Travis landed in Sick Bay, his feet slapping the floor hard as he landed from above. It seemed as if he was dropped there without much concern for whether he had far to fall, “Ow!”
Dr. Phlox turned around from where he was feeding his Derellian bat. “Ah, there you are! I’ll tell the Captain you’re all right, but first I must insist that you enter the decontamination room.”
“Yes, of course. Say, do you have a PADD I could borrow? And how did you know ...?”
“You’ve been missing for hours. In you go. Here, take this PADD, but be aware it has a personal letter on it. Please don’t erase that.” Phlox shut the door as soon as Travis was in.
“Thanks, doc. Now, really, how did you know I was missing?”
“There was a quantum burst last night. The ship was rocked a bit and Commander T’Pol insisted on taking a head count. It was a good idea, too, as we found you were missing. Totally absent from the ship, that is. We thought you’d been kidnapped or something. A moment, let me contact the captain.” Phlox stopped talking into the intercom and hit a button, “Phlox to the captain, I’ve got him.”
“Is he all right?” asked the captain, his voice tinny to Phlox’s ears, “I’d like to debrief him as soon as possible.”
“Seems fine, I have him in Decon for now. I’ll run a scan and if there’s a problem I’ll let you know. Phlox out.”
Travis hit the intercom button inside the Decon chamber, “Doctor, was anyone else plucked?”
“Plucked?”
“Kidnapped. I mean kidnapped.”
“No, just you. Hold still, I’m doing a scan. Let me know if you experience any pain or dizziness.”
Once the scan was completed, Travis started to punch out random words on the PADD, a kind of reminder for things to look up when he had the chance. Then he organized the list, and his jumbled thoughts read as follows:
Yekaterina Petrofa
Lunar Colony library
New Moscow
Aranda Charra
Xindi
Charra Zika
Iska
something that kind of rhymes with tomorrow
Keleth
guard duty
Klingon baby. Girl?
Solana
Andorian doctor
T’Bek
Sedek
Vulcan Arch. Acad.
42753
Nistik
prod sticks
The PADD then showed the date – June 14, 2154. “Were there similar incidents on other ships in the area?” he asked Phlox.
“There were no other incidents in the area that I know of, but it’s of course possible that we haven’t got all the facts yet. Just a minute. There, that should do it.” Phlox paused, “I’ve done four scans and you seem to be perfectly fine, except there is a foreign substance underneath your fingernails. But it is not toxic. In fact, it appears to be Andorian in composition.”
“Oh, yes,” said Travis, looking down at the dark blue underneath his left thumbnail, “It’s Andorian blood.” He swallowed hard, knowing the blood’s original owner.
“You can come out. Here, let me have a look at that.” Phlox did a quick reading, “You’re right, it’s the blood of a female Andorian. While we’re heading to the meeting, you could tell me a little about that.”
“Meeting?” Travis looked down at his ratty old sweatpants, “I’m not exactly dressed for one.”
“True enough, but I think it would be wise for the senior staff to be able to observe your demeanor without too much time elapsing. That is, if you’re comfortable with your attire.”
“Well, it’s not exactly regulation, but I’ll live. Observe?”
“Why, yes. We’ve never had this happen before. Ensigns aren’t normally plucked, as you say, out of thin air and then eventually deposited back in Sick Bay without so much as a by your leave. This seems to be a perfect learning opportunity.”
“But why are they all together, doc?”
“We were going to have a staff meeting today, remember? We were supposed to discuss the new shifts. But then you were kidnapped so they were going to discuss their options. Since I wasn’t really needed for that I stayed here so I could get some work done. And now I suppose the agenda has changed yet again. Shall we?”
The two men walked to the observation lounge. Everyone was glad to see Travis but a little wired. Travis realized they’d been waiting for a good hour for Phlox and him. Most had had multiple cups of coffee and the effects were still apparent. Lieutenant Reed was particularly jittery.
“Welcome back,” said Captain Archer, “I see they didn’t give you a uniform, wherever you were.”
“Sir, Phlox suggested we do the debriefing as soon as possible. My apologies for my, um, unorthodox attire.”
“Yes, Captain.” confirmed Phlox, “The faster we talk, the more Ensign Mayweather here will remember about last night.”
“Agreed.” The captain punched a few buttons on a console, “Ensign Green, we’re going to be here longer. Care to run the ship for another, I don’t know, hour or two?”
“Certainly, sir.” came a female voice from the console’s communications speaker.
“The Ensign has no previous command experience.” T’Pol reminded the captain.
“Well, now she’ll get some. We’re not in any sort of sticky situation, and if things change, she can always call us. We’ll be fine so long as no one tries to sell the ship or hits anything with it. Now, where were we?” said the captain, settling back in his chair and grabbing a danish from a plate in the center of the table.
“Do you remember a lot of whatever it was?” asked Hoshi, “Was it bad?” she looked concerned.
“Oh, no, not really, it was strange, I guess. Here, can you look up some of these things while I’m talking? It might help, there are some things I still don’t get. Those are kind of random. I tried to organize them but they’re still pretty jumbled.” Travis handed Hoshi the PADD and then surveyed the remaining pastries before settling on a small croissant.
“I’ll help you with that list,” said Malcolm, looking over Hoshi’s shoulder, “Commander, you might want to comment on the items that are clearly Vulcan.”
T’Pol took the PADD, “I’ll see what I can find out. Please proceed, Mr. Mayweather.”
Travis proceeded to talk about the previous evening’s test. He kept downing glasses of orange juice and finally Lili, the steward, got a pitcher and put it at his place. But Travis wasn’t even in his place, he was pacing around, agitated and excited. He finally finished and slumped into his seat, exhausted. His second or perhaps it was his third wind was fairly well spent.
“That’s quite a story,” said Captain Archer, “Has anyone found anything?”
“Captain, if I may,” said Phlox, “I didn’t want to interrupt Mister Mayweather’s narrative. There is some Andorian blood under his thumbnail. The blood is confirmed to be from a female. Hence that may confirm the existence of this woman you called Solana.”
“Good, because I can’t find anything on her,” said Hoshi, “But I did find a Y. Chekhov at the New Moscow Library.”
“But her last name was Petroff or Petrofa, I think,” said Travis, disappointed.
“That’s not inconsistent with this information.” explained Hoshi, “If she’s an old-fashioned Russian, she might have been using a patronymic, that’s just a name where you give your father’s name and a female or male ending, depending on, of course, if you yourself are female or male. She could be this Y. Chekhov person. You should send her a letter and ask. It can’t hurt.”
“That might explain the Charra thing with the Xindi. Didn’t the little girl have that as her last name, and the mother has it as a first name?” asked Tripp Tucker.
“A matronymic! I had no idea the Xindi did that,” said Hoshi.
“I don’t imagine anyone else knew that about them. Did you find Charra Zika?” the captain asked Malcolm.
“I found a slightly different spelling, Chara Sika. But no children listed. However, that is possible. She is evidently the new Xindi liaison with the Denobulans. It’s been my experience that someone that well-known tends to keep the details of their family hidden from the general public, so as to prevent kidnappings,” said Malcolm.
“Or pluckings.” Phlox smiled, “What about the term Iska?”
“It’s just as the Xindi said.” stated Hoshi, “It’s a waterfall. But there’s no ship with that name.”
“Currently, we don’t require that the Xindi provide the names of all of their non-combat vessels,” said Captain Archer.
“Has anyone found that place, you said it sounded almost like the word tomorrow, the mining colony,” said Phlox.
T’Pol sat up as if she’s suddenly remembered something, “That is probably Gemara, and it is no mining colony. It is a maximum security facility.”
“So the old Xindi was a criminal?” Travis was incredulous.
Malcolm punched a few keys on his PADD, “It says here that mainly murderers are sent to Gemara, of various species. The prison is currently run by the Tellarites. They claim it’s escape-proof. But, wait a second, ah, yes, this is interesting. It appears that some of the inmates are political prisoners or at least they were. Allegedly that’s not done any more, but you never know, that could simply be happening but be better hidden now.”
“Any luck with any of the other, well, hints?” asked Captain Archer. He was clearly enjoying a break from the normal routine. He motioned to Lili to pour him another cup of coffee. The steward then offered some to Hoshi, who waved a polite refusal.
“The Vulcan Architectural Academy is, of course, a real place. Kos is a graduate,” said T’Pol. Tripp shot her a look before she continued. The mention of T’Pol’s ex-husband was enough to arouse his interest but not anger or jealousy, “There is no information on current students; the administration evidently only provides that information if requested but otherwise does not make it public. As for T’Bek, I found no current records but there is a small reference to a T’Bek having gone through Special Forces training about thirty years ago. Therefore, it is logical to infer that she might work for the Intelligence Department.”
“So she’s a spy?” asked Travis.
“She might just have a desk job in Intel,” said Malcolm, “The agency might be required to disavow knowledge of all of its members, no matter what they do.”
“I can’t find anything at all on the Orions,” said Hoshi, “There’s a quick reference to implements of persuasion, but nothing specifically called a prod stick. And the slaves have no individual records. So I guess that’s it for the research.”
“All right,” said Captain Archer, “It appears that we have possible information on the Xindi, your human counterpart, the Vulcans and possibly the female Andorian. But the male Andorian is still a cypher, as are the Orions and the Klingons. What does that tell us? Analyses are all welcome.”
“I believe you’re enjoying this.” teased Hoshi. Then she realized where she was, and added, “So it would seem. No disrespect, Captain.”
“None taken. I am enjoying this. It isn’t often that we get to speculate about existence. It definitely beats the pants off deciding on a duty roster.”
“Yes, I found the philosophical discussions to be, well, I liked them. If you’d asked me about that yesterday, I would’ve thought you were nuts. But I really did like them,” said Travis, a little incredulous.
“Seems like they opened up your mind a bit,” said Phlox, “And my analysis is that the Orions were not real, and perhaps the infant was not, either. After all, let’s assume these are intelligent beings. Therefore they would not tear an infant from its mother, not such a young baby. And as for the Orions, it’s a tossup but I am coming down on the side of them not being real. The treatment appears to differ from how we have seen Orion men and women interacting with one another.”
“Perhaps,” said T’Pol, a little distracted, “Your assessment of the baby’s reality is reasonable. But when it comes to the Orions, that is not necessarily so. After all, the women are slaves. Regardless of how they behave after a sale is made, that still does not explain how they behave amongst themselves or before a transaction has occurred. It makes sense that a slave – in particular one considered to be damaged, as it were – would possibly be mistreated. The female Orion did not have the built-in advantages that members of her gender normally possess. Hence she could only be in a subordinate position.”
“Do you, does anyone, have an idea of what the whole thing was about?” asked Travis.
“Actually, we were hoping you could tell us, if I may speak for all,” said Phlox.
“Oh. Hmm, well, maybe it’s strange, but my idea was that they wanted us to work together. They may have known that some of us had been enemies but I don’t think they knew all of the details. They might not even have realized that any of our species had already encountered each other.” began Travis, “But that didn’t matter, I don’t think. See, they pressured us in one way or another. But they also made us – or at least me – care. And not just in a generalized sense.”
“Yes, it seems as if it’s more than human – sorry, intelligent species – decency,” said Malcolm, correcting himself when T’Pol and Phlox stared at him.
“That’s right. I don’t, I don’t want to see anyone hurt, certainly no one who’s never done anything to me,” said Travis, “And I think most of us would instinctively try to protect a little baby. But this was more than that. I worry that Solana didn’t make it, and I feel I’ll mourn if she has died. And I worry that Yekaterina might not be feeling well, or Aranda is scared, or Keleth will get in trouble for being AWOL.”
“If that’s the purpose, then they did a good job with you,” said Captain Archer, “Travis, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? We’ll all think about this but in the meantime I’ve got a ship to run. Hoshi, why don’t you escort Travis back to his quarters. Wouldn’t want him to be plucked again.” Archer smiled.
“Of course, sir,” said Hoshi, and she and Travis walked to his quarters.
“What did it all mean, really?” asked Hoshi once they had arrived, “I get the feeling there’s more to it than what you offered back there.”
“I think we’re being primed for something, for something big,” said Travis, “And it has something to do with working together. And I think it has to do with becoming friends. I didn’t just work with those people, I felt like they were my friends, like Sedek and I could play a friendly game of tennis or Solana and I could enjoy a platonic evening out. And Aranda, I felt like she was my niece. All I wanted to do was protect her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.”
“I don’t know how easy the working together part is going to be. The Klingons have claimed another incident and the Andorians have cut off diplomatic relations with the Orions.”
“Maybe it’s meant to happen in some other time. I guess no one has a crystal ball here, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but I like to think that the future will bring us all together. I think it’ll be more than just trade agreements and nonaggression pacts. I want to believe that we will come together because we enjoy each other’s company, because we want to share a joke or a burden. I got the strong feeling that all of these species are going to live together and work together, and sometimes we’re going to die together for a common cause.” Travis’s eyes were shining and he was looking far away.
“That’s a noble sentiment.”
“But that’s all it is, just a sentiment. I figure I won’t live to see it.” Travis sniffed slightly.
“You’ve seen a lot more of it than anyone here has.”
“I guess that’ll have to sustain me.” Travis sighed.
“That’ll have to sustain all of us.” Hoshi left.
Travis changed into a different pair of ratty sweat pants. He was about to toss the old pair into the laundering receptacle when he rifled through the pockets. There was still the slightly used tissue but there was something else. It was Nistik’s business card.
There was a dancing Orion girl on the front, a little moving picture of sexiness. It was not 42753, it was some other woman. On the back, there were Orion letters but Travis did not need Hoshi’s translating services. He figured it probably just said Nistik Limited or something like that. He squeezed the card and a much larger, life-sized holographic image appeared, completely unexpectedly. It was the same dancing girl, projected in his room. A message was recited in what were probably a few area languages although nothing that Travis recognized, and there was music in the background. He’d ask Hoshi for the translation some other time. He deliberately squeezed the card and the holographic image became small again. He put the card gingerly onto his desk. It was the only evidence of Nistik’s existence, and possibly 42753’s, that he had. Phlox had been wrong. At the very least, Nistik and his company were very real.
He lay down in bed but couldn’t sleep, so he turned on his computer and set it to voice recognizer, “Computer, give me the Galactic News Feed.” The familiar green and white logo of GNF appeared on the screen, along with its signature chime.
Welcome to the Galactic News Feed. Enter a program or select from a range of predefined programs, or use one of your own saved programs. You may also choose top stories.
“Computer, program GNF number five. No, wait, I want to hear news stories about non-humans.”
You have selected non-human news stories. Accessing.
A human anchorman and a Denobulan anchorwoman appeared at a familiar news desk, “I’m Jeff Waldman and this is Iliva Deron, here now the news. On Kronos today, there was a planet quake that measured 8.7 on the old Richter scale. Reports of casualties are sketchy but the Klingons have informed us that a newborn baby girl was found in the wreckage of a building, evidently unharmed. We were not allowed in to take pictures, but the Klingon authorities say the baby is in stable condition although a Klingon woman who was apparently her mother was found dead at the scene. Names are withheld pending the proper notifications.”
Travis’s jaw dropped. Was this the Klingon baby? “Comp, computer, replay that story.” The computer replayed the story, “Save that.”
Saving story. Would you like to track any updates to this story as they come in?
“Yes! Computer, stories about the Orions.”
There are no current stories about the Orions. Stories about non-human species are about elections on Denobula and an Andorian rodeo rider.
“Never mind, computer.” Solana was no rodeo rider. Travis was disappointed. He was sure there would be something about her, at least.
Breaking News! The Orion Syndicate reports a small slave uprising has occurred in their Sixteenth Province. We have footage.
On the screen was a chaotic picture of Orion slave women rioting. Travis thought he saw 42753, but he could not be certain, “Computer! Save this story. And track all developments!”
Saving and tracking. Are there any more news stories you wish to follow at this time?
“Uh, no. Say, computer, switch to encyclopedia.”
Switching.
“Computer, what is the publication associated with the term, ‘Drink Me’?”
Earth novel, nineteenth century. Alice in Wonderland. Author: Charles Lutwedge Dodgson. Pseudonym: Lewis Carroll. Protagonist: Alice Liddell. Would you like to see illustrations from the original work?
“Uh, sure.”
There are four images of the original Tenniel drawings. The first is the white rabbit. The second is Alice. The third is the creatures in the pool of tears. The fourth is –
“Computer, go back to the second image and enlarge it.”
Second image accessed and enlarged.
The picture looked, in a superficial way, like Aranda. The shading and lines almost looked like hairs, and the child was about the right age, “Computer, is it possible to obtain a copy of this book with these illustrations?”
Electronic copies are available of this classic work. Illustrations are included.
“Computer, write a letter to Y. Chekhov at Lunar Colony Library.”
Ready.
“My name is Travis Mayweather and I hope you are Yekaterina Petrofa. If you are not, then I apologize for the unwanted contact and I hope you will pass this note along to Yekaterina. I found this book and I believe you might enjoy it after our adventure last night. My best wishes for you, Travis Mayweather.”
He paused, “Computer, send the letter with a copy of the book.”
Sent. Further instructions?
“Uh, yeah. Computer, write a letter to Chara Sika, she’s a Xindi, care of the Xindi Ambassador.”
Address found.
“Dear Miss, uh, Mrs. Sika. My name is Travis Mayweather and I know you don’t know me and I don’t want to alarm you. I also don’t know if I have the right person so please bear with me. I had a very interesting experience last night and I believe it was with a, uh, a relative of yours. I hope she is all right and I want to send to you and her this Earth book as a token of friendship. I hope that you and, and she will enjoy this book. Best wishes, Travis Mayweather.”
He took a deep breath. It was a balancing act. He wanted to maintain contact, but he didn’t want to scare Aranda’s mother, “Computer, send the book and the letter.”
Sent. Further instructions?
“Send me a copy of the book, load it onto this PADD.”
Loaded. New message received.
Travis wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with work, “Who’s the message from?”
Y. Chekhov, Lunar Colony Library.
“Play message.”
It was Yekaterina, speaking Russian. Every line took a little while to be translated by a mechanical voice, “Travis, it is good to hear from you. Yes, Alice in Wonderland, you are absolutely right, that is the ‘Drink Me’ book. I am glad we have contact. Please, let us try to maintain it. Be well, Yekaterina Petrova Chekhov.”
Travis smiled. He’d answer the letter later. He took the PADD and got under the covers. He was just past reading about Alice going down the rabbit hole when sleep overcame him.
He did not even notice that there was a new message on his PADD from the Xindi Ambassador.