was peering anxiously at him. "I'm okay, Hoshi." He coughed. Those were the first words he had spoken in several hours and he found his throat hurt, and his voice was hoarse. He coughed again. The tall man went to the bucket, checked it's contents, and brought it to him, offering him a sip of water from a dipper. He took it. It hurt his throat to swallow, but the water felt soothed his dry throat, even if it was warm. Hoshi had taken off her jacket and draped it across his shaking shoulders. "Thank you," he managed. *** Hoshi was worried. Trip hadn't spoken since their initial greeting. He was obviously hurt, but it wasn't the bruises and the pained way he moved that most concerned her. It was the look in his eyes: the look of a man who was lost, defeated, bereft. Hoshi was frightened--not because she was in a prison, but because she was afraid that even if they were released soon, Commander Tucker had been irreparably damaged. "Commander, what happened?" Travis asked, almost tentatively, several moments later. The helmsman was worried, too, but he was also anxious to know what had happened. He wanted to know if a plan had been formulated. He wanted action. He wanted leadership. Trip didn't respond. He knew what Travis wanted, but he didn't want to be a leader. He didn't want to be responsible for anyone else. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel, didn't want to do anything that might risk more of the images returning. "Commander?" Travis tried again to get the engineer to respond to him. "What happened? After we were separated, what happened to you, and--" "Were you hurt?" Trip abruptly demanded, sitting forward, wincing. "Either of you? Did they hurt you?" He had to know. "No, Commander," Hoshi replied promptly, seeing he need reassurance. "We've been held in another cell, with the Dorlogians. We haven't been harmed. It's been a little cold for my taste, but we haven't been mistreated." "That's good. That's very good." Trip relaxed slightly and sat back against the wall carefully, his sore body demanding he only make slow moves. And then the sense of relief disappeared. They hadn't been hurt--but someone had. There had been that voice, screaming. "After we were separated from you, they ignored us. I don't know why they arrested all these other people, but it seems that these mass arrests are common. They aren't arrests really. These people don't seem worried. They're convinced they'll be released soon. They say they just have to prove who they are, get their credentials verified, and that's it. These roundups are apparently a routine security precaution at the marketplaces on this planet, to catch smugglers and thieves, other criminals. Sort of like unannounced inspections, no harm done...." Travis was speaking quickly. He was alarmed at the Commander's behavior, and was trying to assure both Trip and himself that all would be well. His voice trailed off as he saw Trip's reaction. The engineer's eyes had grown large, and his jaw had dropped at Travis description of this as a routine event. Travis actually backed away, unsure of what Trip might do. "Sir, what happened to you?" Trip didn't answer directly. "Tell me what you remember... from the time we landed on the planet. My memory is... a bit fuzzy." Travis shot Hoshi a glance, mortified at having put his foot in his mouth. Clearly, Trip had been harmed. "Well, sir, we landed the shuttle at the Central Shuttleport. You decided that was close enough to the market place. It was a nice day for a walk, you said. Once we got there, you told Hoshi and I to stay in the main square, while you tended to the mission. We decided to pick up a few souvenirs, while you met your contact. We had just picked out some jewelry and some cloth, when the security police arrived. They cordoned off the entire area. They started making announcements that I couldn't understand, but Hoshi...." here Travis stopped and gestured at the linguist. She took over the story. "Fortunately, I'd picked up enough of the language to understand. They were ordering everyone in the square on to these big vehicles--sort of a combination between a bus and a van. We didn't want to get in--we didn't want to leave without knowing what had happened to you--but we were forced. They pointed weapons at us and insisted, but they weren't unduly violent and most of the people in the square cooperated. They grumbled about the inconvenience, but they weren't terribly upset, or frightened. So we got in..." here she looked back at Mayweather, concerned about whether she should tell the next part. Travis spared her. "Sir, I looked out the window, and I saw you being dragged out of a shop. The guards didn't looked upset. I saw one of them hit you in the head, hard. You were knocked out. Then he threw you in a different vehicle. We didn't know if you were dead or alive, or where they had taken you. But they did tell us that once they cleared our identity with the government, we'd be released. That's all we know. We've been waiting with these people for our identities to be verified." "How long ago was that? How long have I been here?" Hoshi and Travis looked at each other, trying to hide surprise that he didn't know. "It's been three days, sir," Hoshi told him. "Three days?" he whispered, aghast. Only three days. A man could be broken in less than three days. A man's entire life could be altered, radically and ruinously, in just three days. *** Hoshi and Travis sat a short distance away from Trip. He seemed to want and need the space. He remained still on the bench, his knees pulled up to this chest, staring across the cell, unseeing. The other residents of the cell seemed content to leave the humans alone, so they weren't disturbed much. Some of the Dorlogians with whom Travis and Hoshi had been friendly stopped to chat and to ask about their friend, but when they saw that he wouldn't speak with them they left him alone. Speaking in Dorlogian, Hoshi reassured them that he was simply not feeling well, that he needed rest. She didn't tell Trip that he was upsetting the Dorlogians, and frightening Travis and herself. It was obvious that something was terribly wrong with the Chief Engineer. Something had happened that he would not share with them. It was dawning on Hoshi and Travis that they would get no guidance from their superior officer; whatever happened next was up to them. *** 'Three days. It was only three days. Less, really,' he repeated over and over to himself. 'I was in here by myself for at least a day. So two days. Less than that, even, because I wasn't conscious for a while. Less than two days, really. Maybe less than a day. Less than a day to betray a friend'. Commander Charles Tucker put his head on his knees and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. If he hadn't been so numb, he might have cried. Instead, he simply sat in silent despair. -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to:http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service. From ???@??? Thu Jan 29 00:37:19 2004 Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n15.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.70]) by cockatoo (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aM4fu25k3NZFkl0 for ; Wed, 28 Jan 2004 20:57:50 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13010-1075351888-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.