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"Payment" - Part Thirteen
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. Part Thirteen: T'Pol drew herself upward with her left arm until her face pressed firmly against the top of the cage. Her right arm, torso, and both legs hung straight downward in a perfect vertical line. She held still for exactly thirty seconds, and then allowed her arm to straighten slowly. Switching hands, she repeated the movement with her right arm and held it for another thirty seconds. Then she allowed her arm to straighten and finally dropped the few centimeters to the deck. To her intense disgust, her shoulders were registering sensations of fatigue. Slight, but quite noticeable. Two hundred repetitions of a one armed pull-up should have been effortless for her, especially under Terran gravity. She had certainly permitted herself to deteriorate into a shameful state. This was unacceptable, and rectifying the situation took top priority. T'Pol crossed her ankle over her thigh and began doing deep one-legged squats, resolutely ignoring the probing Human eyes that surrounded her. The cage that Tucker had caused to be built for her was situated near the center of Engineering, ideally positioned so that the entire shift could easily keep an eye on her. Logically, she could not fault his reasoning. Despite their recent change in circumstance, her mate still did not fully trust her. Being Human, he lacked the instinctive understanding of what sharing the parentage of a child meant to a Vulcan. She could no more harm him now than she could harm herself. In fact, it was less likely. She might conceivably be driven to suicide. But harming the father of her child was beyond her ability to contemplate. But even if he did start to trust her, it would certainly raise suspicions if he were to suddenly free her from restraints. Given her past history, an open cage with room to move around was probably the best she could hope for at present. It was certainly preferable to a leash. T'Pol forced herself into maximum effort with the calisthenics. Several of the male Humans paused in their work to watch with lascivious interest until Hess growled at them. She needed to work off the tension somehow. This situation was rapidly becoming intolerable. Every day that she had to spend away from her baby was more difficult than the last. It was unnatural, to say the least. A fetus at this stage of development was supposed to be safely wrapped in their mother's womb, being cherished by her body and mind. Not floating inside a metal container in a secret closet. Intellectually, T'Pol knew that their quarters were heavily guarded and monitored. Intellectually, T'Pol knew that her mate was sitting across the room and she would have felt his response through the bond if he had received notification of some problem. Intellectually, T'Pol knew that probability highly favored their child being quite safe and healthy. Maternal instinct bared its teeth and snarled. Intellect cowered and scuttled back into a dark corner somewhere. She wanted her baby. If she couldn't touch her baby, she at least wanted to be close enough to feel its tiny life through the walls of the bio-cylinder. The frustration was driving her to the brink of madness. & Tucker sighed and glanced over at the cage. She was seething again. I don't like it either lady, but what do you want me to do?, he thought at her. There was no response of course. There never was. T'Pol could send clear pictures and strong feelings across the bond at him, seemingly at will. But Tucker was unable to reach her at all unless she deliberately concentrated. Apparently his telepathic rating was somewhere between that of a Vulcan newborn and a domesticated animal called a sehlat, according to T'Pol. In other words, not worth a crap. He firmly resisted the urge to check in with the guards on duty at his quarters. The monitors in front of him showed everything unchanged, and frequent poking of underlings just made an officer look nervous and weak. No one knew more about this ship than he did, and he wouldn't be able to locate the bio-cylinder without a hands-on search of his quarters. The kid was safe and sound. The itching in his palms was just leakage from the bond. He shot T'Pol another exasperated look and bent back over the console. At least the upgrades to Ghengis Khan had gone well. By improving their control systems he had been able to fine tune the NX class vessel's shield harmonics, achieving the 50% increase in efficiency that he had promised Sato - along with a minor decrease in power requirements. For the phase cannon upgrade, a complete rebuild of the cannons themselves had been necessary. Fortunately Defiant had the production capability to produce the parts they needed. After the new cannons were installed, massive new power conduits had to be run from the impulse reactor to each of them. It had meant four and a half days of backbreaking labor for the entire engineering departments of both ships. But it was worth it to see the expressions on Sato's and Martinson's faces when they tested the new phase cannon on a nearby asteroid field. Mayweather, as always, revealed nothing. But Sato actually squealed with delight when a rock the size of an Andorian battle cruiser simply vaporized under the onslaught of Ghengis Khan's new guns. "Are your shields up Captain Martinson?" Sato had asked over the main viewscreen in an innocent tone of voice. Tucker, standing beside Martinson on the Ghengis Khan's bridge, had felt his gut tighten. "Yes, your majesty," Martinson had told her. "As per standard procedure during weapons testing." "Good." Sato had smiled brightly. Then she turned to her helmsman and said, "Lock phasers on the Khan. One third power. Five second burst. Fire." Tucker winced despite himself at the look of shock on Martinson's face. An instant later the NX warship rocked violently as she was smacked by twenty-third century firepower. "Well, Tucker?" Sato gave him a flat look. "Did your shield upgrades work?" Tucker was already bent over the engineering station, checking in with every department on the ship. In a moment he straightened up to attention. "Yes, your majesty. All shields are still at full strength. No damage reported" He hoped urgently that the beads of sweat on his forehead could not be seen from the view screen pickup. Tucker shook his head and came back to the present. The royal enthusiasm over her new battle toys had distracted Sato from asking questions about any other modifications in the NX engine room. Just as Tucker had intended. Operating under his instructions, Hess consulted with her brother Eric and brought him a list of potential recruits. Tucker had pulled one of the younger lieutenants aside for a brief but sincere conversation. He offered him a choice – a position as the new chief engineer on the NX battle cruiser, with the full support of the third most powerful man in the empire - or the airlock. With the example of his former supervisor's corpse in front of him to focus his attention, the medication to cure to radiation damage in his fist, a disassembled replicator in storage, and new shielding for the warp core - along with the promise of additional technology in the near future - it didn't take him long to see the wisdom of pledging his loyalty. Rostov later assured him that careful bribes and arrangements had been made to ensure that the Ghengis Khan's new chief engineer was constantly under observation. Any suspicious activity would result in immediate termination with extreme prejudice. It was the best he could do for now. Later he would have to go back and solidify that situation, hopefully by placing people that he had personally trained. But for now it was imperative that he provide the imperial couple with some proof of solid progress if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders. He glanced back at T'Pol to see her doing a one arm handstand. Tucker shrugged and went back to studying the details of the warp core diagnostic sub-routines. Before he could reproduce this engine, he had to fully understand how to operate and maintain it. & The approaching footsteps were unmistakable. T'Pol flipped over to her feet and waited calmly for Hess to slide the tray under the door. Although the controller for her collar was in Tucker's possession, she had been strictly ordered to maintain a minimum 1.5 meter distance from the door while being fed. It was T'Pol's fixed intention to convince her mate that her attitude had changed, and obedience was an important part of her plan. The Human eyed her warily as she pushed the tray of food roughly through the gap under the door, causing her plomeek soup to slosh over the edge of the bowl and upsetting the tea mug. T'Pol made no complaint, merely squatting to re-set the mug before all of the tea could escape. Hess snorted and started to turn away. "Has my mate eaten?" T'Pol asked mildly. She noted with carefully hidden satisfaction the way Hess's shoulders tightened at hearing Tucker referred to this way. Hess half turned and growled, "None of your business, Vulcan. Eat your slop and be quiet." "It most certainly is my business," T'Pol retorted. "You speak with typical illogic. My life depends on his, and he has been neglecting his health significantly of late. He skips meals, and he is working entirely too many hours." Hess half stumbled and spun again, this time completing the turn to face T'Pol. "Like you care?" Anger darkened the Human woman's face. "Missing a few meals won't kill him." Hess sneered. T'Pol repeated patiently, "Again, my survival depends on Tucker. I am not concerned that he will starve. Rather, I am concerned that sleep deprivation and lack of proper nutrition may impair his ability to function. With Cole plotting against him, and Sato placing high expectations on him, it is important that Commander Tucker be fed and maintained in optimum condition. Otherwise he could make mistakes. In this situation, mistakes might prove fatal." Hess paused and her brows pulled together. She opened her mouth briefly, then closed it and marched off. T'Pol sat cross-legged and started eating her evening meal with contentment. It was agreeable to find that her mate's techniques were quite effective. Hess, her rival, would consider the matter and realize that T'Pol was correct. Tucker was working too many hours and was not eating properly. Since Hess was devoted to Tucker, and desired to take him for her own mate, she would inevitably embark on a campaign to persuade Tucker to delegate more and pay more attention to his health. If necessary, Hess would recruit other members of the engineering crew to assist her. By recruiting Hess, T'Pol was able to turn her rival's own affection for T'Pol 's mate against her. Thus, Hess would soon be using all of her abilities to persuade Tucker to spend more time alone in their quarters with T'Pol, where Hess would not interrupt them. And where T'Pol would be able to maintain closeness with her baby. T'Pol sipped what was left of her tea and considered the complexities of Human strategy. Most intriguing. & The comm buzzed, interrupting Travis in mid word. He suppressed his irritation and pressed the switch. "Yes?" "Admiral? We have a subspace hail from Captain Martinson." "I will take it here in the Ready Room," Hoshi instructed her. She transferred herself from Travis' lap and settled into the captain's chair just in time for the screen to clear. Captain Martinson's albino complexion grinned out of the monitor in Defiant's ready room. "Your majesty, you ordered a report on field tests of the new upgrades? I am happy to report that they perform as well in battle as they did in testing. We encountered a triad of Andorian hunter scouts an hour ago. They had no idea what hit them. It was beautiful." Hoshi lounged back in her chair like a lazy cat and glanced over at Travis. "Do you have recordings of the fight?" Mayweather wanted to know. "Of course, admiral," Martinson assured him. "I knew you would want to examine the data, so I sent a compressed packet along with this transmission. We also collected samples of the debris for in-depth analysis of the damage. As soon as that is complete we will forward the results as well." "Good, do that," Travis told him. "For now, give us a summary." If possible, Martinson's grin got even wider. He absently brushed the silver hair back from his forehead and began, "We dropped out of warp at the edge of the Cagara system. Recent intel indicated a possible rebel base on the fourth moon of the second gas giant, and Starfleet Command ordered us to make a recon. The three scouts were waiting for us when we passed the inner edge of the asteroid belt." He stopped and chuckled. "They came at us from behind – two from below and one from above, in a standard triangular flank attack." Travis mused, "Hunter scouts are over-engined for their size, if I remember correctly. Dual forward disruptor cannon. An ordinary NX class would have been in serious trouble." "Yeah." Martinson's grin disappeared for a moment. "We would have been, if it weren't for those shield upgrades." His lips quirked back up. "Anyway, they opened fire simultaneously. Even with the new shields we took some slight damage, but nothing serious. Our gunner locked on the upper scout and fired once.... no more scout. Just shreds and shrapnel." Martinson closed his eyes and savored the memory. Hoshi cleared her throat and his eyes popped back open. She gave him a significant look and he hurried on. "Once the first scout had been destroyed, the other two split off in different direction and started evasive maneuvers. We pursued and smashed one enemy effortlessly. At which point the other turned and tried to ram us." He paused, obviously about to reveal something big. "The scout ship locked in a collision course and dove after us at full impulse. My gunner scored a hit on their port nacelle, which deflected their trajectory slightly. But there was no time for a second shot, and no room to evade. They struck our ventral hull with a glancing impact at 0.83 impulse." Hoshi leaned forward tensely. "How much damage?" she demanded. Martinson snorted. "Interior furnishings were torn loose. Some minor injuries from crewmen being tossed around. We lost grav plating for two decks. And the showers went out in the enlisted crew quarters when the main water line burst. Oh, and we had seven. Count 'em, seven, sections of hull plating that needed replacing." "After a direct hit from a hunter class scout ship?" Travis felt his eyebrows climbing. "No wonder you were smiling about those shields." "By the way, your majesty," he told Hoshi, "If Commander Tucker is lonely for some feminine companionship, I am fairly confident that every unattached woman on the Khan is eager to make his acquaintance." The grin returned. "I overheard a couple of my bridge crew talking. With his scar, they didn't think Tucker was too handsome the first time he came over. But now they think he might be the prettiest thing in the quadrant." Hoshi giggled and Travis chuckled. He told Martinson, "I'll pass that along to him. But it will be some time before he gets the chance I'm afraid. We need to get every other ship in the fleet upgraded. He might be just a little bit occupied for a while." "What about the rebel base?" Hasho wanted to know. Martinson waved a dismissive hand. "Easy meat." "Well done, Captain Martinson. Keep up the good work." Hoshi smiled brightly at him. "You and your crew have earned your Empress's approval. I am ordering commendations for all of you." Martinson stiffened to attention and saluted. "We live to serve!" & The Kumari drifted silently under cloak. All non-essential systems were powered down – both to avoid attracting attention and to minimize interference with their monitoring equipment. Despite having a recently installed cloaking field, courtesy of their Romulan 'allies', Captain Shran had ordered the Kumari into the cover of a debris field. It was a leftover patch of material from the early days of the universe that had somehow escaped from a nearby nebula. But it was useful for offering concealing shadows. Commander Talas interlaced her fingers and leaned back in her chair as she listened to the subspace conversation between the Human ships. She watched with resigned patience as her husband prowled around the bridge, opening and closing his fists angrily while the Human captain boasted of killing three Andorian ships and one of their strongholds. When the Humans laughed Shran's antennae darkened to midnight blue and he nearly smashed his fist through the guardrail. She could see his lips moving while he cursed silently, but he made no sound to contaminate the recording. Once the transmission ended he cut loose. Talas nodded tiredly and waited it out. When her husband finally ran out of breath Talas asked, "So how do we kill this Tucker?" He pulled up sharply and looked at her, his anger being pushed aside by the prospect of something useful to do. Just as she had known it would be. "He's impregnable aboard that new flagship," Shran started pacing again. Talas sighed and got up to pour him an ale. He took it absently and let her push him into a chair without really thinking about it. She got herself a glass and sat down across from him while he continued thinking out loud. "The more scans we take of that monstrosity, the more I am tempted to believe that it really did come from some future time. No race in known space could have crafted that thing. Not even the Xindi." "Speaking of which..." Talas started to ask. "No." Shran sighed. "No chance. We sent envoys. We showed them. We literally showed them pictures of what the Terrans were and what they had done here. We proved to them that if they don't act, sooner or later they will have to fight the Terrans when they move into Xindi space. But they are too arrogant to see the danger. They truly believe that they can defeat the Terrans on their own. So they see no advantage to helping us now. Their Council voted unanimously against us." "And the Klingons are too busy tearing themselves apart over their own squabbles," Talas said in disgust. "So that leaves us with the Romulans. Lucky us." She looked at Shran. "You know they are just Vulcans who smile when they backstab you, instead of keeping a straight face while they insert the knife. How long will it be before they turn on us?" "Not until the Empire is too weak to offer serious resistance to their invasion," Shran assured her. "And by that time we will be fortified and ready to defend our own territory. They will be too busy subduing the Humans and the Vulcans to bother with us for at least two generations." "You hope," she told him with a straight look. "I hope," he agreed. "But right now hope is all we have to cling to. With these new upgrades, even hope is starting to look thin. We have to eliminate this Human engineer, this Commander Tucker, before he has a chance to make any more improvements. Somehow we need to smuggle a surgically altered Vulcan operative aboard. But how?" "Never work," Talas dismissed it with a hand wave. "Even if we could smuggle someone onto that ship, which we can't, their scanners would spot a Vulcan instantly. You think they are going to let anyone but Humans on that thing? Not likely." "If we could only get a Betazoid to work with us," Shran said wistfully, and took a sip of ale. Talas winced. "After the Terrans found out what they could do, I doubt there are a hundred thousand Betazoids left in the galaxy. The few that are still alive are keeping their heads down and passing for Human. Who can blame them?" Shran sighed and nodded. "But we need a volunteer. Someone who can easily be altered to pass for Human. And we need to arrange for them to get close enough to Tucker for a suicide strike." He rubbed his forehead in pain and took a deeper gulp of ale. Talas said thoughtfully, "Remember when that NX was here? They sat next to Defiant for five days. Transporter activity between the ships was almost constant." She gave him a significant glance. "Yes..." Shran straightened hopefully. "If they repeat that process, especially if they start doing more than one ship at a time, who would notice one more technician suddenly working in the NX engine room?" "Then, when Tucker comes over to work his magic..." Talas trailed off and saw Shran start to smile. "Now all we need is a volunteer." He said thoughtfully. "There will be no lack of volunteers," Talas told him confidently. "With all the fighters we have whose entire families were destroyed by the Humans, I'm sure we won't lack for someone willing to die as long as he can take a ship full of Humans with him." TBC |
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