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"Payment" - Part Five
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 Five: T’Pol leaned back and tried to focus her mind into first level meditation, which would allow her to remain aware of her surroundings while still gaining some benefit from the discipline. Tucker pretended to ignore her while working on his terminal for a while, as crew members went back and forth through the engineering area. On the far side of her mate’s desk, the throbbing vertical column of Defiant’s massive warp core glowed pulsing with raw power. Power to shatter worlds like her own. T’Pol flickered a glance back at Tucker and surreptitiously tested her bonds. She could easily snap the cable ties one at a time. But each one would make a loud sound. To free herself she would need to break all six of the ties holding both arms, then grab the one around her neck and break it loose, all before Tucker had time to grab a weapon. The collar alone wouldn’t stop her. But at maximum power it could certainly slow her down. Better to wait for a more opportune moment. She settled back against the fencing and relaxed again. “Smart choice,” Tucker told her without looking up. “You never would have made it.” She glared hatred. Like Sato, she had underestimated this man. When the Pon Farr came upon her, T’Pol was caught completely by surprise. Once Phlox had determined that the microbe she contracted presented no danger to the rest of the crew, and she had refused his offer with revulsion, he had simply released her from decontamination and wished her luck in finding a partner with a sadistic grin. With almost no time left to choose she had selected Tucker. He had previously expressed interest in her. He was an officer, but low enough in the hierarchy not to pose a threat to her position. He was not a bridge officer, and in the entire time he had been on Enterprise had never made any attempt at assassinating Archer, his direct superior. Therefore he was weak and afraid. He would be easily controlled and ideal for her purposes. She had seriously miscalculated, she realized ruefully. Tucker was obviously a strategist rather than a tactician, or perhaps both. T’Pol remembered the Human’s most ancient textbook of warfare, and its advice, “Use humility to make them haughty... Take them by confusion.” There was even a Human toast that she had see used once, in one of their crude dramatic presentations - “Confusion to our enemies!”. This was a time for her to re-evaluate her position and consider her options. If Tucker had already known about the bond, even before her capture, then he must have been studying the Defiant’s database almost as intensely as she had. There was no way to predict how much information he had gathered, nor how much of it he had already put to use. She should definitely wait and gather more information before she decided on a course of action. He had been ready to let her die. The thought kept returning for some reason. Logically, it should not have bothered her. She had been planning for his death during the uprising. In fact his guess had been uncomfortably close to the truth. She did not specifically request one of her allies to kill him for her, but she had expected that he would save her the trouble by getting himself killed in the fighting. And why not? She owed him nothing. He had certainly enjoyed himself during her Pon Farr. And he had betrayed his promise afterward, negating any debt of gratiude that she might otherwise have felt. Sato’s words came back to her. “That pitiful blind fool actually had affection for you, the imbecile.” He had refrained from reporting her to Archer, even after she had caused him to be falsely accused and sent to the agony booth. T’Pol resolutely pushed all other considerations out of her mind and settled into the meditation breathing patterns. She sank slowly into the fugue state that would settle her emotional turmoil and clear her thinking. He was her mate. It was an inescapable fact. There was no way that any Vulcan could deliberately harm their own bonded mate in cold blood. Instinct would never permit it, any more than it would permit a Vulcan to refuse their mate when in the grip of Plak Tau. She might have been able to force herself to stand by and allow him to die in a fight with her allies. And even that thought had sickened her. But to do it herself? With her own hands? No. It would never happen. Tucker on the other hand, could and most likely would kill her if she provoked him. All he would have to do is arrange for his people to drug him, and then remove the sensor from around his neck while he was in the coma. At least her death would be swift when the collar exploded. She would have to prepare her escape carefully. She did not expect to get more than one chance.
Ensign Campbell kept careful watch in his peripheral vision. Tucker was still busy in his cage, doing something with his Vulcan concubine. “Must be nice,” he thought enviously. “If that’s the kind of perks our new Empress passes out, I am going to like this administration.” Rostov was on the other side of the huge room, at the top level of the catwalk. He had his back turned, making adjustments to the port coolant feed regulators. Everyone else was occupied with doing their jobs and had their heads down like good little worker bees. Hess was less than a meter away and focused exclusively on the monitor in front of her. Campbell felt a brief pang of real regret. Hess was a looker, and not hard to get along with either. He was going to miss her. But there was no way to avoid it, she was his direct superior. She had to be eliminated, and he had to do it himself. When Anna turned her head to make an adjustment on the far edge of the console, Campbell drew his dagger and struck at her back in one flashing stab. Hess saw a distorted reflection on the surface of the console make a sudden jerk, and at the same time she heard a shuffle of feet shifting position. Conditioned reflexes pounded into her during those 0400 practice sessions that Trip had insisted on saved her life. Instead of a direct stab into her lung, the dagger skittered across the back of her ribcage and bounced off her backbone. Hess used the momentum of her spin to provide the energy she needed to deflect Campbell’s blade arm to the outside line, counterstriking with stiffened fingers at his eyes. He flinched and ducked back, giving her a clear shot at his kneecap, which buckled with a satisfying crunch when her foot landed hard against the inside corner of it. Crewmen started running from all directions to watch the show. Campbell shifted his grip and got ready for another strike, knowing he had only a few seconds at most to finish the job. If Hess wasn’t dead by the time Tucker arrived, Campbell would be. The Commander couldn’t do anything about it if he had already succeeded in his attempt. The rules of assassination were clear. But if he fumbled the job, if he failed in his attempt, then he was dog meat and nobody would do anything but laugh at his incompetence as he died. As Campbell shifted to bring his intact knee to the front, Hess drew her own dagger and struck. Her blade swept across the space between them like a hummingbird wing, raking over Campbell’s fingers and severing the tendons in three of them. He hissed in pain and jerked back. Hess grin snarled and advanced one pace, with her blade held up and ready for either another slash or a quick stab. Anna saw Campbell fumbling to switch his dagger over to his left hand. She took advantage of the distraction to push forward relentlessly, stabbing and slashing, driving him backward in growing fear. Campbell finally got his knife switched and made a wild swing in desperation, trying to force Hess to back off. She ducked low and came up underneath with a quick jab, piercing his forearm halfway between wrist and elbow. Blood started pouring out in a steady stream and panic flared in Campbell’s eyes. With his right leg and right arm disabled, and now his left arm weakened, he was in serious trouble and knew it. So did Anna. The slice across her back burned like acid. But it was only a flesh wound and no real danger. From the way blood was pouring out of Campbell’s arm, she must have at least nicked a vein. She had won. He would eventually bleed to death from that wound alone. All she needed to do now was wait. Tucker ( “Trip” ) had coached her again and again on the importance of patience. “Glory doesn’t do a corpse any good, Kid.” He had smiled at her and she stopped breathing, fighting to keep her face calm and attentive. “Don’t worry about showing off or getting fancy. It isn’t who wins first. It’s who WINS.” “Nice work, Anna,” came from behind her. By the old emperor’s withered jewels, he had come to watch her victory. Hess felt her heart start singing with joy and pride. Campbell’s eyes switched to look over her shoulder and met Commander Tucker’s ice blue stare. Animal terror blazed in his eyes and he gasped at the vision of his death. “Nice form.” Rostov ambled around from behind the commander and took his place in the circle of watchers, pursing his lips and hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Not too smart, was he?” “Dumb as a rock,” Tucker grunted in disgust. “It’s up to you Anna. But if you are willing to consider letting him live, I would surely appreciate it. We are short handed as it is. I just sent in a request to Travis for more personnel. I’d hate to have to send in another one right away requesting a replacement. It might make me look bad.” Hess would sooner disembowel herself with her own fingernails rather than refuse Tucker anything whatsoever. “Of course, Sir. He’s all yours.” She stepped back with a gracious nod. Tucker gifted her with an impish grin that made her knees weak and stepped forward to take charge of the situation. “Perez, slap a tourniquet on that fool’s arm before he bleeds to death,” he ordered in annoyance. “Thank you, Sir,” Campbell managed weakly while Ensign Perez roughly knotted another one of the ubiquitous cable ties around his arm, wringing it down with a small spanner until the blood flow slowed to a trickle. Tucker snorted. “You’re busted back down to able crewman,” he told the pale and trembling Campbell. “Midnight shift scut work. That means plumbing and recycling maintenance, and any other nasty, stinking job they can find that nobody else wants to touch. And you will continue grubbing shit and garbage,” he paused and interjected forcefully, “with your bare hands whenever possible,” then his voice returned to its previous peeved tone, “until Anna here decides that you have groveled enough, and kissed enough ass, to be permitted the privilege of moving up to scrubbing Jeffries tubes. Understand?” “Understood, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Campbell weaved and almost fell over. Perez reached out and grabbed his injured arm, stopping the fall but provoking a tiny howl of agony. “Drag him out of here and see what leftover science tech they have manning sickbay these days,” Tucker told Perez. “The rest of you, listen up!” The surrounding members of the engineering crew turned to pay attention to their commander with attentive expressions. Tucker seldom addressed them as a group, preferring to lead by example and personal contact. On the rare occasions when he did make an announcement, it was always important. “You all know the rules of the game as well as I do.” He looked around from face to face, assessing the expressions he saw. “If you can take them out, you can take their job. That’s the way the law was written when the empire was founded. Personally, I think it’s a damn fool way to operate and a piss poor waste of talent. But nobody asked me. So as long as you operate inside the law I can’t do anything about it, and I won’t try.” He paused for effect. Then he raised his voice, punctuated his next words with a pointing finger. “But. If you take your boss’s job you better be able to handle it. I can’t stop you from trying. But if you can’t handle it, and you screw something up it’s My Ass that the empress is going to come after. So don’t even think that I won’t come down on you like a hammer.” Tucker paused to look at Hess, standing at his elbow. “Like Campbell just now. He thought he could take Anna. I’ve never seen such a fool. If we weren’t short handed I would transfer him to Security where he belongs.” Spontaneous laughter broke out for a few minutes, lightening the tension. Tucker let it run its course while he watched his people carefully. At the right moment he resumed, “Even if he had won, I would have had to kill him before the first shift was out for incompetence. None of you are ready to step into Anna’s shoes. Rostov is the closest to being ready, and he’s not even up for it. Thing is, he’s got sense enough to realize it.” “Thanks, Boss,” Ensign Rostov told him cheerfully. “I really appreciate it.” More laughter. Hess flushed and looked at the floor to avoid revealing too much. “That’s all I had,” Tucker finished. “Just keep in mind. You wanna move up, you better remember that even if you go up a grade you still have to answer to me. And I am not gonna cover your ass because you got ambitious before your time.” He turned and walked away, leaving his people to return to their jobs and discuss the day’s excitement. “Anna.” She felt his gentle hand on her arm and hoped the shiver would be interpreted as reaction to her wound. “Let’s get you patched up. Rostov,” he called the ensign over and handed him the collar controller. “Watch the Vulcan. If she tries to get loose, hit both buttons at maximum power and leave them there until I get back. If she keeps fighting use one of the big wrenches. Don’t kill her and try not to break any bones if you can help it, but don’t let her get loose no matter what you have to do. And remember above all not to let her touch you.” “You got it, Boss,” Rostov took the controller and marched off toward the office with a grim expression. Hess shot a murderous stare at the back of T’Pol’s head where it was visible against the grating around Tucker’s office area. “You should get rid of that,” she whispered. “We still have the drugs. Everything is ready to go. Keeping her around is like kissing a scorpion. She is just waiting her chance and you know it.” Tucker chuckled and guided her between two of the main catwalk support struts and into the storage area along the outer wall of Main Engineering. “I know.” He keyed in a rapid sequence of letters and numbers into a keypad and a recessed door slid aside, revealing a narrow corridor. Tucker lightly pushed Anna ahead of him and turned to close and lock the door behind them. He double checked that the sensor baffles were still active before following her down the hallway. The door at the end slid aside to reveal a small storage room full of medical equipment. Two biobeds had been broken out of their containment crates and set up for operation, along with associated diagnostic equipment. Supply cabinets were newly stocked with 23rd century medicines and medical equipment. “Have a seat and let me look at that scratch,” Tucker ordered. Hess obeyed self-consciously, hopping onto the nearest biobed and unfastening her uniform top with a crimson face. “No need to take it off, Anna,” Tucker tried to reassure her, “Just loosen it enough so I can get a clear look at your back.” Hess chewed her lip and stared at the wall as Tucker hm’ed and hissed. “Brace yourself, this might sting. I don’t know if it will or not, it just says antiseptic on the label.” She nodded and felt a cooling spray across the length of the cut. “Didn’t hurt at all,” she told him, shivering again when she felt his hand on her back, steadying her while he activated another piece of equipment. “This is supposed to be an improved wound sealer,” Tucker explained quietly, standing close enough that she could feel his warm breath brushing across her shoulder and neck. “I’ll be as careful as I can.” “Not a problem,” she told him. “It doesn’t... feel bad at all.” “Good,” he told her briskly, switching off the instrument. Tucker stepped back with a smile. “Good as new. Did you get your shot today?” “Yes, first thing before my shift started. Did you?” She watched him put on a sheepish look. “I got sidetracked,” Tucker admitted. “I will do it right now.” He walked over to one of the cabinets to replace the wound sealer, and selected a hypospray along with an ampoule. A quick hiss emptied the medication into Tucker’s arm, accompained by a wince. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. Mission accomplished.” He winked at Anna and disposed of the spent hypo. Searching for something to prolong this time alone with him, Anna mentioned, “Rostov told me that the tumor is going down.” Tucker turned his head quickly. “Is he sure?” His eyes lit up hopefully. “He says he is,” Hess replied. “He also told me that he is starting to see color again in his left eye. Not much, kind of washed out and only the bright primary colors so far. But definitely coming back.” “How about you?” Tucker stepped over eagerly. “How are you feeling? Any differences?” She glanced away. “I... uh... yeah.” He waited. “Well?” Tucker urged impatiently. “It’s a female thing,” she told him wryly. “Something that wasn’t working right is working right again.” She decided not to mention the lump. There was no reason to worry him. Not only had it stopped growing, she was willing to swear that it had shrunk to half its former size in the past several days. A slow smile spread over his face. “It’s true then,” Tucker breathed. “The medical database was right. The drug cocktail really does repair radiation damage.” “Even genetic damage,” she reminded him. “According to the medical texts. Whoever these “Bajorans” are, they really must know their stuff when it comes to treating radiation exposure.” “If I ever meet one, I don’t care if they look like a Klingon targ, I swear I am gonna kiss ‘em right on the mouth,” Tucker declared. Anna giggled and slapped his arm playfully. They left the improvised clinic smiling. “Whoops,” Tucker stopped in mid stride. “Almost forgot something. He ducked back into the clinic while Hess watched him curiously. In a moment Tucker returned, slipping two new hypos into his pockets. “Might need these. Let’s go.”
Rostov walked into the enclosure with the controller in one hand and a steel club in the other. T’Pol watched him warily. The Human stopped to look at her without expression before sitting down at the desk. “He told us what you did to him.” The words were clear and emotionless. T’Pol made no reply. “Not feeling sociable?” Rostov flipped the pain switch to mid-level power and triggered it on and off quickly. T’Pol, caught by surprise, twitched slightly but made no sound. Rostov smiled. “I recognize this. Guards use these at the Lunar mines to keep prison laborers under control. A friend of mine worked there for a while, he said they have a lot of fun with them.” Rostov thumbed the pleasure adjustment to minimum and switched it on. T’Pol held herself steady. She took a slightly deeper than normal breath and let it out slowly. Then she turned a glare on her presumptuous Human tormentor. “What will Tucker say when he finds out you have been playing with his property?” she sneered. “Ah, the Boss won’t mind,” Rostov said dismissively. “He’s a good guy. Only command officer on the ship that gives a rat’s ass about anyone but himself.” Rostov grinned at her, displaying his broken teeth. “That’s why he’s the only one of the old command officers that’s still alive and holding his position.” “What about Reed?” T’Pol tossed back. Rostov laughed in reply. “Reed?” Rostov snorted and chuckled again, shaking his head. “Never mind. Too complicated for your feeble little Vulcan mind to handle.” He moved the pleasure adjustment up to one third power and watched T’Pol’s muscles tighten. “You like that? Be nice and I will give you more.” Rostov watched with satisfaction as her jaw muscles tightened. He turned the pain setting up to maximum. Then with a quick flick of his thumb he switched off the pleasure toggle and activated the pain setting. T’Pol jerked and gasped. Her hands clenched into fists and her back arched, forcing the binding around her neck to dig into her throat. Both of her arms strained against the bindings that held her against the mesh. In a moment she got her breathing under control and settled back into the chair, sending a murderous look across the room. Rostov kept a bland expression on his face and left the pain setting on maximum for several seconds. T’Pol’s breathing steadied and she firmed her lips, rapidly gaining total control. He grinned, pushed the pleasure toggle to maximum, and snapped the setting from pain back to pleasure again. T’Pol started shaking and jerked upward in the chair, breaking the cable tie around her right shoulder and scraping blood from the neck binding. A tiny squeak escaped from her throat. Then her feet slipped and dropped her back into the chair, still shaking. She managed to raise her head and bare her teeth at Rostov. “I. Will. Kill. You.” “Already tried that, remember?” Rostov replied airily. “You thought you would steal this Human built starship of Earth registry and use it to conquer the Terran Empire. Didn’t work, did it? You thought you would murder Commander Tucker too, didn’t you? Your own bonded mate, as I understand. He saved your life, and what did he get in return? Did you try to help him out of that radioactive hellhole? No way. Not you, Vulcan. Instead you tried to murder him and get him out of the way. Which I believe makes you an outcast and a pariah among your own people if it ever gets reported, doesn’t it? According to what I read anyway, the penalty for betrayal of one’s mate, either male or female, to their enemies is death by either lirpa or Tal Shaya, depending on which method the judges prefer to have the executioner use.” T’Pol tried to lunge forward, brought up short by the bindings. Her throat started bleeding, as did her wrists. She was still shaking from the collar’s transmissions, and her teeth were starting to chatter from the combination of neural overload and impotent rage. Rostov watched for a moment longer. “Commander Tucker gave me strict instructions you know,” he informed her. “He told me that if you tried to break loose I was to set both of these controls on maximum, hit both buttons, and leave them there until he got back.” Her eyes flew wide open and she started to shake her head. “No. No. Ple-” He hit the second button and she screamed. TBC |
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