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"Future Present, Future Past" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 I modified the ending to this chapter a little. A bit of humor to lighten things up a bit before things got too depressing. Ten “We’ve detected an unauthorized transport from one of the enemy ships, Captain Shran!” Shran frowned and looked over at his Tactical Officer, Komrek. “To where? On board our ship?” Komrek shook his head and replied, “No, sir. Lieutenant Talas’s Asahari.” Shran’s voice rose in alarm as he stood up from his command chair. “Assemble a defense team and beam them to the Asahari. Komrek, power up weapons. Helm, set a course for that ship.” “What about Columbia?” Komrek asked, even as he followed his captain’s orders. “That coward Daniels doesn’t have his family threatened,” Shran answered. “First, they take my brother, then they board my sister’s ship. If they harm a single hair on Talas’s head, they will pay for it.” The assault team materialized in the corridor right outside the engine room. With their trademark efficiency, three of them took up defensive positions while two others attached a charge to the engine room doors. A squad of Andorian defenders rounded the corner; silently, the leader dropped his arm as a signal to fire. A second later, scorching lasers pierced the air between the two groups. A minute later, the charge exploded in a mass of smoke of debris. Voices became panicked as the Andorian engineering team hammered the assault team from the ruined door. The surprise attack quickly became a rout as the Asahari’s crew defended their ship with every resource they had. One member of the failed assault team quietly eased his way to an access ladder. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and began the long climb up. The mental map of the Asahari was clear in his mind: up three levels, junction 17B, room 18532. He thought about going to the Andorians’ Armory, or the Bridge, but there were too many people around for what he wanted to do. And the worst thing to do was to make a private grudge public...at least unless it was absolutely necessary. The sound of boots on metal made him freeze in position. He controlled his breathing, ignored the trembling of his muscles, the bitter cold that bit into his skin, even under the armor. Eventually, the sounds faded away, and after a few more heartbeats, he continued on his way. When he emerged on the third level, he peered up and down the hall. This is too easy, he thought, and that immediately set off alarm bells in his head. They probably know I’m already here. Andorians ain’t stupid. Again, he felt the urge, deep within his brain, to search for his quarry, the one responsible...he remembered her words: “In war, innocents are caught in the crossfire. As a warrior, you know that, and as a warrior, you must accept that.” “Right,” he muttered under his breath. “Not if I’ve got anythin’ to say ‘bout it.” Then a soft voice rang in the silence. “I know you’re there. Come out and we’ll talk.” There’s nothin’ to talk about, he wanted to shout, but he prudently kept his mouth shut. She knew he was here, so hiding from her was useless. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor. Immediately, he saw her. Lieutenant Talas stood fifteen feet away from him, backed by a full squad of Andorian soldiers. They all trained their rifles at him; he knew if he made the wrong move, they’d get him before he could even get off a single shot. If they fired first. “Hold,” she said in that quiet voice of steel. Her squad lowered their rifles with great reluctance. Talas ventured a few steps in his direction; he responded by raising his own weapon. A stir went through the Andorians, but they did not interfere. The tall, athletic Andorian woman stared back at him with hard violet-blue eyes. She was in full battle uniform, her shoulder-length white hair tied back away from her face. She looked just like she had on that day, when he’d confronted her at the armistice talks between the Andorians and the Tellarites. Talas hadn’t changed a bit in six years: beautiful and dangerous. “Take off the helmet, Lieutenant Commander Tucker. If I am to face a fellow warrior—“her mouth curved in humor, “—at least, give me the honor of seeing your face.” Trip reached over with a hand and flipped up the visor. “Better?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm. “Much. Thank you,” she replied with the same irony. She showed no surprise at his sudden appearance; that fact made him suspicious. He thought, She knew I was comin’ and brought a little entourage with her. Fine, this’ll be as public as possible. They regarded each other with undisguised hostility. Then she said, “Why have you come, Lieutenant Commander?” His finger tightened on the trigger, causing a stir among the Andorians. “Does N’awhhae’ri jog your memory, Talas? It should.” Her eyes narrowed at the implication. “The Tellarite village? That happened six years ago, Lieutenant Commander. You come here, aboard my ship, in an enemy uniform, for a tragedy long past? I would have thought you’d forgotten by now.” “Not when you razed an whole building of schoolchildren to the ground.” “The piglets?” A touch of sorrow was under her steely tone. “I told you that your heart is too sensitive for this, Charles Tucker. You should have listened to me. They’ve used your heart against you.” Her words touched an uncomfortable chord. “I’m not weak, Talas.” “I never said you were weak. You are one of the strongest people I know. Use that compassion to protect the ones who need you now. Your captain. Your ship. Your people. Enterprise is under attack and they need you now.” Talas was convincing; he had to admit that. She had deflected the blame for her actions by turning the attention back to him. Appealing to his sense of duty and justice. Justice. He gritted his teeth and thought, Nice try. Almost fell for it. An imperceptible smile crossed her features. “If you insist in this charade, Charles, then let us settle this in an honorable fashion. This is hardly the place to do it. After all, you are one Human against fifteen Andorians in this hallway, and that is hardly...fair.” She inclined her head. “And if you’d wanted to be dishonorable, you would have shot me by now, even if meant your own death. That, at the very least, tells me that you already know what is right.” “What do you propose, then?” “A way to resolve this, once and for all: a duel. You and me, no one else.” Her eyes blazed. “And may we settle this one and for all, Charles, so we can both be free.” Trip considered that, then smiled. “All right. That suits me just fine.” “He’s where?” Captain Gral's stubby fingers gripped the padded arms of his command chair so hard that they left nail marks deep in the fabric. He grunted as a piece of debris went flying, barely inches from his face. The enemy ship in front of them fired again, striking the shields and pitching Gral out of his chair. He pushed himself back to his feet as he heard the smoke recyclers clearing the smoke on his bridge. “They’re moving again! They’re heading towards Columbia!” called his helm officer. “Concentrate all fire on the enemy’s aft shields! Force them to turn back toward us!” Gral closed his eyes and gave the coordinates from memory. Great Mother Sow, protect us all! His communications officer continued to relay bad news: Columbia and Enterprise were fighting shipboard incursions, enemy reinforcements had been detected at the edges of sensor range, and Trip Tucker had somehow ended up on one of the Andorians’s ship. The one commanded by Lieutenant Talas. Who happened to be the sister of Captain Shran. Who happened to be the one whose forces had destroyed N’awhhae’ri six years ago. Who happened to be the only one who survived the political aftermath of that Andorian/Tellarite war and was awarded command of her own ship...and a promotion. Damn Andorians! Gral clamped down on his rage. He’d been cordial to them for the sake of unity in the face of this greater threat. It didn’t mean he had to like them. They’ll kill Tucker, even if he gets his revenge against Talas. I will not stand for that, not after all he has done for my family and Tellar. “Transporter room!” “Sir!” “Can you lock onto the one Human biosign on the Asahari?” “The Asahari have their defensive shields up, Captain. We can’t get through it!” “Then find a way! Sw’he ka’henjru Tucker as’srthui’ba!” There was a shocked silence on the other end of the line. “Yes, sir! Transporter room, out!” Boras, his helmsman, cut into the conversation. “Captain, the enemy is turning away from Columbia and heading toward us!” Gral smiled as he settled back into his command chair. “Let’s show them why you don’t anger a Tellarite, shall we, Boras?” Boras turned and bared his teeth, then went back to his helm board with anticipation. Hoshi fired her phase pistol at one of the soldiers, who went down with a thud. She quickly ducked back behind the bulkhead as the return fire streamed past her face. She took out her communicator and whispered, “Now, Bryan! Let ‘em have it!” Bryan Trace and his Armory team pounded the invaders from behind. Caught in the crossfire, their forces didn’t stand a chance. When the smoke cleared, six of the soldiers lay on the deck. “Bridge to Captain Sato!” “Sato!” she shouted into her communicator. “Captain, the second group is headed toward Engineering! Commander Phlox reports that he’s sealed it off using the emergency bulkheads.” “Tell Phlox we’re on our way, Travis. Bryan?” “We’re ahead of you, Captain,” came Trace’s voice. “We’ll meet you there!” Travis Mayweather’s voice interrupted her next order. “We’ve picked up one Human biosign with them; it’s Doctor Reed!” Malcolm. Hoshi closed her eyes briefly. Malcolm’s alive. Aloud she said, “Acknowledged, Travis. We’ll get him back.” Hoshi led her group through access tunnels and ladders. She’d ordered the lifts shut down as a precaution and that had helped slow down the invasion. She kept track of the multiple conversations over her communicator: Enterprise and Surak were holding their own against the enemy ships, but Travis had detected several more on multiple approach vectors. Jon reported that the Shenandoah and other Starfleet ships were also on their way. Columbia and its Tellarite/Andorian allies had their hands full as well. It was degenerating into a full-out space brawl. So much for meeting new species and new civilizations. Hoshi winced at the thought. They’d been forced into a military confrontation...and possibly a war against unknown enemies. Not exactly how she’d envisioned her first three months of a new command. They rounded a corner and saw a glimmer of red and black. Doctor Malcolm Reed stood in front of them; a taller soldier holding him still by the arm. Hoshi froze in her tracks; she raised a hand to warn Bryan, who approached from the opposite direction. Her eyes met Malcolm’s; he looked like death warmed over, but the grey-blue eyes were unnaturally calm. Then she saw the collar around Malcolm’s neck and she widened her eyes in horror. They’re using him as a hostage! “Doctor Reed,” she said with only the barest tremble in her voice. “Are you all right?” “I’m well, Captain.” Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he went on, “They want you to order Phlox to lift the emergency bulkheads and allow them access to Engineering. If you don’t...the bomb I’m wearing will blow the ship apart.” How can he be so calm? Must be the Vulcan training, Hoshi pushed down her panic. She knew that Malcolm would sacrifice himself to save the crew; he was a doctor, after all. Malcolm tilted his head downwards, as if he barely had the strength to keep it up. She followed his gaze to his hands and saw the two signals he made with his fingers: TR SP TR SP. What does he mean? TRSP...Transporter! Her mind formed a plan. If it worked...she deliberately raised her communicator and the soldiers raised their weapons in return. “Lieutenant Trace, withdraw to Beta-three-Gamma.” “Ma’am?” Trace sounded confused. “Do it.” She switched channels, slowly and deliberately, in full view of all present. “Sato to Raymer.” “Raymer,” came the voice of Transporter Chief Grant Raymer. He sounded surprised that the captain would be calling him, instead of Phlox. “Lieutenant, enable Protocol Seven-Gamma at Juncture—“ She glanced up at the sign above the soldiers’ heads, “—E-Fifty-Three-C. Reverse power to the emergency bulkheads in ninety seconds once Seven-Gamma is complete.” There was a pause, then Raymer replied, “Yes, ma’am.” She saw the confusion on Bryan Trace’s face at the other end of the hall. Why had she asked the transporter chief to raise the emergency bulkheads? Raymer wouldn’t be able to do that; only Phlox could, from inside Engineering. Phlox had to be listening in on the conversation, and that meant...she saw the realization dawn on Trace’s face and he slowly nodded. “Step out, Captain Sato,” said the soldier directly behind Malcolm. He turned to address his men. “If this is a trick, kill her. Then the doctor and everyone on this deck.” Hoshi slowly stepped out, her arms raised to show she’d left her weapon behind. She counted down the seconds. Timing was critical here; if Raymer was a second too late... Then the emergency bulkheads went up and just as the soldiers moved towards the entrance hatch to Engineering, the one guarding Malcolm shoved him out of the line of fire as Malcolm reached up and tore the collar from his throat. “Raymer, lock onto the collar!” Hoshi yelled. A second later, it sizzled with the transporter effect. Malcolm’s protector snapped an order in his native language. Lasers from phase rifles criss-crossed the hall and soldiers fell. The hatch to Engineering flew open and struck one of the officers in the face. Commander Phlox peeked out, saw that everything was under control, reached over and slammed the hatch back shut. A moment later, the emergency bulkheads came crashing back down, once again isolating Engineering from the melee outside. “Tell everyone to fall back!” Malcolm shouted, with an edge that surprised everyone. “The officers’ armor are rigged with their own explosives!” Raymer shouted back, “Energizing, Doctor!” Two of the soldiers disappeared, and a second later, the deck tipped underneath them all and Enterprise shuddered under multiple blasts. |
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