Atlantis (incomplete)

Star Trek: Enterprise

“Atlantis”

By Anthony Davis

“Mayday! Mayday! To anyone in the area! We are under attack by alien forces; requesting immediate assistance! Mayday!”

Beads of sweat rolled down Captain Jonathan Archer’s forehead as he heard the desperate plea of the voice coming from the communications console. 

“Can you get it any clearer, Hoshi?” Archer asked, huddled over his communications officer’s shoulder.

Lieutenant Hoshi Sato’s voice trembled. “There’s too much interference from the source!” 

“Do the best you can.” 

As Hoshi nervously worked the controls on the console in front of her, the static in the transmission gradually dissipated, and after a few seconds, the embattled starship captain’s voice could be heard once again:

“I repeat, to any Starfleet or Allied ship, this is the United Earth Starship Atlantis…we are under attack and require immediate assistance…ambushed…weapons and propulsion systems down…dozens…injured or dead…if there’s anyone who can hear us, please he—“ 

A loud explosion followed by a blood-curdling scream cut short the transmission. For a brief moment, Archer felt his heart sink, but he hardened his grief into more useful anger and determination. He marched back towards the captain’s chair. “T’Pol, were you able to get a fixed reading on where that distress call was coming from?”

“Yes,” the Vulcan responded, peering into the scope on her console. “A system approximately eight point seven parsecs from here. In a region which I believe is currently occupied by the Romulan Star Empire.”

Archer grimaced. A cold silence had fallen over the bridge. Lieutenant Travis Mayweather cast a knowing look to his left towards Hoshi, whose nervous eyes met his gaze briefly. 

Archer sat down. “Travis, set a course for the origin of the distress signal. Warp Four.” 

Mayweather gave a repressed, yet audible sigh. “Aye, Captain.”

“Atlantis…” mused Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed. “It has to be the NX-030…but they only left drydock two weeks ago.” 

Archer’s temper flared. “What the hell is Starfleet thinking, sending a crew that green so close to enemy territory?” 

“A better question might be,” interjected Travis, “how’d they get this far out so quickly?”

* * *

As Enterprise dropped out of warp, Archer stood up and surveyed the empty space before him. “Are we picking up anything on scanners?”

“Negative,” T’Pol responded, with a hint of surprise in her voice. “There is no debris, nor any other sign of a battle having taken place.”

A chilling thought ran through Archer’s mind as he sat back down into his chair. “Could the Romulans have faked the signal, to deliberately bait us into entering their territory?”

T’Pol gave a nearly imperceptible sigh. “That would be consistent with their hitherto demonstrated tactics.” 

“Bloody cowards,” Reed remarked. “I suppose they’re too noble to start a war themselves, so they want us to start one for them…”

“Captain!” Travis shouted. Archer’s head bolted up to face the viewscreen. 

As Archer watched, a Romulan Bird-of-Prey shimmered into view from out of the darkness. This ship, however, was unlike any Romulan vessel Archer had ever encountered before: bone-white, with the image of a great, fiery-orange bird emblazoned on the bottom of its hull. It was strangely beautiful, yet equally as menacing as any Romulan ship he had encountered in the past, if not more so. 

On the peripheral edges of the viewscreen, Archer could see the wings of two more Birds-of-Prey, these of the more familiar design. Their bright green hulls glowed in the light cast by the nearby star. 

“Three ships in total,” T’Pol said. “They have us surrounded.” 

Hoshi turned to face Archer, fear clearly etched across her face. “They’re hailing us. Audio only.” 

Archer’s lip curled. “Put it through.” 

A loud, threatening voice burst out of the communications console as soon as Hoshi opened the channel. “Earth vessel! You are violating the territory of the Romulan Star Empire! Withdraw from this system immediately!”

“This is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise. We’re responding to a distress call from one of our sister ships—”

“The invading vessel has been destroyed. Leave now or you will suffer the same fate.” 

“Captain,” Hoshi called out in a whisper. Archer turned to see her moving her finger across her neck. He nodded. She muted the transmission. “They’re lying. I can still pick up Atlantis’s distress beacon; they’re trying to block it.”

Archer turned to T’Pol, who was peering into her scope while making adjustments to the controls on her own console. “Lieutenant Sato is correct, Captain,” she confirmed after a moment. “Atlantis appears to have made a crash-landing on the surface of a Linchara-class planet two astronomical units from our position.” 

“Life signs?” Archer asked. 

T’Pol peered into her scope again, then shook her head. “Indiscernible from this distance.”

Archer exhaled and furrowed his eyebrows. To him, the stakes seemed too high. It didn’t seem worth it to risk a war with the Romulans over one ship, especially not one whose crew might already be dead.

“Earth vessel!” shouted the Romulan commander once again. “We are losing patience! I repeat, either withdraw from this system immediately, or be destroyed!”

“They’re charging disruptors!” shouted Reed.

A blast of green light shot out from the white Bird-of-Prey. As it careened towards him on the viewscreen, Archer flinched.

Archer felt the ship rock from side to side, but heard no explosions. He reasoned that the disruptor blast had just swept past Enterprise’s port bow, missing the ship by probably no more than a few feet.

“Warning shot,” he heard Reed mumble. 

Surveying the members of the bridge crew, Archer saw that they were all staring at him, anticipating his next move. As he looked into each of their faces, it could not be clearer to him what that next move had to be. 

“Get us out of here, Travis,” he ordered, scowling.

* * *

The ethical dilemma of abandoning any possible Atlantis survivors versus endangering his own crew by taking them into a confrontation with the Romulans continued to nag at Archer’s conscience. Unsure of what to do next, he had contacted Starfleet Command, who ordered Enterprise to wait just outside the border of Romulan space until they received further instructions. 

“Captain,” Travis called out. “There might still be a way for us to get through to Atlantis without being detected.” 

Archer was jarred out from his ruminations. “How?” 

“Shuttlepod One. That new stealth system we’ve been working on since our last run-in with the Romulans should allow us to sneak under their sensors, at least for a little while. It’s not as good as a cloaking device, but it’s still worth a shot.” 

For a moment, Archer seriously considered Travis’s proposal. Finally, however, he shook his head. “No, it’s too risky. That system is based on technology we don’t even fully understand yet. I’m not using it in the field until after it’s been tested.”

Suddenly, Hoshi’s console began to beep. “Captain, we have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command.” She examined the message more closely. “It’s Admiral Williams.”

“Route it through to my ready room.” Archer got up from his chair and marched across the bridge towards his office. 

As the doors closed, Archer sat down at his desk and activated his computer terminal. Nervously, he straightened his uniform, and his demeanor became even more stolid. The image of a middle-aged man in a gold-trimmed Starfleet uniform appeared on the screen. “Admiral.”

“What’s your status on the situation with Atlantis?” Williams’ expression was severe, and his tone was cold, brusque, and bureaucratic.

“Well, we’re fairly sure she hasn’t been destroyed, although the Romulans are claiming she has. I haven’t—” 

“Captain, if Atlantis is still intact I cannot emphasize to you how vital it is that the Romulans do not capture her. I’m giving you the authority to use any means necessary to prevent that ship from falling into enemy hands.” 

The sense of urgency in Williams’s voice gave Archer serious pause. “Well…I understand sir.” (He didn’t, not completely.) “If the Romulans ever captured an NX-class starship—”

“It’s more than that, Jon. Listen to me, because I’m only going to risk saying this once: Atlantis was not just another NX-class starship—she’s a prototype. Equipped with new technology that won’t be introduced for another decade at least.”

Archer felt a curtain of dread drape itself over him. “What kind of…new technology?”

“Mostly weapons, things that we’ve been developing with the help of the Andorians. Phasers, photon torpedoes, energy shielding… things that even I don’t understand. Somehow the Romulans found out about all this—don’t ask me how; we’ve got Vulcans in charge of security at every level. But at any rate, that’s why they attacked Atlantis, and that’s why they’re trying to capture her now.”

Archer considered the dire possibilities. “If they develop those kinds of weapons before us…”

“There’s more.” Williams sighed. “Atlantis’s defense systems aren’t the only ones that have been upgraded. Her engine is a prototype too. One that can propel a starship to speeds exceeding Warp Seven.” 

Archer’s eyes widened. His father’s dream had finally been surpassed. “Warp Seven?”

“We’re not sure how the Romulans travel between the stars right now, but we’re guessing they can’t go any faster than Warp Two. Right now, that’s our biggest advantage against them: speed. But if they attain Warp Seven before we do…that’ll put them within striking distance of planets it would take them decades to get to otherwise. Qo’nos, Andoria, Vulcan—”

“Earth.”

Williams took a deep breath. “Captain, even if you have to destroy Atlantis yourself…do it. One crew is not worth the billions of lives that could be lost if the Romulans get a hold of that ship. We’re sending Columbia to provide you with backup, but I can’t guarantee that they’ll get there on time. I’m counting on you to make sure this gets done right.” 

Archer stood up. “You have my word, Admiral.”

Williams gave a confident nod. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that this information is classified. Share it with no one. Starfleet out.” The Admiral’s face disappeared, replaced by the emblem of the Enterprise NX-01’s original—peaceful—mission. 

Immediately Archer sank back down into his chair and cradled his head in his hands. Even if there were no Atlantis survivors, abandoning the ship itself was no longer an option. Confrontation with the Romulans had just become inevitable. 

* * *

Travis, Malcolm, Trip, and Phlox entered the shuttlebay, all their gear in tow. Phlox entered Shuttlepod One first, followed by Trip, then Malcolm. As Travis was preparing to board, however, the doors to the shuttlebay opened, and Hoshi walked in.

Travis set down his gear and smiled at Hoshi weakly. “Hey…” He walked towards her and embraced her. 

“I just wanted to…wish you luck…and….” Her voice cracked. She laid her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us…please…”

Watching the spectacle from inside the shuttlepod, Malcolm’s face twisted into a heavy scowl.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Trip, noticing his friend’s apparent anger. “You look like you’re about to shit a tea kettle.”

Malcolm grunted. “If Captain Archer had the guts to institute even the slightest bit of discipline…”

“Then what? We wouldn’t be allowed to date anymore? Come on, Malcolm; the crew’ve gotta keep up their morale somehow!” 

“He’s holding up the mission, Trip! And besides that kind of…fraternization among crewmembers is against Starfleet regulations. Especially while on duty.” Reed continued to glare at Hoshi and Travis furiously.

“Look, just promise me you won’t do anything stupid down there,” Hoshi demanded.

“Hey now, I’m not gonna make any promises I can’t keep….”

Malcolm’s scowl grew even more pronounced. “Lieutenant! Grab your gear and get your arse on this shuttlepod, NOW!”

Hoshi and Travis jumped and turned to Malcolm, surprised by his sudden outburst. His expression remained grim. 

Travis turned back to Hoshi, smiling wryly. “Gotta go.” He placed his hand behind her head, leaned forward, and kissed her passionately. As their lips remained locked, Malcolm pulled away his gaze and sat facing straight forward in the shuttlepod, fuming.

Trip chuckled. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! You know I would never—”

“I know, Malcolm, I know, and I’m not sayin’ you would, but still…you oughta be happy for Hoshi and Travis. They’re your friends, after all.”  

“They’re junior officers, not my friends. LIEUTENANT!” 

Finally pulling himself away from Hoshi, Travis ran back to the shuttlepod, grabbed his gear, and entered the cockpit. “All ready then?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, those of us who aren’t too busy snogging their shipmates are ready to go.” 

Travis turned to look at Trip, who shrugged. He then turned back to the shuttlepod controls.

The shuttlebay doors opened, and Shuttlepod One’s docking arm lowered it out of the ship. The docking clamps holding the shuttlepod disengaged, and it flew out into space, back towards Romulan territory.

“Preparing to enter stealth mode,” announced Travis from the pilot’s seat. 

As Archer watched on the viewscreen, Shuttlepod One shimmered against the backdrop of the stars, then became invisible.

“Optical refractors online and functional,” Trip reported back over the comm. “Antimatter emissions down to nine percent, speed reduced to one quarter impulse. Life support…minimal.” 

“And put on your overcoats, because it’s about to get bloody cold in here,” Malcolm added.

Archer felt a strong sinking sensation in his stomach.

“Well I don’t care about being cold so much. I just hope this thing works,” said Travis. “We’re now twenty million kilometers from the planet. Nineteen…eighteen…seventeen…”

“Travis, why don’t you just let us know when we get there, all right?” Archer could hear Trip’s teeth chattering. “Sheesh, you know I kinda liked him better when he didn’t talk so damn much?” 

Archer cracked a smile. “Maintain radio silence until you—”

“Romulan Bird-of-Prey, decloaking, forty-five degrees to port!” T’Pol suddenly shouted.

On the viewscreen, one of the green Birds-of-Prey had indeed emerged from the darkness, and was now hovering in space menacingly, less than a kilometer from the hidden shuttlepod’s position.

The entire shuttlepod crew fell silent, as though not making any sounds would aid them in not being detectable, even through the vacuum of space.

“Can they see us?” whispered Malcolm. 

“I don’t think so…” said Travis, cautiously.

Silently, they floated a bit further past the Romulan Bird-of-Prey. Once they had cleared it, the four of them breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, good job, Lieutenant. It would seem that you managed to take some time off from your chronic incompetence to make something that actually works.” 

“Thanks, Commander.”

“Well hey, what about me?” demanded Trip. “I helped build the damn thing too, y’know!” 

“Yes, but you never take time off from your incompetence.”

At that moment, a large explosion from behind shattered the crew’s reverie. They were thrown forward. 

“What the—!” exclaimed Malcolm.

“Now they’ve seen us!” said Trip.

Indeed, the three Birds-of-Prey were now advancing upon Shuttlepod One, disruptors blazing. Another blast struck Shuttlepod One on its port side. 

“Polarized hull plating at eighty percent! Stealth mode disabled!” 

“No shit, Malcolm! Travis, we’ve got full impulse! MOVE!”

Immediately, Travis took Shuttlepod One into intense evasive maneuvers, dodging the Romulans’ disruptors while Reed returned fire. Shuttlepod One’s phase cannons seemed to briefly stun or slow down the Romulan ships, but they continued to pursue the shuttlepod relentlessly. 

As its stealth system collapsed, Shuttlepod One shimmered back into sight on Enterprise’s viewscreen. Immediately, it entered into evasive maneuvers, swirling toward the planet at full impulse while dodging the Romulans’ disruptors and returning fire with its own newly installed phase cannons.

“Enterprise! We’re under attack; please respond!”

Archer was frozen. His mind raced faster than his body could move. Utter helplessness and desperation overwhelmed him, as he listened to the desperate plea of his best friend over the comm. 

T’Pol seized his moment of hesitation. “Lay in an intercept course, full impulse!”

Archer snapped back to his senses. “Belay that order.”

T’Pol, along with the rest of the bridge crew, turned to look at Archer in shock. “Captain…?” 

Archer struggled to feign calmness, even though his heart was pounding. “We’re outnumbered three to one. If we go after the shuttlepod alone we’ll only be precipitating a war with the Romulans—and probably get ourselves destroyed in the process. We have to pull back and wait for reinforcements.” 

“Captain, by that time, Trip and the others might already be dead!”

Archer could sense that T’Pol’s naturally volatile Vulcan emotions—often difficult for her to control due to her worsening Pa’nar Syndrome as well as the brain damage she had suffered in the Delphic Expanse, and, in this situation, no doubt complicated by her romantic attachment to Trip—were starting to get the better of her once again. He fought to keep his captain’s mask firmly in place, as his own barely repressed fear and anger swelled throughout his body. “I know. But I don’t think we’ve got any other choice.” Archer looked at T’Pol with an expression that pleaded for understanding. “It’s the logical thing to do.” 

After a moment, T’Pol finally swallowed her anxiety. “Hold our current position.” Her voice trembled as she gave the order. 

Archer forced his gaze back over to the viewscreen and watched helplessly as Shuttlepod One was struck by several more blasts of disruptor fire.

“We’re losing attitude control!” shouted Travis. “The planet’s atmosphere is only a hundred kilometers away!”

“We’re gonna hafta punch through it! Malcolm, keep firing! Everyone else…brace for impact!” 

The nose of Shuttlepod One struck the planet’s atmosphere and tore through it in a blaze of static electricity. Instead of being bitterly cold, the crew found themselves burning up, as Shuttlepod One careened toward the planet’s surface. 

As land became visible, Travis struggled to pull Shuttlepod One up to a position parallel to the ground. The shuttlepod crashed onto the surface, throwing everyone and everything inside it up into the air. Malcolm let out a shriek of intense pain before he, along with everyone else, lost consciousness.

* * *

Upon entering the dark solitude of his ready room, Archer slammed his fist into a chair. As a direct result of his orders, his best friend and chief engineer, along with three other valued members of his crew, were now stranded on the surface of a hostile alien planet. He didn’t even know if they were dead or alive. And until the reinforcements that Williams had promised finally arrived, he would remain unable to launch a rescue mission. His hands were tied. 

The door chimed. “Come in,” he growled. The doors slid open to reveal the last person that Archer wanted to see at this moment. He turned his face away. “What is it, T’Pol?”

For a moment, T’Pol hesitated. “I came...to apologize,” she finally said.

“For what?” 

“For my…outburst, on the bridge. And also for questioning your orders. You were right; it was the logical decision to make.”

“Being the logical decision doesn’t always make it the right one, as you should damn well know by now.” 

T’Pol took a deep breath. “May I speak freely, Captain?”

“Not having permission hasn’t ever stopped you before.”

T’Pol ignored him. “You should not have sent out Shuttlepod One in the first place.”

Archer knew she was right, of course, but was too proud to admit it. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

“You should have gone with your instincts and waited for the reinforcements.” 

“The circumstances changed. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.” 

“I do not believe that you fully considered the risks—”

“I AM FULLY AWARE OF THE RISKS, T’POL!” Archer surprised even himself with his sudden anger. He had sprung out of his chair, and was now pointing his finger directly into T’Pol’s face. “Look, for just once, will you consider somewhere in that thick Vulcan head of yours that maybe there’s something I know that you don’t?”

T’Pol stiffened. “And what exactly would that be, Captain?”

Archer’s anger evaporated. He dropped his finger to his side. “I can’t tell you that.” He began to pace around the room. “All I can say is that Starfleet has given me strict orders not to let that ship fall into enemy hands. That’s why I sent out Shuttlepod One; I needed to make sure there weren’t any survivors before…” 

“…before you destroy Atlantis.”

Archer sighed. “I am just as concerned about the lives of those four people as you are, T’Pol.” His voice, strained from shouting, could muster no more than a coarse whisper. “Five years out here in uncharted space has made us more than just a starship crew: we’re a family. I plan to make every effort to get them back when I can, but for now…” Archer hesitated as he struggled to make himself believe his own words. “For now you’re just going to have to trust me.”

T’Pol peered deeply into Archer’s eyes, as though she were trying to read his innermost thoughts. “Very well then. As I am clearly unaware of the entire scope of the situation, I will not question your orders any further.” She walked toward the door. As it slid open, she stopped and turned to face Archer again. “But do not expect me to agree with them.” She walked out, and the door closed behind her. 

Archer sighed again, exasperated.

* * *

Gradually, the shuttlepod crew began to regain consciousness. Trip groaned as he pushed a heavy bulkhead off his body. “Where are we?” 

Travis grabbed Trip’s hand and pulled himself up from the floor. Still somewhat dazed, he examined the console next to the pilot seat. “About seven kilometers away from the Atlantis crash site. Impulse engines are still barely working, but I’m not sure we’ll actually be able to get off the ground.”

Trip limped over to the shuttlepod door and forced it open. He carefully stepped down onto the dark gray surface of the planet on which they had crashed, walked behind the shuttlepod, and began to inspect the rear engines. “Anti-grav thrusters’ve been almost completely ripped apart. We can still fly, but she may not be able to handle the weight of all four of us.” 

A loud, agonized groan erupted from the back of the shuttlepod. Trip hurried back inside to find Malcolm sprawled out on the floor, with Phlox hovering over him, waving a medical scanner. To their horror, the entire left side of his uniform was completely soaked in blood.  

“Oh my God…Malcolm!” Trip ran over to his best friend’s side.

“His console exploded when we hit the surface,” Phlox explained. “Severe plasma radiation burns and a concussion.” 

Trip cradled Malcolm’s head in his hands. “Malcolm…Malcolm, can you hear me?” 

Unable to speak, Malcolm simply opened his eyes, looked up at Trip, and nodded.

“Commander, he’s beginning to bleed internally. I recommend we contact Enterprise for instructions on what to do next.”

“Travis, can you patch a signal through to them?” 

“I’ll try.”

* * *

“Captain, we’re getting an incoming signal!” said Hoshi excitedly. “It’s the away team!”

Archer dashed over to Hoshi’s terminal. “Shuttlepod One, this is Enterprise, we read you!” 

“Jon!” shouted Trip’s voice in response. Archer felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his chest. “Cap’n, we made it, but Malcolm’s hurt bad; Phlox says that he’s bleeding internally.” 

This news jarred Archer, but he fought to maintain his focus. “Have you made contact with Atlantis yet?”

“Not yet. The shuttlepod’s anti-grav boosters’re totally blown out; I don’t think we’ll be able to get back in the air with all four of us on board.” 

A loud boom suddenly echoed over the comm. “Trip, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, Cap’n! I think Atlantis must be under attack!” 

For a moment, Archer was silent. The Romulans could not be allowed to capture that ship….

“Cap’n?” 

“Do you think the shuttlepod can still transport two of you?” Archer asked. 

“Two, yeah,” Trip replied, sounding somewhat confused. “But Cap’n, what about—”

“I want you to send Travis and Phlox in the shuttlepod to the crash site to help in any way they can. You and Malcolm…will just have to stay where you are until we can get a rescue team out to you.” 

“Phlox can’t leave now, Cap’n; I told you, Malcolm’s dying!”

“I’m pretty sure the Atlantis crew need Phlox more than Malcolm does, Trip; they must have dozens of wounded. For the moment, you’ll just have to treat him yourself the best you can.” 

Archer could almost hear Trip’s eyes widening. “Damnit, Jon! I’m an engineer, not a doctor!”

“You have basic field medic training, Trip, just like the rest of us. I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do. 

“But—” 

“For your own sake, don’t try to contact us again; we don’t want the Romulans to pinpoint your location. Enterprise out.” 

Archer cut the transmission, then sat down in his chair and flipped a switch on the console next to it. “Archer to Sickbay.”

“Yes, Captain?” replied the voice of Ensign Elizabeth Cutler.

“I need someone to board Shuttlepod Two and head down to the planet to retrieve Commander Tucker and Commander Reed.” 

“Already on it, sir. Got supplies ready; on my way down to the shuttlebay.”

Archer raised his eyebrows. “Very good, Ensign. Good luck.” 

“Well, you heard the Cap’n! Phlox, help me get Malcolm out of the shuttlepod. Travis, get this rustbucket ready to fly.” 

Travis immediately set to work on the flight controls. Trip gripped Malcolm’s body by the legs, while Phlox grabbed him from under his shoulders. 

“Ready?” Trip asked. “One, two, THREE…”

With a mighty heave, Trip and Phlox lifted Reed up from the floor of the shuttlepod. They carried him out through the open bay door and set him down approximately six feet away, in a trench lined with soft, cool soil. 

Phlox pulled out a small black bag from one of the pockets of his lab coat and handed it to Trip. “Here, take these extra medical supplies. Keep his wounds clean, change his bandages every fifteen minutes, and make sure that under no circumstances does he fall asleep.”

“All right, Phlox, I got it; just go.” 

Phlox stared at Trip and Malcolm for a moment longer, then turned around and re-entered Shuttlepod One, whose engines were beginning to glow, dimly. The bay door closed behind him, and the shuttlepod lifted up several feet from the ground. It turned and headed east, towards the flashing lights and the sounds of explosions in the sky.

* * *

“Full stop.” Archer stood up from his chair as Enterprise swept back into Romulan territory. “Come on, you bastards…”

As though it had heard Archer’s beckoning, the white, painted Bird-of-Prey shimmered into sight on the viewscreen.

“They’re hailing us, audio only—”

“Put ‘em through!”

“Earth vessel! Why have you again trespassed into our territory? You were ordered to withdraw immediately!”

“I don’t take orders from Romulans. My orders are to retrieve that Earth starship that you shot down, or destroy it to prevent it from falling into your hands.”

“We have told you already that the invading starship has been destroyed!”

“And we know that you are lying.” T’Pol was now standing up and walking towards the center of the bridge. “We were able to break through your attempt to block the ship’s distress signal. We know that it is still intact and has made a crash-landing on a nearby planet’s surface.”

For several seconds, the Romulan commander remained silent. Archer turned to look at T’Pol, who wore an expression of definite satisfaction. 

“The vessel is now the property of the Romulan Star Empire!” The Romulan commander sounded even more flabbergasted, now that his ruse had been exposed. “It is you who have violated our sovereign rights by sending a band of spies in one of your shuttlecraft to our planet! They, however, have been neutralized. Once again, either withdraw from this system immediately, or—”

“Cut them off!” Hoshi terminated the channel. “Archer to shuttlebay. Ensign, are you ready?”

“Boarding Shuttlepod Two now, sir.”

After several seconds, Archer saw Shuttlepod Two on the viewscreen shooting away from Enterprise toward the planet. The Bird-of-Prey promptly turned to pursue it. The disruptor banks on the edges of its wings began to glow dangerously green.

“Helm, take us between the Bird-of-Prey and the shuttlepod.”

Archer lurched to the right in his chair as suddenly the space in front of him turned sideways. An ear-shattering crash erupted from all around him. Consoles on the bridge burst into flames, and wires fell down from the ceiling. As smoke and debris filled the air around him, Archer coughed and sputtered, but he became even angrier. 

“Come about and return fire!” 

Space immediately rectified itself. The white Bird-of-Prey appeared on the viewscreen again, parallel to Enterprise in space. Two beams of yellow light shot out from underneath Enterprise toward the Romulan ship. But the phase cannons missed their target, as the Bird-of-Prey shimmered away back into the darkness.

Archer swore and slammed his fist down on the armrest of his chair. There had to be a way to neutralize the Romulans’ advantage. He thought of the Suliban Cell Ship that Enterprise had captured four years earlier, whose technology Trip and Travis had reverse-engineered to create Shuttlepod One’s stealth system. Suddenly, the answer clicked, as though it had been blatantly obvious the whole time.

“T’Pol, were the cloak-detecting beacons that Daniels gave us four years ago removed when Enterprise was refit?” 

“No, sir, I do not believe they were.” Archer could sense the anticipation in T’Pol’s voice.

“Deploy them,” he ordered. A wide grin spread onto his face.

A few seconds later, the space in front of Enterprise seemed to become covered with a translucent film. But appearing where there had been nothing but blackness and stars before were the two green Romulan Birds-of-Prey, their weapons pointed directly at Enterprise.

“Gotcha,” Archer said triumphantly. 

“But where’s the white one?” Hoshi asked. 

Archer’s smile evaporated. “T’Pol…”

The image on the viewscreen changed to show the rear of the starship, with the same translucent film covering space. Nothing was there.

“Switch to port and starboard.” 

The image changed twice more to show the sides of Enterprise’s hull. Again, there was nothing. The image changed back to the front of the ship. The bridge crew turned to look at each other, puzzled. 

Then, with a loud, sudden crash, they were all thrown forward. 

Archer fell out of his chair and landed with a hard thud on the floor. The ship was exploding around him. “Report!”

“The Catwalk section of the ship has been destroyed!” shouted T’Pol over the high-pitched screech of the klaxon. “Crewmembers are being pulled out into the vacuum of space!” 

Archer pulled himself back up off the floor. “Activate emergency force fields! Seal off those decks!” 

Before T’Pol could do so, however, Enterprise was struck again, this time from the front. The translucent film on the viewscreen vanished, shortly before the two green Birds-of-Prey that had just fired on Enterprise did the same. 

“Cloak-detecting beacons have been destroyed.” T’Pol sounded as though she was on the brink of tears. “The white Bird-of-Prey appears to have the ability to evade them.”

“Not that it matters anymore.” Archer slumped back into his chair. “How many people did we lose?”

“Seventeen,” said T’Pol. 

A surge of pain shot into Archer’s stomach and permeated his body. He winced and covered his eyes.

“Incoming message,” Hoshi said in almost a whisper.

“Open the channel,” Archer ordered through tightly clenched teeth. 

The Romulan commander let out a deep, horrible laugh. “How do you like my new ship, Captain? This Bird-of-Prey is but the first of her kind. Her cloaking technology is far more advanced; your pathetic beacons had no hope of penetrating it.”

“How did they know about the beacons?” asked Hoshi in astonishment. 

“How did they manage to beat 31^st Century technology?” Archer asked, equally baffled as well as somewhat fearful. 

“Take heed of her markings, and learn her design well…on the day when our two worlds at last go to war, this is the ship that will strike terror into the hearts of your people…this is the ship that will turn your cities to ashes, and reduce your worthless Starfleet to burning wreckage in space.”

At that moment, Archer had no doubt that what the Romulan was saying was true. 

“My only regret is that you will not live to see it,” the Romulan concluded. The transmission then ended abruptly, leaving only a cold silence in its wake.

Archer’s mind went blank. Out of ideas, he could do nothing but sit helplessly frozen, digging his fingernails deep into the armrests of his chair as he awaited the Romulans’ next savage move. To Archer, Enterprise seemed frozen in time. He surveyed the members of his bridge crew one by one, and as he did felt several great waves of guilt wash over him. Not only had he utterly failed in his mission, but he had also led each and every one of them to an untimely and meaningless death. There could be no greater disgrace for him as a captain.

Archer was so deeply rapt in contemplation and remorse that he almost failed to notice when the three Birds-of-Prey finally re-emerged from the darkness. 

“They’ve surrounded the ship in a triangular formation,” T’Pol said.

Archer shook himself out of his trance. “Polarize the hull plating!”  he shouted. But it was too late. 

The green Birds-of-Prey simultaneously fired on Enterprise, striking her directly beneath her forward hull. Archer felt like he was back in San Francisco in the middle of an earthquake. 

“Phase cannons have now also been destroyed!”

Before Archer could even shout “evasive maneuvers,” the ship was rocked by yet another explosion from behind.

“Power to starboard and aft thrusters has been compromised!” The ship shook violently in all directions. “Hull breaches on decks B through D!” 

Archer had the distinct impression that the Romulans were playing with Enterprise. Though they seemed to be perfectly capable of destroying the ship outright, they were instead circling around the ship like vultures and attacking in short, intense bursts, surgically removing each of her defenses one by one before recloaking. They seemed to be trying to prolong the crew’s terror for as long as possible before killing them. 

Archer refused to give the Romulan commander the satisfaction of knowing he had broken them. “Arm a photonic torpedo. Fire on my command.” 

Shortly thereafter, the three Birds-of-Prey shimmered back into sight on the viewscreen. 

“FIRE!”

A great bright ball of yellow light came bursting out from directly beneath Enterprise. It crashed into the starboard wing of one of the green Birds-of-Prey, tearing it off and causing the ship to veer out of control. The other two Birds-of-Prey, clearly taken by surprise, immediately turned in the opposite direction and recloaked, leaving their wounded comrade alone and drifting helplessly in space. The bridge erupted in uproarious cheers. 

“Another one! Target them and fire!”

 This time, however, no ball of light came shooting out from underneath the ship. Instead, Archer heard a dull thud, followed by an urgent beeping sound emanating from the tactical console. 

“The power failure has spread to the photonic torpedo launchers. The missile is jammed.”

Archer cursed again and slammed his fist on the armrest. He looked up to the viewscreen. The other two Birds-of-Prey decloaked and flanked the wounded one on both sides. They all began charging their disruptors.

But then, as though struck down by the hand of God, the wounded green Bird-of-Prey exploded in a flash of bright yellow light.

 “The reinforcements have arrived!”

To Archer’s great relief, the Columbia NX-02 flew into view from over the top of the viewscreen. She began firing her phase cannons at the other two Birds-of-Prey, which immediately broke formation and vanished back into the darkness.

 “Sir, Columbia is hailing us,” Hoshi announced through a wide grin. 

“On screen!” Archer ordered. 

Space disappeared, replaced by the image of Columbia’s bridge, in the center of which sat Captain Erika Hernandez, smirking. 

“About time you got here!” Archer shouted gratefully.

“Well, I thought I’d give you some time to duke it out by yourself before rushing in to save the day,” replied Hernandez. “I know how much you like to prove your machismo.”

Archer smiled, but fought to regain focus. He remembered Cutler. “Do you know what happened to our shuttlepod?”

“She was almost to the planet, last time we saw her—but John, you’re the ones who really seem to be in need of help. Recommend you activate the auto-destruct sequence and prepare to abandon ship—”

“Enterprise is not finished yet, Erika. We may have taken a beating, but we’ve still got plenty of fight left in us.” Archer was almost indignant at the suggestion that he should destroy his father’s ship. “Plus Trip’s still down on that planet, along with three other officers of mine; I can’t leave them behind. And, I’m under strict orders from Admiral Williams not to let Atlantis fall into enemy hands. If you can take care of the Romulans up here, we’ll take care of the situation down on the planet.”

Hernandez sighed and hesitated for a moment. “All right, we’ll do what we can. But you’d better hurry up; we picked up six more Birds-of-Prey heading towards this system on long-range scanners. Columbia out.”

“Lay in a course for the planet, full impulse.” Archer leaned back into his chair again and, for the first time in days, smiled. “Let’s go.”

* * *

On the planet, Trip cradled Malcolm’s head in his arms, struggling to hold his canteen against Malcolm’s mouth, as bombs continued flying overhead.

“Come on, Malcolm, drink! You’ve lost enough blood; I don’t need ya to go ‘n’ get dehydrated on me too.”

Malcolm murmured something unintelligible and then turned his face away. His head fell back limply over Trip’s supporting arm.

“NO! Malcolm…” Trip pulled Malcolm back upright, jarring him awake again. “Whoa, whoa, come on now, there, buddy; don’t scare me like that. You can’t fall asleep; you gotta be awake when Enterprise comes to get us. They’ll be here any minute now.”

“Don’t…bullshit…me.”

Trip felt his heart leap. “Malcolm! Oh, thank God. Listen, you’re gonna be all right, ok? Enterprise is sendin’ someone to rescue us. You just gotta hang on for a few more minutes…”

“STOP PATRONIZING ME!” Reed let out another groan and buckled in pain; the strain of screeching at Trip had exacerbated the wounds on his chest. 

“All right…sorry.” Trip pulled up Malcolm’s tank top to re-dress the wound. “Just don’t do that again; I’m gonna start runnin’ out of bandages if you do.” 

Disgusted, Reed threw back his head. “Ugh, bloody hell, what difference does it make? I’m dead anyway, and we both know it.” 

“Oh, no, don’t you start your fatalistic bullshit with me now, Malcolm; I am really not in the mood.”

“No, you’re in the mood to be a condescending cowboy idiot as usual.” Reed grunted as Trip wiped his wounds with peroxide, then relaxed helplessly as Trip applied the bandages. “You should’ve just gone with Phlox and Travis; they might have needed your help with Atlantis.” 

 “Uh, I seriously doubt there’s any way in hell that that ship is ever gonna be spaceworthy again, so I don’t know how much good havin’ an engineer woulda done ‘em.” Trip tightened the knot of the bandage. “Besides, Cap’n Archer ordered me to stay here ‘n’ try to keep your ass alive until help came. You wouldn’t want me to…violate a direct order from the captain, now would ya?” He smirked.

Malcolm scowled. “In case you’ve forgotten, Trip, there are three Romulan Birds-of-Prey up there! There’s no way Enterprise could make it through to us, even if they did have the time!”

 “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you just gotta have a little bit of faith, is all.” 

“Faith?” Shouting once again exacerbated Malcolm’s wounds. He grunted. “Faith in what, exactly?”

“I don’t know…faith in Cap’n Archer, faith in Enterprise…faith in God, maybe…”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, Trip…don’t be so naïve.” 

Trip raised his eyebrows and gave a slight smirk. “What, you don’t believe in God, Malcolm? Even after all we’ve been through out here?”

“Especially after all we’ve been through out here! I’ve seen absolutely nothing to make me think that there’s some unseen, unfelt, unheard mythical entity controlling the entire universe. And I don’t need some self-righteous, Bible-thumping choir boy telling me I’m going to Hell for not believing that there is either. If there’s any such thing as Hell, then we’re living in it, right here, right now.” 

Trip laughed. “Well, I never was a choir boy, Malcolm, but I do believe in God.” He tied the dressing on Malcolm’s torso into a knot. “In the five years I’ve spent out here I’ve learned that the universe is…too big…too complicated, too full of wonders, and beauty, for it all to just be some kind of an accident, or a mistake.” He tightened the knot. “And I wouldn’t be so quick to knock the Bible; people’ve been readin’ it for the last two thousand years for a reason.”

“Yes, it’s called ignorance.” Reed grunted again from the pressure of the tightened knot. “When did you start becoming so religious anyway? You never used to be that way before.” He winced as Trip poured some disinfectant into the wound on his leg.

“Oh, I started readin’ the Bible…about a year ‘n’ a half ago. After we got back from the Delphic Expanse.”

“Why?” 

For a moment, Trip was silent. “A lotta reasons.” He wrapped the dressing around Malcolm’s wound. “It gave me a…great sense of comfort, after Lizzie died. Helped me to get rid of all that hate I still felt for the Xindi; it’d been eatin’ me up inside for months.” He tied the dressing into another knot. “I’ve felt a lot more at peace since I found God. Or since He found me, I should say.” 

Malcolm stared at Trip for a moment, then scoffed. “Resorting to religion to find inner peace. I never thought you could be that weak.” 

“Well at least I don’t go around tryin’ to get myself killed every chance I get.” 

Malcolm’s smug sneer morphed into a frown. He turned his face away from Trip, who sighed. 

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is that you’ve gotta find a reason to want to live, Malcolm. It doesn’t have to be religion; it can be whatever you want it to be. You just can’t go around your whole life feelin’ sorry for yourself. It’s not healthy.”

“Yeah? Well neither is living under a delusion.”

Trip stared at Malcolm sadly for a moment, then having finished dressing the wound, shook his head and threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Whatever. I’m deluded. I’m not gonna argue about it with you.” 

Just then, in the distance, Trip began to hear a gradually crescendoing whirr. He turned to his left and saw, to his horror, several bright green balls of light hurtling towards him and Malcolm. “Oh shit!” 

Immediately, Trip grabbed Malcolm and pulled him out of the way. The disruptor blasts struck the trench only feet from where they had been moments before. Trip held Malcolm’s face down in the dirt, protecting him from the blasts and the debris, ignoring his muffled protests. “Damnit! They must’ve tracked our signal to Enterprise!” 

Groaning in agony, Malcolm rolled over onto his back. “This is why I don’t believe in God.” 

Trip ignored Malcolm, peering up out of the trench in the direction from which they were being fired upon. Almost instantly, he blanched. Moving steadily towards them was a phalanx of nearly a dozen gigantic, bizarre alien creatures. They had thick, yellowish-green skin; deeply set, hollow, dark eyes; sharply pointed ears; and fangs, giving them an overall demonic appearance, similar to something Trip thought he might have seen in one of the macabre 20^th Century horror films he had watched in Enterprise’s theatre in the early days of their mission. They were charging directly toward the trench, carrying disruptors in their hands and what appeared to be sharp, brutal knives sheathed on the sides of their uniforms.

“What in the hell are those things? Are those Romulans?” 

“Does it matter? They’re trying to kill us!”

Trip grabbed Malcolm by his shoulders and attempted to pull him up on his legs. “Come on, we’ve gotta get outta here!”

“No. Leave me; I told you, I’m finished. Go to Atlantis. Find Travis and Phlox. Save yourself…”

“Shut up, Malcolm! I’m not gonna tell you again.” He pointed his phase pistol at Malcolm’s head. “Get on your feet, Commander. That’s an order!” 

Begrudgingly, Malcolm obeyed. “Yes, sir.” He placed his arm around Trip’s shoulder. 

“Even if you don’t believe in God, Malcolm, you’d better start prayin’ to somethin’. Because I’m about to show you why I do believe.” 

Mustering all his strength, Trip heaved himself and Malcolm up out of the trench with one hand. With the other, Trip pointed his phase pistol at the aliens and began firing at them feverishly. Some of the aliens staggered, but none were completely stunned. The aliens fired back with disruptors, whose shots only barely missed him and Malcolm.

Malcolm reached up with his injured hand and, grunting in pain, moved a switch on Trip’s phase pistol. When Trip fired again, the pistol emitted a red rather than yellow beam, which finally struck down one of the oncoming aliens.

“What did you do?” Trip asked, perplexed. 

“Kill setting.” 

“Oh.” Trip stared down grimly at the pistol in his hands. “Well all right then. We’ll play it that way.”

Trip raised the phase pistol again and fired repeatedly into the mass of oncoming aliens, as he raced across no-man’s land, dragging Malcolm along on his shoulders. The aliens began to fall to the ground like dominos, but those who survived only fired at Trip and Malcolm more ferociously with their own disruptors.

Trip dashed for the nearest safe trench and threw himself and Malcolm down into it. As they fell into the trench, a volley of disruptor blasts flew over their heads. Malcolm landed on his stomach with a hard thud, and blood spurted out of his mouth.

* * *

Shuttlepod One arrived at the Atlantis crash site and made a soft landing beneath the ship’s starboard warp nacelle. Travis and Phlox emerged from the craft and were immediately greeted by a ragged, wild-looking Starfleet officer, who held a phase pistol to their heads. His voice quivered. “Who are you?”

Travis held up his hands in surrender. “I’m Lieutenant Junior Grade Travis Mayweather, from the Starship Enterprise.”

“Enterprise?” The officer lowered his phase pistol. His eyes lit up. “You got our distress call?”

“Yes. Enterprise is trying to get to you, but there were three Romulan Birds-of-Prey blocking our way when we left. We were sent ahead to make sure there were any of you still alive.”

“More than half the crew is dead, including the captain and most of the senior staff. We’ve been fending off waves of Romulan attacks for almost thirty hours straight now; I don’t know how much longer we can last.” The officer sheathed his phase pistol and extended his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Jason Hendrix, communications officer.” Travis shook his hand. “I’m in command now.”

Travis pointed to Phlox. “This is our Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Phlox. Captain Archer sent him to treat your wounded.” 

Hendrix sighed. “Well I appreciate your Captain’s offer, but honestly I don’t think your doctor can do much good here. As soon as the next wave of Romulan attacks comes in he’ll have more wounded than he’ll be able to deal with anyway.” 

“I’ll do whatever I can. Where’s your Sickbay?” 

“E-Deck, same as on Enterprise.” 

Phlox hurried off toward a nearby gaping hole torn into Atlantis’s hull, carrying his medical supply bag with him. 

Travis surveyed the Atlantis crash site in slight astonishment. “Have you been fighting the Romulans hand-to-hand?”

“Yes. Have you ever seen a Romulan up close before?”

Travis paused for a moment. “No…I can’t say that I have.” 

“Well come on, I’ll show ‘em to you. They’re ugly bastards, that’s for sure.”

Hendrix led Travis into Atlantis, through the same hole in the hull through which Phlox had just entered. They walked to the entrance of the nearest cargo bay, and Hendrix began to type in the passcode to the door. “I tell ya, they look like they came straight out of Hell. The kind of aliens you think exist only in your nightmares….” 

The door slid open. There, in the center of the cargo bay, was a mountain of dead alien bodies, piled up and stripped of their weapons. They had yellowish-green skin, sharp, pointed ears, and dark, hollow eyes. 

Travis stared grimly at the grotesque sight. “Those aren’t Romulans.”

“What…?”

“Those are Remans.” Travis began to walk around the pile of dead bodies. “They’re a slave race; the Romulans use them for mining dilithium on their homeworld’s sister planet.” He curled his lip in disgust. “And apparently as cannon fodder on the battlefield too.” 

Hendrix was left even more perplexed. “But…how do you—”

“My girlfriend and I were captured by the Romulans and forced to work in the dilithium mines on Remus five months ago. We worked with the Remans. Several of them actually helped us escape.” Having walked in a full circle, Travis came to a stop. “But we never actually saw the faces of our captors.”

Hendrix sighed, staring at the pile of dead Remans. “So…still, no one actually knows what the Romulans look like yet, do they?”

Travis shook his head. “I don’t think so, no.” 

Suddenly, the klaxon began blaring. “TACTICAL ALERT! TACTICAL ALERT!” shouted a voice over the intercom. “Incoming wave of Romulan attack forces!” 

“Perfect timing. Have you got a phase pistol?” 

“On the shuttlepod. But—”

“Don’t risk going back out there, not in the middle of an attack. We can get you a phase pistol. We don’t exactly have a shortage of weapons now, with over fifty people dead.” 

Travis remained silent, not wanting to shake Hendrix’s confidence by telling him that he had never actually engaged in hand-to-hand combat before. 

Trip’s phase pistol lay discarded at his side, completely drained of energy by the constant use of the kill setting. He had taken up Malcolm’s pistol instead and begun firing it at the oncoming Remans, but there was little he could do to stop the seemingly endless onslaught of alien soldiers. Beside him, he felt Malcolm’s body go limp once again. “Malcolm!” He turned to look at him: his eyes were closed. “Malcolm, wake up!” He shook him, desperately. “Malcolm!” 

A disruptor blast grazed Trip’s forehead. Wincing in pain, Trip turned around and saw a huge, towering Reman standing only feet away from him. Trip raised Malcolm’s phase pistol, pointed it at the Reman, and pulled the trigger. The phase pistol sputtered but did not fire.

Frustrated and furious, Trip threw the dead phase pistol aside and lunged at the Reman. Surprised, the Reman lurched backwards, throwing away his disruptor in the process. Trip drew back his fist and punched the Reman in the face; the Reman however quickly overpowered Trip, and soon had him pinned helplessly to the ground. 

Staring down at Trip coldly, the Reman reached to the side of his uniform and unsheathed a large dagger. His eyes wide with terror, Trip stared up at the Reman as he raised the dagger and prepared to thrust it down into Trip’s heart. 

But as the dagger descended, Trip heard the unmistakable sound of a phase pistol being discharged. He felt the weight of the Reman lift off of his chest. The Reman fell backwards and hit the ground with a hard thud, the knife still clenched in his hand. Trip looked up, and, to his great astonishment and relief, saw Ensign Cutler, hanging out the open door of Shuttlepod Two with a smoking phase pistol in her hand. 

“About damn time you got here!”

“Sorry, had a slight setback.” Cutler pointed with her pistol towards the seemingly dead body lying next to Trip. “How’s Reed?” 

“Not good. He’s passed out again; can you wake him up?” 

Cutler ducked back into the shuttlepod and slowly lowered it to the ground. She walked out, pulled a hypospray from inside one of the zippered pockets of her uniform, and attached it to Malcolm’s neck. With the sharp, quick sound of air being decompressed, Malcolm suddenly grunted and began to shake his head from side to side. 

Cutler put away the hypospray. “That should keep him awake for now. But cordrazine only lasts for so long. We still need to get him back to Enterprise right away.”

“What about Phlox and Travis? They must’ve made it to Atlantis by now, and by the looks of it they’re under attack too!” Trip turned to look over at the horizon, where he saw bombs falling and heard explosions coming from Atlantis’s position. 

“We’ve got to hurry.” Cutler lifted Malcolm’s head. “Help me get him in.”

With another great heave, Trip and Cutler lifted Malcolm and carried him into the shuttlepod.

* * *

At the Atlantis crash site, Travis knelt in a trench, firing his phase pistol feverishly at the oncoming enemy forces. Around him, the bodies of at least a dozen men and women—all in their late twenties or early thirties, lay scattered and bloody, mixed together haphazardly with those of their Reman attackers. His eyes were wide, and his teeth were clenched. Petrified with fear, he had been fighting desperately against wave after wave of oncoming Remans, who were steadily advancing across no-man’s land into the trenches where he and the Atlantis crew were standing their ground. 

“Pull back!” shouted Hendrix from beside Travis, to the officers around and behind him. “Retreat into the ship! We’ll provide you with cover!” 

Travis barely registered that he had been drafted to stay behind and defend the others. His mind and all his senses were wholly focused on the hellish nightmare of the battle in which he was engaged. In the distance, however, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something small approaching in the air from the west—something which, bizarrely, and proving that it must in fact have been an illusion, seemed to have two heads.

The object began firing red beams of light at the oncoming Remans, one from each side of its body. Travis shook himself out of his daze and, examining the object clearly for the first time, saw that it was in fact Shuttlepod Two, and that the heads hanging out its sides were in fact those of Commander Tucker and Ensign Cutler. 

“Travis! Get down!”

Travis obeyed Trip, and Shuttlepod Two swooped down and began to hover in position over his head. Trip and Cutler began firing at the oncoming Remans, finally driving them into a slow retreat.

Shuttlepod Two landed a few feet away from the trench where Travis and Hendrix were huddled. Trip stepped out of it. “Where’s Phlox?”

“I think he’s still inside, trying to treat the wounded, but I haven’t seen him in over half an hour.” Panting, Travis turned to look inside the shuttlepod. “How’s Malcolm?”

“Not good,” Cutler answered. “We’ve got to get him back to the ship soon; he’s dying.” 

Suddenly, Archer’s voice called out from within the shuttlepod. “Shuttlepod Two, this is Enterprise, do you copy?” 

Cutler rushed back inside the shuttlepod and answered the comm signal. “Captain! This is Cutler. I’ve recovered Commanders Tucker and Reed, and made contact with Lieutenant Mayweather. Phlox is still unaccounted for.” 

Travis stepped forward. “Captain, Commander Tucker and Ensign Cutler might have managed to hold off the Remans for a little while—”

“Remans?” asked Trip, perplexed.

“—but there’s no way for us to stop them permanently. They’ve already broken through Atlantis’s lines several times, and there aren’t that many crewmembers left. Recommend we evacuate immediately and abandon ship.”

 Archer weighed his priorities in his mind. “How many Atlantis survivors do you think there are still down there?”

“At this point, probably somewhere around thirty, Captain,” Travis answered. “But they’re under constant attack and have sustained heavy casualties; I don’t think they can hold out much longer.”

Archer sighed. Thirty people were far more than Enterprise would be capable of rescuing before the Romulan reinforcements arrived. 

“All right…Travis, you and Cutler find Phlox and get him the hell out of there. Trip?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Fix Shuttlepod One and get Malcolm and as many other people as you can packed into it and Shuttlepod Two. Meanwhile…we’ll try to beam up survivors with the transporter.” 

For a moment, there was silence on the other end of the comm channel. “Cap’n,” Trip finally asked, “if ya don’t mind me askin’, just what exactly is it that you’re plannin’ to do?” 

Admiral Williams’ words rang through Archer’s mind. “I’m giving you the authority to use any means necessary to prevent that ship from falling into enemy hands.”

“Something that I’m probably going to regret for the rest of my life,” Archer said cryptically. “Carry out my orders, Commander. Enterprise out.” 

The channel closed. Archer sat pensively for a moment, staring at the floor. He then bit his lip and slapped himself on the leg. “Hoshi, hail Columbia.”

Captain Hernandez appeared on the viewscreen.

“Erika, is there any way you can lend us a hand with the rescue effort?”

“Already on it, Jon. Both of our shuttlepods are on their way down; preparing to beam up additional survivors one at a time.”

Archer breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would be able to pull this off after all. “Put Columbia on screen.” Archer watched as Columbia lowered her two shuttlepods out into space. 

Seconds after they disengaged from the docking arm, however, the space beyond the shuttlepods began to shimmer. “Columbia, look out!” But the white Bird-of-Prey was too fast. Immediately after decloaking, it attacked and destroyed both of Columbia’s shuttlepods, then vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Columbia attempted to return fire with her phase cannons, but struck only empty space. 

Archer collapsed back into his chair. At least two-dozen people had just been robbed of their chance to be rescued. Archer could only rationalize the act as one of vindictive malice: by condemning the Atlantis survivors to death, the Romulan Commander was avenging the deaths of the crews of the two green Birds-of-Prey. 

“Columbia’s hailing us,” Hoshi announced.

“On screen,” Archer ordered morbidly. 

Hernandez’s eyes were blazing. “ANIMALS!” she screamed, her face contorted with rage. “That was completely senseless…there was no reason, none whatsoever….I’m sorry, Jon, but I’m going after them.”

“Wait, Erika…I have an idea. Would your transporters still be within range of the Atlantis crash site from the opposite side of the planet?”

“We could probably re-route power from the warp engines to boost the transporter signal enough to reach that far, but—”

“Position yourselves near the equator and continue beaming up as many survivors as you can. Stay there until I give the signal.”

“Jon, I don’t understand—”

“Instead of trying to find the Romulans, we’re going to set a trap for them. Let them bring themselves out into the open…but this time, we’ll be ready for them. They want to play a game of cat and mouse, fine. Only we are going to be the cats.”

Hernandez thought for a moment. “I see what you mean. We’ll do our best. Columbia out.”

“Captain, I’ve restored power to the photonic torpedo launchers,” said T’Pol. “We can provide support to Columbia—”

“No. Save our torpedoes. We’re going to need them.”

Archer could feel the dread enveloping the officers around him. “Just start beaming up those survivors.” He stared grimly forward into the viewscreen. “Save as many people as we can.”

TO BE CONTINUED…