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"Payment" - Part Six
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 Six: “I figured I better turn it off, Boss,” Rostov explained, handing over the controller, “when she passed out.” Tucker took the unit with a stone face. T’Pol sagged in the chair, held up by the cable ties that pinned her arms to the fencing and looped under her chin. As he watched, her eyelids started to flutter weakly. He noted the broken tie at her shoulder, and the abrasions at her throat, evidence to support Rostov’s contention that she had tried to lunge out of the chair at him. He gave a secret sigh. He knew better, but what choice did he have? Tending Anna’s wound was a priority, and Michael was the only one on his crew that he could trust not to kill the Vulcan on general principles. It would have been too much to ask that he hold back from harassing her. “Good enough,” he said gruffly. “Finish up with the coolant regulators. Then run a full set of diagnostics on the transporters.” He gave Rostov a significant look. “You remember what we talked about?” Rostov kept a blank expression. “Sure thing, Boss. I remember everything, you know that.” He grinned. “I’ll get right on it.” Tucker settled into his desk chair with a tired exhalation and waited for T’Pol to finish regaining her senses.
Her Imperial Majesty Empress Hoshi Sato the First was getting tired of dealing with bureaucrats. She settled back into the center seat on Defiant’s bridge and spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “I see, Minister Norot. So the Emperor refuses to speak to me? How quaint.” The balding, muchly-wrinkled face on the view screen scowled. “Quaint? Lieutenant, you seem to have no conception of the trouble you are in.” Sato pulled on her lower lip and shook her head sadly. She spun the captain’s chair around and spoke to the ensign manning the communication console, “Do you have the coordinates, Baird?” “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “They are transmitting from a point in the Himalayas. From the strength and distortion of the signal, I estimate that they are twenty kilometers underground.” Sato turned back to examine the old man who had been designated to negotiate with her. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Hutchinson,” she snapped. “Yes, ma’am,” the officer on duty at the helm console responded crisply. “Lock phase cannon on the coordinates that Baird sends you. Prepare to fire on my order. Full power.” “Yes, your majesty.” Hutchinson got busy and Sato smiled gently, watching her conversation partner’s face undergo a rainbow of color changes. She half turned her head. “Baird, pipe this to view screens all over the ship. I want my crew to have no doubts about my lawful right to rule. And broadcast it on all channels throughout the system. Send it out on maximum power. Override standard channels.” “You can’t do this,” Norot was blatantly sweating. “Even if your weapons can penetrate this deep, which I doubt, we are protected by force shielding and polarized plating equal to the strongest battleship.” Sato snorted in amusement. “I would have preferred,” she told him in a gentle purr, “to kill my predecessor in a face to face confrontation, thus maintaining tradition and minimizing collateral damage. Unfortunately his cowardice has made that impossible.” She looked at the helm console. “Fire.” Twin fangs of hellfire hissed down from Defiant’s hungry jaws and bit deep into the heart of Earth. Stone trembled, than cracked, crumbled, and ran like water. Down through soil, subsoil, and bedrock the phasers bit. Gouging deeper and wider with each meter, mercilessly disemboweling the helpless planet below in search of their prey. “Status?” Sato asked idly, holding Norot’s gaze with her own. “Penetration 0.8 kilometers, ma’am,” Hutchinson replied. “Estimate contact with the former emperor’s hideout in 24 seconds.” Sato smiled. “Former emperor’s hideout?” She laughed. “You have a rare talent for buttering up, Hutchinson. Let me know when we hit them.” She pressed a button on the arm of her chair. “Empress Sato to Engineering. Give me a status report.” “Commander Tucker here your majesty. Everything looks good down here. All systems read high nominal. Power drain is well within standard tolerance. You can keep this up all day without straining anything.” Travis, standing in his typical position next to the turbolift with his arms folded, raised one eyebrow in an almost Vulcan expression. He glanced around the bridge and noted general expressions of gloating satisfaction. Hoshi, however, seemed to take it in stride matter-of-factly. He let his eyes caress her briefly. She always kept it together. Even in bed, she never really let go. He wondered, for the thousandth time, what was really under that facade. “Contact,” Hutchinson announced. “We have hit the force shield around the-” He paused. On the viewscreen, the picture became interlaced with dark streaks and static. Minister Norot grabbed the comm. in front of him for stability as the floor beneath his feet started bucking and shifting. Pieces of ceiling began falling all around him. “Correction,” Hutchinson continued, “we have penetrated the force shield. Cutting into the plate shielding like it was butter,” he added cheerfully. Minister Norot shouted something unintelligible just before the screen went black. Ensign Baird announced, “The signal has terminated ma’am.” “Arvon?” Sato glanced to her right. Lieutenant Arvon’s fingers flew over her console as she stared into her hooded viewer. “Scans indicate that the entire complex has been destroyed ma’am. No life signs. No energy readings. Nothing left intact down there at all.” Sato sat back and said nothing more. Hutchinson glanced back for a second, then hurriedly returned his eyes where they belonged. The bridge crew sat quietly for a moment before starting to fidget uncomfortably. Finally Travis strolled over to the big chair. “You are still firing the phase cannon,” he reminded Hoshi. She gave him a look. “I am well aware of that,” she told him in an airy tone, but with an edge in her eye. He stepped back and shut up. “Status, Hutchinson?” The helmsman swallowed. “Current depth 46.4 kilometers. Increasing at a rate of 0.5 kilometers per second.” “Continue firing,” Sato ordered coldly. He acknowledged the ordered in a subdued voice. A minute later Lieutenant Arvon announced, “We are nearing the point of penetrating the Mohorovicic discontinuity. If we continue firing we will soon penetrate the Earth’s mantle, releasing a lava flow. In effect, we will create an artificial volcano.” “Precisely,” Sato said smugly. “He may have been a coward, but he was emperor. Even a cowardly emperor deserves a proper tombstone, don’t you think?” Arvon swallowed, then swallowed again. “Ma’am.” She took a deep breath when Sato turned her chair to look directly at her. “Begging your pardon ma’am.” She hated the way her voice shook, “And with all due respect. The pressure released will be enormous. This will not be any typical volcano ma’am. It would be more on the order of the release from a major asteroid strike. We could cause significant damage to the entire planetary ecosphere.” “Your concern is noted, Arvon,” Hoshi told her. She spun the chair back to face front again. As the lieutenant turned back to her viewer, thankful for her escape, she heard Sato add, “That took guts, Arvon. I won’t shoot you for doing your job. But don’t get cocky.” She cringed and kept her mouth shut. “Baird,” Sato ordered, “Give me a close up view of the firing zone.” The viewscreen lit up with an orbital view, rapidly zooming in to show the charred and molten cauldron of the target area, still being stirred by the phaser beams. Suddenly the center of the molten material bulged upward and splashed violently. “We have pierced the discontinuity,” Arvon announced. “Magma is rising fast. Explosive eruption in less than eight minutes.” “Cease fire,” Sato ordered. “Ready tractor beam. Full power, widest possible spread. Be ready to spread a roof over that thing. But don’t activate it yet.” She leaned forward in fascination. “I want to see what this is going to do.” The lava rose higher with each passing second, spraying like a fountain from the floor of hell. The pool spread out, creeping along the ground, filling nearby valleys and climbing slopes like an obscene amoeba. Then everything blew sky high. Literally. “Activate Tractor Beam!” Hoshi shouted. Hutchinson’s hands flashed for the controls and smacked down on the buttons. In the time it took Hoshi to see the explosion and react with a command, the column of searing magma shot skyward a distance of ten kilometers. Between the time that the order left her lips and Hutchinson managed to react, it rose another seven kilometers and began to spread out into a mushroom formation. By the time the Defiant’s tractor beam was fully engaged, the eruption had reached a maximum altitude of 23,000 meters and was putting out several times as much energy as the early atomic weapons. Debris spread out in a swirling inverted cone and rode the prevailing wind currents of the upper atmosphere across Asia and Europe, carrying ash and poisonous gas into the most densely inhabited regions on the planet. The raging fury of damnation unleashed was met and balked by a countering fist from the heavens. Defiant’s tractor beam impacted the top of the lava plume and caused it to clump together. The frigid remnants of atmosphere at 23 kilometers cooled the molten rock quickly, forming it into a rough dome shape with a jagged bottom. Defiant began trembling with the effort of holding back the wrath of Mother Earth’s vengeance. Sato appeared to ignore it, leaning back and asking idly, “Arvon, how high is Mount Everest?” Arvon, caught flat footed by the non sequitur, took a moment to reply. She eventually came up with, “Uh. About 8,850 meters, Ma’am. Just roughly.” “Close enough,” Sato smiled. “Hutchinson, adjust the tractor beam down far enough to keep the eruption from spreading beyond the immediate area. As the outflow builds up, gradually allow the height to rise to 10,000 meters and hold it there. Notify me when it reaches that level.” “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. Sato spun in her seat, giddy with adrenaline. “Arvon, how long will it take for that volcano to cool down?” The lieutenant swallowed hard. “It might take a long time, Ma’am. We drilled a straight shot down directly into the mantle. With a clear path like that and no diversions or obstructions, it might take... years?” “Well,” Sato pondered the matter. “That’s not acceptable. We have other things to do besides sit here and baby sit my new mountain. Put your mind to work and figure out some way to plug it off, will you? I will be in my ready room.” She stood up and left at a brisk pace, gesturing Travis to follow. He grinned, shook his head, and obeyed.
Tucker was on the catwalk above her, monitoring plasma flows with a worried frown. For a brief time she was unattended. Not that it did her any good. She had no intention of trying to break free. Even if she wanted to, her arms and legs were still too weak and uncoordinated. If there was any way to avoid it, she was never going to feel the power of both settings on that collar at the same time again. T’Pol had never imagined anything like it. Not even the Plak Tau had come close to it. In her lifetime she had been beaten many times, kicked, raped, electro-shocked, stabbed, phasered, poisoned by Le-Matya claws, burned, starved, thirsted, picked up and thrown. But nothing had come close to what had happened to her when Rostov set both of those triggers to maximum and activated the switches. She bit back a whimper at the memory. T’Pol gritted her teeth and tried to shift her focus outside of herself. The main viewscreen in Engineering was half the size of the one on the bridge, but it was easily big enough to let her see clearly from where she sat. The destruction that Sato had inflicted was still burning horribly bright. At least she had ordered a tractor beam now. Perhaps Defiant could contain the devastation to a limited area. How could anyone, of any race, do something like this to their own planet? Only a Human could conceive of something so obscene. If Sato was willing to do this to her own people, was there any limit to what she would be willing to do to T’Pol’s? She had to get free. Failing that, she had to destroy this ship. Footsteps coming down from the catwalk announced Tucker’s return. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the bond. He was mildly concerned, but neither fearful nor angry. The ship must be in good condition. The minor trembling she felt earlier had stopped after her mate re-routed extra power from the warp drive. The pulsing orange column still glowed hotter than it had when she arrived, evidence of the mighty forces this ship commanded. Tucker stalked grimly into the office area and sat at his desk, pulling up schematics and ordering coffee from the drink dispenser. T’Pol wet her chapped lips and croaked, “If you wish, I can obtain food for you from the mess hall.” Tucker looked at her incredulously. “Say what?” She told him tiredly, “You have invoked Vulcan law and demanded your rights as my bonded mate. I cannot deny the fact that under the laws of my people you are correct. We are each responsible for the welfare of the other. By the chronometer it is now 2.7 hours past time for the midday meal, and you have not eaten. Considering the circumstances it is unlikely that you will obtain food for yourself. Therefore I am offering to obtain it for you.” He gaped at her. Then he snorted and started choking on a strangled laugh. “Ri...iiii...ight,” Tucker gasped out. “You think I’m gonna to give you the run of the ship like Archer did? It hasn’t escaped my notice that he’s dead, Muffin.” Tucker shook his head and leaned back. “This is amazing. You honestly and truly believe that I am too stupid to live, don’t you? How do you think I survived as long as I did before you met me?” T’Pol gave it one more try. “I am attempting to comply with your wishes.” Tucker grunted. “My wishes? You think I wish to be executed by slow torture? That’s an odd conclusion.” “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, shifting slightly in irritation. “It’s straightforward enough,” Tucker told her. “I turn you loose to wander around at will. Twenty minutes later you are out of that collar and transported down to the planet. Ten minutes after that I am back in the booth again, but this time permanently.” He finished up with a determined, “I think not,” and turned back to his monitor. T’Pol sagged back against the chair. The probability of earning and then abusing Tucker’s trust anytime in the reasonably near future was dismally low. That escape option would have to be discarded. What then? Unlike her, Tucker apparently overestimated his opponents. T’Pol calculated that she would require a minimum of one hour and eleven minutes to disable and remove the collar, given proper tools and time to work uninterrupted. An additional thirteen minutes would be needed to reprogram the transporter controls to input a false destination into the buffer after she left. Without unsupervised access to certain critical areas of the ship, she could never make it work. Stealing a shuttle was even less likely to succeed. T’Pol grimly concluded that the most logical course of action to pursue was self-destruction. She needed to obtain enough information about Defiant’s engines to be able to cause an irreversible core breach. Alternatively, she might be able to access the armory and set up a chain detonation of several torpedoes. Either option would be sufficient to ensure that Defiant was never used against Vulcan or the Vulcan people. TBC |
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