Enterprise: The Measure of a Man

**DISCLAIMER: Fan fiction only. NO money is being made off this story and no infringement on copyrights is intended with respect to aired and theatrical Star Trek.

Chapter 4

Soon after the evening meal, which consisted of a vegetarian stew Archer and Trip found surprisingly palatable, Sejenus returned to their barracks.

“Both of you must come with me now,” he demanded in a tone that betrayed nothing. Instead of complying, the two remained seated on their blankets in the straw and looked up at him with open defiance.

“Unless you’ve come to release us, we’d rather not, thanks,” Archer finally said.

Sejenus’ forehead wrinkled. “I admit that my knowledge of your species was incomplete. Increasingly, however, I believe that it was even more accurate than I previously suspected. You are well aware that I have the ability to punish you, yet you continue to oppose me. These are the actions of stubborn, irrational beings.”

“They’re also the actions of beings who value their freedom. If you think we’ll ever accept our situation the way you apparently have, you’re wrong.”

“As difficult as it may be for you to believe, I am in fact attempting to assist you. I could have sent Mistress Venda’s guards to drag you out. That would have been less than pleasant, I assure you.” The Vulcan sighed. “Unfortunately, I have my instructions and time is at a premium. You may come with me now, or wait for my reinforcements.”

Archer and Trip exchanged apprehensive glances.

“We might be more inclined to cooperate if you tell us where we’re going,” Archer finally said.

“Surely even creatures with your limited intellectual capacity must realize that you were brought here for a purpose. You are about to discover what that purpose is. Now, will you attend me? I shall not ask you again.”

“We can’t stay locked up in here forever,” Trip said under his breath. “Besides, we might be able to find out what happened to Malcolm.”

Archer grimaced in reluctant agreement. Trip followed him to his feet. Sejenus motioned for them to accompany him out of the barn-like structure and across the courtyard. Dusk was settling over the compound. The warm air seemed to vibrate with distant humming sounds that resembled the night calls of birds and insects. Archer rubbed his bare forearms and quickened his pace until he was walking alongside Sejenus.

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

Sejenus shrugged.

“I wondered if you could find out what happened to our friend. We had to leave him behind this morning, and we want to make sure he’s all right.”

“I will make inquiries. I can almost guarantee that he has not been injured—provided he was sensible enough not to put himself in harm’s way.”

“That’s kind of what I was worried about.” Archer quickened his pace to keep up with Sejenus, who seemed to be hurrying along the dirt path. “Actually, I’m a little surprised we’ve been treated as well as we have been. You—and whoever else—could have made things a lot worse for us.”

“Torture would rather defeat the purpose for which our Mistress has retained you. Haven’t you realized yet why you were brought here, and how fortunate you really are? Unlike some of the others who were auctioned off in the market today, the two of you will never be mistreated, neglected, or used as beasts of burden. Instead, you will provide pleasure—perhaps even receive it. Things could indeed be much worse for you. You might try being grateful as well as surprised.”

They soon reached another wooden structure, this one stocked with agricultural equipment: shovels, rakes, and wooden pails. As they entered the open doors, Archer glimpsed shadowed figures moving around in the recesses of the space.

When Sejenus suddenly veered to one side, leaving him and Trip alone in the middle of the room, Archer realized his mistake. The moment he tensed to defend himself, rough hands grabbed at him from all sides, forcing him to the floor. A powerful hand on the back of his neck prevented him from looking around, but behind him he heard Trip struggling with attackers of his own.

“Damn you,” Archer barked as the harsh wooden floor bit into his bare flesh. His curse trailed off in a gasp as several pails of cold water were suddenly emptied over him. He continued to struggle, to no avail, as what seemed like a tiny army of Sejenus’ minions began to scrub at him with brushes and rags.

“Be sure to get that disagreeable human smell off them,” Sejenus said, standing to one side while other slaves hurried forward with more buckets and cloths. “This will be their first night of service. I will take it as a personal affront if they fail to exceed our Mistress’ expectations.”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Less than an hour later, his skin pink and raw from his scrubbing, his hands bound in front of him with a strip of metallic fabric, Trip found himself standing in entirely different surroundings. He’d been more than a little nervous when the deluge from the water buckets had stopped, and the captain had been unceremoniously dragged off in a different direction, but at least now he could be reasonably certain that they weren’t being disinfected for the stew pot.

The room he stood in now was clearly intended for civilized living. Soft tapestries cushioned his bare feet and adorned the walls around him. Tall fern-like plants bowed from ornately painted vases. Overall, it seemed like the kind of place where one would normally wear more than a grimace and a little sweat—but Sejenus’ lackeys had succeeded in wiping even that off him. The sweat, anyway.

Just beyond the last pair of potted plants, a dark red curtain overlaid with thick gold ropes and tassels hung from floor to ceiling. With a grunt, the guard who had accompanied him shoved him toward it, causing him to stumble.

“Watch it, piglips,” he muttered just before he blundered through the curtain with his head down and his tied hands thrust in front of him. Gravity overtook him in mid-step and deposited him on his knees in a second room, much smaller and darker than the first.

Rocking on his heels, he squinted up into the shadows and waited for his eyes to adjust. Suddenly, he saw a tiny flame ignite a few yards ahead of him. Next, a circle of light spread slowly around the room, followed by a delicate floral scent. Incense, he suspected—or perfume.

The circle of light grew stronger, wider, as a series of candles was lit in sequence. Gradually, the yellowish glow—and Trip’s mesmerized gaze—traveled along the supple curves of a long, bare, and unmistakably feminine, arm.

“Stand.” Her voice skimmed over his bare skin like fingertips, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Come closer.”

He did, moving awkwardly, kept just off balance by the near-darkness and his bound wrists. She was lying on a heap of pillows, surrounded by a half-circle of scented candles, lighting them one at a time with a long, flexible wand. The sheer orange fabric of her robe rippled and shimmered like she was made of flame, too.

“I remember you,” he said. “You were there this morning—watching.”

“That’s correct.” Extinguishing the wand, she slipped it into a waiting jar at her side and placed her hand on Trip’s interlaced fingers instead. With gentle but steady pressure, she guided him back into a seated position beside her. “I’m pleased that you noticed me. Things were a bit…hectic then.”

“I guess that’s one word for it.”

“Of course, I noticed you, too. That’s why you’re here. You were purchased for me—as a reward for my years of devoted service to our Mistress Venda.”

Trip shook his head in wonder. “Back home they usually just give you a gold watch.”

“You talk of your home.” She smiled at him, running her fingers along the bonds that held his wrists together, toying with the knot. “Tell me about it.”

“That would take way too long to explain,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s just say it’s a long way from here—wherever ‘here’ actually is.”

“You can tell me as much about it as you want to.” One final flick of her nails and the loosened cord dropped onto the pillow between them. She then reached up and peeled away the robe that covered her. “After all, we have the whole night.”

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Though he knew his fight was useless, Archer felt every muscle in his body strain to the breaking point as he struggled against the rough hands that pushed him to the floor. Sweat poured between his shoulder blades as he tried to twist his arms free and roll back onto his feet. The creatures that had dragged him into this oddly silent and deserted room were much larger and stronger than he was, however. Held in a facedown position, Archer could do nothing but tense up as his wrists and ankles were lashed together.

The boar-like creature grunted out a command that was linguistically unintelligible, but the gist of it was clear enough.

“Go to hell,” Archer shot back. For a moment he saw stars when one of his captors rapped his head sharply against the polished stone. Another kicked him roughly in the side, driving the breath from his lungs. Ugly rumbles of laughter spread through the guards as they closed in around him. A heavily booted foot came to rest on the center of his back, its touch deceptively light. Gritting his teeth, his cheek pressed flat against the cold stone floor and his hands growing numb from his tight bonds, Archer steeled himself for more abuse.

Suddenly, the guards fell silent and began to back away. Someone else had come into the room, Archer realized. He had a good idea who.