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"Payment" - Part Eleven
Rating: R (Violence, Strong Language, Adult Situations, Brutality) Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself. A/N: I told you I would get to it eventually Asso. :) The next chapter should be slightly longer and more revealing. Part Eleven: Tucker eased the new module into place with exquisite precision. “Looks good,” he considered. “Now, all I need to do is adjust the flow harmonics at this point,” He blinked sweat out of his eyes and angled the PADD so that the dim light beneath the transporter console could hit it, “and I should be good to go.” He turned back to the circuitry above him and made a series of catwhisker fine tweaks. Then Tucker slid out from under the transporter console and started checking diagnostic readouts. He hit the comm switch at the top of the control panel. “Tucker to Rostov. How are the energy levels on deck four supplemental bypass functions reading down there?” “Everything high nominal, Boss. Are you running unusual anything up there?” “Not yet,” Tucker told him, “but I'm about to make some adjustments. The power is supposed to be killed to this board, but I don't wanna end up like Wilkinson. Just let me know if anything twitches, all right?” “Will do, Boss. I'm glued to the monitors down here.” Tucker's eyes narrowed and he pressed a series of buttons. Then he slid the transport actuators from one end of their tracks all the way to the other end. Nothing happened. Nothing lit up. The board made no sound. None of the six transport platforms in front of him displayed the slightest flicker of activity. He grinned broadly. “Everything looks good up here,” Tucker announced. “Anything show up down there?” All readouts within nominal range. No variance of any kind evident. You worry too much, Boss,” Rostov chided. “Somebody has to do the worrying,” Tucker told him seriously. “It's the boss's job. A boss that doesn't worry doesn't stay around long. I'm going to reactivate everything up here and then run an errand. Be back down as soon as I can.” We'll be here,” came the cheerful reply. Tucker swiftly re-set the console to normal status. Then he deactivated the Security bypass, which had been transmitting a serenely empty room to the monitors. Counting under his breath, he made it back into the corridor and down to the turbolift with 19 seconds to spare. “Bridge.” Tucker leaned back and waited while the streaming light flowed downward along the wall. When the car stopped he snapped to stiff attention, just in time to present a properly respectful bearing to the opening doors. Two phaser rifles looked him in the face, followed half a second later by Travis, wearing a mildly curious expression. “Request permission to step aboard the bridge, sir,” Tucker told him sharply, looking straight ahead. Mayweather's lips twitched, and he nodded, gesturing with the fingertips of one hand for the door guards to let Tucker pass. Her Supreme Majesty, Empress Hoshi Sato the First spun lazily around in her command chair and pulled on her lower lip thoughtfully. “What brought this on, Commander? Propriety? Military courtesy? From you? Come now, surely you don't expect us to believe that you have suddenly become a good little soldier of the empire.” Tucker stood in front of the lift doors at attention. “Your majesty. I am here to report progress regarding the assignment that you gave me. With respect to using Defiant's technology to upgrade Terran ships and weapons.” Travis stiffened. Hoshi sprang out of her chair like a cat leaping on a particularly succulent mouse. “My ready room. Now. Travis with me.” She snapped over her shoulder at the science station, almost as an after thought, “Take the conn.” Hoshi practically shoved Tucker through the door into her ready room. The door had barely whooshed behind them before she was demanding, loudly, “Talk! What have you got? What can you give me?” Tucker tightened his body and mind. “Majesty. Rather than attempt to duplicate Defiant immediately, which we lack the construction capability to do at this time, I have been concentrating on imitating the progress path that Humans followed in the other universe. Starting where we are now, I studied where they went next and how they got there. I figured that would be the fastest and most effective way to actually get some usable technology into battle.” Hoshi snarled impatiently, “I don't care about the dramatic build up! Just tell me what you can do!” Tucker hurriedly pushed out, “I can improve every empire ship's deflector shields by at least 50%, and I can upgrade the phase cannon output by 36%. I can do that today. Now. In three months, I can give every empire ship photon torpedoes as good as the ones this ship carries.” Hoshi stared at him for a moment. Then she started to grin. “Do that, Tucker, and in three months you will be a captain.” He bowed his head. “Thank you, majesty. You are most generous.” “You know I always reward good service, Tucker,” she told him seriously. “It is my one unbreakable rule. My people know that they always get what they earn. Good or bad, people in my service always receive the payment that they have earned for themselves. If you can truly do what you say, then you will have earned a generous reward and you will receive one. Fail to deliver, and you will receive an equally generous punishment. I am sure you understand me.” “Perfectly, Your Majesty.” Tucker kept his voice under control. “I can do this, if I am given a free hand to supervise the retro-fitting aboard the ships without interference from their officers.” Mayweather chuckled and glanced at Hoshi. She gave him a wry smile and nodded. Then she told Tucker, “Travis will ensure that you have no difficulty in that regard. The engineers and command staff on the other ships will jump when you say frog. You can count on that much. What will you need to make this happen?” “I need a ship to test the modifications on,” he told her. “Preferably an NX class, since that was the class they first used these upgrades on in the other universe.” “You mean your counterpart used these upgrades on, don't you,” Travis leaned back against the doorframe and looked amused. Tucker's jaw worked for a moment. “Yes, Sir. That is what I mean. My counterpart developed the shield and phase cannon upgrades for use on that universe's Enterprise during their war against the Romulan Empire. Originally it was an emergency improvisation that he was forced to make at a time when they were caught behind enemy lines and outnumbered. Once they had fought their way back to Human space, the modification he developed became standard on all Human warships. I dug through some of his personal notations and managed to figure out how he had done it. I am sure I can duplicate his development path.” “Why do you need to do that?” Hoshi waved impatiently. “What's the point of plodding along behind, imitating his thinking? You already know where it ends up.” “Because, my beloved and glorious majesty,” Travis interrupted sardonically, “we lack the production capability to jump directly to the end result. As I believe the Commander just said a moment ago. Before we can build another Defiant, we will have to build a shipyard capable of producing her. Before we can build a shipyard to produce her, we will need to build factories capable of producing the materials to make the tools to make the materials to make the shipyard that will be capable of making another Defiant.” He coughed into his hand while Hoshi simmered. Tucker had quietly turned and was gazing in deep fascination at the view out the port. Behind his back he heard her sigh. “All right, Tucker,” Sato's voice seemed less than pleased, but at least not enraged. “It's safe to turn around.” Tucker pasted a look of innocent incomprehension on his face and looked at her. She took one look and snorted in amusement. “I can't help it. Every time I see you put on that 'who me?' look I start to break up. It reminds me of all the times you made a fool of Archer with it.” She swayed over to him and ran a hand over his collar. “Tell me, Trip. How long is it going to take before I can have another Defiant?” Tucker winced. “I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that today, your majesty.” Hoshi smiled sweetly and asked, “Why ever not, Trip my old friend?” “Because,” he grimaced, “I am not stupid enough to lie to you, and if I tell you the truth it might ruin your good mood.” Hoshi's mouth tightened and she stepped back. “All right. Tell me the truth. No punishment for the truth.” Tucker rubbed his scar absently. “At least ten years, majesty. That's figuring that the war goes well and everything gets settled within a year or so.” He didn't look at her. From the sound of her growl, he was just as glad that he had not. “How much can you give us in one year?” Travis wanted to know. Tucker looked him in the eye. “In addition to the shield, phase cannon, and torpedo upgrades, in one year I can modify the NX class to cruise at warp 6.5. In a year and a half I can give you designs for a new warp 7 engine. In three years I could give you ground based phaser cannon that would punch Defiant herself out of the sky. In five years I can give you ground based shielding for the imperial palace that would stand up to the combined weapons from three Defiant class ships simultaneously. I can upgrade your computers by at least three orders of magnitude in terms of both processor speed and memory storage capacity, but I cannot give you a precise time frame for that. It will depend on material development progress.” Hoshi was pulling her lower lip again. “Interesting. How much of this can you do from aboard Defiant?” “I could do all of it from aboard Defiant,” Tucker told her, “but it would take longer than if I were working in a ground based design lab. Say add 40-50% to the time estimates I just gave you.” She nodded and looked at Travis. He returned a significant glance. “For the present,” Hoshi turned back to Tucker, “let's concentrate on the upgrades you mentioned. Do you have a ship in mind?” “Yes, your majesty. I would like to start with the Ghengis Khan, if that is acceptable to you.” “Why?” Hoshi shot back. She propped herself on the edge of her desk. “Are you paying off a favor, or do you want something from there?” “Both actually,” Tucker told them candidly. “Genghis Khan has some promising young technicians that I want to steal for my staff.” Hoshi burst out laughing. “I wondered if you would be open about it,” she told him. “Including Lieutenant Hess's brother, of course.” “Of course,” Tucker replied, keeping an eye on Travis and noting his deadpan expression. “I don't have personal knowledge of every youngster coming out of training. But Anna tells me he has some sense, and if he takes after his sister he should at least be trainable.” “And it will give you yet another lever to use on your second,” Travis murmured thoughtfully. “She will be grateful of course. And if she ever stops being grateful, he is a powerful hostage. And she is a hostage for his loyalty.” He glanced up and smiled. “You never stop calculating, do you?” “I'm still alive,” Tucker said simply. “While everyone who ever tried to kill you is dead.” Travis stood up straight. “I looked into your record. In training, one of the instructors took a particular dislike to you for some reason. He was found two days later in an alley behind a bar. No witnesses.” Hoshi raised her eyebrows. “How fascinating. Please continue.” She smiled. “That instructor was hated by every recruit who ever set foot inside the indoctrination center,” Tucker protested. “Your first posting, one of the senior engineering crewmen apparently decided that you were a threat. I watched the security logs of the fight. Total of 3.2 seconds. Not bad for someone who supposedly has never received any formal training beyond basic induction.” “He was clumsy,” Tucker offered weakly. “It wasn't me, it was his own incompetence.” “Using your enemy's weakness against him is the essence of successful tactics,” Travis pointed out. “Your entire career is a story of obstacles that magically collapse just before you are about to run into them, and enemies that somehow manage to trip and fall on their own blades. Quite amazing really.” Travis quirked a tiny smile that did not get anywhere near his eyes. “I've been lucky.” Tucker was sweating. This conversation was not going well at all. Mayweather hacked a disgusted cough. “If I believed in luck I would have died before I was half grown.” He took a step closer. “Why do you think I insisted on letting things slide after your people killed my bodyguards?” Tucker's gut tightened. He forced out between suddenly dry lips. “Because you know I am loyal.” This time, the trace of smile made it to Mayweather's eyes. “Loyal? Hardly. But you are one of the most intelligent men I have ever encountered. What really impresses me is the fact that I don't believe you crave power for its own sake. Something else drives you. To you, power is a tool. Power over other people is just something you use, like you use the power of a warp engine, or the power in a welder. I let your people get away with killing my guards for two reasons. First, because they deserved it for stupidity. Now, Tucker. Tell me what the second reason was. And don't say something stupid like loyalty.” “You believe that I can be useful.” Tucker held his gaze. “Give the man a prize,” Travis smiled and stepped back. “I don't believe you want the throne. If you did, you would have it by now.” “That's enough!” Hoshi sprang up, flush faced with eyes blazing. Travis turned and looked at her. Tucker could not see his face clearly from where he stood, but Sato froze in position and paled. “There are only the three of us here,” Travis pointed out. “This room is blocked, and I am tired of dancing around. For once, let us speak straight out.” He looked back at Tucker. “The chief engineer of a starship holds the life of everyone in his hands. We all know that. It astonishes me that engineers put up with as much crap as they do, considering that with a flip of a switch, anyone from the captain on down could answer with their lives for every insult they give you.” Tucker's blood ran cold. “He knows. He reasoned it out. Now what?” His mind raced at warp speed. Rostov and Hess both knew the general plan, but neither were up to speed on all details. Besides, Hess was too emotional to handle it, especially if he was killed this way. She was bound to let her anger take over. Rostov was cold enough to make it work, but he wasn't technically sophisticated enough yet. “Her majesty once said we are a breed apart,” Tucker told him tightly. “Forrest told her that,” Travis corrected him. “Archer was a blind fool, but Forrest was not. At least, not until the end. Yet he let you live and gave you a free hand to run your department however you wished.” Travis sized him up carefully while Tucker stood at attention and waited for the other man to make the first move for a weapon. “A valid point,” Hoshi put in. She wasn't about to let this conversation continue any longer without her being in the center of it. “Forrest trusted you. I have often wondered why.” “Captain Forrest knew that engineering is all that really interests me,” Tucker told her. Truthfully enough. Travis nodded thoughtfully. “Whatever it is that you are after, Tucker,” Mayweather said slowly, “I don't believe that you desire to be the one on top. Most people would call you a coward for that.” Tucker shrugged and said nothing. Travis continued, “Many people on Enterprise did call you a coward. Most of them are dead now. Either in the mutiny, or through attrition over time. Some of them passed away during unfortunate accidents that, naturally, could not possibly be blamed on you.” Tucker maintained his silence. “As usual, our esteemed engineer has nothing to say for himself,” Hoshi needled. She stepped up. “Not this time. Respond to what Travis said, Commander. Why is it that you do not desire power? Why should I not simply dispose of you and eliminate the threat you represent?” Tucker took a deep breath. “In the historical section of Defiant's database, I learned that the Terran's of the other universe preserved a larger portion of their cultural heritage through the Eugenics war than we did. Especially religious teachings.” “That's fascinating,” Hoshi said dryly. “What possible relevance does it have?” “Do you recall the children's story about Wise King Solomon, and how he cut the little boy in half to teach the two women a lesson?” Tucker asked them. “Naturally,” Hoshi snorted. “Everyone learns that story in nursery school.” Travis nodded, looking mildly interested. “It turns out that King Solomon was a real historical figure,” he informed them. “He wrote a series of proverbs, and one of them answers your question, Majesty. King Solomon wrote that it is better to be a live jackal than a dead lion.” Hoshi snorted in surprise, then broke out into real laughter. Travis chuckled softly and shook his head, watching Tucker with a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. “Get out of here,Trip,” Hoshi ordered him. “Go organize your people and gather what you will need for the Ghengis Khan.” Tucker nodded and hurried out without venturing any further comments. The remaining pair maintained a thoughtful silence for a few moments, eventually broken by Hoshi asking idly, “Did you ever locate his backup copy of Defiant's database?” “No,” Travis told her, shrugging. “It's not in his quarters of course, although we checked anyway. Most likely its broken up into several places in engineering and thoroughly encrypted. But I don't see any danger. Tucker isn't stupid enough to leak any potentially damaging information.” “You think that the jackal will stay hidden in the shadows then,” Hoshi sauntered over to the port and glanced out. “I get the impression that there was a reason for King Solomon earning the label of “the wise”,” Travis told her. “That proverb about the jackal and the lion is deeper than first glance.” “What do you mean?” Hoshi turned in surprise. “Jackal are just scavenging wild dogs, aren't they?” “True,” Mayweather admitted, “but think about it. The lion goes out and puts in the time and effort to hunt and kill. The jackal sits back and watches at ease. When the lion sleeps, the jackal slips in and fills his belly from the lion's meat. Sooner or later, the lion will face a challenge and fall to another lion, but the jackal doesn't care. The jackal will always eat well, no matter who leads the pride.” Sato made a face. “Unless the jackal happens to provoke the lion into swatting him.” “Really?” Travis grimaced. “Can you afford to swat Tucker? You need his skills to win this war. None of his staff have the technical know how and experience to handle his job, and no other engineers in the fleet owe you personal loyalty. Defiant alone can't crush the insurrection, one ship can't be everywhere at once. You need Tucker's insight into his counterpart's thinking so we can upgrade our current ships fast.” Hoshi said pensively, “He has already survived Forrest, Archer, and now me. Each time his position changed he has advanced his power and position...” “Consider one thing more,” Travis suggested. “Like you said, jackals are wild dogs. A sufficiently large pack of dogs is perfectly capable of pulling down a lion. Or a grizzly bear for that matter. Or anything else at all.”
T'Pol stared straight ahead with the impassive expression that any soldier of the Empire was an expert at wearing. Hess prowled back and forth in front of her with her right hand on the dagger at her hip. The control pad for T'Pol's collar was in her left hand, and Hess stroked her thumb lovingly over the switches without looking at them. Her tight pupiled eyes never left the Vulcan's face. T'Pol had withdrawn to the first level of meditation – fully aware of her surroundings but insulated from them. It was the only way she could maintain her control against the constant attacks that Hess had been subjecting her to since Tucker left her there at the beginning of the shift. Even through the fully opened bond T'Pol had not been able to determine for certain why Tucker had chosen to deliver her into the hands of Hess, instead of Rostov as he usually did. She had tentatively decided that it was a test of some sort. What she could not determine was exactly who was being tested. Another jab of pain shot through her. Hess never broke stride nor changed expression in the slightest degree. There was never any warning of the attacks. Naturally. Earlier, the Human had resorted to more physical measures. Yanking on her neck chain, kicking, slapping... anything that might provoke T'Pol into making some kind of overt response. Anything that might give Hess an excuse to use the knife she wore. “Why do you not kill me and be done with it?” T'Pol finally demanded. She half lifted herself by the bindings holding her wrists to the walls of Tucker's workspace and bared her teeth. “You want my blood, come and take it. Coward. Even secured as I am you fear to approach me.” But there was no danger of her killing T'Pol. Hess would cut her own throat before doing anything to endanger Tucker. “Oh believe me, Vulcan.” Hess moved in slowly. “When the time is right, I will. But you won't see it coming. You won't hear it with those misshapen ears of yours. You won't have any idea of what is happening until you feel me pulling the blade out.” Hess activated both triggers at maximum and held them there. Every muscle in T'Pol's body spasmed and then locked tight. “Enough, Anna.” T'Pol collapsed in relief. Tucker strolled through the entrance wearing a rueful expression. “I hope you two had a pleasant visit?” “Absolutely, sir,” Anna grinned. “Haven't had this much fun in years.” Tucker winced almost imperceptibly and accepted the control pad with a nod. He looked at T'Pol and shook his head. “We need a better arrangement than this,” Tucker told them. “No reason to tie up you or Rostov just because I need to run an errand. I want you to take some of this material,” he slapped the mesh partition that enclosed his work area, “and build a cage for me. Make it about two meters square, and maybe two and a half meters high. Big enough for her to have a mat to lay down on, and tall enough to stretch in, you understand? Weld a top on it from the same stuff. Then hang a lock on it that a laser cutter couldn't scratch. A mechanical lock. Let's go with a brute force approach so she can't use any fancy tricks. Got it?” Anna smiled sadistically. “Sure thing, Commander. You want me to put it out in the middle of things where we can all enjoy the show?” Tucker nodded. “Security alarms can be bypassed. There is no substitute for eyeballs. The more the better. Try to have it finished by the start of alpha shift tomorrow.” “Consider it done.” Anna turned to leave, spearing T'Pol with a look of vicious satisfaction. She made a point of rolling her hips while she sauntered arrogantly through the door. T'Pol's nostril's flared when she saw Tucker watching. His expression did not change, but the bond informed her that he was not as indifferent as he pretended. Territorial rage began to kindle. “Settle down,” he muttered to her. Tucker sat at his desk and opened a file. They sat together in habitual silence for a time until T'Pol said, “Is it your wish to continue in this manner indefinitely?” “I'm busy. I warned you about interrupting me when I am working.” Tucker reached over and stroked the control pad. “I could assist you,” she doggedly continued. He stopped and turned to look at her in disbelief. “You are still trying that one? Has that collar short circuited something in your brain?” “You know that I have skills which could prove useful to you,” T'Pol pressed onward with a hint of desperation. “It is illogical to waste such a resource.” Tucker stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “I don't know. I don't understand what it would take to get an idea into your head. What was it back down the line that convinced you I'm too stupid to find my own ass with both hands and a telescope? Despite all evidence to the contrary, you seem determined that if you just keep repeatin' the same line of foolishness often enough, I'll eventually cave. The collar doesn't seem to be getting your attention. I doubt a club would work. What will it take?” He did not seem angry, rather his tone was honestly curious. T'Pol took a deep breath and marshalled her arguments. “Will you accept the premise that I would prefer life over death?” Tucker blinked, caught off guard. “I s'pose. You never struck me as suicidal by choice.” “Will you accept that premise that my exile is genuine? And also, that because of my exile I am considered unfit for association by any honorable Vulcan?” T'Pol had to fight to keep her voice steady on this part. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That matches the database.” Sudden hope flared in T'Pol, cause by his mention of Defiant's database. Her own study of the database prior to the mutiny proved that the Humans of the alternate universe had a far more extensive and sympathetic understanding of her people than did the Terrans of this universe. Further, it was becoming obvious that Tucker regarded Defiant's database as the final authority on all things Vulcan. A reasonable position on his part, given his past experience. Therefore, all she had to do was use arguments that would be supported by the database. Any attempt at persuasion using alternative approaches would no doubt be rejected automatically. “I desire to live,” T'Pol stated simply. “My people will not have me. My choices are limited. I could attempt to escape and become a criminal outcast, thereby compounding the shame upon my family. I could attempt to escape and join the rebellion, but this would most likely result in my death.” “Oh really?” Tucker looked unconvinced, to say the least. “Why would that be?” “Because I would be assumed to be a spy,” she told him. “After failing to capture Defiant, and having been held prisoner this long in a ship equipped with advanced facilities, the rebels would not dare assume anyhing except that I had been compromised. Nothing I told them would be believed.” She hesitated and then added between gritted teeth, “Especially if the Vulcans among them discovered that I had betrayed my own bonded mate.” “Ya think that that might bruise your credibility a little?” Tucker asked her innocently. T'Pol closed her eyes in pain. “I will not attempt to minimize the extent of my transgression. Nor does my lowest opinion of you include the possibility that you would ever be foolish enough to trust me. But I could be useful to you, and it is my hope that by being useful I may eventually earn improvements in my own living conditions. Perhaps, someday, I may even regain some slight trace of self-respect.” “So you want to work your way up to some privileges, huh?” Tucker looked at her and considered. “You're going to be underfoot anyway, I guess I might as well get some work out of you But don't expect to get your hands on anything important.” “Of course not,” T'Pol said wryly. “Ghengis Khan is at the Andorian front,” Tucker told her. “Her majesty is going to summon them to a rendezvous so we can install some upgrades to their weapons and shields. You will need to come along anyway, just to keep that proximity trigger quiet in case the ships need to separate for some reason. You will be doing scut work in the engine room. Hard, filthy, dangerous, radioactive, slick, stinking work. Still want to try it?” He sneered. “Yes,” she said promptly. “You sure?” he prompted. “You might want kids someday, after I'm dead. If you spend time in an NX engine room, your kids might come out with forked tails and purple horns.” “I am certain,” she insisted. Tucker made the Human gesture of raising both hands, palm upward to indicate acquiescence. T'Pol settled back in satisfaction and began sinking into deeper meditation. It was only the smallest of beginnings, but it was a beginning.
Three days later, the Ghengis Khan drew alongside Defiant and matched courses. Captain Morgan's request for permission to dock was bluntly refused, to his obvious chagrin. Her Imperial Majesty deigned to explain to him, “Are you insane? Do you really expect me to allow a potential bomb to latch itself to my flagship? Stand by for my engineering teams to begin transporting over.” Hoshi flicked off the comm with an irritable click. “Fool,” she muttered. She spun the command chair toward the ops position and demanded, “Status, Malcolm?” “All of their weapons are powered down,” he reported with more than a trace of disappointment. “No targeting sensors active, no signs of defensive posture, no hostile activity of any kind.” “Did you really expect any?” Travis murmured from beside her chair. “Not really,” Hoshi told him from the corner of her mouth. “But I have no intention of pulling an Archer. When I die, whoever it is will have to come after me. I have no intention of inviting them.” Aloud she said, “All right Malcolm, tell the engineering teams that they are clear for transport.” Reed's always sour expression turned even more bitter at this order, but he turned reluctantly toward the comm and passed along the instruction. A moment Tucker confirmed from the Ghengis Khan that the first of the scheduled three groups of engineers had arrived. “Commence transporting second team,” Hoshi ordered. Reed emitted a screeching gasp and clutched his chest. He fell against the console as his knees buckled. Travis and the two MACO guards were holding weapons and taut as bowstrings, but there was no enemy to shoot. There was only a man slowly sinking to the floor, with his mouth working silently as he fought for breath that would not come. “Sickbay!” Hoshi hit the comm switch. “Medic to the bridge! Code blue!” |
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