Sorry for the delay, meant to finish this by Wednesday but real life (such as it is) wouldn't cooperate.
Nice pic,Duncan MacLeod. She certainly has some Polly like features!
UES Enterprise. Sick Bay.
4th May 2151.
Captain Archer opened the hatch to Locke's office, stepped in, and immediately stepped back out again. He used his pad to waft some of the cigarette smoke away. A nearby environmental sensor beeped as if annoyed. Right now, he knew, alert lights would be flashing in the maintenance section. An on duty crewman would be diverted to ensure a fire had not broken out. He called maintenance and let them know all was fine. A second call, to life support, ensured the extractor fans in the office would run at maximum power for half a minute.
When he re-entered the office, thirty seconds later, the roar of the fans was returning to their normal whisper. The room was very cold, and Locke himself was blowing on his hands for warmth. Cigarette butts lay scattered around an ashtray the size of a dinner plate. A red light on this room's environmental sensor showed it had been deactivated.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" Locke grunted.
Archer dropped into the opposite seat and held out his pad. "Just wanted to double check your results, Doctor."
"I'm not in the habit of making mistakes."
Archer lifted his hands in a placatory manner. "I know, I know, it's just that there's something here that doesn't add up."
Locke snorted. "If we were to take all the things about this mission that don't add up we'll be here till the stars go cold. Anything in particular?"
"A matter of timing. I see from your post mortem reports that you have a pretty clear estimate of the time of death for the Vulcans. There are two groups. Those from the Premier's party were killed on the 27th April. Well, we pretty much knew that anyway. That's the day the T'dara Len arrived, just a little ahead of us. Right?"
Locke made a vaguely affirmative noise. He picked up a cigarette packet, found it was empty, and tossed it at the bin. It missed, joining three others already on the floor.
Archer continued. "Now, there's the station staff themselves. We've only found twenty two bodies so far." That had been a grisly discovery. One of the smaller storage rooms had been packed with bodies. An examination of the scene suggested that they'd been killed there. He could imagine it. The station crew captured, taken at gunpoint to the room, then callously murdered.
He shook himself, trying to get the image out of his head. "Now, your reports suggest they died several days previously. Around the twenty first or so."
"Give or take a day or so, yes. What's the problem? The attackers arrived around the twenty first, killed the crew, then waited for the Premier to show up. They then killed his staff and kidnapped him. Seems pretty straightforward to me."
"And it did to me. But then there's the other matter. You analysed the, er, waste matter we found in those containers."
With a smirk, Locke said "If by 'waste matter' you mean urine and faeces, yes. And found out quite a lot. Including the fact that, in addition to nine humans, seven men and two women, there was one Vulcan female, almost certainly from the region of the Voroth sea."
"How can you tell that?" Archer asked, intrigued.
"The DNA markers are quite distinctive. It is
possible, I suppose, that she came from somewhere else, but only if both her parents were both from there. In which case she'd likely learn to speak with their accent. Although you'd have to ask Sato about that."
Hoshi, Archer knew, had spent a lot of time listening to the recording of the female docking coordinator, trying to narrow her accent down even further. "Can you tell how long they had been hiding in those crates?" he asked.
Locke nodded. "Best part of a week, I'd say. Couldn't have been very pleasant."
"No. And when do you think they emerged?"
"Hmm. Not sure. Give me a minute here." He disappeared through the connecting door to his lab.
It took closer to five minutes, but he returned closely perusing a pad. "I've run a quick test on one of the samples. Bacterial and fungal development. This is only a provisional result but I'd say sometime between the nineteenth and twenty third of last month."
Archer gave a short sharp nod. "That pretty much confirms what I've been told. Trip and his people have been checking the life support systems we found in the crates. Almost a weeks worth of use. Deactivation around that time."
"Well if you knew that what are you bothering me for?" Locke snapped.
There was steel in Archer's voice. "This is an important matter, Doctor. One that requires a certain thoroughness."
"Well, I still don't see the problem."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Archer said "Why wait? Why wait nearly a week inside a cramped packing crate before getting out and killing the station crew?" He stood and started pacing. It wasn't very effective: the office was to small to properly pace, leaving him almost turning on the spot. "So the station crew expect a cargo ship. One arrives, they think it's the scheduled one. In fact it belongs to the conspirators. They let it dock, and a confederate on board takes care to bring the attack force on to the station undiscovered..."
By this time Locke had found a cigarette. He took a long drag. "Just a minute. Why all this rigmarole with smuggling people across? Why not just dock and take the station by force? As far as I know the station crew had minimal armaments."
There was an idea here, tantalisingly out of reach. Archer held up his hand near his temple, as if trying to shove the thoughts straight into his head. "Ah, this is no good. I can't think. Never can think straight wearing this monkey suit."
Locke looked at the Captain, realizing for the first time that Archer was in full dress uniform. "So, why are you wearing that?"
Archer paused at the door. "For the memorial service." Seeing Locke's blank expression, he added "For the Vulcans."
Locke dragged himself to his feet. "Hmm. I suppose you want me to attend. What time does it start?"
"Two hours ago. I came here just after it finished." said Archer, before leaving.
Locke stood, staring at the closed door, for about half a minute. Then he sat, took another drag on his cigarette, and went back to his work.
Archer's Quarters.
Perhaps the Captain was right about the dress uniform retarding his thought processes, as it was only after he had removed it to take a shower that the idea he'd been chasing down began to solidify into something usable. He let it percolate away whilst he finished his shower, having spent too long on ships where hot running water was a rare luxury. Towelling himself down, he went into the main room and folded out the small desk. After quickly checking the mail--all routine--he sent a series of questions to T'Pol.
He dressed, mulling the matter over further. He forced himself to deal with the routine mail first. Not so much because it needed to be done, but because he, if he was honest with himself, was scared that he might be wrong, that on closer inspection his idea would turn to dust.
Eventually though he had to face it. He studied the reports his people had sent him about the station. Trip's team had found, as the engineer had predicted, a device in the communications array. It could have sent false signals, convincing the station crew that an incoming vessel had authorization. More than that, it could also be used to signal
outwards, though for what purpose Archer was only now beginning to suspect.
Next, he pulled up the star charts for this area. That in itself didn't tell him much, but in combination with data on Vulcan cargo transports....
"Yes..." he said to himself. "That might be it."
A ping from his computer alerted him to new mail. T'Pol had answered his questions in considerable depth. He forced himself to go through it carefully, not just skim through.
It'd be a lot easier if Tavik were still here, he thought. The Vulcan ship had left earlier that day, not even waiting for the Memorial service.
An illogical waste of time, no doubt.
So then, now he had an idea of how to proceed, but would have to go it alone, without being able to inform anyone. The Vulcans would be sending more ships to investigate once Tavik had made his report, but with the Premier's life at stake Archer was unwilling to wait. They'd have to leave a signal buoy at the station, explaining his reasoning.
He picked up his handset, and called the bridge, asking Hoshi to summon his senior staff, plus T'Pol.
"
To the briefing room Sir?"
"No, the bridge." he said. "And when you call Trip, tell him to start warming up the warp system before he joins us. Recall all personnel still on the station too"
Sato sounded surprised "
Are we leaving Captain?"
"I think so. Unless someone points out my reasoning as being terribly flawed, that is."
The Bridge.
There was a gap between the forward consoles and the view screen, just wide and long enough for Archer to pace up and down satisfactorily. He glanced around at his people. Most were back in regular uniforms, though Hernandez and Sato were still in full dress, and the Professor was in the subdued black trouser suit she'd worn at the memorial.
Travis Mayweather and Haleh Moshiri both looked slightly stunned. With the evidence mounting, and rumours flying, he saw no point in keeping the crew in the dark, and had informed them of developments earlier. Even the most militant members had seemed shocked at the idea that humanity was responsible for the massacre.
Hoshi looked up from her console. "Shuttle bay reports all boarding parties have returned Sir."
Archer nodded. "Thank you. Commander Hernandez, double check with all department heads that everyone's on board. I don't want to leave anyone behind."
Hernandez was clearly curious about his plans, but said simply "Aye Captain." and started to call the various departments.
Trip Tucker arrived. "Main engine's are powerin' up, Cap'n."
"Thanks Trip. Now I suppose you are wondering why I called you all here. I've been going over this matter in my mind, and I've come to a conclusion."
He quickly outlined the problem he'd been mulling over. Why would the attackers spend nearly a week in hiding? They could have taken over the station by force immediately that their ship docked. If stealth were desirable for some reason, why so long? It'd be uncomfortable, but someone could easily squeeze into a regular cargo crate without having to modify them, and there'd be less chance of detection when bringing them on board.
Polly raised her hand. "Captain Archer, as a professional clever-clogs and know-it-all, I'm used to asking all the questions and having all the answers. I can tell that you've worked it out, and now you're just showing off how difficult it all is, to make yourself look even cleverer when you get to the reveal." She flashed him a dazzling grin. "Good technique! Well done!"
Archer grinned back, then continued. "And then, a little while ago, it hit me. T'Pol, can you tell us when the ship carrying the luxury goods from Vulcan was due to arrive?"
An eyebrow lifted slightly. "As I informed you by e-mail earlier Captain, it was scheduled to arrive on the eighteenth of April, in your calender."
"Thank you. And what would be standard procedure on the station, should the supply ship not arrive?"
T'Pol said "Typically the crew would wait five days before using the tachyon transmitter to inform the High Command."
Hoshi frowned. "Why so long?"
"Delays are relatively common in this sector, whilst genuine cases of ships becoming lost are low. Given the high cost of using the transmitter, it is inefficient to use it unless a vessel is significantly behind schedule."
Archer leant forward, hands on the helm and navigation consoles. "And tell us, please, given the high number of delays--"
"Relatively high." T'Pol clarified.
"--relatively high number of delays, how would the Vulcan High Command deliver a high priority cargo?"
"They would attempt to find an alternate delivery system. In this case, the cargo was placed on the T'dara Len itself."
Mayweather, at the helm station, was mulling this over. "An alternate delivery system..." he muttered.
Archer could see comprehension dawn for Polly and Trip. He continued. "It's the only thing that makes sense. The people in the crates weren't hiding for days from the station crew, maybe for a few hours but not for
days. They were hiding from the crew of the ship that delivered them. And given that there's no reason to hide from their fellow conspirators...."
He let the sentence trail off. Hernandez picked it up. "...they must have been hiding from someone else. They must have used a third party to deliver them."
A sudden moment of self doubt hit Archer. "So how's my reasoning?" he asked Polly.
She grinned again. "Flawlessly logical. I admire your mind."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow at this. "Even if the conspirators did engage the services of a third party, that still leaves us little closer to finding or identifying them."
Polly blew a loud raspberry. "Party pooper."
Hernandez thought for a moment. "It'd have to be someone the Vulcans trust, are used to dealing with...."she mused.
"Someone fairly local, to get here in that time frame" Haleh Moshiri added.
Mayweather said "And if they delivered cargo, but still had their own crew on board....merchants, they had to be merchants."
Archer nodded. "Right. Or at least, that's the same conclusion I came up with."
T'Pol looked dismissive. "Captain Archer. There are numerous warp capable civilizations nearby. How do you propose identifying the one responsible?"
Archer shrugged. "I'll admit, I have no idea. But if we are looking for merchants nearby, there is one obvious place to start. Hernandez, have all stations reported in?"
"Yes sir, all present and correct."
"Good. Hoshi, prepare a message buoy. We'll leave it here to let the Vulcans know where we've gone."
"Aye sir."
Archer took a deep breath. "Haleh, I recall from your briefing that there is a trading post some two and a half light years away. Set a course, best possible speed. Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to meet the Tellarites."
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