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"Future Present, Future Past" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 I wanted to put Bernhard Mueller in here somewhere and Volley graciously gave me permission (just this one flashback, Volley. I promise. And I didn't change him much :) He's still an Armory man.) He appears in the one scene. And speaking of other characters, I resurrected Hawkins, the MACO who died under Malcolm's command on the Xindi Sphere. He's Nate Kemper's Second in Command here. In Trip’s flashback, he stumbles over an emotionally difficult (and upsetting) discovery on Tellar, something that gives a clue to where his "dark emotion" (i.e. suppressed anger) comes from. Thanks to Ladyhawke Legend for the beta...I really appreciate it:) Thanks, Pesterfield. I've decided to stick with the numbers. :) Eight Captain Hoshi Sato’s Personal Log: April 3, 2155 The past 3 days have been a nightmare. There’s no other word for it. It’s bigger than the migraine the size of the known Universe (Bryan’s agreed with me there). We’ve been tracking the enemy ship for the past three days with no sign of them slowing down or stopping. Each time we accelerate to pass their speed, they match it and even surpass our best speed of Warp 5.2. Phlox is attempting to squeeze a little more from the engines, but even with his expertise, we can’t maintain it for long. Of course, that means that the enemy can easily outrun us if they wanted to, but they’ve refrained so far. Why? Both J.T. and Travis think they’re leading us somewhere. It might be a trap. I tend to agree, but we need to get Trip, Malcolm and Matt back. Columbia needs her captain, and Enterprise needs her chief medical officer and Armory Officer. My mind keeps spinning...what is the enemy doing to the three of them? Both Matt and Trip have some training to resist coercion, but I’m not sure how much Malcolm has received. Malcolm can be incredibly stubborn, but even stubbornness has its limits. I can only hope they’re all right and holding on until we can get them back. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life, but I must stay strong for them...and the rest of my crew. Communications Officer Jonathan Archer’s Personal Log: April 4, 2155 Captain Shran’s squadron rendezvoused with us two days ago. Colonel Gral’s squadron and Minister T’Pau’s battle group arrived yesterday morning. Needless to say, there were plenty of hard words and posturing from all of them. Bryan’s resisted blowing Gral, Shran and T’Pau out of the sky...thank God. I’ve managed to weasel a compromise among the Andorian, Tellarite and Vulcan forces. We’ve divided the Allied squadrons evenly between Columbia and Enterprise. I made a big deal about the random selection by lottery, to reassure everyone that there was no underhanded sneakiness involved. I think Trip would have rolled on the floor with laughter at the rampant paranoia. But I think it’s Divine Intervention that put Shran’s Kumari and Gral’s H’wande in Columbia’s group and T’Pau’s Surak in ours. The Universe has got to be laughing at us. J.T. is about to check himself into the loony bin, I think. Even his legendary patience is getting strained. And now that the politics have been (grudgingly) put aside, it’s time to focus on more important issues. Trip, Malcolm, Matt...we’re coming for you. Hang on. “Mayweather to Captain Sato.” Hoshi forced her bleary eyes open, then sat up in her bunk. The glowing numbers of her digital clock read: 0430. Too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep. It wasn’t as if I was getting any sleep anyway. She pushed away the remnants of her nightmares and hit the intercom button. “Sato.” “Captain, our ‘friends’ are slowing down and varying their courses. Looks like both ships are heading for a rendezvous with each other. Science officer T’Lurah on the Surak’s sent us information about three different star systems on our path. Looks like we might be running headlong into trouble.” She was instantly awake. “Tactical alert, Travis, and advise the rest of Alpha Fleet. Status report on Columbia and Beta Fleet?” “Commander Daniels confirms that the second ship is also cutting speed. Captain Shran and Captain Gral have both put their squadrons on high alert. It sounds like Major Kemper and Lieutenant Hawkins convinced both of them to agree to a loose defense plan.” “Hawkins? Isn’t that Kemper’s second-in-command?” “Yeah; he and Bryan’s been chewing a lot of intership comm time, but Bryan likes him and they’ve managed to convince Minister T’Pau to join in as well.” Hoshi smiled sadly. “I think Trip would be proud of his protege, when he finds out what Bryan’s accomplished. All right, I’ll be up in a moment.” By the time she stepped out of the lift, the Bridge was the center of tense, but unhurried activity. Lieutenant Trace was at the Tactical Station, holding a conversation with Minister T’Pau, Captain Shran’s Tactical Officer Komrek, and Captain Gral’s Security Officer Knet. Hoshi sneaked a sideways glance at the young man; she made a mental reminder to give Trace a recommendation in his file, at the very least. Trace paused and saw her. “Captain on the Bridge,” he announced. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” She took the center seat from Travis, who moved back to the science station. He didn’t look like he’d gotten much rest, either, although they alternated shifts with each other. Yet she knew it was useless to order him to rest, not in this situation. He was needed. She drew her gaze to T’Pol, who sat alert at the helm. The Vulcan had been disturbingly quiet since Trip and Malcolm had been taken. Her conversations with Minister T’Pau had been little more than the barest of formalities. Considering T’Pau had been her mentor and teacher, this was a very bad sign. “Status, Ensign?” Hoshi asked quietly. “We are still on a pursuit course at Warp 4.85.” “Can you feel anything?” Hoshi’s voice was barely audible, but T’Pol heard it with her superior hearing. Hoshi saw the subtle tenseness of her shoulders. “Not anymore. He was in pain, but not anymore. I worry for him.” “Nothing at all.” It was not a question. “Nothing at all.” Crewman Rheinstein at Communications turned to address Hoshi. “Captain, message from Columbia. Their quarry has stopped dead in space.” No matter how much Trip blinked his eyes, they felt perpetually dry. His brain felt like it had been wrapped in wet wool. Although his mind felt fuzzy, his reflexes worked independent of his thoughts. It was a strange feeling, as if he was detached from his own body. But he knew enough that something wasn’t right. A weapon of strange design was placed in his hands and he disassembled—and reassembled—it as if he’d used it every day of his life. A harsh voice commanded him to shoot at a target; he scored a perfect hit every time. A pair of hands grabbed him; he swiftly broke out of the person’s grip and brought his attacker down with several well-placed blows. You are ready, the voice said. All you need is the stimulus. And a memory welled up within him, one that he had wanted to forget. “Gott in Himmel!” Trip agreed with Ensign Bernhard Mueller’s choked exclamation. He knelt by the remains of the building in the center of the Tellarite village. The ashes were still slightly warm; the ones who did this couldn’t have been too far ahead of them. “We’re probably four, five hours behind them, Bernhard. We’ll find ‘em.” Then a soft crackling noise startled him. Trip glanced at the far wall, the only part of the building still standing. Mueller had heard it too; he glanced at Trip, who nodded. They drew out their phase pistols and went to investigate. “Hey!” Trip called softly. Then he added, in his limited Tellarite speech, “You there? Friends.” Nothing. He and Bernhard made their way to the wall, but saw nothing there. Trip placed his gloved hand on the wall; still warm, for the stone retained its heat. The smell of black, oily smoke filled the small space and made his eyes water. Then he saw something among the ashes. “Hold on, Bernhard.” He holstered his phase pistol and wiped ashes away from the object on the floor. Then he realized there was more than one. Objects. Rectangular, about the size of his hand...the bent and twisted frame barely held together, the buttons melted... A datapad. It was too small for his hand, or an adult Tellarite’s hand, but... Trip stood there as realization hit him. Not for an adult, for a child...a Tellarite child... “This was a school,” he whispered, shock and horror reverberating through him. “Oh my God, Bernhard, this was a school. There were children in here...” He heard a stifled sob and looked up. The tall, broad-shouldered Bavarian leaned against the wall, holding something in his hand. It wasn’t a datapad, but some kind of carved stone toy. Mueller didn’t look at him, but his distress put a stake through Trip’s heart. “Dammit, we’re gonna get who did this,” Trip whispered, his voice harsh and angry. “I swear, we’re gonna get ‘em.” “We know who did this, and you will personally make sure they will answer to their crimes.” The voice in his head sounded confident of that. “Will you?” He answered by powering up the strange alien rifle in his hand with a wicked grin. |
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