Chapter 12: Surprise

T'Pol worked with the chief engineer and Doctor Phlox, trying to find a way to neutralize the implants in the victims' necks. It was hard for her not to show worry about the Vulcan who lay on the biobed before them: the young female was clearly still a child, and the clothing (or lack thereof) of both liberated individuals was a clear sign that they had been intended to be sold off as sexual slaves. She found it hard not to lose control over the rage that simmered in her mind.

The female on the biobed was not nearly old enough to understand what her life would have become. At least she was spared that.

"I have identified the compound," the doctor explained in a subdued tone. "But before we can administer an antidote, we need to find a way to stop these devices from releasing more of the substance."

"It's some sort of failsafe mechanism," the engineer added and T'Pol could see that he was barely holding on to his countenance. The muscles in his jaw were rigid, and her keen hearing could pick up the most disagreeable sound of his teeth grinding against each other as he fought to preserve his obviously brittle control over his anger and disgust.

"The Orion males had similar implants at their wrists," she explained. "Their death must have activated the devices, probably by the cessation of the pulse. It would be logical to assume that they did not want their captives to survive in the event that they were taken prisoner."

"Some logic, my ass," she heard him swear under his breath. She knew the ship's chief engineer had been hit hard by the complications in their private interactions, and so she found it even more admirable how relatively well he kept his calm and did not let his private problems influence their professional interactions. For now she needed Charles Tucker III, the brilliant engineer. There would be a more opportune moment than now to think about how to deal with Charles, the human who was so clearly troubled by the enforced distance between them.

"Perhaps Ensign Sato could help," she offered. "The two devices must have had a communication link."

"And Hoshi could try to generate a fake signal! Great idea, T'Pol."

She did not protest his omitting her rank, and nor did she protest the light squeeze he gave to her shoulder in gratitude. She had learned that such small gestures would help him deal with the emotional turmoil and – although she was not prepared to admit it – the light touch reassured her as well.

Malcolm nodded his acknowledgement when the Major pointed out the five people in the ops room who weren't supposed to be there. They were M'Gambe's personal henchmen, all more than stoutly built and armed with pulse rifles.

Granted, the position their small group was in was not exactly a prime attacking spot. They were lying in an access tunnel above the ceiling, peering through a ventilation grille. When Major Ramos was given the order to punch it out so that the rifle muzzle could drop through, he would have only moments to stun six people before any of them could raise a weapon or dive for cover.

Ramos's boot dislodged the hatch cover with one kick, and it fell to the floor below with a clang. Rolling instantly into position, Malcolm released a sustained rate of pulse fire. He knew he would inevitably also hit some of the innocent ops personnel, but he couldn't avoid that as the armed goons were standing too far apart to be taken out with one burst. And besides, the weapon was set on stun – it wouldn't be pleasant, but it shouldn't do anyone any lasting harm either.

Having done his job, he rolled away to the side, so that the MACOs could abseil down the hatch and secure the area. Loud shouting filled the station's bridge as the soldiers secured the place. When he finally followed them down, he saw M'Gambe unconscious in his command chair and he felt the strongest urge to kick the man's teeth in. With satisfaction, he noticed that he had only hit a single bystander.

"Damn good shooting, Lieutenant," the MACO major said, and the Brit could hear nothing but sincerity in the man's words. Coming from a military man that was a badge of honour, as the battle-hardened MACOs were known to regard Starfleet personnel somewhat dismissively as 'boy-scouts'. Maybe at least these five of them would start to lose that preconception.

"I think we should let the Commodore test the comfort level of his own brig," Malcolm replied drily, not answering anything to the unexpected praise.

"Since this is a Starfleet installation, I believe you're the ranking officer now," Ramos shot back with a wide grin. "Was that an order, sir?"

"It was. Lock the scumbags up and have two of your people make sure they stay there."

"Brilliant, Hoshi!" Trip enthused, when his scanner showed that the micro-valve of the device had retracted from the Vulcan's artery and the flow of neuro-toxin had stopped.

Phlox quickly administered the antidote. Then he ushered him and Hoshi out of the way, behind the privacy screen, and started to surgically remove the device from the Vulcan's neck.

T'Pol, meanwhile, had appointed herself a nurse and administered the hypospray containing Phlox's elixir to the young human on the second biobed. She did not return his triumphant smile, but Trip saw her features soften somewhat in acknowledgement of his display of relief and jubilation at his rescue, and coming from her that was almost as much as if she had smiled back.

He was reminded of Hoshi's status as the resident expert on body language when the young ensign sent him a knowing grin and a wink before handing him the modified universal translator that was transmitting the fake signals on its two channels. Still smiling at him mischievously, she turned on her heel and left.

"A little souvenir," Phlox said triumphantly and placed the removed device in Trip's hand before disappearing behind the second privacy screen to rid the human girl of her device as well. The traces of green blood on the spikes it bore on the bottom was a stark reminder that until moments before it had been stuck in the young female's neck. He fought down the bout of nausea that was threatening to make him puke.

Knowing that there were chairs next to the biobeds, and feeling himself in urgent need of the nearest, he staggered through the nearest privacy curtain and sank down into the chair next to the Vulcan girl, who to his surprise started to stir in her bed. His first reflex was to call Phlox, but he knew the Denobulan was still working on the human girl. He did not know any Denobulan, but he got the impression that Phlox's latest exclamation was not necessarily diplomatic verbiage. Obviously he was having a much harder job dislodging the second device from the human girl.

He was starting to feel really light-headed, so he put his head down between his knees for a few seconds. When he'd shaken off the worst of his thoughts and steadied up enough to sit up again, he noticed that the Vulcan on the biobed was staring at him wide-eyed. He'd had enough practice guessing T'Pol's emotions from looking her in the eyes to know that the young female was terrified as well as angry.

"You have bought me," she said, her tone an accusation.

"No, not bought," he stammered, trying to recollect his modest knowledge of Vulcan vocabulary. He hadn't used it for a long time, except that one sentence he'd surprised T'Pol and Hoshi with while in the brig. "We removed this." He lifted the device and showed it to her.

The young Vulcan stared in loathing. "Pain-maker."

"We know," Trip said, smiling when she touched her neck to confirm it was gone from there. "Do not touch. Fresh surgery."

"Your people caught me," she said, the accusatory tone returning to her voice.

"Not all of his people are the same," T'Pol said, coming through the curtain to his rescue; Trip tried not to sigh in relief too loudly. "The one who abducted you was a criminal. These humans came to rescue you. Charles is the engineer. He found out how to disable the 'pain-maker'."

Of course she gave him entirely too much credit, considering that it was she who had come up with the idea of involving Hoshi, who in turn came up with a method of jury-rigging a universal translator to send out a fake signal. But he could easily see her reasoning. It was a human who had put the device in place, so T'Pol was trying to convince the scared youngster that not all humans were the same.

Talk about leaving a bad first impression, he thought to himself ruefully. To his surprise a slender young hand very slowly reached out towards him as the young girl started to cry.

"Take the hand," T'Pol instructed in English and he could hear she was almost succumbing to tears as well. "She is still too young to have full control over her emotions."

Carefully he took the fragile-looking small hand and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb while the young patient was rocked by gut-wrenching sobs as all the terror she'd been through broke free. Not knowing what better to do, he gathered the sobbing Vulcan in his arms and rubbed her back as she cried out the terror of the last few days.

To his surprise he saw a single tear run down T'Pol's face, but the ship's first officer retreated behind the privacy screen so quickly he might almost have thought he'd imagined it.

"The station is secured, sir," Malcolm Reed reported, his face filling the view screen.

Jon was still not completely sold on the idea of having a bridge officer whose past was summarily classified, but considering how quickly his tactical officer had seized a whole starbase, it was obvious that he hadn't spent his previous years in a catholic girl's choir.

"M'Gambe?"

"Alive and secured, sir. I had the strangest urge to redecorate his face, but I reckoned I'd give the first shot to you. Though I'm afraid you're in a race with Admiral Forest. I'm not going to repeat his reaction when we transmitted the evidence."

"The admiral is on the way to the station?"