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"Payment" - Part Seven
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 Seven: It didn’t take Arvon long to come up with something. The prospect of not being able to give Sato an answer when she emerged from her ready room provided a powerful boost to her creative motivation. Her suggestion had the virtue of simplicity. It also pleased Sato in that it provided another chance to show off the power of her new ship. Under Arvon’s direction, Hutchinson directed Defiant’s phase cannon to cut four equally spaced tunnels, 25 kilometers deep, around the perimeter of the bore hole - placing them approximately ten kilometers distant from the original target zone. Then, using Defiant’s targeting computers to achieve pin point accuracy, one photon torpedo was fired into each of the new tunnels. As Arvon nervously explained, sweating while Sato listened with her finger tapping her lower lip thoughtfully, “The shock waves will create supplemental fracturing in the strata surrounding the bore hole, hopefully collapsing the original fissure. Meanwhile, the additional fractures will provide alternate relief pathways for the built up pressure to escape. Instead of a concentrated stream of lava, we should end up with a widely diffused spread of lava trickling upward in a hundred different directions. Some activity might remain in the original crater, but not enough to cause global problems.” Hoshi grinned carnivorously. “I like it. Let’s do it.” To Lieutenant Arvon’s weak-kneed relief, the plan worked flawlessly. A few light aftershocks continued to rock the region for an hour or so, but overall the eruption was effectively quashed. Smoke continued to gush from the main crater however. Arvon suggested that Mount Sato would probably remain an active volcano for generations. Hoshi leaned back in satisfaction. “Nice work, Lieutenant Commander Arvon. You are now my Chief Science Officer. Don’t screw up.” Arvon grabbed the console and took several deep breaths as her head swam. “Thank you, Ma’am. I won’t, Ma’am.” Hoshi turned to Communications. “Baird, hail the Imperial Senate. Tell them their new Empress demands an audience instantly.” Eighty-two seconds later the screen cleared to show the interior of the Imperial Senate chamber. A long curved table faced the screen, holding seven elderly individuals whose dignity appeared somewhat the worse for wear. The one in the middle, a middle-aged man wearing ermine and Triaxian silk with platinum ornaments, swallowed and bowed his head. “Greetings from the Imperial Senate. I am Senate President Pro Tempore Landon Spirovich.” “I am Hoshi Sato the First, Empress of the Terran Empire by Right of Conquest,” she proclaimed with an edge in her voice. “I demanded an audience with the entire Senate. Where are the rest of you?” Spirovich shifted in his seat. “Your pardon, Majesty. We seven are the Administrative Council for the Senate. The other six hundred and forty three members are either off-world or happened to be unavailable at the moment. Since you specified an immediate audience, we were the only ones able to respond on such short notice.” Sato’s eyes glittered. “That will make my confirmation challenging, since I expect it to be completed by noon tomorrow.” Spirovich gaped and several other members started whispering to each other in voices too low for the microphone to pick up. Hoshi snapped, “If any of you have something to say, say it to me or keep your mouths shut!” Six sets of teeth clacked together in unison, and twelve eyes turned to focus on Spirovich, who looked remarkably unhappy. “Your Majesty, we will of course move with all possible speed to confirm your right to the throne. But it simply cannot be accomplished in so short a time. The minimum number of Senators needed to establish a quorum is-” “Hutchinson,” Sato interrupted him. “Lock phase cannon on the Senate building. Full power. Prepare to fire on my order.” “Please, Your Majesty!” Spirovich yelled. “Surely we can work something out!” Sato tilted her head and looked at him. “Listen to me carefully, Mr. Spirovich. And the rest of you, whoever you are. As of this moment, you are irrelevant. Do you understand me?” A collective wince ran around the table. “I don’t need you to establish my validity as Empress. Defiant will establish it for me. You see, Mr. Spirovich, with Defiant I can give Starfleet victory in this war that we are fighting. Do you understand me?” “Yes, Your Majesty,” Spirovich answered tightly. “We understand.” “Therefore,” Sato continued, “Starfleet will support me as Empress whether you do or not. With Starfleet’s support, I can take and hold the throne. With Starfleet’s support, I can smash any resistance. Including the Senate and anyone else who gets in my way. Am I making myself clear?” “Perfectly, Your Majesty.” Senator Spirovich looked glumly around the table. “We will arrange for your confirmation ceremony to take place at noon tomorrow, if that suits your convenience.” “That will be acceptable,” Sato told them. “You will be beamed up to Defiant for the confirmation of course. If all goes well, you can visit with your spouses and children after ceremony is finished.” She relished the looked of shock and fear that spread across his face. Sato pressed a button on the arm of her chair. “Empress Sato to Reed.” “Reed here.” “Have our guests been made comfortable in their new quarters?” Hoshi asked. A humorless chuckle came through. “Indeed they have.” She flicked off and turned back to the screen. “Until tomorrow people.” A quick gesture over her shoulder, and the screen went blank.
“It’s 2340, Chief.” Hess stood with her hands on her hips and glared at Tucker’s back, still bent over his desk. “You have been here off and on since 0530. Get your ass up out of that chair and haul it to bed. You won’t be worth a crap to yourself or anyone else if you don’t.” T’Pol slitted her eyes open and watched with interest. She still struggled to understand Tucker’s command style. No other department on Enterprise had operated as efficiently as Tucker’s, producing such effective results with so few personnel. But somehow, no one ever bothered to investigate exactly how Tucker managed to achieve such results. Engineering on the NX class ships was a hell of radiation, dangerous gas leaks, arcing electrical conduits, slippery floors, falling sharp objects, and other dangers. No one went down there if they could help it, or stayed longer than they had to. T’Pol had spent the day observing her mate interacting with the crew under his command. She remained constantly on the edge of astonishment. Tucker permitted a degree of casual familiarity from his people that would have earned severe discipline in any other department. According to T’Pol’s training, both as a Vulcan and as a Starfleet officer, familiarity bred contempt. Only a respect born of fear could maintain an effective command presence. Yet they obeyed him. They obeyed him without question or any indication of insolence. If anything, the personnel in Engineering appeared to obey Tucker more readily and willingly than the bridge crew had obeyed Captain Forrest. Certainly they responded to Tucker’s orders more promptly and cheerfully than her own science team had ever reacted to her orders. She resolved to spend her meditation time this evening considering the matter. Tucker snorted in amusement and turned to look up at his second. Anna’s indignation had her just one jot short of tapping her foot at him. He couldn’t stop a chuckle. Throwing down his stylus, Tucker gave up the fight before it started. “All right Anna. This can wait until tomorrow. Just don’t spank me.” “You’d start making it a habit,” she retorted. “Get out of here.” “Did anyone get that new stuff installed in my quarters?” he asked as he pulled himself stiffly to his feet. Hess sighed impatiently. “Yes. Five hours ago. Leave.” “Yesmaambossladymaam.” Tucker grinned and pulled his forelock. Hess snorted and stalked out, waiting until her back was turned to let the smile out. Tucker picked up the controller and turned to T’Pol. “Let’s get this straight up front. I’m tired. I don’t feel like games. You do what I tell you, all will be well. We go to my quarters and we both get some sleep. You give me any grief at all, of any kind, and I kick the switches and leave you on the floor until morning. Got it?” “Understood.” T’Pol told him steadily. “I have no desire to provoke you.” “Good. That makes it mutual” He stepped over to the doorway and told her, “Start breaking them, one at a time. Slowly.” T’Pol wrinkled her brow. He wasn’t even going to get close enough to cut her loose. This situation definitely presented challenges. She concentrated and started snapping the cable ties around her arms as instructed, one at a time. Each one dug into her arm painfully and snapped with a loud report. When her arms were free she took a moment to flex them before reaching up to break the loop around her throat. The effort left deep dents in her fingers. “Stand up slowly. Good. Now walk this way very slowly, don’t spook me.” Tucker back away as she approached. “Stop there. Now face the lift and walk toward the doors, keeping your hands off to your sides. Stop two meters in front of the guards.” She obeyed. Tucker asked quietly, “Lawrence. Got the shackles I asked for?” “Yes, Sir,” The left hand guard responded. She stepped forward and fastened a thick handcuff around T’Pol’s left wrist, then forced her hand up next to her jaw and looped the loose end of the chain around her neck, snapping it back on itself to form a sliding noose. The guard then repeated the procedure with the other hand. When she stepped back T’Pol was wearing two handcuffs, each fastened to a choke collar around her own throat. She could not apply more than minimal pressure with either hand without cutting off her own air. “Forward into the lift,” Tucker slumped and said tiredly. “Face the wall and don’t say anything. I am not in the mood for verbal fencing tonight.” The lift ride to officer’s quarters was a nerve wracking ordeal for both of them, for different reasons. T’Pol felt fortunate that they met no one in the corridor. It would be typical Human behavior to trip her deliberately, as soon as someone saw her predicament. The guard outside Tucker’s doorway drew his phase pistol and stepped away from the entrance as they approached. “Anything, Drew?” Tucker asked. “No, Sir.” The guard, who wore a hideous burn alongside his own face even larger than Tucker’s, spoke with difficulty due to having only half a mouth. “All clear.” “How you feeling these days?” Tucker asked him. T’Pol caught an undercurrent of something unspoken. “Good.” It was hard for her to be certain, but the damaged vocal cords seemed to brighten. “Better.” “Nice to be away from the NX, isn’t it?” Again, there was a sense of something unspoken. T’Pol’s eyes narrowed. “It sure is, Sir.” “Make sure you report for your pre-shift briefing tomorrow. Got it?” “Yes, Sir! Wouldn’t miss it, Sir!” He seemed remarkably enthusiastic. More evidence of the effectiveness of Tucker’s command methods. She really needed to study this in depth. “Once we go in, the Vulcan does not come out except by direct order of the Empress. Got that? If I try to bring her out myself, assume she has me under control and stun both of us. Then get Rostov or Hess up here,” Tucker told him. “Understood, Sir. The Vulcan stays inside, come hell or high water.” “Good man.” Tucker keyed in the door code and told T’Pol, “Inside.” She walked into total darkness until Tucker said, “Lights. Low level.” The standard Defiant officer’s cabin had been outfitted with a few surprises. A cot mattress lay on the floor next to the bathroom, with a chain attached to the wall near one end. A selection of personal items that she supposed must belong to Tucker were scattered around. “Over to the mattress,” he told her. T’Pol froze and felt her mouth go dry. “It is not the same,” she told herself. She kept repeating it, but the old fear was a chill wind that blew through her memory and froze her feet to the deck. “Move it!” Tucker demanded. He punctuated the command with a small jolt from the pleasure circuit. T’Pol closed her throat to hold in a tiny whimper and forced herself to walk over to the mattress. Controlling her breathing with over sixty years of practice, she managed to sit down with a trace of control intact and waited for the abuse to begin. Tucker stepped over and unsnapped the chains around her neck, then moved back quickly. He paced widely around her and nudged the leg iron over to her with his foot. “Lock it around your ankle.” Even now, he feared her. Suddenly the realization empowered her. She was a prisoner and a slave. But her master feared her. And rightfully so. For she held power over him and they both knew it. Arrogantly, T’Pol picked up the shackle and contemptuously fastened it around her leg. What did it matter? The power she held over him could not be blocked by steel. Tucker backed away and sat down on his bunk. He let out his breath with a whoosh and leaned back, just breathing for a minute. “The chain,” he finally told her, “is long enough to reach the head. You won’t be able to close the door completely, but oh well. Even if you get loose from it, I suggest you stay away from trying to get out through the air vents. They are welded shut, booby trapped, and monitored.” “Are you not afraid,” she sneered, “that I will attack you while you are in the shower?” “Not likely.” Tucker pulled out a hypo. “This is going to knock you on your ass after you finish eating dinner and clean up. You should be out long enough for me to get some rest. This other one will wake you up in the morning when I am ready to go back to work.” T’Pol’s neck hair prickled. She fought hard to keep her voice steady. “Would you not enjoy yourself more if I were awake?” She tried with only moderate success to inject a note of derision into her voice. “What?” He seemed honestly confused. “You have demanded your rights as my mate,” she said bitterly. “I am here, chained to a bed. I have no escape.” “No way.” Tucker looked at her. “You weren’t listening, were you? It’ll be a scalding hot day on Andoria’s south pole before I ever make skin contact with you again, Lady. I don’t know, T’Pol. I really don’t know what it would take to convince you that I have enough basic intelligence to feed myself without supervision. After what you did to me, you think I am going let you have another shot at digging into my mind? No thank you, Snookums. Not gonna happen.” She blinked. “I...” “I guess we are going to have a real problem when your Pon Farr comes around again,” Tucker sighed. T’Pol’s eyed widened in chagrin. “If what I read is right, then once you go into the fever, it will effect me too.” He looked over and saw her nod. “Yes.” She rubbed her face and looked away. “The bond will ensure that you enter the Pon Farr with me. In five years.” “I can find somebody to help me through it,” he mused, ignoring her sudden look of angry horror. “I don’t expect that will be a problem. If nothing else, I can always hire someone.” “NO!” T’Pol half yelled, rising to her knees. “That... it...” “Well what do you expect?” he asked her. “I’m not about to let you touch me. Do you think I’m crazy? But you will need somebody too. I can’t have you dying on me, can I? But if I get a Vulcan to do it, I may end up having to kill him. This Kahlifee thing is confusing, but it looks like when two Vulcan males both end up tied to the same female they usually end up fighting. Is that right?” She stared in speechless shock. He waited for a moment before going on. “I really don’t think that would be fair. I mean, why should I end up killing some guy who never did me any harm? Maybe I should just hire somebody else. Like an Orion maybe. I hear they are not too discriminating. Or a Denobulan. They will mate with anything. That might be the best option. What do you think?” “This is abominable! What you are proposing is corrupt and perverted! Only a Human would sink so low as to suggest such a thing!” She seethed. “We are bonded mates!’ “So?” “SO!?!” She screeched. “To suggest- to seriously suggest that we should deliberately arrange to HIRE replacements...” T’Pol started choking on her rage. “Why not? Tucker asked coldly. “Unless you want to die in Pon Farr? Of course, if you have someone else you would rather use, by all means let me know and I will see if they are acceptable. As long as there is no reason to suspect that you are going to kill them, or use them to kill me, I have no objection.” She froze. “What have I done?” She licked her lips and slowly said, “When the Pon Farr begins, instinct will drive us together.” “At the start,” Tucker agreed. “But once the fever gets far enough advanced, I will accept anyone since I am Human. That much has been documented in Defiant’s universe. And it says that if the Vulcan’s mate has already taken an alternate, then you will also be willing to accept an alternate rather than die. Only if I do it first of course. But that won’t be a problem.” T’Pol felt sick. “I will feel it through the bond. I will feel it when he is with her. All of it.” “Let’s get some food,” Tucker said abruptly. “Then clean up and get some sleep. I need to get an early start tomorrow.” He moved over to the dispenser that Defiant’s database referred to as a “replicator”. TBC |
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