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“The decision’s already been made, Malcolm,” Archer says firmly, striding briskly down the hallway to the transporter room with the Lieutenant in tow. “We’re going alone.”
“But sir,” Malcolm tries. “I’d really feel more comfortable if you brought a team of MACOs with you. We don’t know exactly what we’re up against and we don’t know if we can trust these people.”
“I said the decision’s made, Lieutenant,” Archer states matter-of-factly, with a hint more irritation in his tone from having to repeat himself. “They asked us to go alone, so we’re going alone.”
Malcolm sighs quietly.
“Understood,” he says, relenting, and barely masking his disappointment and worry for the Captain’s well-being.
Archer appreciates his tactical officer worrying about him, as well as appreciates Malcolm doing his duty and thinking, well, tactically, but a deal’s a deal.
They had been passing by a swampy M-class planet when Hoshi picked up a transmission from the surface. A short and polite conversation later, after Hoshi managed to pick up and program their language into the UT, they were preparing to make first contact with a vaguely-amphibian species who called themselves the Pondat. However, despite as kind as they were over the transmission, they were uneasy with the idea of a full landing party. The Pondat leader was cautious and requested the Captain and only one crewmember of his choice beam down at first, with the promise of others being allowed to join later.
The Pondat leader had been especially fascinated by the Andorian on the bridge, claiming loudly to never have seen one before despite all species present being unfamiliar with the amphibian strangers, with no mention of them in any of the databases. Thinking of trying to make a good first impression, Archer selected Shran for the mission.
Archer and Reed arrive at the transporter room where Shran is already waiting.
“Ready to go, pinkskin?” he asks casually, shooting Malcolm a glance.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Archer responds.
He and Shran step up onto the transporter platform and turn to face Malcolm.
Malcolm walks up to the transporter console and punches in the coordinates before starting the dematerialization sequence.
~*~
The air is thick, hot, and humid when Archer and Shran materialize on the surface. The ground squelches gently under their feet and the sounds of frantic croaking and large insects buzzing are extremely apparent in the swampy biome.
“My friends!” the Pondat leader exclaims, stepping forward from behind a wide tree, his large arms extended in a welcoming manner. “So good of you to join me!”
“Likewise,” Archer replies, offering a warm smile.
“Enough pleasantries,” the Pondat leader says dismissively, shaking his head in a way which makes the large, bulbous growth on his chin sway, spittle flying side to side from his froglike mouth.
It’s at that moment that they realize there are bulging amphibian eyes gleaming in the foliage, surrounding, and staring at them from the dense cluster of swamp trees. The unmistakeable sounds of weapons activating encircles them.
“You’ll do well to relinquish your things,” the Pondat says warningly, all warmth suddenly gone from his speech. “Weapons especially.”
Damn.
They walked right into a trap.
~*~
Having been relieved of their gear, bound behind their backs, blindfolded, and lead far through the swamp to presumably a settlement of some kind, Archer and Shran are shoved forcefully into the dank, underground cell by a pair of Pondat guards.
Shran stumbles at the rough treatment, but manages to stay on his feet, whereas Archer is sent tumbling into the soft, mossy ground.
A heavy-sounding door slams shut, followed by a resounding clunk of a locking mechanism.
“Well, well,” Shran says dryly, voice partially muffled by the cloth bag over his head, “what a welcoming group.”
Archer huffs an irritated sigh as he sits himself up and then awkwardly stands.
“What’s the plan, Captain?”
“Gimme a minute,” Archer mutters. “Let’s see if we can at least get these blindfolds off.”
Shran carefully walks closer to where the origin of Archer’s voice was. They bump into each other regardless.
“Kneel down,” Archer commands.
“Excuse me?” Shran challenges.
“Just do it!”
Grumbling, Shran obeys, and Archer turns around, bound hands blindly searching for Shran’s cover.
“Careful, pinkskin!” he warns, as Archer nearly pokes him in the eye.
Eventually, the position awkward with his arms behind his back, after a little fumbling, Archer is able to grab hold of the cloth cover and pull it off Shran’s head.
Shran makes a sound of relief, stretching his antennae once they’re freed from their awful confines and returns to standing.
“Your turn,” he states, and they swap positions. It’s easier to get Archer’s blindfold off now that Shran can see.
The blindfolds are left discarded on the floor and the pair then scan their surroundings.
The room is small, walls made from dirt as the cell was dug into the ground, the only illumination coming from a small tunnel leading up and away from the cell door.
Archer pulls at his bindings experimentally but they refuse to give.
“What now?” Shran wonders aloud.
Archer lets out a long sigh. How did he manage to get in positions like this so often?
“I guess we wait.”