Faith of the Heart by Becky Rock
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'd like to thank Mary Potts for continuing to betas read.

They stepped into the lift and rode it to Deck Seven.

           

Malcolm led the way into the room housing the transporter at a jog and brought the machine on line.

           

“T’Pol,” Archer said into the intercom. “We’re ready.  Feed us the coordinates.”

           

“Sending,” T’Pol answered.

           

“Got them,” Malcolm announced.

           

Dr. Phlox and several corpsmen entered the room, carrying stretchers. “I understand we have casualties?” the Denobulan asked. Archer nodded, staring at the transporter expectantly.

           

“Captain, I have a lock on two of them,” Malcolm reported.

           

“Then get them over here.”

           

“Aye, sir.” Malcolm manipulated the controls. The air above the raised dais of the transporter began to shimmer. Two forms took shape and solidified.

           

“My God. It really is them,” Trip whispered.

           

Archer couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Who he was seeing.

           

Lying on the floor of the dais were a young woman in a pink body suit/miniskirt and white cape with a white helmet and a teenager, a little smaller than the woman, in a golden body suit, with a blue cape and multi-colored helmet.

           

Dr. Phlox and his corpsmen moved forward. Phlox scanned the two people. “He’s just unconscious.  She, however, has a broken wrist. Please move her with care.”

           

The corpsmen moved them off the dais.

           

“T’Pol has sent me a fix on two more,” Malcolm announced.

           

“Get them,” Archer ordered. Malcolm complied.

           

Two more forms materialized on the dais. Two men. One was quite large, in a brown body suit, with a green cape and large helmet. The other man was shorter and slender, but with wide shoulders. His body suit was white, his cape white and his helmet white. The way he was laying made it obvious his lower right leg was broken.

           

“The Eagle,” Trip whispered in awe. He pointed at the inert form. “That’s the Eagle.”

           

“He’s in need of medical attention,” Phlox inserted, helping to move him carefully off the dais. “He has a broken leg. Please take these four to the Med Bay and treat the broken bones,” he told his head corpsman.

           

“Yes, sir,” the young man said.

           

“Captain, the ship’s life support has just failed.” T’Pol announced.

           

“I’ve got a fix on the last one,” Malcolm said just as T’Pol finished speaking.

           

The final form to that appeared was in brown with a dusk blue cape and black helmet. Phlox took quick readings.

           

 

Tucker could only stare at the young man. A man he had only heard about through stories told, and no doubt expanded upon, by his father and grandfather. A man he had been reading about in both history books and in the journal. A man he resembled with his cleft chin, blue eyes, and sandy brown hair. Jason Anderson. G-2, the Condor. His great-grandfather.

           

“He is unconscious, but has no serious injuries,” Phlox told them and motioned to the last two corpsmen to move him. Once they had him on the stretcher, he led the way out of the Transporter Room, Tucker on his heels.

           

“Captain, shall I send a security detail to the Med Bay?” Reed asked as he shut down the transporter. “From what Trip has told me, they could be quite dangerous.”

           

“Didn’t you get stories about them from your family?” Archer asked, his eyes following the departing stretcher.

 

“My family wasn’t as enamored of their ancestor as yours and Trip’s was,” Malcolm admitted. “The divorce was apparently a very bitter one and Keyop’s name was never to be uttered without bitterness.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“Now that I know more, I find that I don’t agree with it. I think time blew the facts out of proportion.”

 

Archer smiled and clapped his hand on his security officer’s shoulder in understanding. “Just in case they don’t wake up in the best of moods, post two MACOs outside medical. Get back to the bridge and let T’Pol know we have all of them. I’ll let you know as soon as we know more.”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

Archer rushed after the group heading to the Med Bay.

 

“How were these people injured?” Phlox asked, taking more readings as they entered a turbo lift.

 

“We’re not sure,” Archer admitted. “They came through the wormhole.”

 

“Commander Tucker, I’m getting the impression you know this man.” The doctor looked at Trip with open curiosity.

 

“Not personally.” Trip looked to Archer for help and the Captain sighed.

 

“Phlox, we know who these people are because they’re from our past. At least one hundred twenty or so years in the past.”

 

“Really. As T’Pol would say, that’s fascinating.” Phlox grinned.

 

As they entered the Med Bay, one of the corpsman, Frederick Thompson, immediately came towards them.

 

“Doctor, we’re unable to get their clothing or helmets off in order to treat them,” he told them. Archer noted the other members of G-Force had been moved to diagnostic beds, still unconscious.

 

“Uh, I think I know how to do it,” Trip said, looking towards Archer. The Captain nodded his consent. “I read that their Birdstyles were initiated by their speaking a code word into their bracelets.” He pointed at the bracelet on Jason’s left wrist. “To deactivate them, they spoke another code word.”

 

“Do you know the codes?” Archer asked.

 

Trip shook his head. “No, but I was told there was another way.”

 

Trip turned Jason’s wrist and worked on the clasp of the bracelet. After a moment, it popped open and fell into Trip’s hand.

 

Jason’s body was enveloped in a blinding light that forced them to turn away, shielding their eyes. As soon as the light disappeared, they turned back.

 

“I’ll be damned. It worked,” Trip muttered and then laughed. “I thought granddaddy was kidding when he said they wore numbered T-shirts identifying their place in the team,” he said of the number 2 T-shirt Jason was wearing.

 

“Thank you, Commander,” Phlox said and motioned to his two corpsmen. “Please follow Commander Tucker’s example to remove the uniforms.” The two men nodded and proceeded to remove the other four’s bracelets.

 

“I suggest you keep them and give them back once everyone has recovered,” Archer requested as Trip gave Jason’s to the doctor.

 

The com in the Med Bay chimed and Archer walked over to activate it, smiling at the absurdity of wearing numbered t-shirts.

 

“Archer here.”

 

“Captain, we’re maneuvering to dock with the damaged ship,” T’Pol reported. “I suggest we get a crew over there to secure it.” 

 

“It’s the Phoenix, T’Pol,” he told her.

 

“The Phoenix. It is named after a mythical bird that died in flame and rose from its own ashes young and renewed. An interesting choice.” Archer was surprised. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear T’Pol was amused.

 

“The damage to the Phoenix is extensive,” T’Pol continued. “There are traces of nuclear matter on the hull.”

 

“Nuclear?” Archer and Trip exchanged looks.

 

I better get over there and check it out,” Trip said and Archer nodded.

 

“Choose a few assistants and take Malcolm with you to secure the weapons,” the captain advised.

 

“Yes, sir.” Trip turned to leave and Archer gave his attention back to the doctor.

 

“Keep me appraised. I want to know as soon as they’re awake,” he requested and the doctor nodded.

 

“Most certainly, Captain.” Phlox nodded and went to work as the captain followed trip out the door.

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