“Don’t even try it Trip. You’ll never make it.”
Commander ‘Trip’ Tucker didn’t take his eyes off his Captain. Even the slightest movement would be an indicator in which direction might be to his best advantage. Any weakness now would make or break which one would give in first. Sweat dripped from Trip’s hair and nose, but he couldn’t afford the luxury of wiping it away. It stung his eyes and made a waving trail as it poured down his back, making it itch.
“Don’t play mind games with me, John. I’m not falling for it.” Trips position in a semi-crouch was starting to cramp. He needed to move, soon.
Archer was in a similar position, his arms wide, blocking Trip. Their eyes locked together, both seeking some kind of way out. Archer felt a knee start to tremble with tension.
“Isn't that what it is? Mind over matter?”
From somewhere nearby, Trip heard a voice. “Are you gonna shoot? Or are you two just gonna talk about it?”
Then another voice, “Shoot or pass it, Commander! Anybody got a timer?”
Trip made a feint to his left, and then stood up straight, the ball high over his head. He searched for an opening to pass to his teammate, but the Captain was fast despite his trembling knee and sweat-stung eyes. Archer made a leap and slapped the ball as hard as he could. Trip’s slick hands didn’t quite manage to keep hold of the ball. It was free! Both made a dive for it and Trip recovered it first. Almost in a tangle, Trip whirled around and ducked under Archers outstretched arm, and made for the net as fast as his traction could manage on the hanger bay floor. He was relieved to see the other shirtless body beside him, blocking interference, as he ran for the points. He hardly saw the sweat slick shoulders protruding well beyond the soaked red gym shirt as Archer bounded up on his other side and jumped with him all hands and fingers in the air as the ball flew up past his reach. Crashing down to the deck in a heap, Trip Tucker and Captain Jonathan Archer watched the ball circle the net, once, twice, and seemed to almost stop, time flailing in slow motion.
From the side of the makeshift playing court, cheers and jeers both, filled the hanger deck. Loud thundering echoes of about a dozen pairs of stomping feet reverberated in the cavernous space as the ball rounded the net one more time, then tipped…outside the ring. It fell to the deck, unnoticed, as it bounced several times before rolling away.
Archer slumped to the deck, stretched out, spread-eagle, rocking his head back and forth, rolling on the hard deck. He groaned, “Thank you.”
Trip slowly pulled himself up from the deck and stood up, none too steady on tired legs. He leaned over, put his hands on his knees and hung his head over the prone body on the deck. "You got lucky. You and your... 'Target Man.'"
On the floor of the hanger, John lifted his knees, tired feet flat on the deck. He laced his fingers behind his head and said, “Care to make it two out of three?”
From his other side, Lt. Malcolm “Target Man” Reed said, "Can you and Travis take two losses in one day?" Pointing to the net, he continued, “I’d have made that shot Tucker. 'Target Man' never misses.”
Archer smirked and looked at his teammate with one eye closed.
"Ok, almost never."
Coming up behind him with the retrieved ball, Travis said, "As he graciously admits he was soundly defeated the first game." Ensign Mayweather tossed up the ball and Malcolm caught it, then just as quickly made a jump shot to sink the ball, swishing through the net.
"Ugh...Its late guys. I’ve got an early date with a few dozen relays to replace in engineering this mornin'." Trip extended a hand to the still prone Captain and pulled him up to his feet. "Besides, we're losing our audience." The spectator gallery had thinned out as most of the early morning volunteer cheering squad had drifted out of the hanger bay.
"Chicken."
"It is getting late. I still need to claim my dog from Hoshi. She's been Porthos-sitting since yesterday evening." Archer grabbed a towel from a workbench and buried his face in it then run it around the back of his neck. "See the rest of you on the bridge."
On the walk back to the Captain's quarters, Archer teased Porthos with the towel. Dragging it along the deck then snapping it up just as Porthos was about to grab it in his jaws. Finally, the hound had had enough of the one-sidedness of this game and made a leap up and grabbed the towel before John could yank it up. John backed into his quarters holding the other end of the towel in his own teeth, mimicking the Beagle's growls.
Once inside, the Captain dropped his end of the towel, which sent Porthos rolling. "Oops, sorry buddy!" Undaunted, Porthos reclaimed the towel and shook it, flip flopping back and forth, then let it fall to the deck. The Captain stomped the towel a couple of times for good measure then said, "There. It’s dead now. Good dog!" John grabbed a hand full of dried meats and fruit pieces from a basket on his desk.
“Hang on, pal. I’ll be back in a minute. We’ll get you something to eat.” Porthos was busy catching the treats in mid-air as John tossed them while heading for the shower.
*****
Picking up both their breakfast dishes and tiding up the desk and the floor, the communications chime sounded. Folding a napkin, John flicked the switch and said, “Archer. What is it?”
“Sato, sir. I’ve gotten a little more of that strange sound I picked up yesterday. Its not the same sequence as before, so it’s not a repeat. It’s the same high-end frequency though. I’m still working on coordinates.” Frustration apparent in her voice, she continued, “So far it seems to be coming from…. all directions.”
Archer stashed away all evidence of breakfast after feeding Porthos the last several bites of his own meal. Porthos accepted the extras with as much enthusiasm as John’s glare at him acknowledged he shouldn’t be giving it to him. To the communications grid, Captain Archer added, “I expect you’ve had the recording going through the UT?”
“Yes, sir. Not a single syllable yet.”
“Let me hear it down here.”
After a moment that John could hear entries made and switches flipped, she said, “All right, Captain, you can pick it up now.”
“Thank you, Hoshi.”
*****
“Ok, Porthos lets see what we’ve got here. Some space noise that Hoshi says sounds like subspace chatter.” The Beagle had settled into his bed in the corner of the cabin.
With the flip of a switch, Captain Archer started the recording of the ‘space noise’ for a quick listen, the first he had heard himself. Some sounds of grumbling, then a few short squeaks emitted from the speaker, then silence and then a loud wail, more grunts and squeaks. Well, Hoshi was right. It didn’t sound mechanical, but more like a being of some kind were trying to speak… in some way. Porthos leapt from his bed and ran to jump to the lap of Captain Archer, the Beagles howling barks repeating louder each time. “Porthos, hush, I’d like to hear this. I can’t tell if that silent part is really silent or is something there I can’t hear.” John replayed the recording again, only to be interrupted again by Porthos’ excited howls and growls. It wasn’t until Porthos jumped up on the desk and was pawing at the speaker grid that John started to wonder if Porthos could hear something he couldn’t.
“Hey, Porthos. I know you can hear sounds I don’t, but what are you doing? Get down. Get down.” John picked up the Beagle and in one quick motion, had the canine on the deck. When a couple of subsequent recording plays produced the same response from Porthos, John played the recording several times, just to observe Porthos' reaction to it.
“Archer to bridge.”
“Bridge. T’Pol here. How can I be of assistance Captain?”
“T'Pol, is Hoshi still getting her mystery messages?” On the bridge, the Vulcan woman glanced in the direction of Communications Officer Hoshi Sato, as an indication to have Sato answer the question herself.
“Yes, Captain. But its just bits a pieces, a few seconds at a time. And I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Its still from… everywhere.”
“Thank you. I’m on my way.”
On the threshold of the turbolift, just on the inside, Captain Archer stood, holding Porthos balanced on one arm. The doors remained open, sensing that someone was still there. The bridge crew all turned at the same time, like a chorus line, all peering from different angles to see why. After what seemed to make seconds feel like long minutes, Captain Archer said, “Having Porthos on the ship stretched some admirals sense of decorum. It took a little hardball to get him to agree. So, I made an agreement with myself, that I would never bring Porthos to the bridge.” Hearing his name, Porthos stretched up and managed to give John a short tip-of-the-tongue lick under his chin. From the way T’Pol’s brows were rising to near her hairline, Archer figured she was thinking he had made a good agreement, but to her dismay, was about to disregard it. Using a free hand, John stroked Porthos’ neck and gripped his muzzle in a friendly tug. John could feel the breeze from the active tail behind him. “This message Hoshi’s been recording apparently has some frequencies that Porthos can hear. He’s been very vocal about it. If the translator can’t figure it out, maybe he can help…somehow.”
With a barely noticeable hesitation, Captain Archer stepped onto the bridge. Just seconds after the doors had swooshed shut, they opened again to deposit Chief Engineer Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker. “Who’s been holding up the lift?”
”Oh. Hey, Porthos.” Commander Tucker’s face was a journal of questions as he made his way to the engineering console on the bridge. “This console will be disabled until we’re back up and operatin’ in engineering. Shouldn’t be long now. Malcolm has most of the relays in or ready to go.”
“Okay, Trip. ” Captain Archer strode across the deck and stood next to the command chair, and for a moment seemed undecided. Then a ‘what-difference-does-it-make-now’ decision was made. He deposited Porthos in the center seat.
Silence seemed like a blanket over the bridge. John heard a barely perceptible intake of breath from the direction of T’Pol. “Hoshi, lets hear more of that subspace noise.”
“Aye, sir.” Keeping her head down to hide her grin, Hoshi flipped some switches and the same sounds of growls, squeaks, silent periods, and howls emitted from the bridge speakers.
The effect on Porthos was immediate. He jumped up, standing on hind legs and was fanning the air frantically with his front paws. His howling, baying barks, yips and squeals sounding throughout the bridge like the squeals of a child having a surprise birthday party. Captain Archer moved closer to the command chair to be sure Porthos didn’t fall in his excited response to the recordings.
“Ok, that’s enough.” Archer was waving his hand down to Hoshi to stop the playback of the recording, and laid the other hand on Porthos to calm the canine to a lower decibel level. Porthos, still wildly wiggling with happiness, his eyes bright, ears perked, nose twitching, seemed as the intense hunter his breed was meant to be. Every canine sense was on high!
When finally the bridge returned to a volume more in common with the Enterprise command center, T’Pol offered, “Captain, the ... your… Its common knowledge that canines hear a range that is outside of human norm. I also hear a wider range than humans do, however, not in the complete range of…your dog. It appears to me, he is hearing a frequency that has simply fell into a margin neither Humans or Vulcans can perceive.”
Ensign Travis Mayweather fidgeted at his helm console a moment, watching the interaction that was taking place between Captain Archer, T’Pol and Porthos. Volumes of communications seemed to be taking place without a word, or yip. “Whatever it is, Subcommander, the little guy sure is happy about it.”
Porthos sat in the command chair with ease. Archer stood beside him, one hand resting lightly on his back, fingers plying his coat around in circles. Archer turned to Hoshi, “Did you happen to record any of what,” Archers other hand made a circle over Porthos’ head, “... he said.”
“Yes, sir. I did.” Hoshi answered with an expectant look on her face, as if she already knew what her commanding officer was going to say next.
“Play back that recording of Porthos on the same frequency you are receiving on.” Archer met the gaze of T’Pol as she closed her eyes and lowered her chin almost imperceptibly.
“Aaah…yes, Sir.” In a moment Hoshi Sato reported that the recording of Porthos responding to ‘space chatter’ was being broadcast through subspace in a continuous and repeating loop.
“Cap’n? What if somebody answers? The translator ain’t gonna work. We don’t know what to say. We can fly through space at warp five, but we cain’t say ‘hey’ to Fido and Fifi.” Trip strode across the bridge to stand on the opposite side of the command chair. He held out his hand as if to shake and Porthos obediently offered his paw.
After the man/dog handshake was done, Captain Archer picked up Porthos and sat in his command chair with the dog in his lap, then the Captain said, “I suppose when, or if that happens, we have to let Porthos decide what to say.”
*****
“Dogs have been called ‘mans best friend’ for centuries. Since before fire probably. So how do you know he won’t say, ‘Help me, I’m bein’ held against my will in this tin can! Thought you’d never show up to rescue me! I know where to find Earth…lets go!’?” Trip Tucker said as he was feeding Porthos some cheddar cheese in Archers quarters.
“He’s had enough cheese, Trip. You’ll spoil him.” John came back from a small alcove and sat in the only other chair that would fit in the small space that was both Captain’s quarters and office. After offering his chief engineer and friend a cup of coffee and Porthos a bowl of water, he replied, “I don’t know that he won’t say that, to tell the truth. I’ve had Porthos since he was a pup. He should have no memories of… anything,” A shrug seemed to sum it up all right. “I don’t know, Trip. He’s had a happy ‘dog hood.’ And if you’re wondering, I included everybody’s thoughts about it, including that little discussion we had at dinner in my log.”
“That was a ‘discussion’? You know, I think T’Pol actually got riled up. In her own way, of course.” Trip leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and let his hands hang down between them. He snapped his fingers quietly a couple of times, and tugged playfully at one of Porthos’ ears dangling near the water’s edge. “What about that time the gravity went out? You said he wouldn’t go in the ‘fresher for two weeks.”
At that memory, John groaned. He and Porthos had been fortunate. A few other crewmembers hadn’t been as lucky. Numerous bruises, cuts, and sprains had kept the local doctor busy for hours.
The dogs’ laps were loud, and when he finished he sat up on his haunches again, probably thinking this would automatically produce the treat he wanted. Trip reached over and grabbed Porthos’ entire head in his large hand and gave him a gentle shake. “Sorry, pal. No more cheese.” Trip ran his hand down over the dogs’ chest and petted and scratched him. Porthos knew this meant his tricks would gain him no more treats, so he padded over to the corner and flopped into his bed, resting his muzzle on his front paws. Eyebrows twitching, up and down, watching every move his two man-friends made.
“I don’t know why you’d want to have Doc and T’Pol at dinner at the same time anyway. Between the both of them it’s a good way to spoil the appetite. Why didn’t you get more into the debate between her and Doc anyway?”
Setting down his cup, Archer replied, “To begin with, Phlox invited himself. I think he’s spying on me. Besides, I thought it would be a good way to hear two very different perspectives on having Porthos ‘speak’ for us.” When John said the word ‘speak’ he used the first two fingers of both hands to build imaginary quotation marks. “I just fed them the fuel they needed to keep it going.”
“Spying on you? Why?” Trip replied with a chuckle.
“Since we left Earth in such a hurry, then decided not to go back as soon as originally planned, Phlox is busy building his crew medical records. He said he wants more details than was provided by Starfleet Medical. He's been after me for days to come in for a physical. I keep telling him I'm too busy.”
“Ah, yes. The ever vigilant Dr. Phlox.”
Captain Archer stood, and said to Trip, “Did you know Vulcan’s have pets? After you and Phlox left, T’Pol and I knocked around some of the points she made. She said she didn’t have one herself, but there were some that did. Though I can’t imagine what.”
Trip’s eyes rolled around a couple of times. “No, I can’t see her with any kind of pet. Pet rock maybe.”
After picking up the coffee cups and putting them in a recycler, John continued, “I think we’re so used to dealing with what we call ‘aliens’ we sometimes forget how alien we are to species we’ve lived with since the beginning of time. Look at him, Trip. I think he trusts me, but does he really know where he is? We all made a decision to be here, in space. The Enterprise will get further away from home than any other starship has ever been. I doubt he knows that.” Archer knelt down beside Porthos’ bed and petted his canine buddy. “Early man willingly brought in wild, obviously vicious predators into their lives. Made them part of their families. Learned to hunt with them. Shared their food, and learned to love them. Yet after all this time, we still can’t communicate with them. Not on any level. We domesticated them, made pets out of them. They are status ornaments in many cultures. We trained them, and had them working for us. We changed the natural direction of the entire species with selective breeding. After all that,” Porthos knew he was the center of attention again and wagged his tail, producing a rapid thump against the bulkhead, “unconditional devotion in return.” John moved over to his bunk and sat. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it in a rush said, “If you ever make a dog hate you, you had to work at it. Really hard.”
Trip stood and moved toward the door to the corridor, “Yeah, I remember my grandparents always had lots of animals around. All kinds. Even some from other places I can’t begin to name. You know, animals are the only species that don’t kill for just the sport of it? I guess just for food mostly, or out of fear. And defending their young’uns.” A small laugh escaped from Trip. “Wouldn’t it be somethin’? Porthos talkin’ with some folks we can’t.” Trip moved to the door and pressed the release to open it. He turned back to face his Captain, who was sitting on his bunk nearly asleep, and said, “You up for another game in the mornin’? Depending on the other guys, it might be one on one.”
“Sure, either way. Gets the blood moving early.”
“All right! See you then. Good night, Cap. Night Porthos.”
“G’night, Trip.”
*****
The bridge Alpha shift was on duty barely ten minutes when Ensign Travis Mayweather’s panel lit up with incoming data. “Captain, I’ve got an indication of a ship on sensors, coming in on an intercept course.”
Archer sat his coffee cup down on the arm of the command chair, and said, “Can we see it yet?”
“No, not yet.” Travis made his reply without taking his eyes from his console. “I’m getting a reading, but its like I’m seeing a moving shadow.”
Archer turned slightly to see Hoshi Sato flipping switches and listening intently to her communications board. In reply to his silent question she said, “It’s the same thing here. But I’m not getting any communications on any frequencies. Seems like they’re not even talking to each other. They’re out there, but they’re running silent.”
The Captain slid out of the command chair to stand beside the helmsman, reading the panel over the man’s shoulder. Then strode to the back of the bridge upper circle where T’Pol had remained silent at her science station since entering the bridge this morning. He wondered if she was sulking after last night. Did Vulcan’s sulk? Probably not. Instead he asked, “How long before we meet them?”
“They are currently moving at warp three. At current speed and heading, seven hours and twelve minutes.” T’Pol’s answer was so quick, Archer wondered for an instant if she had known about the other ship before Travis did. But quickly dismissed the thought, and chalked it up to that typical Vulcan efficiency.
Seven hours and twelve minutes, Archer was repeating to himself as he turned to Hoshi, “Lets break the ice first. Open all communication frequencies.”
A nod from Hoshi indicated the hailing frequencies were open, “I am Captain Jonathan Archer in command of the Starship Enterprise. Our home planet is called Earth. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration and would like to meet you and trade information. Please respond.”
After several minutes, Hoshi said, “No response Captain.”
“Keep repeating it, Hoshi.” Archer returned to his command chair and sat, and finished off the cup of coffee that was barely warm enough to be palatable.
Time seemed to slow down on the bridge, and except for the faint clicks and hums from various bridge consoles, was silent. From time to time Captain Archer would walk the upper circle of the bridge. He stopped once in front of the main bridge view screen and ran a finger along one upper corner. When he detected an ever so slight accumulation of dust, he briskly brushed his fingers together to eliminate the evidence. Lt. Malcolm Reed closed his eyes and stretched his lower lip down, as if yesterday had been his day to dust. Environmental filters may need a little tweaking. Archer made a mental note to mention it to Trip later. In the command chair again, Archer was getting restless and one more cup of coffee was going to have him climbing the bulkheads. He thought about making the circle again, but the last time he made the trip, he noticed more than a couple pairs of eyes following him. A brief break and a light lunch in the Ready Room had provided no relief either. Finally, he rose from the center seat and said, “There have been no changes, or someone would have said so, I’m sure.”
“There have been no changes, Captain. The unidentified ship is still on an intercept course, maintaining speed.” T’Pol continued to work at her console. Captain Archer moved up to the upper circle to her station. She acknowledged his presence with further comment. “I have run a series of scans however. It appears Enterprise scanners are unable to penetrate their shielding."
Captain Archer rocked back and forth on the toes and heels of this boots, head down and thoughtful. The fingers of one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned to Hoshi on his left and said, “Let’s send out another message.”
Archer heard a quick blip and knew the communication frequencies were open with a quick nod from Hoshi. “I am Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise. We are monitoring your course and speed. Please identify yourselves. Archer out.”
After several minutes of no communications or other changes, Archer said, “Helm, come to a full stop, maintain position.” A peak in T’Pol’s right eyebrow indicated to him that she agreed with his orders.
After a few seconds, Mayweather indicated the Enterprise was at a full stop. Studying his board intently, he reported, “Captain, that seems to have got a reaction from them. They are changing course, moving to compensate. They’re resuming an intercept course, but maintaining previous speed.”
Captain Archer moved back to the center seat, but did not sit. He stood beside the command chair leaning slightly on the right armrest, left fist on his hip. “What is the new contact time now?”
T’Pol answered as quickly as before, “One hour and seventeen minutes.”
“Captain, I’m not getting any readings at all.” Malcolm Reeds’ voice held a pitch of frustration. “Echoes indicate the ship to be large, considerably bigger than Enterprise. We could probably see them as a moving star out the window, but sensors are not showing anything but shadows. They have some kind of shielding our sensors can’t penetrate.”
Archer turned in place beside the command chair and spoke to Hoshi, “Still no communications?”
“Nothing Sir.” Hoshi didn’t even look up from her panel. She was listening and changing frequencies at a rate Archer could hardly keep up with.
“Hoshi, intership comm please.” Archer moved in front of the command chair and addressed the crew of the Enterprise, “All crew to Alert Status, repeat, Alert Status.” That task done, Archer sat in the command chair and hoped that is all it would amount to.
“Engineering to Bridge,” it was Commander Tucker. “What’s goin’ on Captain?”
“Nothing yet, Trip. We’ll find out in an hour or so. I’ll keep you posted.” Archer cut the communication with the engineering department, and thanked God his friend was the best engineer he’d ever met. Besides his own father.
*****
One hour and seventeen minutes later, the Enterprise came in visual range of the unidentified ship. The ship was simple in its design, a sort of flattened egg-shaped oval. Archer slowly stood from the command chair, eyes wide, not believing what was being displayed on the forward view screen. The ship was huge, and still moving closer. “Captain, it’s coming up on our position, and still approaching at a speed unsafe at this proximity.” Malcolm’s voice had a slight edge of fear to it. “Its within 12,000 meters, 1950 meters! Still closing, Sir!”
“Polarize the hull plating, now. Travis, back off, slowly.” Archer turned to Hoshi, “Open communications.”
Hoshi was transfixed by the sight on the screen, her panel beeping and she didn’t notice. Archer said again, “Hoshi!”
“Yes Sir…sorry. Open, Sir.”
“Captain, I am reading a tremendous power surge. They may be powering weapons. And we are being scanned.” T’Pol’s statement didn’t reflect the tension building on the bridge.
Archer acknowledged T’Pol’s statement with a nod before addressing the menacing oncoming ship. “This is Captain Archer of the Starship Enterprise. You are approaching this ship too close for safety. Back off. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration. Repeat. We are on a peaceful mission. Please respond.” Archer fought off a natural inclination to duck his head. The alien ship was moving over the Enterprise the way a predator dominates his prey before the kill.
As the proximity alarm klaxon sounded through out the bridge with an unmistakable clang, clang of warning, the navigator said, “We were moving back, but they moved to fast. They overran our position.”
“All stop. Hold position. Let’s see what they do.” Archer turned to all points of the bridge. He saw a bridge crew of frightened faces, except for one, but even that one held fast to the side of her console. “Ok, everybody, lets take a deep breath. T’Pol, turn off that alarm. What’s our status?”
T’Pol spoke first, “The other ship is holding position over us, Captain. The hull of the alien ship is at 20 meters from the Enterprise. What we are seeing on the screen is the dorsal side of the ship.”
Reed responded next, “That power surge has stabilized. But, still, if its weapons, we’re in a lot of troub…”
An abbreviated scream from Hoshi cut off the rest of what Lt. Reed was saying. She grabbed her ear piece and fell from her chair, almost to the deck, but managed to catch herself on her knees. Hanging her head, and holding her ears, a slight groan escaped from her lips. Archer was by her side in an instant. “Hoshi? Hoshi? What happened? Are you all right?” He held her by her upper arms, and helped her back into her chair. She seemed a quite shaken, but otherwise unhurt. She shook her head slightly, her eyes still tightly closed. In a small voice, she said, “A sound… frequency… caused pain. But it’s ok now. I’m all right.”
“You need to see Dr. Phlox. I want you in sickbay now.” Archer’s voice was concerned and firm.
“Please, Captain, let me stay, I’m all right. I’m fine. I think they sent a comm burst, but the frequency was so high, I didn’t hear it as much as feel it.” Hoshi continued to ream a finger in her ear before replacing the comm earpiece. “I’m ok, I don’t want to go to sickbay. Not now.”
Archer stared at this communications officer for a moment and agreed, realizing he needed his linguistics expert right where she was for the time being. “Ok, not now. But you will later.” The Captain pointed an accusing finger at her with the latter half of his statement.
With her comm piece firmly in her ear again, she flipped some switches and adjusted some settings. Then in a calm voice, not at all how she was feeling inside, said, “I’m receiving signals from the ship. This time it’s definitely from our upstairs neighbors.”
Archer took a small breath of relief, and said, “Lets hear what they have to say. Is there a visual?”
“No visuals, Captain. Nothing in that bandwidth at all. I don’t think they have the capability." Hoshi made a quick adjustment, and sounds filled the bridge at a volume to have the bridge crew cover their own ears and grimace in discomfort. “Sorry, making adjustments.”
The sounds coming from the speakers sounded the same as the communications Hoshi had been picking up for a couple of days before. Only this time, more of it. Archer had listened to it so many times he almost expected when to hear certain combinations of sounds. The look on Hoshi Sato’s face told him she didn’t have any more idea how to decipher it than the Translator did.
“Engineering to Bridge, Cap’n, what’s goin’ on up there?” Commander Tucker’s voice was more concerned than curious. In Engineering, only his instruments could tell him any tales.
Still standing beside Hoshi’s communications board, Archer took the call there, “Trip, go to my quarters. Get Porthos, and get up here. On the double. Hurry.”
“Captain, I am not certain that is a correct course of action.” T’Pol continued to ply her board, trying to gain more information that was not forthcoming.
“You have a better idea?” Archer half turned to T’Pol and used both of his hands as pointers to the bridge view screen. He didn’t even pay attention if she had an answer because the bridge lift doors opened. It couldn’t be Trip already with Porthos, but stepping out of the lift was Dr. Phlox.
Phlox barely waited for the doors to open completely before slipping between them and turning immediately to see Captain Archer standing near Ensign Sato. “I have been monitoring the activity on the bridge, Captain. It appears I have a reluctant patient!”
Hoshi’s sheepish grin turned to Archer in a silent plea for support. “I’m fine, really, Doctor. I can hear a little ringing, but… I’m fine.”
Doctor Phlox hardly heard Hoshi’s self-diagnosis. His eyes had fallen on the bridge view screen. He stood transfixed, like a Grindle Bear in a daze, hypnotized by the lightening between the twin moons.
“Would you look at that? The Doc is speechless.” Mayweather hoped his weak attempt at humor wouldn’t give away the very real fear he felt. A navigator appreciated every centimeter of space left between the hull of the Enterprise and that …monster ship out there.
Captain Archer broke the trance Phlox seemed to be trapped in. Taking him by the elbow, the turned the physician toward Hoshi and said softly to him, “Close your mouth Phlox. They have made no real hostile movements since …climbing over the top of us.”
With a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder, Phlox turned to his patient and ran a scanner over her and seemed satisfied with the readings. Giving Hoshi a warm parental shoulder pat, said, “Your delicate ear drums will be fine. But you should come by for further tests to be sure, whenever time permits.”
Hoshi returned a smile of thanks, and continued to fine-tune her communications board, pulling in more and more of the alien transmission.
As Archer moved over to Malcolm Reed’s weapons station, Dr. Phlox followed him and parked himself at an empty workstation behind T’Pol. Captain Archer leaned in closer, one hand on the back of Reed’s chair, the other on the console and asked, “Are you getting anything on their weapons capabilities?”
In a hushed voice, Malcolm asked, “Do you mean are they big and bad, or just big?”
Archer just shifted his eyes from Lt. Reed toward the view screen and said, “I want to know what they had for lunch. I want to know everything…”
The bridge lift doors opened again and pouring out all once in a sprinted run was Commander Tucker, holding a wriggling and excited Porthos. Trip had been at a dead run through the Enterprise corridors and was breathing in a rasp by the time he arrived on the bridge. He figured Porthos thought it was some kind of new game to play. Only the time he’d spent riding the lift gave him a chance to catch his breath. The sound of the Captain’s voice when he said, ‘hurry’ was enough to give him a feeling of dread as he tried to imagine what fate the ship was about to meet. He was holding Porthos upright with both hands wrapped around his chest, the hounds back moving in line with his gasping breath.
Trip careened off the upper railing and down to the command chair. Still holding Porthos, and staring at the view screen, he said, “Would’ja lookit that hull!” Trip could hardly believe his eyes. The hull of the alien ship was so close you could see what looked like rivets and welds. In places the plating had been torn and repaired, then re-damaged and repaired again and again, one time upon another. Whether it was from decades of travel or battle damage or both wasn’t clear.
Trip was still standing there, holding Porthos, when Captain Archer stepped down from the bridge upper circle. Archer was trying to take Porthos but had to break the Chief Engineer’s grip on his dog first. “Trip. Uh, Porthos.”
Letting go of Porthos and thinking he’d forgotten he was holding the canine, he released the wriggling hound into Captain Archer’s waiting hands. Then Trip said, “It looks like it’s been though hell."
“And back again.” Dr. Phlox added from the back of the bridge.
Archer stood on the other side of the command chair and dropped Porthos into the seat and said, “Sit down, boy.” Like a good dog, Porthos sat down, his tail beating the back of the center seat like a drum. The dog didn’t seem to notice the tension that was hovering over the bridge. Even though it had seemed to ease somewhat over the past several minutes, the immediate future was still very uncertain.
Lt. Reed shrugged and tossed his hands in the air. “’Everything’ Captain, is that I can’t read anything through their screens. They’ve got some sort of energy shielding. I thought for an instant I was getting some individual life signs, but what I am seeing is our own! Unless of course their crew consists of the very same life signs as ours. The scan is being reflected right back at us. Visually, there is what looks like missile ports, but I can’t be sure. They may be just vents.” Malcolm moved to the view screen and with his hands, blocked a square area of the dorsal hull of the alien ship. “Here, and here, on both port, starboard, fore and aft, is some kind of ports. They may be launch bays, but judging from the overall size of this ship, I’m making a guess that they are too small for any kind of EVA pods they may use.” Moving to the other side of the view screen, Malcolm pointed to a dark nearly circular indentation in the hull. “This appears to be an un-repaired hull breach. Probably more than what’s equivalent to three of our decks looks like is open to space. There are no visible widows to see interior lighting, but anything like that might be topside. Other than what we can see, and power readings off my scale, that’s about ‘everything’.”
“Thank you, Malcolm.” Archer turned to see T’Pol stoically studying her science console, refusing to even look up. He studied the view screen a few moments then nodded at Trip toward Porthos. “Watch him.”
He stepped up to T’Pol’s station. He stood, hands clasped behind his back and said, “Do you have an theories Sub-Commander?” When she didn’t offer any acknowledgement or reply, he took a small step closer to her and continued in a hushed voice, “Look, T’Pol, I don’t know what else to do. I’m taking their actions as a threat to the safety of this crew and this ship. That’s my first priority. Using Porthos is, admittedly… unconventional. But, unlike your people, we’re still writing up our… conventions.”
After a moments pause, T’Pol took a breath, looked up at Captain Archer and said, “I understand Captain, and I have to agree. Under the circumstances, I can offer no suggestions. The unknown vessel is no match for any ship in the Vulcan library. I have extrapolated back from their original heading from our first contact into this quadrant, and determined their origin is outside of known space.”
“You mean, outside of Vulcan known space.”
“I mean, outside of known space as explored, mapped and compiled by all species known to both our cultures.”
Archer released the clamp both his hands had had on each other behind him, and drew in and released a deep breath. His next step may doom them all, not just his crew, but the Enterprise as well. Dad’s ship. Maybe even the future of Starfleet. Or make first contact. Still facing T’Pol, Archer hoped he was doing the right thing. Dammit, this is why he was here in the first place. Why didn't aliens cooperate? Gritting his teeth, he said, “Hoshi.”
“Yes, Captain?”
Archer tilted his head slightly down, a nod to T’Pol. With a feeling of mutual respect acknowledged between them, he turned and strode to the command chair to stand beside Porthos. “Please playback the recording starting at when you first heard the burst.”
Before the playback started, Captain Archer gently rested a hand on Porthos’ neck. He wasn’t sure if it was for the dog’s comfort or his own. When the playback started, the initial response from Porthos surprised the Captain. Where before he had jumped around, barking and baying happily, this time Porthos just sat quietly, listening. His ears perked, and nostrils twitching, as if to catch a scent in the air from the vacuum of space. The Captain wondered if Porthos could see the image on the view screen or had any idea of its significance. Porthos lay down on the seat of the command chair; his front paws dropping comfortably off the front edge. Everyone on the bridge peered at him from their respective angles, while the sound of whistles, growling, clicks and pops, with sometimes several seconds of silent periods drifted throughout the Enterprise command center.
Archer turned to Hoshi and made a hand signal, holding up two fingers and turned his hand around back and forth, indicating a two way live communication. Porthos and the bridge crew were hearing the transmission as they were being received now - live.
*****
Porthos continued to lie quietly, listening. His ears perked, nostrils and whiskers twitching. John hoped his hand on the dog’s back helped reassure him. There wasn’t another sound to be heard on the bridge of the Enterprise except for the soft normal sounds of ops consoles and the somewhat disconcerting sounds coming from the speakers.
Archer only half-turned in the direction of Hoshi and asked softly, “Is there anything else, besides what we are hearing now, coming in?”
Hoshi didn’t need to make any adjustments on her console to answer the Captain’s question. “No, Sir. But, I was thinking, just from watching his response, what Porthos may be reacting to is not the sounds we hear at all. Those may be just feedback echoes. Its what we don’t hear, those periods of silence. I’m thinking now, that when I was saying I wasn’t receiving any communications, we actually were. There is one frequency that is receiving that noise we’ve been hearing, but I believed it was just echoes from an overrun. So I’ve been searching all around that frequency for something. That burst they sent was what they had been transmitting, all at once. The computer doesn’t recognize it either. We can’t hear it, but the dog does. I’ve tried to make adjustments, but it’s so far outside the parameters of the comm station, it’s not working.”
Captain Archer turned his attention back to Porthos. The dog he had known for the entire hounds life, seemed as… someone else. The Captain could see changing expressions on Porthos’ face. His brows switching up and down, and nose, shiny in the bridge lights, searching the air for a scent. The Captain kept his hand still, but still buried in the rough coat of Porthos’ neck. He wanted to keep in contact, but not intervene with whatever Porthos was so intently concentrating on. Archer didn’t need to look around to know everyone else on the bridge was doing the same thing. Suddenly, the words Trip mentioned the night before came back to him. ‘Porthos, talking’ to folks….’ A concerned, but amused smile crossed his lips. On the other side of the command chair, Archer looked up quickly to see Trip standing there, his friend, chief engineer and confidant grasping the other arm of the chair in both hands, as if it would fly off any second. Trip’s brows furrowed in a frown of concern.
Trip looked up to see the Captain staring at him. Without voicing aloud, Trip mouthed the words, “What do you think?”
“I think nobody’s shooting at us. So far, so good.” The Captain replied quietly. Archer and Trip nearly jumped out of their skins, as did the rest of the bridge crew, when suddenly Porthos let out a quick, clipped, yip followed by several more yips.
Porthos rose up on his haunches to sit in the center seat. Then the hound tipped up his head and barked a long baying howl, like his long distant cousin, the wolf. The sounds made the little hairs on the back of Archers neck stand up. He’d never heard Porthos make that kind of sound. Even when it was necessary those few times that Porthos had to be left alone.
There was a bit is stirring on the bridge then, and the tension was building anew. The view of the alien ship so close to the Enterprise, Porthos’ mournful howl, and the sounds coming from the bridge speakers, was adding up. Archer heard the sound of several deep breaths being pulled in and released somewhat raggedly. He glanced around the bridge, making eye contact with every one of his crew, hoping to offer some reassurance he was hard pressed to feel himself. Even T’Pol, steadfast at her science station, still trying to punch through unforgiving shields, met his gaze.
Trip held his hand close to his body and made a small ‘ahem’ grunt. Having the Captain’s attention, he pointed discreetly to the back of the chair. The tip Porthos’ tail was moving slowly in what appeared to be a cautious and nervous wag, like an abused or lost pup, unsure of wanting to make friends with a potential benefactor. Porthos head was lowered slightly, the tops of his ears still perked. Archer recognized the position of canine submissiveness. In a moment of ironic whimsy, the Captain hoped Porthos wasn’t offering up his entire crew! When Captain Archer had came aboard the Enterprise to take her out that first time, hours ahead of an already accelerated schedule, he had given his crew of newly uniformed and stiff shipmates, along with some familiar faces he had shipped with before, a “We’re a new ship, and a new crew. Lets make history!” pep talk. Archer smirked with a thought he shouldn’t have dropped off Porthos in his new quarters first. No, Porthos, should have been there too, front and center!
Jonathan Archer was snapped back from his thoughts by a difference in Porthos that was felt more than heard. With the fingers of his right hand still entwined in Porthos’ back, he felt a ripple in the dog’s muscles all the way down the hound’s body. Then a slow, trembling, vibration that was coming from a barely heard growl originating low and deep in Porthos’ throat. Archer felt the hackles rise on Porthos’ back, the hairs stood on end all the way from the top of his head to the tip of his now still tail. Captain Archer turned more toward Porthos, and instinctively reached with his other hand to his canine friend, but at the last instant, thought better and laid his hand on the command chair arm instead. Porthos saw the movement as he stood up on all fours, and leaned over and gave the hand a short lick, accompanied by a whimper, as if saying, “I’m ok.”
Captain Archer slowly removed his hand from Porthos’ back as the growling rumbles grew. The Captain motioned for Trip to take a step back, then said, “All right everybody, something’s going on. Watch your boards.” Then to the dog he said softly, “Porthos, take it easy, boy.”
The Captain’s words were lost as Porthos’ lips curled, his sharp, pointed canines glinting in the overhead bridge lights. Porthos stood ramrod straight, his tail tightly tipped over his tense back and his hackles up sharply.
“Captain…”
It was Hoshi. Archer only half turned her direction, and when she didn’t follow up with information or a question, he gave her a quick nod side to side. He held a hand low, palm down, indicating a ‘wait, hang on… it’s all right…” John Archer hoped it was all right. ‘Wait’ hadn’t been this hard since Dad helped get that model Enterprise to fly. Or the Vulcan’s… holding back just long enough….
“Captain, sensors indicate a port opening aft of the bridge. Moving viewer to aft position.” T’Pol stated, in a flurry of activity on her panel. When the viewer switched positions, Archer could see the Enterprise warp nacelles in the background, dwarfed by the size of the alien ship.
There it was. A spiraling circle opening slowly nearest the Enterprise starboard warp nacelle. “It could be a weapons port, Captain!” Malcolm’s voice warned.
At the same time, Porthos’ quietly curled lips grew to a snapping, teeth gnashing, barking, growl. Bits of canine spittle flew from his mouth as his snarling frenzy grew. Archer and Trip were close enough to see Porthos’ whole body shaking with raw fury, like a dog fighting for its life in a pit. Both of Porthos’ eyes seemed to flash in the lights. Archer could see Porthos’ trimmed nails digging into the soft leather cushions of the command chair as he snapped, snarled and barked.
Archer held to the arm of the command chair. From where he was he could feel the warmth building and emanating from Porthos’ body. “Mr. Reed, load torpedoes into ports three and four.”
“Ah, from this range Captain? If we fired our own weapons, we could do more damage to ourselves than them. Polarized hull plating is no match for energy shielding.” Trip had found his voice somewhere.
“More than likely, anything we fired at them would be deflected right back at us.” Malcolm added.
“Maybe they’re just pointing a camera.” Dr. Phlox said.
“That is equally as likely, Doctor.” T’Pol continued, “I am unable to make any sensor determinations beyond what is visual, Captain.”
The volume and intensity of Porthos’ snarls and growls continued to increase. The clacking sound of canine jaws gnashing teeth could be heard all over the bridge. Then Porthos made a leap from the command chair, bounding over Travis Mayweather’s helm station with a four-point landing on the console, then another leap all the way to the forward bridge ring. He was running back and forth in front of the bridge view screen, leaping in the air. Porthos coughed and nearly choked himself with the intensity of his angry reports. Archer knew there were two recessed speakers mounted above the view screen. He was happy they were out of the reach of Porthos’ leaps, not just for the sake of the speakers, but for his dogs’ teeth.
“Captain, another port opening forward. The original position of the viewer will make it visible. Switching now.” T’Pol toggled her board, and behind Porthos’ maddening, angry dashes, the screen switched back to the original view of the alien ship.
The familiar spiraling circle opening right in front of the Enterprise made Archer believe if not for the vacuum of space, and protective shielding, he should be able to just step through the view screen and climb right into the port opening before them.
“Those torpedoes are loaded and ready, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.” Archer shook his head as he moved in front of the command chair and sat, heavily. Entwining his fingers in a double-fist, nearly touching his lips, he continued, “We can’t fire at this range, I know that. They do too. Probably why they crawled on top of us in the first place. They know we’ve loaded weapons. So now it’s their turn. Both sides doing some posturing and strutting around. Then somebody will dominate. Cow the subordinates into submission or fight them till one is dead. Then rule absolutely. Its how you get to be the Alpha male or female in a wolf pack.”
“Equating these actions to an ancient Terran ‘canis lupus’ survival tactic is illogical, Captain. Similarities in cultures divided on an astronomical scale, evolve by happenstance, not by relation.”
Archer dropped his still doubled fist down into his lap, stretched up his chin up to ease his tense muscles, and took a deep breath. Before he could reply to T’Pol’s statement, Trip jumped in first.
“Illogical? Tell that to an Alpha male that just got his ass kicked. If Porthos is playing that part of the one being challenged, he’s not actin' like he’s givin’ in to anybody. Looks to me like he’s standin' his ground, and making some challenges of his own. I just wish we knew what they were.”
Porthos heard his name, and for a moment looked toward Archer and Tucker. He might have tweaked a small wag of his tail, but it was hard to tell. Porthos was standing stock still by then. He turned his attention back to the speaker mounted on the starboard side of the view screen. His whole muzzle twisted in an unnatural, somewhat evil looking face of a devil dog. Bits of spittle and what looked like blood flecked his face. Archer thought that in his snapping, biting frenzy, Porthos might have caught his tongue where it didn’t belong. The dog’s body still shook like he was shivering in the freezing cold.
“But are we being challenged? And to what ends?” Archer released his double fisted grip and placed both hands on the command chair armrests. He rose and moved slowly toward the forward view screen staying in Porthos’ line of sight as he approached his dog. At about two meters from Porthos, Captain Archer stopped and knelt down. He still couldn’t get quite eye level with his canine friend, but he was hoping his presence would help calm him some.
Archer turned slightly when he heard Hoshi, “Captain, the sounds we were hearing have stopped, but Porthos is still hearing something on the open channel.”
Turning his attention back to Porthos, and in a soft voice Archer said, “Porthos. Buddy, they’re still talking to us? Let me try it again.” Archer stood where he was and said, “I am Jonathan Archer in command of the Starship Enterprise. You have been in communication with,” Archer made an open armed shrug gesture, and continued, “the only species on this ship that can hear the frequency of your language. If you are communicating with a language, I am unable to hear you or respond to you. We are not sure you can hear me either. The Enterprise is on a peaceful mission of exploration. We have intended no aggression toward you in any way. However, we are prepared to defend ourselves if necessary. Archer out.” Archer took a couple of steps closer to Porthos and knelt down again.
Porthos stood still. His eyes switching back and forth between Archer and the speakers. A silent breath of relief crept from the Captain when Porthos quickly came to him and muzzled in close. Archer held Porthos in both hands, rubbing ears and holding him close. In a few seconds, Porthos wiggled free, and again stood with body erect and tense. He turned toward the speakers, and barked a series of long baying howls, punctuated by menacing growls and squealing yips. After a few minutes of quietness, Archer rose and returned to the center of the bridge.
“What do you think is going on now?” Commander Tucker stood beside the Captain.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Trip.”
Porthos sat down, tipped up his head and let out a long mournful, wailing howl, like a coyote on a lonely hilltop, howling at a full Terran moon. Trip's sideways look at Captain Archer reflected the crawling chills almost everyone on the bridge must have felt at the same time.
Porthos stood up on his hind legs and began pawing the air, barking in a random pattern. The bridge crew just watched in wonder. His staggering, hopping, and somewhat unstable posture might have been comical in any other situation. Now it just added more mystery to whatever was taking place between the only canine on the Enterprise and the ‘neighbors upstairs.’
Determined to make some sense out of the exchange, Hoshi said, “It sounds… ‘conversational?’ He doesn’t sound as angry as before. Maybe they’re down to talking about it now. But I’m not sure just what it is he could be saying.”
Archer looked up at her and questioned, “How do you mean?”
“Well, its clear to me we can’t hear what they are saying… or otherwise communicating, but we can hear Porthos. So what can he be relating to them, that they could hear? I admit I’ve never studied the communication habits of dogs, but as far as I know, they do hear sounds we don’t, but they don’t make sounds we can’t hear. Do they?”
In a way of a reply, Captain Archer just looked up in a gesture of resignation.
“If I may, Captain. I believe the Ensign is essentially correct. However, sound is only a small part of how dogs communicate. Body language also plays an essential part. Their posture speaks louder than words...so to speak.” Dr. Phlox said from his perch behind T’Pol.
Trip started up the short step to the bridge engineering console, keeping his eyes on Porthos. Reading the monitors on his board he reported, “All systems are one-hundred percent, Captain. We’re ready. For …I wish I knew what.”
Confirming status reports, Travis said, “The ship is maintaining a steady 20 meters from our hull. In the grand scheme of things I sure do wish they’d give us a little more breathing room. All I want right now is just about that much.” With that, Travis held his hands shoulder width apart. “And then we can do it again, and again…”
“Easy Mr. Mayweather. I’m assuming if they can hear Porthos, they can hear us too. It’s just a matter of which one they understand -if either of us.” Captain Archer said after sliding out of the command chair. With a pat on Travis’ shoulder, the Captain slowly approached the upper bridge circle from the port side, behind Porthos. Turning toward the science station, Archer asked, "Are we still being scanned?"
"Yes, Captain. The scan is constant." T'Pol replied.
Pointing at Porthos, Archer said, "That scan is likely how they are sensing him."
Before Archer stepped up completely, Porthos dropped down to all four feet and took off in a run around the other way. He ran all the way around the bridge circle, barking and baying with every stride. His tail up and nose down, just like his breed was meant to do while on the trail of his prey. Archer mentally shook his head and thought ‘that hound has never had to hunt for one morsel of food in his entire life. Except if he’d missed a chunk of cheese in mid-flight!’ Porthos made the entire circle and ran past the captain and back to where he had started from without slowing down.
It looked like he was going to run the circle again, only this time he ran to the engineering post and stopped. The sound of his barks changed in pitch but continued without interruption. Trip jumped when Porthos put his front paws on his knee for several seconds before continuing his run around the bridge.
Archer turned where he was on the step of the forward bridge circle to see Porthos stop again, this time at the communications post. Porthos wriggled his way around her legs and hopped up in Hoshi’s lap, much to her amusement. Hoshi kept one hand pressed firmly to her earpiece, listening for anything, and the other timidly across Porthos’ back.
Porthos jumped down and ran the short distance to the science station where his baying barks quieted. T’Pol’s brows raised as Porthos simply sat at her feet. His brows were raised in much the same way hers were. Except his nose twitched too. She took an involuntary step back from the dog, and said, “Captain, it would appear,” a look of incredulity crossed her face, “…we are being… introduced.”
Captain Archer turned back the way he had come and stopped near the command chair. He was glad he was close to something to hold on to. Porthos tipped up is head and emitted one simple yip. John thought he might have fallen down laughing otherwise. As it was, he leaned heavily on the chair arm, his head down, trying to control his reaction. He heard a couple of other bridge crew snicker, but he didn’t even look up to see who it was. He remembered often having the same reaction to T’Pol as his dog did.
From the science post, Porthos turned to Dr. Phlox with renewed baying barks. Just as quickly the physician stood and said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance! I’m Dr. Phlox!”
The doctor’s response didn’t slow Porthos’ run in the least, but garnered the attention of everyone else on the bridge. “I’m assuming they can hear us as well, Captain! Being friendly never hurt!”
Archer stood by the command chair, still mentally shaking his head. He watched as Porthos approached the Tactical Station and Malcolm. His hound-dog baying barks never missed a beat, although he hardly slowed down long enough to sniff at Lt. Reed’s boots before running around to the forward circle again. "Well, I feel thoroughly defined."
The navigator turned to his left and whispered to the Captain, “Don’t we count?”
Porthos again sat and tipped up his head in a long wailing howl directed at the bridge starboard side. When finally the skin on Archer’s neck stopped crawling, Porthos was sitting quietly; tipping his head first one way, then the next, as if listening to the sound of a familiar voice. The silence on the bridge was eerie. Archer slowly turned toward Hoshi with a questioning look.
Her reply was quiet as well. With one hand still firmly on her communications earpiece, she nodded a silent ‘no.’ Whatever communications was going on now; only Porthos was hearing it, as it was before. After several minutes, Porthos stood up, walked around in a circle twice, sat down again, and emitted a series of short yips.
“Just what the hell was that all about?” Trip said as he stood up straight from studying his console and folded his arms in front of himself in utter indignation.
Travis dropped his head, closed his eyes and muttered just loud enough for the Captain to hear. “He didn’t introduce me because he thinks I’m driving us around in circles.”
“We just have to wait our turn Travis.” Archer said. Travis hadn’t seen Porthos start another run around the bridge circle again, the same way he had before. Porthos came around the port side and down into the lower level of the bridge, head down and tail up, baying all the way. Archer was relieved to see that Porthos’ hackles had laid down, and he seemed much less angry. The Captain studied his dog carefully as the hound sped past him to the navigator. He still carried his tail in a very alert posture though. There was no doubt to the Captain that somehow between what they could hear and what they couldn’t hear, Porthos and the aliens on the unidentified ship were communicating. Already crossing his mind was a thought of ‘How do I make this report to Starfleet?’
Porthos came to a quick halt as all four feet skidded to a stop across the lower bridge deck beside Travis Mayweather. The Beagle jumped up and rested his front paws on Travis’ left thigh while howling and barking. The Ensign turned in his chair slightly toward Porthos and smiled a big grin and softly said, “Knew you wouldn’t forget me little pal. Just don’t tell them I can’t steer.”
Archer leaned on his chair arm again and chuckled quietly. After a couple of more yips on Travis’ knee, Porthos made a Beagle sized leap back towards the center seat, and another jump landed him in the command chair. In a blinding mix of yips, barks and face licking, Archer reached for his canine companion with both hands and felt his friend’s body wriggling all over. The tail was whipping back and forth with a speed that had it looking like he had at least four tails! Porthos was leaning on him with all the weight his small body could push with. Archer thought if he had moved even a little at just the wrong moment, Porthos would have fallen very ungracefully to the deck. Archer managed to get a good hold on Porthos, then pulled his face away from the range of the wagging tongue. Wiping his own face with the back of one hand, the Captain said, “I think I’ve had my bath today.” Porthos was still standing with his two front feet on the chair arm, his tail swinging with a rapid thump against the soft leather back. “He is much more at ease now. Actually, he seems …happy again. Like the first time he heard those transmissions. I have to believe whatever had him so angry is gone now, or was just a normal part of ‘first contact’ with,” Archer pointed upwards, “our neighbors.”
Trip stepped down from the engineering console to stand beside the Beagle again. As Trip approached, Porthos turned and offered his paw for a shake, which Trip accepted. “Just what is it that happened here? Is it ‘first contact,’ exactly?”
“That’s what I’ll have to call it. Wouldn’t you agree, T’Pol?” Archer still had a one handed contact with Porthos, who had quieted his howls and barks. He was now sitting calmly in the command chair, his tail still in motion, although at a much lesser velocity.
“Yes, Captain. ‘First contact’ has a relatively narrow definition. This incident firmly falls into that description.”
“There you go, Trip. Strange as it may seem.” Thoughtfully, Archer added, “Malcolm, stand down the torpedoes.”
Trip resumed his arm-folded posture and flicked his eyes towards his Captain.
“I think Porthos made the last friendly gesture. It’s our turn now.”
“Aye, Sir. Torpedoes standing down.” Malcolm said; then added, “Depolarize the hull plating as well?”
“No, not yet. One step at a time.”
“Captain!” Hoshi almost leaped from her seat. “Uh…” Her eyes seemed focused on something far away as she listened intently. “Its those same sounds we had picked up in the beginning. I’m getting them again. Its so strange…” Hoshi leaned forward in her chair, as if getting closer to the communications console would increase the reception. Her forehead was creased and brows knit together in focused concentration. “It has to be coming from the ship twenty meters from our hull, but I can’t get any bearing on it. It’s coming from …everywhere. Just like before.”
T’Pol used her scanner to confirm, “Computer verifies it Captain. The same transmission they were broadcasting when we first heard their hails is being transmitted again.”
Archer turned to the bridge view screen. “As if they are finished here, resume original transmission and continue?"
“Kinda looks like it. Cap'n….” Trip had seen Porthos sit up in the command chair on his haunches and paw the air as if he were begging for cheese. He barked a couple of times, yawned with a loud moan, then squealed like a puppy nuzzling for its mother.
Archer turned his attention back to his dog just as Porthos dropped back to a sitting position, tipped up his head and emitted a howl that was longer and somehow more mournful than any howls the bridge crew had heard yet.
“Captain.” It was T’Pol. “The unidentified ship is moving away from Enterprise. The two portals are closing as well.” On the bridge view screen, it appeared as though the Enterprise was the ship moving. A slow gradual distance was growing between the two ship hulls that moments before had been so eerily close. Archer could see the spiral of the port closing and assumed the same was happening with the other port behind the bridge.
“Travis, make sure we hold position.” Archer picked up Porthos and sat in the command chair, holding the dog carefully in his lap.
“Yes, Sir. We are holding steady.” The alien ship continued to slowly move away from the Enterprise. With each passing second and growing distance between the ships, Travis Mayweather became more at ease. “Just keep on moving.” The navigator muttered as he watched the increasing numbers on his board.
The unidentified ship continued to move away from the Enterprise while Porthos turned his attention back to Archer. The hound pawed at the Captain with one front foot, then the other. “What is it Porthos?” John spoke softly to the dog as Porthos walked around somewhat uncomfortably in his lap. The Captain was about to put a stop to that when Porthos walked up his chest till he was standing with front paws on his shoulders. Standing just a hound-dog-head higher than Archer, Porthos emitted more baying barks, yips and howls. His tail waved back and forth creating an uneven balance, so John held Porthos sides to steady him while the barks continued.
Beside the center seat, Trip grinned at the Captain; “They’re still discussin’ the details I suppose.”
“Sounds like it.” Archer grinned at the chief engineer with a crooked smile while Porthos continued his awkward steps. With not exactly the best view in his face, Archer picked up Porthos and turned him around the other way only to have the dog jump down and run back to the forward bridge circle. Rising from the center seat, Archer said, “Directly in front of us. Not above us, and not below us. Still close, but level. As equals. Looks to me like Porthos made some kind of impression on them.” Porthos resumed his spot in front of the view screen, sitting quietly, turning his head one way, then the next. Listening to that familiar ‘voice.’ The same one he’d heard for the first time in the Captain’s quarters. “They are just sitting there. Porthos is just sitting there.” Trip gave a sideways glance at Archer with raised eyebrows and folded arms. “He’s hearing something.” Archer walked over to Hoshi’s comm board. “We’re still getting the same message from before. If I move the frequency we could hear it too, at least those feedback echoes, but I’m convinced that’s not what Porthos is responding too.” “No. Don’t change the frequency. Let Porthos hear everything.” Archer rubbed his knuckles into both eyes for a moment, then turned back toward the view screen. Porthos was sitting still, his back straight, ears perked, and tail waving back and forth slowly. John wondered how long this was going to go on. Being a man of action, he was beginning to suffer from watching his dog sit and wag, but thought better than taking some kind of misguided action right now. The Captain strode across the lower bridge to the forward ring and stepped up in front of the view screen. He walked up behind Porthos and knelt down beside his hound dog friend and extended a hand as if to shake. Porthos nuzzled his hand softly then returned his attention back to the starboard speaker. With a quick look up, Archer said, “Somebody get a bowl of water. He looks like he could use a drink.” “I’ll get it!” Doctor Phlox jumped up from his seat behind T’Pol, and for an instant seemed confused. “Where would I get that on the bridge?” “The Ready Room, Doctor.” T’Pol indicated a door just as the doctor dashed through. In less than a minute the doctor exited the Ready Room with a cup nearly sloshing over. Phlox steadied the cup and continued to the forward bridge circle. “All I could find was someone’s coffee cup Captain.” “That’ll do. Thank you Phlox.” Archer noticed it was a cup that Malcolm had used on occasion. He held up the cup as a toast toward the Lieutenant, then waved it in front of Porthos eyes a couple of times then set it on the deck in front of him. Porthos looked down at the water, then up at the speaker again, and emitted a sharp yip. Porthos stood up; his body wiggling happily as he dove his muzzle into the cup and lapped heartily. Water sloshed over the sides and made small irregular puddles around the cup. “Porthos thanks you too, Doctor.” “He’s very welcome Captain.” The doctor had returned to his perch behind T’Pol. When he finished drinking, Porthos coughed, turned his head from side to side, slowly at first, then increased in velocity and seemed to ripple down until his entire body was rolling one way then the next in rapid succession. His long ears made loud slapping noises against his head. When finally the gyrations subsided at his tail, he jumped around like a frisky young pup, barking and playing. He ran around and around Captain Archer, leaping in the air and baying happily. Archer tried to keep an eye on his canine companion, but unsuccessfully. Finally, John just stood there, facing the bridge crew, hands on hips and shook his head. “The channel is still open Hoshi?” After a few more circles around the Captain, Porthos took off in a run around the upper bridge ring as he had before, head down and tail up; baying barks sounding all the way. This time as he came around the far side he turned in to the lower level and made a jump that landed him firmly in the command chair. Porthos danced around in the seat then lay down; tail beating the back of the chair. He barked and yapped a couple of times, then sneezed. His mouth hung open, tongue hanging out in an expression of a very self-satisfied smile. His eyes glistening in the lights. “Yes Sir, the channel is still open.” Turning to the same speaker that had seemed to dominate Porthos’ attention, Archer said, “This is Captain Jonathan Archer. We….” The Captain saw movement on the view screen so interrupted himself and backed away a few steps to get a broader picture of what was happening there. The other ship was moving away. From the science station T’Pol filled in the Captains questioning look while focusing in the scanner. “We are no longer being scanned. They are moving under impulse power, Captain. They are turning away from the Enterprise and resuming their original course.” “They are still transmitting their original message, but I don’t think they are receiving our signal anymore.” Shaking her head negatively, Hoshi continued. “They’ve closed communications, Sir.” Archer continued to stand in front of the screen, arms folded and a frown furrowing his forehead. “Shall we follow them Sir?” The navigator was wide eyed at his helm position, ready to enter any commands. Archer turned just his upper body toward the helmsman. “Follow them? Like a puppy? I don’t think so, Travis. Somehow I don’t think they’d stop to notice.” “They’ve resumed warp three Captain, on their original heading.” T’Pol was still studying her scanner. “We can track them as far as long range sensors can follow their signals.” “That will be sufficient, Subcommander. We can resume our course too Ensign.” “Aye, Captain. Resuming original course, and speed.” Travis replied to the Captain, eager to be taking some action. Captain Archer dropped his arms to his sides and stood there, watching the stars that filled the view screen, the alien ship already vanished in a flash of light that had faded into darkness. “Porthos. Talking to folks….” Archer mumbled to himself as he returned to the center of the bridge. “What was that Cap’n?” “Nothing, Trip.” Beside the command chair Archer grabbed Porthos’ muzzle in a friendly tug, then gently pulled an ear. “Hoshi, send out a shipwide message to stand down from Alert Status.” “Aye, Captain.” “And you…” Archer returned his attention back to Porthos, fists on hips, and addressed his hound dog in no uncertain terms. “We need to get one thing straight here. This is ‘my’ seat. I’m the Captain, see.” Archer indicated his rank insignia. “You are not in command, so out with you!” Archer pointed at Porthos and then the deck. Porthos stretched out his front legs, yawned big, and rolled over on his back. With feet fanning the air, he yowled and whined, eyeing the Captain in an upside-down gesture of submission. Amid stifled laughter and a few snickers plus a couple of extremely elevated eyebrows, Archer hung his head and couldn’t help but laugh himself. As Archer approached him, Porthos was quick to right himself before the Captain picked him up and claimed his rightful place. With Porthos again standing in his lap, Archer said, “This has got to be one for the history books.” “I agree Captain. I know of no other instance where First Contact was made by a Terran canine." T’Pol said as she stepped away from her console. Lt. Reed stood at his Tactical Station and said, “All systems are secured from Alert Status. I suppose we should be grateful you’re not a cat person. Then again, I think cats understand defense.” Malcolm leaned forward over his console with arms extended to the top edge. “Captain Archer, do you know what your dog thinks I do?” “I don’t know Malcolm. Maybe he just didn’t know how to describe you without saying you’re a Weapons Officer, or that you …blow up things. Could be that’s not exactly what they needed to hear at the time.” Captain Archer made an attempt to comfort the Lieutenant. “Besides, you haven’t spent much time with Porthos, have you? I don’t think he knows you very well.” “I do more than blow things up! I build things….” “That blow things up!” Trip finished his thought for him with a chuckle. “Aw, come on. I fix things too.” Malcolm was not going to get over his feeling of being snubbed, no matter how many comforting words he heard. With a smile Archer said, “We know what you do, Lieutenant Reed. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” The Captain stood and deposited Porthos to the deck and continued, “If you’ll excuse us, T’Pol, you have the bridge. Lets see if Chef can find a nice rare steak for his dinner tonight." Archer held open the lift doors as Malcolm asked, “You up for a game tonight, Captain?” “We’ll see you there, Target Man!” As the doors closed, a quietness closed on the bridge too. The normal sounds of humming consoles and beeping monitors seemed louder than usual. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but next time I dog-sit for the Captain, I’m not undressing in front of him. You can bet on that.” Hoshi looked up from her communications board only to find the bridge crew staring at her “I meant undress in front of Porthos. What did you think I meant?” Hoshi blushed as she studied her panel. “I think he knows a lot more about what’s going on around here than we think he does. I wouldn't be surprised if the Captain doesn't bring him to the bridge more often too.” THE END Disclaimer: "Enterprise" and all characters therein is solely the property of Paramount...and all that legal stuff.
