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"Kahla of Sar'Fenn" by A. Rhea King
Rating: PG CHAPTER 1 Archer was crossing the bridge to go to lunch when Hoshi stated, “I’m picking up a distress signal, Captain.” Archer froze mid-step. His stomach growled, angry with him for skipping breakfast and complaining that a handful of potato chips stolen from Trip were not enough to satisfy it. ‘Damnit!’ Archer walked around to stand before his chair. “T’Pol, can you detect the ship?” T’Pol pulled up her viewer. “It is nine hundred kilometers, starboard.” She sent the coordinates to helm and Travis adjusted their course. “Respond, Hoshi.” “This language... Sounds...” Hoshi cocked her head. “Sounds what?” “Like singing.” “Are you sure it’s a distress signal?” “Yes. The translator has been decoding it since we picked it up. They’re asking for help from any ship. Heavy damage.” The damaged ship quickly came into view, floating in a field of debris. T’Pol turned back to her viewer. “It doesn’t look like it’s taken on that much damage. Why is there so much debris?” Archer turned to T’Pol. “I do not know, Captain. It looks like there are two warp signatures, but I will have to analyze it before I am certain.” “Check for ejected escape pods.” T’Pol turned to Archer. “I am detecting hundreds, but they have been shot. None of them have living bio-signs. I am, however, detecting two bio-signs along the port hull of the ship.” “Atmosphere?” “Oxygen-nitrogen, but systems are failing. Environmental controls could go offline at any moment.” “Can we transport them out?” “No. They are in or near one of the escape pods. The hull of the pod is an unknown metal composition. By the time the transporter calibrated to compensate, environmental controls will have gone off line. “Can a shuttle pod get near the ship?” “Yes. There are several undamaged airlocks in the vicinity of the bio-signs.” Archer tapped the companel on his chair arm. “Archer to Trip.” “Go ahead.” “We’re responding to a distress signal and there are two bio-signs detected. I need--” “One of the bio-signs has expired,” T’Pol informed him. Archer shook his head. If they’d only arrived a few minutes earlier. “Correction, one biological needs rescuing. I’ll have Travis to meet you at shuttle pod one.” Travis left and another crewman took helm. “On my way,” Trip said. Archer sat down on the edge of his chair to wait. He put his hand on his stomach when it loudly growled at him, and ignored the glances of his crew. # Travis maneuvered the shuttle pod up to the airlock above them until he heard the hollow click of the locks connecting. He turned in his chair. Trip had put on an EV suit on the way over and was fastening his earpiece into his ear at the door. He twisted his helmet on and picked up a case from the bench. “T’Pol, what’s the status on the atmosphere?” Trip asked over the COM. “Environmental controls are operating at eighty-five percent,” T’Pol responded. “Any idea for how long before it goes off line?” “No, but there have been several hull breeches since you left. I’d advise you to hurry.” “What about the warp core?” “It remains stable.” Trip climbed into the airlock. “Which way once I get out of here?” “You’ll enter a long hall right outside the airlock. Follow it to a hatch at the end.” Trip tapped the controls to open the alien hatch and was greeted by a long, dark hall. Lights flickered around him, making it hard to see anything. He pulled a flashlight out of his case and clicked it on, seeing another hatch at the far end of the hall. Trip started down it, keeping an eye open for danger. He heard T’Pol tell Archer, “I’ve isolated the second warp signature. It is Orion.” “They must have done something pretty bad to piss off the Orions,” Trip commented. “We are less than three hundred kilometers from their space,” T’Pol pointed out, “and Orions are very territorial. They may return because of our presence.” “You know, T’Pol, it’s spooky enough in here without that on my mind.” “I was simply stating a fact.” “Next time, simply state a lie.” He heard Archer and Travis laugh. “We haven’t detected any ships. You’re fine, Trip,” Archer assured him. “I’ll believe that when I’m back on Enterprise.” Trip reached the end of the hall and tapped the hatch controls. Nothing happened. “Is there any power where I’m at?” “Not in all circuits, Commander,” T’Pol answered. Trip sat his case down and went to work on the controls. He rewired them and the door slid open, welcoming him into a pitch-black hall. “Which way, T’Pol?” “Right.” Trip saw a body next to the door and stepped over it. He stepped down in liquid, skidded, and lost his footing. He landed hard on the door jam, jarring his hip. Throwing his hand out to break his fall, he dropped his flashlight. His hand sank into the stomach of a corpse and he landed on the legs of another. “AW! GROSS!” Trip scrambled away from the bodies to a space on the floor. He felt several other bodies around him and suspected the hall was full of them. “Are you okay?” Archer asked. Angry with himself he growled, “I’m fine.” His flashlight was rolling back and forth where it had landed. He reached back to pick it up as the beam swung across the face of a corpse and he froze. # Trip’s silence concerned Archer. “Trip, are you sure you’re alright?” He didn’t reply. “Trip?” Trip still didn’t respond. Archer rose from his chair. “Trip, respond.” “His vitals are showing an increase in heart rate and respiration,” T’Pol reported. “Something has frightened him.” Trip started stuttering, “Their... Their...” Archer looked at the bridge crew. “What’s wrong, Trip? Do you need Travis to assist you?” “I gotta... I can’t... I don’t know. This is...” “Trip, do you need assistance?” Trip didn’t reply. T’Pol looked up at Archer. “He’s rerouting power to the lights for that hall.” # Trip worked frantically to get the lights on. His hands shook so bad that he could hardly hold the thin wires and tools. The lights suddenly came on and he spun around. He broke out in a cold sweat, gasping in hard, shaky breaths. Dead aliens filled the hall, most of them killed by phasers. Their skin was the color of burnished brass. Their once brilliantly colored eyes had clouded over. Most of them had long flaxen hair that flowed loose, but a few females had short-cropped hair. They were dressed in neat, pressed and fitted silk uniforms colored red, yellow, royal blue, and purple. One nearby wore a white robe with gold trim over his uniform. Around wounds sustained from shrapnel, sapphire blood had pooled, turning dark blue as it congealed. Down their backs they had three sets of wings: one set attached to their shoulders, another to the middle of their back and a third between their hips. The lights began to fade as Trip sank to his knees next to one. He laid a gloved hand on one. Tears welled up and blurred the heavenly, lifeless face. Based on a faith that he had believed since he was born, Trip assumed he was standing in the midst of slaughtered angels, and it was the most soul wrenching sight he’d ever seen. He was so distraught by it that he didn’t hear himself cry out in horror. # Archer had never heard Trip, or anyone else, make that sound, but somehow he knew what it meant. Whatever Trip was seeing had to be horrific. Considering what Trip had seen and the many atrocities he’d lived through, Archer’s imagination wasn’t able to conjure up anything worse. “Vitals, T’Pol?” “They’re getting worse.” “Travis, get him out of there,” Archer ordered. “No,” Trip whispered. Louder he repeated, “No. I have to get the survivor. Where is it?” “Trip, you’re not all right. We have--” “WHERE IS THE DAMN SURVIVOR!?” The bridge was silent, surprised by the outburst. Trip cleared his throat. Quietly he repeated, “Where is it, T’Pol?” “Go right.” After several minutes she instructed, “Turn left into the next hall on your left.” T’Pol watched him go through the hall, a lone red dot on her screen. He came around a bend and another red dot appeared. When the dots merged she told him, “You’re opposite of the escape pod, Commander.” “I see it. Stand by.” “Trip, do you need assistance?” Mayweather asked. “No.” Trip’s reply was short, curt and angry. Archer began, “You might be able to help the survivor faster if--” “Stand by!” Trip snapped. Archer bit his tongue to keep from snapping back. “Standing by,” Archer said. It was twenty minutes before Trip asked, “I’m releasing the escape pod. Are you ready to grapple this, Emily?” Ensign Emily Riggs was manning helm and asked him, “Which way is it going?” “Down.” “Let me get closer.” “Are you going to be able to get it, Emily?” “I’m pretty sure.” “Are you sure or not?” Trip snapped. “She’s sure,” Archer said before Emily replied. “Don’t miss it. I won’t forgive you if you do.” Emily glanced at Archer. She moved Enterprise closer, maneuvering around the debris. “I’m ready,” she told Trip. “Releasing the pod.” The escape pod jettisoned from the ship. Emily moved quick, sending both grapple lines out. One missed, but the second grabbed onto an end of the escape pod. She slowly took up the slack. “Loading bay two,” Archer ordered. “Hoshi, tell Phlox to get to the loading bay. Trip, come back.” Archer stormed to the lift. “You have the bridge, T’Pol.” |
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