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"Deadly Negotiations"
Rating: PG-13 I figured that both Stuart Reed and Maximilian Forrest must have been just as adventurous in their youth and that they knew each other. I assumed that Forrest would have had some pilot training (from "First Flight") and that Reed would have had more in common with his son than was obvious. Also, I assumed that both men would be tougher than the series made them out to be. Travis also gets to play hero, as well. Nine Travis held a flashlight directly over Admiral Reed’s shoulder as Reed continued with the reroute of the security circuits. Forrest used the time to get into the computer systems, using Reed’s overrides. It was strange seeing both men working side by side, but Travis suspected this wasn’t the first time. He tried to reconcile what Malcolm had told him about his father with what he was seeing, and it didn’t match up. “I take it you have doubts about me, Lieutenant.” Travis blinked at the curt observation. “Not exactly ‘doubts’, sir. I just don’t understand a few things.” “Such as?” “Well, for starters, I thought you were supposed to be retired and living in Kota Bharu.” Reed smirked and said, “I was, but being retired does not preclude my participation in certain operations. When Forrest asked me to accompany him, I could hardly refuse.” The other admiral snorted in derision. “It’s not like you couldn’t have refused, Stuart. You wanted an opportunity to kick Guillem Montclaire in the head for messing up your stock options.” Travis sighed and rolled his eyes. “Not you too, sir.” “I must admit the idea held some appeal.” Reed chuckled as he completed another bypass. “His father was a blithering fool as far as how he treated his son. As much a fool as people believe I was with mine.” That’s calling the kettle black, isn’t it—wait a minute. “As people believe”? That meant that the conflict between Malcolm and his father was pure fiction? That can’t be right...I’ve seen Malcolm when he talks about his dad and you can’t fake pain like that. Travis kept himself under tight rein. He had heard about Stuart Reed’s explosive temper and didn’t want to provoke it now. Either the older man was rewriting history, or there was something there that Travis didn’t completely understand. “A little to the right, Lieutenant. I’m almost done here.” “Were you an engineer, sir?” Travis asked. He decided to stick to a safe subject for now. “Earlier in my career, I had a commanding officer who insisted that we gain secondary training in another discipline. I hadn’t seen the benefit until much later. I also insisted that Malcolm do the same.” Reed’s voice became dry again. “And I hear that it vexes Commander Tucker to no end.” Despite himself, Travis laughed. “‘Vexes’ is an understatement, Admiral.” “And Malcolm has nothing but praise for you, Lieutenant. I admit that I had my own doubts when Forrest assigned you as negotiator, but I have been pleasantly surprised.” “Glad to hear that,” Travis said, his tone just as dry. “So far I’ve felt like I’ve only succeeded in stumbling into dangerous situations.” Reed straightened and reached for the panel cover. Travis took a step back at the unexpected movement. The admiral carefully replaced the panel, then got to his feet and turned to face Travis. Reed had a carefully contained look on his face, but those expressive gray eyes blazed in righteous anger. Travis suddenly knew how it felt to be under Stuart Reed’s scrutiny and understood how a man nearly a half a foot shorter than himself could be so intimidating. “You underestimate yourself, Lieutenant. I’ll not hear such words from your mouth, am I clear? You have a gift with people; use it to the full potential. My son has the utmost confidence in you, and if he’s anything like me, he doesn’t take that faith lightly.” The clipped accent made every word a sharp blow. “Do not fail in your mission, do you understand?” Travis swallowed hard; leave it to Malcolm’s dad to snap him out of self-pity. “Yes, sir.” “That’s a good man.” Reed clapped Travis on the shoulder, then turned to Forrest. “Are you finished with getting the information we need?” “Just about,” Forrest replied. “We have a problem, though.” “What sort of problem?” “From what I’ve seen so far, all of the connections directly link Montclaire to the conspiracy, but there isn’t a single mention of Tanaka. She’s a sneaky one. I think we won’t be able to nail her with anything with what we have now.” “That just means we’ll have to deal with her later, then.” Reed smirked at the future opportunity. “Let’s join the party, gentlemen. Lieutenant, how are you at hand-to-hand combat?” Travis blinked at the question, but he answered, “Fairly decent, sir. Your son’s made sure I can hold my own against him.” “Good. I may have to depend on your defensive skills.” Reed said with a nod at Forrest. “Shall we show the young man what we can do, Maximilian?” “Ready whenever you are.” Forrest popped a chip out of the computer slot and stuffed it in the breast pocket of his uniform. “Do your worst, Stuart.” “You’ve never seen my worst, Maximilian.” Reed crossed to the door and stopped by the control panel. He looked at the jury-rigged plasma torch at his hand and an evil smile passed over his face. He yanked a few stray wires and used them to attach the torch to the panel. “Take cover, gentlemen. We’re kicking the door down.” They all dove for cover. A split second later, the panel erupted in a mighty roar. Smoke and sparks flooded the room. Travis coughed and waved smoke out of his face as he pushed himself out of his crouch. A burly Orion materialized out of the chaos; Travis didn’t hesitate as he tackled the man. The Orion screamed obscenities in his ear as Travis wrestled the phase rifle out of his hands and knocked him out with it. Travis checked the charge, then looked around for both admirals. Forrest was already moving, checking the corridor ahead while Reed had disarmed another Orion and claimed another rifle. Alarms echoed through the corridor. Travis exchanged a salute with Reed. “Move out, Lieutenant!” Travis chuckled at the familiar intensity in battle and followed orders. This is crazy, he thought as they plowed their way through another corridor. Here he was, with two older admirals, fighting their way through the decks of an enemy ship. His estimation of both Forrest and Reed went up considerably. Both men were considerably fit for admirals who were supposed to be desk jockeys, but while Forrest seemed to be tiring, Reed was energized by the action. Again, Travis was reminded how similar father and son were to each other. He wondered just how long Reed could hold out on adrenalin alone. He could easily see how formidable Stuart Reed was in his younger days and how Maximilian Forrest must have been a hell-raiser himself. No wonder Jonathan Archer and he were such good friends. “Where now, sir?” Travis gasped and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Shuttle bay, five hundred meters that way,” Reed said, gesturing to their right. But they might as well as been fifty thousand meters away, for the Orions had concentrated their defense in that corridor leading to the bay. All they had to do was the hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive. These Orions were more battle-savvy than the ones that Travis had encountered on the Ragnarok; they had more to lose this time. And Travis had less firepower on his side. He glanced at Reed, who had flipped the cover off the power pack of his rifle and was making adjustments. “Get ready to run when I give the mark, lads. Ready?” “Ready,” Forrest said hoarsely. The admiral’s face was gray, and Reed himself looked a bit peaked. Travis moved to a position to cover both men, for he would have the only functional rifle after Reed’s maneuver. The modified rifle sailed through the air, detonating in the center of the defenders. The concussion rocked the deck, knocking everyone off their feet. Forrest tried to get up and Travis grabbed him under the arm and dragged the admiral forward. “Leave me behind, Lieutenant,” Forrest gasped. “That’s an order.” Travis swatted an Orion out of the way with his rifle; he used that as an excuse not to “hear” Forrest’s order. They reached the shuttle bay door and stumbled just inside the doorway. A shuttlepod sat on its pad. “Admiral, head for that pod. You’ve got the information. I’m going back for Admiral Reed.” “What?” Forrest burst out, but Travis was already heading back into the corridor. An Orion had pinned Reed to the wall and was about to give the admiral the killing blow when Travis roared and swung his rifle at the Orion, catching the Orion square in the back. Travis grabbed Reed and dragged him into the shuttle bay. Forrest had already gotten the shuttle engines warmed and rotated the pad so the shuttle was pointing out of the bay. Travis literally stuffed Reed into the shuttlepod and leaped in after him. “Hang on!” Forrest yelled and hit the accelerator without even bothering to wait for the bay to depressurize. The shuttlepad shot out into open space, leaving debris from the Orion ship in its wake. And like the test pilot he had been, Forrest banked to the left hard and reversed orientation, heading back towards Alpha Centauri. “How is he?” Forrest shouted over his shoulder. “Not good,” Travis hollered back, “but if we can find an emergency medkit, he might have a chance.” “Come up here and take the helm, Travis. I’ll look after Stuart.” Travis quickly made his way to the pilot’s chair as Forrest moved aft. He glanced down at the navigational computer and his heart leaped into his throat. They were a good five or six hours away. “I guess we’ll see how good the latest Orion engine specs are,” he muttered as he diverted everything he could into the engines. Still, it was going to be a close one. |
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