Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 21 May 2004 14:01:10 -0700 In: alt.startrek.creative From: daria@ameritech.net (Daria) Title: Salvage Author: Daria Series: ENT Part: 3/11 Rating: [PG-13] Codes: Tu,R Summary: After the disasterous mission on Dorlog, Trip and Reed try Beta: This was beta'ed by A. who did an amazing job. You have no idea how much she improved this story. Absolutely fabulous beta reader. The mistakes are mine for continuing to mess with it. Spoilers: Notably Minefield, Desert Crossing, Silent Enemy, The Catwalk, Shuttlepod One, and The Communicator, but possibly alludes slightly to other eps from the first two seasons. Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Paramount, not me. This is just for fun, not for profit. *** Malcolm tossed the padd onto the table by his bed and sank down on his bunk, thinking he might close his eyes for just a moment. He had spent the entire afternoon working with Trip to get the new upgrades implemented and tested. They had worked in near silence, both of them tense, both of them feeling responsible for the potential danger to the ship. It had been a powerful motivator; they had accomplished far more in a short time than he would have expected. They only needed to work out a few minor details-- by tomorrow evening the upgrades would be completed. In the days immediately following the ordeal on Dorlog, Malcolm had lived with the fear that information he had provided would be used against Enterprise. As time passed, and they cleared Dorlogian space, the fear had faded to worry and then to just an occasional nagging thought. It had been days since such a possibility had even occurred to him. As his mind had eased he had stopped working on the upgrades. He had neglected to follow through with the final testing, in large part because at the time he hadn't wanted to work with Trip, an absolute requirement to implementing the changes. Eventually the daily demands of his job had pushed aside his work on the defensive improvements; he knew he had them in reserve, should they be needed. Now that it looked like they might be, he mentally kicked himself for having neglected them for so long. His exhaustion today was fair penalty for his lack of attention to such an important project, he thought. Crawling around in the bowels of the ship always made him feel grimy. The access tubes really weren't very dirty, but it was strenuous work in one of the warmest parts of the ship, and he always felt disheveled afterwards. Slowly he rose from the bunk and headed to the small bathroom, working his uniform off as he moved. He finished undressing while waiting for the water temperature to become as hot as he could stand it, finally stepping in, hoping the steaming water would relax him enough that he would sleep without dreaming. As the hot water pounded his body, his tense muscles loosened and the nearly scalding liquid washed away not just the sweat and grime, but his tension as well. *** "Captain, can I talk to you?" Trip stood just outside Archer's quarters, poking his head in. "Sure, Trip." Archer swung his legs over the side of his bed, where he'd been reclining while reading a report, and sat up. "What can I do for you?" Trip hesitated. "I feel kind of funny asking this, Captain... but how did you know what information these... well, whoever they are.... had? Where'd you get it?" "From Dorlog. The Commandant sent it to me. I told you that, Trip." Archer studied his friend. There was more to the question. Archer waited. "Where'd he get it?" "The Commandant?" Archer asked. Trip nodded. "From the Director who questioned you." Archer deliberately used the non-offensive term 'questioned', although it was a poor description of what had occurred. "When they arrested him." It was a statement, but Archer answered anyway. "Yes." Archer knew Trip already knew all this and wondered where the questions were leading. "Like that? I mean, just one list of technological specifications?" "Not exactly like that," Archer replied carefully. "Why, Trip?" "That all the information they got?" "Yes." Trip sighed. "Well, it's not as bad as it could be. There were worse things they coulda found out." "Yes." Trip picked up Archer's water polo ball and began bouncing it off the wall. "Anything else I can do for you, Trip?" Archer knew the engineer wanted to say more, but couldn't yet put his questions into words. "You're gonna send me and Malcolm on the away mission, aren't ya?" "You're the best qualified. Weapons and a huge power source-- it isn't too hard to pick who should go." Archer was matter of fact. "Uh-huh," Trip agreed, picking up the speed with which he was tossing the ball against the wall. "What about a security team? You planning on sending anyone else?" "We'll wait until we get closer and see what the situation is. The amount of security will be Malcolm's call." Trip's expression revealed nothing about what was going on inside his head. "Are you going to be okay with that, Trip?" "Me? Sure, I'll be okay." Trip kept his attention riveted on the water polo ball. "Don't know how Malcolm's going to feel about it though." Thunk. Thunk. Thunk, thunk, thunk. The ball was hitting the wall with increasing speed and it took all of Archer's patience not too reach out and snatch it from the engineer's hands. Instead, he asked, "How did the fishing trip go?" "Fine. Didn't catch any fish, though." Thunk, thunk, thunk. "Trip, stop. Sit down. Want something to drink?" Trip stopped bouncing the ball and with a small grin feigned dusting it off before returning it to its spot on the shelf. Taking a seat across from Archer he said, "I shouldn't have anything to drink. I'm going back on duty in a little bit. I've got some stuff in engineering I've been neglecting while we worked on the upgrades. You wouldn't want my monthly reports to be late, would ya?" "Why should this month be different?" Archer grinned at his friend. "Ouch." "They can be a little late, Trip. Why don't you get some sleep? You're going to need it." Trip opened his mouth as if to reply, but then closed it, seeming to concede the point. He still looked disturbed. "Trip, do you want me to ask Malcolm about--" "Won't do any good. You know how he is. He'll just act like you're crazy to ask. *Of course* he's fine for this mission." Trip stood. "I really am tired. I think I'll hit the hay. Night, Captain." "Goodnight, Trip." *** When T'Pol first brought the report to Archer he didn't believe her. He believed she was reporting the information as she saw it, of course, but he was certain she had made an error, had somehow misread her scans of the planet: a malfunction in the sensors, perhaps, or a misinterpretation of the data. But the pictures were too clear, too telling. "So, there is a pre-warp society down there that has somehow managed to suction off energy from the generator and it is using it to power their city?" Archer wanted to be sure he understood. "Yes." "But... that doesn't make sense. That generator can't have been there that long-- a month at most. There is no way they could have taken advantage of it so quickly. It isn't possible." "It does seem unlikely, but it would not be impossible if their technology were capable of being adapted and they were provided assistance," T'Pol said. "Why would they? Why would they switch off their own power sources and piggyback off this generator? It just doesn't make sense. It would seem like more effort than it would be worth-- and they would have to know it was short term." "Not necessarily." "Explain." "Ensign Sato has been listening to some of their broadcasts, and has managed some success at breaking into their computer systems. She and I have come up with a theory that has some evidence and is plausible." "Go ahead." "We believe that the people that are manufacturing and selling these weapons made an arrangement with the planet inhabitants. In exchange for the land, some manual laborers, and probably some other goods, the inhabitants would be allowed to use the generator for their needs." "But what about when the weapons are sold?" Archer asked. "The generator won't be needed by the weapon brokers after the demonstration period is over. I'm certain the buyers will have to provide their own source of power. The inhabitants will be able to use the generator as they desire. Right now they are simply using the excess, which is more than enough for their needs. As Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed told you, the generator is not particularly efficient. It bleeds off a great deal of excess energy-- enough so that we detected it. The people of this world are only tapping into a fraction of it." Archer ran his hand through his hair before planting his hands on his desk and leaning forward. "It makes no sense," he repeated. "What were they using for power before?" "It appears they were using an inefficient steam system." "This must have seemed like a gift from above to them." Archer considered this new complication; it cast everything in a new light. When he had planned to retrieve the Starfleet technology, and put an end to it's future possible use, it had been straightforward. Now, however, if they shut down or destroyed the generator they would be taking something from these people-- something they had acquired honestly. Archer's head was beginning to hurt, a throbbing pain above his eyes that was quickly intensifying. Reaching up, he rubbed his forehead between his thumb and fingers. When this provided no relief he began rubbing his temples in a slow circular movement. "How many people live on this planet... and are they all using this generator for their power?" "There are approximately two million people on the planet, and they all live in one city, approximately fifty kilometers from where the generator is located. Most of the planet is uninhabited, because of the terrain. The vegetation is very dense, much like Earth's Amazon rainforests, except at the poles. It is also quite geologically active, and has canyons that are many kilometers deep crisscrossing it. There are several large rivers. There are only a few areas flat enough to put an urban center." 'Better and better,' Archer thought. 'This just gets better and better.' He squinted at T'Pol through the pounding headache that had seized control of his entire head. Out loud he asked, "Does this planet have a name?" "Ensign Sato says the inhabitants refer to it as 'Veric'." Archer sighed. "Do you have any good news for me?" T'Pol lifted her eyebrow. "I am uncertain what you would consider to be good news." "Never mind. Just have Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed report to me." *** "Climbing ropes?" "Check." "Auto anchoring pins?" "Check." "First aid kit?" "Check." "Backpacks?" "Check." Malcolm checked his list again, glancing at the neat piles forming on the launch bay floor next to the shuttlepod. "Emergency rations?" "Check. I even got the sea bass one for ya, Malcolm." "Thank you. Extra water bags?" "Check, and double check. I'm not taking any chances with water this time," Trip joked. When Malcolm didn't respond, Trip glanced over at him. The armory officer continued studying his list, and comparing it to the growing piles. "Torches?" "You mean flashlights?" This finally got a reaction, as Malcolm tossed his crewmate a look. Trip grinned. "*Torches*. Check." "Portable shelters?" "Check." "Scanners, communicators, and universal translators?" "Check, check, and check. Really, Malcolm, you've gone over that list three times now. We've got everything. For heaven's sake, let's just get going." "Commander, it's going to take us three hours to get to the planet's surface. Then we'll have to hike about thirty kilometers to that generator, or whatever it is. I don't want to get down there and find we don't have the equipment we need." Trip shook his head but didn't say anything. He found himself hesitant to argue with Malcolm these days; he was intent on maintaining the fragile peace they had managed to forge. On some level he knew that couldn't continue, could in fact do its own sort of damage, but for right now it was the easiest path. "Phase pistols?" "Check. Malcolm, how many weapons do we need? You've got four phase pistols, two phase rifles, and I don't know how many fuses and blocks of explosive here!" "We never know what we'll encounter, and I want to be prepared." "Yeah, but between us we've only got four hands. And I'm pretty sure you've got enough explosive to take the planet out of orbit." "We may have to destroy that generator, remove obstacles, set booby traps--" "Booby traps! Malcolm, we're not at war! We won't be setting any booby traps, I guarantee you that!" Malcolm looked up from his padd. "I'm sure I can find a use for them." Trip was unsure if Malcolm was joking or not-- sometimes his crewmate had an odd sense of humor. Hands on his hips he stated, "Fine. You're carrying all the extra junk. Me, I'll carry a phase pistol, and we can store the extra weapons on board the shuttlepod." Malcolm looked at his padd one last time. "I guess that's it. I've already loaded everything else. These were the last few items." "Good! Finally! Let's get it on board, and get out of here!" "The captain wants to speak to us before we leave and we might as well get a last real meal from the messhall. It might be sometime before we get another." "Fine. Want to eat or see the captain first?" Trip asked. "I don't think we should keep the captain waiting. Let's do that first. The messhall will still be open." *** At the sound of the door chime, Archer looked up from his console. He punched at the door control and it opened to admit Trip and Malcolm. "Come in." Archer stood and faced his officers. "How soon before you're ready to depart?" "Now," they replied, nearly synchronously. "Malcolm, you're certain you don't want to take any additional security personnel?" Archer asked. He had been stunned when his tactical officer, for the first time in Archer's memory, had declined the opportunity to take a full security team. Malcolm shook his head. "No, sir." He smiled slightly. "I know this it the opposite of what I normally request, but this mission is going to require more reconnaissance than muscle. The less people the better. I'd rather have them on standby, as we've discussed. We'll contact you, and have you send a shuttlepod down to take up a low orbit right before we destroy the weapons." Archer studied them. "I don't need to remind you that it is critical that this device be deactivated. We can't have our technology being offered for sale. Do whatever it takes to make sure that the weapons, and any records, are destroyed." Archer made eye contact, first with Trip and then with Malcolm, drilling them with his gaze. "Whatever it takes." "The generator, sir?" Malcolm asked. "If you can leave it intact without leaving any of our technology or information, then do. But if there is any doubt, or if you don't have time to be certain, destroy it." Trip flinched at the words, and Malcolm's jaw tightened. Archer continued, "That generator is creating energy surges that are so strong we won't be able to use the transporter to pull you out of there until it's deactivated. If you run into trouble the best we can do is bring Enterprise closer to the surface, or send another shuttlepod. Malcolm, we'll position Shuttlepod Two in low orbit when you tell me that you're ready. We'll be in constant communication, of course, so if there is any information or help we can provide, all you have to do is ask. But essentially, you're on your own." Archer softened his tone. "I want you to be as careful as you can be. The mission is critical, but take as much time as you need." "Aye, sir," Malcolm replied. "Don't fret, Captain. We'll take care of it," Trip added in a light tone that didn't fool anyone. Archer studied them for another moment before dismissing them. As the door slid closed behind them, he whispered, "Good luck." -- Forwarded to ASCL by: Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek.creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! 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