|
"Payment" - Part Eight
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 Eight: “Wake up” T’Pol heard the voice distantly. Something jarred the surface she was resting on, and the command was repeated impatiently. She forced her eyes open blearily. Tucker was standing next to the mattress, holding a hypo while looking tired and dissatisfied. A Human guard, different from the one on duty the night before, stood several steps away with a 23rd century phase pistol pointed at her. “Get up and get dressed. We’ve been summoned to the Empress’s confirmation ceremony. You are not going to make us late, even if I have to drag you down there naked.” Tucker meant it, she could tell that much even without feeling it through the bond. T’Pol nodded and sat up. She caught sight of the chronometer on the wall above Tucker’s bunk and felt puzzled. “It is 11:09. Why did you not wake me earlier?” Tucker stepped back and motioned at the folded stack on the floor next to her. “Grab those and dress yourself. Stop wasting time with questions.” T’Pol noticed that the leg shackle had already been removed. She picked up the clothing and moved into the bathroom. Tucker had confiscated her uniform the day before, replacing it with fresh underwear and a simple cotton gown for sleep wear. When she unfolded the stack in her arms she discovered standard engineering crewman’s coveralls and footgear. There was one minor difference - the coveralls had fluorescent green bands fastened around the arms and legs. She recalled that normal Human vision was most sensitive to green and red. Red coveralls with bright green bands would make clandestine movement quite challenging, she considered ruefully. She emerged wearing the new clothes and Tucker barked, “Stand still.” He told the guard, “If either of her hands so much as brushes against me, stun us both and then notify her majesty about what happened.” The guard acknowledged the order. Tucker stepped forward cautiously and told her, “Raise both of your hands up next to your cheeks, palms forward.” She complied and felt him loop the wrist chains back into position as choke collars, just as they had been the day before. With the latches on top of her wrists she could not even twist her arms without throttling herself. Tucker looked faintly relieved. He backed up to his bunk, picked up the controller and said, “Let’s go.” They proceeded toward Defiant’s shuttlecraft bay following the procedure that was beginning to become familiar. T’Pol walking two meters in front, Tucker nervously followed behind her with fingers on the buttons. She was tempted to sigh. There were undeniable advantages to having the psychological upper hand over one’s captor. But this was too much of a good thing. She had apparently intimidated her mate to the point that he was willing to credit her with almost supernatural abilities. Not only was Tucker unlikely to drop his guard around her. He had also issued instruction to his subordinates that made it plain to them that she was supremely dangerous and capable of almost anything. Knowing that their own superior feared her would make it impossible to persuade any of them to consider her harmless. Under the circumstances gaining access to anything other than a bathroom was going to be impossible for the foreseeable future. Patience was her only option. She would have to cultivate the patience of Surak himself. Above all she must avoid doing anything to provoke or intimidate Tucker. She must always present herself as someone who was resigned to her fate and willing to submit. In retrospect, boasting to him about how she had used him aboard Enterprise was the worst mistake she had ever made. Had she kept her mouth shut, she would still have his trust. Or if not his trust at least some vestige of his desire that she could use against him. But she had allowed her anger and her vengeful sense of triumph to overrule her good sense. Thus were the principles of Surak, once more proven true. Her emotions had overtaken her logic, and now she paid the price. T’Pol vowed to herself that never again would she permit her logic to be overtaken by irrational emotion. In all her lifetime, whenever she had acted on emotion she had suffered for it. When Forrest lost his power struggle against Archer, she should have accepted it. Instead of attempting to free him and re-establish a failed chain of command, she should have supported Archer and worked to mitigate his hatred of Vulcans. Then if necessary she would have been in a better position to kill Archer herself. Instead she had tried to help Forrest out of misguided loyalty and earned Archers permanent distrust, while further solidifying his hatred of Vulcans. Instead of attempting to salvage Defiant, she should have worked to destroy it from the first. It would have been a relatively simple matter when she was free. But she had recoiled at the thought of taking so many innocent lives, and wasting so much valuable knowledge. And now, because she had succumbed to emotional weakness, this mighty vessel stood ready to devastate her entire planet. No. No more. She would live and die by logic alone. There would be no place for emotion in her life from this point forward. The shuttlecraft hanger was festively adorned with heavily armed guards, tastefully arranged around the perimeter of the huge open area. Tucker directed T’Pol to move into a spot at the rear of the waiting crowd of senior officers and took position directly behind her. The senators were still inside their shuttlepod, having just been permitted entry less than half an hour before. Everyone assumed parade rest and settled in for the long haul. In a case like this it was a given that the empress was going to keep them waiting a while. The chronometer affixed to the bulkhead read 12:46 when the main access whooshed open, and the five most senior military officers in the Terran Empire walked through. Admiral Consuela Martinson, the heroine of Rigil, the most decorated woman in the history of the empire; Admiral George Hiro, Fleet Commander during the Orion campaign; General Ezlas Mosala, officially credited with 178 personal kills during the conquest of Andoria; Admiral Nawaz Higgins, who had lost an arm in the battle against the final defenses of the Tellarite Confederation - yet managed somehow to retain consciousness and commanded his ships from a biobed in sickbay into victory, and; General Damien Kuchera, the most senior member of the High Command, who had led his ground forces directly into Shi’Kahr during the first wave assault of the original Vulcan invasion. Every Human present instinctively snapped to rigid attention, even before Reed had a chance to give the order. T’Pol stiffened as well, with pure blinding hatred. Only a lifetime of discipline, and the certain knowledge that she would never live to reach them kept her from leaping for the throats of the five butchers as they strutted past. Her eyes fixed on Kuchera, who had ordered the destruction of her family’s ancestral home, and glittered. Reed stepped forward and directed an honor guard in full dress uniform to escort the bigwigs to their designated viewing area. The soldiers stepped back and formed a protective wall behind the Admirals and Generals. A second contingent of guards formed a double line from the entrance to a point opposite the shuttlepod and presented arms. Two minutes later, the empress and her consort entered. The ceremony itself was brief, businesslike, and to the point. As soon as Sato was in position the shuttlepod’s hatch opened and the Administrative Council emerged, led by Senator Spirovich carrying the Imperial coronet. Fortunately the coronet was used only for ceremonial occasions and almost never left the capitol, otherwise Sato’s attack on the last emperor would have required a delay while a new one was manufactured. The senators paused briefly to arrange their formal robes with as much dignity as the situation permitted, then formed into two files behind Spirovich as he approached Sato and offered her the coronet on bended knee. Sato smirked sardonically. “Traditionally I suppose, you are supposed to place it on me. But I have never been overly bound by tradition, and I see no reason to start now. If I were, I would not be empress now, would I? I made myself empress, so I think I will symbolize that fact properly.” Travis shot her a narrow look. She picked up the coronet between her hands and raised it high into the air. “People of the empire! All here present, and all who watch this broadcast! I, Hoshi Sato the First, do hereby proclaim myself Empress of the Terran Empire by Right of Conquest! I have lawfully taken power by slaying my predecessor, as is prescribed in law! By law, by tradition, and by force of arms, I am your rightful ruler!” She held the coronet for a moment more, and then lowered it gently to her head. The senators knelt and bowed while cheering erupted throughout the shuttle bay. T’Pol’s lip curled in a rabid snarl as she heard her mate join in with the general enthusiasm. Through the bond she could feel relief and mild satisfaction from him, as if he had accomplished something. Why would this matter to him? Something was going on that she was unaware of, and it itched at her mind. Hoshi let the cheering continue for several minutes. As soon as it started to show the slightest sign of weakening she raised both arms, palms outward. The noise slowly died down. “My subjects,” she said, “my heart is warmed by your loyalty.” A wolfish grin flashed across her face for the barest instant. “And the fact that I have always been careful to reward those who help me has nothing to do with it of course,” she thought sarcastically. She looked down at the senators and intoned, “I will now accept your oaths.” One by one, starting with Spirovich, they stepped forward, knelt, and swore their lifetime fealty. Finally it was done, and she told them quietly with a smile, “Very nice. I might almost have been able to believe you meant it.” Sato looked at Travis and nodded. “If you will follow my consort, Fleet Admiral Travis Mayweather, he will escort you to an area where you will be permitted visitation privileges with your families.” None of the professional politicians allowed a trace of expression to touch their faces. They merely murmured polite thanks and fell in behind Travis obediently. Reed muttered, “You are going to have to kill them sooner or later, you know that. Hostages are not a stable way to control people.” Hoshi murmured back, “When I need your opinion I will give it to you. Now follow me.” She swept elegantly across the deck to stand in front of the High Command officers, who bowed their heads in respectful acknowledgement. “Empress,” Kuchera greeted her. “We are most honored to be invited to this ceremony.” “The honor is well earned, General Kuchera,” Sato told him, sweeping her glance over the five of them. “Well earned by all of you. I invited you here because of that, and because we have much to discuss and time is passing swiftly. Unlike the... civilians,” she coughed into her hand significantly, and several of the oldsters smiled grimly, “I am well aware that we are in the midst of a war. Whatever the propaganda machine cranks out, this insurrection is not a minor police action. It is a full blown rebellion. I am also well aware that Humans are dying. Defiant can win this war for the empire, and I intend to see that it is used to the best effect as swiftly and efficiently as possible.” Admiral Martinson bared her teeth in delight. “This is precisely what I was praying to hear, Your Majesty. Is this craft battle ready?” “It is,” Sato assured them. “However, it was designed for a crew of over two hundred. Currently we are operating with the surviving crew members of Enterprise. The ones who are left alive after the treacherous attack by the non-Humans. We have less than fifty people to man a ship designed for two hundred and forty. We can handle it. Obviously, since we brought this ship home and defeated several enemies along the way. But it is not an optimal situation.” “This can easily be remedied, Your Majesty,” Kuchera told her swiftly. “If you will deign to provide us with a list of your personnel requirements, we will move instantly to fill them.” Hoshi’s lips twisted. “Your eagerness to serve is noted and appreciated, General. I will certainly take advantage of it. However, I plan to allow some of my officers to... I believe the term is ‘cherry pick?’... at least a portion of their people. Enterprise was the flagship of Starfleet, and her crew was the best of the best. I intend to tolerate nothing less for Defiant.” “Of course,” Martinson said, with her eyes shining as she surveyed Defiant’s huge shuttlebay, and the sleek row of futuristic craft that lined the outer hull. “The Empress’s own flagship? The mightiest weapon the empire has ever seen? Nothing less than our absolute finest could be good enough to serve aboard her.” “I am pleased to see that we agree,” Sato said dryly. “In line with that sentiment, you should become familiar with my command staff, as you will be working closely with all of them.” She saw the five senior officers straighten and tighten their expressions. Hoshi was confident that she could read their collective minds, even without Vulcan telepathy. “Here it comes,” they would all be thinking, “time to play politics with the empress’s favorite toadies.” No doubt they were all experts at manipulating the old emperor’s political appointees, and felt confident of their ability to overawe the junior officers they were about to meet. She hid a grin behind her hand. If they only knew. “You have already met my consort, Fleet Admiral Travis Mayweather,” she said blandly. Some of them twitched. Kuchera took it upon himself to answer for all of them. “Yes, Your Majesty. We have indeed. A most impressive young man.” To Sato it sounded like there was a tinge of real respect in his voice. She recalled that Kuchera had risen through the ranks himself, and spent more time on the battlefield than he had in an office. Perhaps he at least was sincere. “I recommend that you cultivate a cordial relationship with Travis,” She advised them, “since most of my directions regarding troop and fleet deployments will be routed through him.” They nodded. “But I don’t intend to waste my time trying to do the job of specialists for them.” Their empress looked them over, sweeping her gaze from one end of the row to the other. “I would not attempt to perform surgery. I leave that to the surgeons. I would not attempt to rebuild a warp engine. I leave that to the engineers.” She started pacing from one end of the line to the other, then back again, like an officer reviewing her troops. Unconsciously the officers all straightened by conditioned reflex. “You people are the military specialists. You have all been doing this longer than I have been alive, and I expect you to know how to do your jobs without any hand holding from me.” She stopped in front of Martinson and looked her in the eye. “I am a specialist in communication. That is my skill, that is what I was trained in, that is what I do. I communicate. I talk to people. I listen to people. I watch people and read their body language. I interpret what people really mean based on what they say, and based on what they do not say.” Martinson blinked uncertainly. Hoshi started pacing again and continued speaking. “This is the specialty that I intend to employ to its fullest in establishing my reign. I have spent my career learning how to tell when someone is lying or hiding something. I have spent my entire life learning how to listen and understand not only what is being said, but what is actually meant.” She stopped and saw their expressions, ranging from thoughtful to a touch nervous. Sato nodded in satisfaction. “Now,” she said abruptly, “my officers.” She gestured to Reed, who strode over stiffly. “My Security chief, Major Reed.” She smiled coldly. “Major Reed is a remarkable individual. He combines in one individual a complete absence of conscience, and an amazing devotion to the fine art of inflicting pain on others. I told you that I am a specialist in communication, as you recall? Major Reed is one of the easiest people to communicate with that I have ever encountered. Pain and fear are the only languages that he understands, or is capable of understanding. But he speaks both of them fluently. In fact, he is quite eloquent.” She looked at Reed with a spark in her eyes. “It might almost be said that he is, in his own way, a poet.” Then she chuckled. No one else looked amused. Reed returned her look with flared nostrils, and then turned to regard the senior officers arranged in front of them. “Major Reed!” Sato said sharply. Reed’s heels clicked together and he straightened as if yanked upward by a string. Sato smiled pleasantly. “As of this moment, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Colonel, with all of the rights and responsibilities commensurate therewith.” Reed’s eyes widened and his mouth threatened briefly to broaden into something resembling a faint smile, but he caught it in time. Sato told him, “Return to your position.” Reed saluted and obeyed crisply, marching back to his spot with a new spring in his step. Admiral Hiro watched Reed walk away with a disapproving expression. Hoshi sauntered over and asked, “Do you have a problem, Admiral?” The old man looked her in the eye without flinching. “A problem? Certainly not, Your Majesty. But it may be that you have. Or will have, if you permit such a man to remain close to you. Much less promote him to greater rank and power.” Sato raised an eyebrow. “Reed is not stupid, Admiral. He is damaged, true. Emotionally damaged beyond repair. But his mind is intact, and he is well aware that he could never hold power in his own right. He hates me of course, as he hates everyone and everything. But as long as I continue to provide him with what he needs he will remain loyal.” “I sincerely hope you are correct, Majesty,” Hiro told her. She eyed him carefully for a moment, evaluating his tone. Then she turned her head and called out, “Commander Tucker! To me!” T’Pol felt a jolt of her mate’s surprise through the bond. He growled softly at her, “Don’t even think about moving,” before pacing slowly over to stand next to the empress. She stood perfectly still and focused her Vulcan hearing on the conversation. Tucker stopped in front of Sato and offered her a salute. “Commander Tucker reporting as ordered, Ma’am,” he said deadpan. Her lips twitched in real delight. The man was impossible. What kind of idiot had Archer and, yes, even Forrest been to think that this man was a coward? Here he stood, in front of the newly crowned empress of the Terran Empire and the five most powerful officers in Starfleet, and he still retained enough insolence to mockingly remind her about their last meeting. “Of course you are,” she jabbed back delicately, “You always obey orders.” Hoshi turned to the assembled dignitaries and told them, “May I present Commander Charles Tucker the Third, the best warp drive engineer in Starfleet and your future Imperial Minister of Starfleet Research and Development.” That snatched their attention. Martinson looked him over carefully. “I believe Admiral Black mentioned you once, Commander. He seemed quite impressed with your skills.” Her tone was neutral. Tucker looked at Sato, who nodded approving permission for him to respond. “Admiral Black thought I was a gifted mechanic, but just as disposable as any other engineer,” Tucker told her gruffly. “Since the average lifespan of an engineer aboard an NX ship was less than eight years, most of us never had the time to gain the technical background that the sons and daughters of Admirals and Generals enjoyed.” Martinson’s expression darkened. “No one forced you to study engineering.” Tucker chuckled hoarsely. “My family was poor, so I got drafted. When I got out of Basic Training they gave me an aptitude test and offered me a choice. Engineering or cannon fodder. I figured engineering might give me a bare chance at eventually working my way up to the bridge. Things didn’t quite work out that way, but this is just as good.” Hoshi couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into giggles. “Give up any hope of intimidating him,” she advised Martinson. “Forrest couldn’t do it, Archer couldn’t do it, and I can’t do it. He has been facing the certainty of a slow, painful death for so long that he simply no longer gives a damn. But his technical skills are superlative, and that is what I demand. He keeps my ship running flawlessly, and his department is the only one on the ship where I never have to deal with personnel problems.” “I have sworn my service, Lady,” Tucker told her roughly, “and my word is good.” “Strangely enough,” Sato mused, “I am tempted to believe you. If this were the Defiant’s universe, I might even be willing to accept your word. As it is we will simply have to see what develops, won’t we?” T’Pol’s eyebrows drew together. It had never occurred to her to wonder about Tucker’s background. It seemed that she had more in common with her mate than either of them had realized. For the first time she felt a hint of regret for what had passed between them. He was Human, but he was not completely unlike her after all. Immediately she forced her breathing into the proper patterns, driving the emotion into oblivion. Regret was illogical and futile. What had happened was over and done. The future was all that mattered. Sato dismissed Tucker and called up the other department heads one after another. She made a point of introducing Arvon as “the person who designed my new mountain”, which left the five senior officers at a loss for the proper reaction, to Hoshi’s amusement. After the introductions were finished, Sato spoke briefly into the intercom. A few moments later Travis returned, escorting the Administrative Council wearing grim expressions. T’Pol didn’t bother to listen to the formal leave taking ceremony. She was watching her mate, who was watching the senior Starfleet officers closely and fingering something in his pocket. The feeling she was picking up through the bond was cold and hard, like a sword blade that had been left encased in ice. T’Pol swallowed and tried to regulate her breathing.
Tucker looked down at the PADD he was holding. “Hess, come over here a minute.” Anna looked up from the junction box she was working on and trotted over with an inquiring look on her face. “What is it, Commander?” “Didn’t you tell me,” Tucker asked her, still keeping his eyes fixed on the PADD, “that your brother got assigned to the Ghengis Khan ?” Hess felt her throat dry up. “Yes, Sir,” she told him in a half whisper. “Does he know anything?” Tucker asked brusquely, still not looking up. Anna forced herself to wet her lips and swallow. “He is just out of Basic, Sir. A crewman. He was assigned three months ago.” “Well then,” Tucker finally glanced up and managed to paste a disgusted look on his face. “We better get him over here before Rotterdam has a chance to ruin him. I don’t want to have to spend six months un-teaching him Commander can’t-find-his-ass-with-a-map Rotterdam’s bullshit before I can show him the proper way to do things.” Hess didn’t know whether to faint, squeal with joy and hug him, or burst into tears. “Thank you, Sir.” Her voice cracked. “Thank...” she choked. Tucker waved his hand impatiently. “Don’t thank me. This is going to mean more work for you. Actually it is going to mean a lot more work for all of us at first. I have clearance from Her Majesty to requisition any personnel I want, from any ship in the fleet. As the Imperial flagship we have a blank check. But how in the name of Cochrane am I supposed to know the names of the best qualified people in all of Starfleet?” He complained. Hess coughed and sniffed, rubbing her nose and straightened up. “How can I help, Sir?” “You, and Rostov, and Kelby, and Massaro, and Kelly, and everyone else can help by giving me names to work with,” he told her. “Put your minds to work and think of people that you know, that you can trust. I don’t care how much experience they have. If they survive Basic, and cadet training, and then actually make it to a ship posting, I figure they must be intelligent enough to be teachable by definition. Nobody knows this ship yet anyway, we are all learning as we go. What I want are team players. You know what I am talking about.” Anna’s eyes were shining like diamonds. “Yes, Sir. Yes, Commander Tucker. I know exactly what you are talking about,” she breathed. Tucker said, “Good.” More quietly he added, “Priority will be given to relatives, and hardship cases. But keep it low key and don’t make it public. Some of the crewmen, especially the third shift, aren’t real solid. You know who I mean. We may need to replace a few.” “I know exactly who I have on my list,” Hess told him between her teeth. Tucker snorted. “Do the best you can, and have people drop into my office when they get the chance with the names.” He turned and walked back toward his desk, deep in thought. He sat down with barely a glance at T’Pol, who watched him with deep interest. In the four days since Sato’s confirmation as empress, subspace had been crowded with messages from ships proclaiming their allegiance to the new regime. Each of the Terran colonies had officially acknowledged Sato’s authority and issued the traditional invitation for her to visit. Most new rulers eventually got around to making the circuit of courtesy calls on each colony, although in some cases not for several years after they took the throne. Given the current military situation, nobody would feel slighted if she didn’t hurry about it. Tucker brought up the ancient file on his monitor that he had been studying. Most people looking over his shoulder would have been befuddled at the tangled mass of graphics on the screen. He leaned forward and rubbed his chin, reading the scribbles carefully. The schematics were scanned copies of the original designs for the NX class warp five engine used in Defiant’s home universe. Tucker had downloaded them from the archived database in order to study the basic differences between those engines, and the ones used in the empire’s ships. So far he had found several improvements in the downloaded designs. But what seriously engrossed his attention were the scribbled notes that covered the image. These graphics, scanned images of what were once paper copies, had been used as reference drawings during the design of the engine. The engineering team who constructed the prototype had made notes and corrections by hand directly on the paper. Each engineer, when they made a change to the plans, had initialed the change to identify the person responsible for the alteration. And a substantial number of the notations bore the initials C.T. Tucker sat back and took a deep breath. The database clearly stated that his counterpart was involved in the design of, and was chief engineer aboard, the first Human warp five vessel. But it was one thing to read it in a historical report. It was another, and somewhat shocking thing to see actual notes in his own handwriting. “Your counterpart was most adept at improvisation.” Tucker glanced across at T’Pol, who sat in the other chair wearing a duplicate of the ankle chain that secured her when she was in their quarters, although this chain was significantly shorter. “Yeah, he was. Among other things,” Tucker replied. For once she didn’t detect irritation or fear in his tone. Perhaps he was too preoccupied. Could she begin the task of weakening his defenses? “You been looking at this?” he inquired. “My eyesight is adequate,” she told him, “and there is little else for me to do here except observe. I deduce that you plan to copy your namesake’s work in order to gain the prize that Sato has promised you.” Too late, she realized the potential implications of her words and gritted her teeth. She had never bothered to consider Human ‘feelings’ before, and the effort left her at a serious disadvantage. But it would not serve her purpose to antagonize Tucker by implying that he was less capable than his counterpart. However, he seemed to take her remarks at face value. “Yep, that’s exactly what I plan to do. It’s the reason I’m still breathing after all.” At her puzzled look, he chuckled. “You haven’t figured that out yet? You really aren’t very slick with Human interactions, are you?” “I am not Human,” she told him with dignity. “But I have studied Human behavior for longer than you have been alive. I was under the impression that you were retained as Chief Engineer because of your skills.” Just in time she stopped herself from continuing with, “and your lack of ambition.” His lip twisted in a sneer. “They could have put Hess in. She could have handled it. No, I am a liability. I know too much. I served too long on Enterprise. I know where the bodies are buried. I remember past mistakes. I remember weak points. I am potentially dangerous. The smart thing to do would have been to dump me.” T’Pol felt the beginnings of foreboding. His words were logical. Why had she not seen this? No matter how many years she studied them, she might never gain true insight into the subtle interplay of Human social warfare. “Then you conclude,” she said slowly, considering the ramifications swiftly as she spoke, “that they kept you alive because your namesake was responsible for originating much of the basic technology on which Defiant is based?” “Now you’re getting it,” Tucker nodded in mocking approval. “Travis is nothing if not thorough.” “Travis?” Her eyebrow rose. “Sorry. I misspoke,” he chuckled quietly. “Of course I meant her majesty.” Tucker pulled in his lip and chewed on it for a moment as he turned back to the screen. “No doubt he spotted my counterpart’s name right away,” he mused. “So why not use me? It makes perfect sense. It’s so sensible that even Hoshi would have been able to see it, once Travis pointed it out to her.” “But it means,” he went on, half thinking out loud, “that I better start showing some results, fast, or they are gonna conclude that I’ve been too damaged by radiation and flush me out the hanger deck.” And Travis knew him far too well to underestimate him. Hoshi could be handled, but Travis could not. Tucker rubbed his forehead against the incipient headache. He had recognized Travis Mayweather for what he was the day that the young man had come aboard. Tucker was picking up a late lunch in the mess hall and noticed a gathering of junior crewmen around the new face. He ambled over, mildly curious, and sat down nearby. Half an hour of observation and eavesdropping told him all he needed to know. Subsequent encounters on the bridge merely confirmed it. Mayweather was a walking weapon with a razor sharp brain, and the patience of a hunting cat. Meanwhile Travis had been sizing him up in return. The two of them soon arrived at an unspoken truce, making it a point to stay out of each other’s way for the next few years. Circumstances had never required them to come into direct opposition. Until now. “Have you found anything that you can use then?” T’Pol’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. He looked curiously at her. “What do you care? You said you were ready to die for the cause anyway. I’ll tell you what. Just to show you what I nice sonuvabitch I can be. If I get any warning that they are going to eliminate me, I will make it a point to shoot you first, before Hoshi has a chance to get her hands on you. How’s that? Could you get a better deal anywhere?” She looked strangely at him. “Why would you offer this?” He shrugged. “Because I have always been a fool, all my life. I see no reason to change a winning strategy now.” He turned back to the screen, leaving her to sit and ponder the enigma of the Human male mind. The man was maddening. He offered none of the usual handles by which she was accustomed to manipulating Humans. He did not desire her sexually anymore - her own fault. He seemed not to consider her skills of any use to him. Her knowledge did not interest him. He cared nothing for her strength or fighting ability, he already had a plentiful supply of bodyguards. She had no social or professional contacts to offer him. She could not appeal to him on the basis of their past history together. He would collapse into hysterical laughter if she tried it. Nothing. She had no lever to use on him. Frustrated fury began to build, again. Once more, she turned her gaze inward and concentrated on meditation breathing exercises until she regained control. Patience. Something would materialize eventually. The essence of life is change. Her circumstances would inevitably change. When they did, she must be ready to seize the advantage. Already she had gained some freedom. Whereas before she had been bound hand and throat, now she was merely secured by one ankle with both hands free. True, the wrist shackles were still attached and could be re-fastened at any time. But her passive behavior had persuaded Tucker to permit her at least this much. If she could steal a tool of some kind, it would be short work to pick the lock of the collar. All she needed was time.
“Incoming message, Ma’am,” Baird announced. A pause, then, “From the Vulcan High Command.”
Sato snorted. “Isn’t that special? Let them wait. Go get me a cup of hot chocolate first, then put them through.” Baird stared for a second, then shook off his surprise and jumped to obey. Hoshi sipped her cocoa and leaned back indolently in the command chair. Finally she said, “Now.”
The main viewscreen lit up to display the visage of an elderly Vulcan woman. He face was deeply lined and marked with a network of pale scars. Her white hair was thinning, and pulled back into a severe bun. Everything about her appearance spoke of hard fought years. But her eyes remained bright and laser sharp. As soon as the connection cleared she inclined her head and said, “Empress Sato. I offer gratitude for this audience.”
“As well you should, V’Lar,” Sato snapped. “Considering that your people are in the process of rebelling. What do you want? Unless it is unconditional surrender, I am not interested.”
“Our planet is not rebelling, Your Majesty,” V’Lar said calmly. “Only a small portion of our people have chosen this misguided path. Vulcan itself remains loyal to the empire, and always has.”
“A worthless excuse,” Hoshi snarled. “Typical of the kind of evasive lies that traitors attempt to use to escape the consequences of their treason. The fact remains that Vulcan ships are firing on empire ships. Vulcans are killing Terrans. Therefore, Vulcan is in a state of open rebellion against the empire. You know the penalty for this treason. You have always known the penalty.”
“We know,” V’Lar did not flinch as she recited, “One hundred lives of the subject race for every Terran life lost. Confiscation and/or destruction of all ships and weapons of the subject race. Embargo on all trade with the subject race’s home world for a period of not less than fifty Terran years. Tribute to be exacted equal to ten times the value of property lost or destroyed due to the rebellion. Loss of empire citizenship for all members of the subject race found to be in rebellion.”
“Well?” Sato challenged.
“We offer surrender,” V’Lar said. “But we implore one condition out of mercy. We beg that instead of taking the lives of one hundred of our people for each Terran life, instead you take the lives of the Vulcan government officials who were responsible for allowing this outrage to take place.”
Sato paused with her cup half raised. “Are you serious? You think a few worthless clerks will make up for the Starfleet warriors that we have lost?”
“Of course not,” the old woman replied. “We offer the lives of our entire government. Starting with the Ministers of the High Command.”
Hoshi sat her cup down and leaned forward. “You are offering your own life?” V’Lar inclined her head again.
“Mine, and the other Ministers, and our Sub-Ministers, and as many other members of the government as you consider necessary. Please, Empress. Remember that the few Vulcans who have become involved in this madness entered into it very recently. Given their small numbers and short time, surely they cannot have inflicted such great harm that all of our lives will not provide adequate punishment?”
Sato pressed her eyelids together and rubbed them in deep thought. “I must consider this. I acknowledge that I did not expect this, V’Lar. Do you stand ready to comply with the remaining terms, or are you going to try to negotiate your way out of them as well?”
“We are prepared to suffer the consequences, for the actions of those few members of our society who have betrayed us all,” she said with stiff dignity. Sato shook her head.
“Have your Council of Ministers ready to meet me upon my arrival,” she suddenly said. She gestured to Baird to cut the connection and the screen went black. Hoshi hit a button on the arm of her chair and said, “Empress Sato to engineering. Prepare for maximum warp. We are going to Vulcan.”
TBC
|
Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.
Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.