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"Green Ice"
Rating: PG-13 PLEASE read and review. I would really like to hear what you think of this. If you have any ideas for future Switcheroo stories, please let me know. Thanks! Thanks, Pesterfield! And yeah, I made a major time boo-boo near the end of the chapter. It's fixed now. :) Nine The sound of running feet broke Trip out of his trance. He forced himself to look up at the trio of Vulcans who came through the door of the shuttle bay. All three carried a version of the powerful Syklonian blaster: short and bulky, but capable of packing quite a punch. He maneuvered himself out from under T’Pol and gently eased her down on the deck and let T’Phena down beside her. He noticed T’Phena’s eyes twitched under the eyelids; whatever had happened in that crazy mind meld had probably done some damage to her. What about to T’Pol? His adversaries stopped several meters away, but didn’t fire their weapons. Instead, the eldest of the three asked Trip in Vulcan, “Is she dead?” Trip shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what happened between them.” The man only gazed at him with an intensity that Trip found unnerving. “We must save them. Siliek, carry Lady T’Phena. Will you carry Lady T’Pol?” Trip nodded and scooped T’Pol into his arms, as the youngest Vulcan did the same with T’Phena. Siliek glanced over his shoulder at Trip and told him, “Follow me.” They rushed through the halls of the Vulcan destroyer. Trip realized that there wasn’t nearly enough crew in the corridors for a ship this size. Several sections had been roped off and walls had been blackened with soot. Trip swallowed hard; every indication told him that this ship had seen heavy action. They’d barely survived by the skin of their teeth. Sickbay was another shock. Almost every biobed was filled with injured Vulcans. A short, portly Vulcan turned at their approach and his sharp eyes instantly assessed the situation. He gestured for the group to follow him to a secluded area of Sickbay. Trip felt the piercing stares of the patients and the medical team as he carried T’Pol and laid her flat upon an empty bed. The doctor scanned both women with a single-minded precision that reminded Trip of Malcolm Reed. “There has been some mental trauma to both of them,” he said, his voice trembling, despite his obvious efforts to hide his distress. “Suvek, ask T’Nyba and Sorak to retrieve the corticostimulators. Tumek, 10 cc.’s of Loproral.” The doctor looked over at Trip, and for some reason, Trip felt an instant connection with the man. “Tell me exactly what happened.” Trip did so, as much as he could remember, which really wasn’t much. The doctor nodded as he came to the end of it. “Just as I thought. This section of space has odd qualities; I would think that an intense mind-meld would yield unexpected results. Half of the patients you see out there—“ the doctor jerked his head in the direction of the main area, “—are affected by this space. They are suffering, and it is growing worse with every hour we are here.” “Then we need to get out of this area of space,” Trip said. “We do, but the ones up there—“the doctor rolled his eyes to the ceiling, probably indicating the Bridge, “—believe we are safe here. I do not agree.” One of the medics came in, rolling a corticostimulator, “Doctor Kov?” “Yes, Sorak, Please attach the leads to Lady T’Pol. T’Nyba, do the same to Lady T’Phena.” As the doctor stepped by Trip, he paused and regarded Trip with a slight smile. “Forgive me, we have not been introduced. I am Doctor Kov, senior surgeon of the the T’Varra.” “Trip Tucker,” Trip said. He realized that Kov had extended his hand, and gingerly shook it. “This is strange...I’ve never shaken hands with a Vulcan before.” Kov laughed and Trip started in surprise. “You will find that the Vulcans aboard this ship are not typical, Mister Tucker.” “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that,” Trip muttered. He could only stand and watch as Kov and the other medics worked on T’Pol and T’Phena. The strange bond between him and T’Pol was silent; it took everything he had not to panic at the emptiness, the utter silence, that filled his soul. The terror threatened to overwhelm him, so he employed whatever Vulcan mental techniques he could. “Positive reaction from both of them, Kov,” Sorak reported. “Their neurotransmitter levels are rising, slowly but steadily.” “Good. Continue to observe their readings,” Kov answered. “Inform me when the levels reach one-plus four.” “Yes, Doctor.” Suddenly, the walls shook and both Kov and Trip stumbled. A deep bass voice came over the intercom. “Battle stations. All available hands to battle stations. We are under attack.” Siliek reached over and touched Trip on the shoulder. “Our weapons officer has been injured. Will you come with us and defend our ship?” Trip nodded. “Sure, as long as you will have me.” “Unlike our brethren, I have no issue with those who are most qualified, but not Vulcan,” Siliek said wryly. “Come. I’ll escort you to the Bridge.” This is crazy, Trip thought, as he sat at the weapons and tactical station on the Bridge. The junior tac officer stood at his shoulder, ready to assist him, if needed. When he and Siliek arrived on the bridge, the burly Vulcan in the command chair regarded them with a scornful eyebrow. Nevertheless, he gestured for Siliek to lead Trip to the weapons station on the upper deck. Siliek gave Trip a slight smile as he went to the science station. “We have a visual of the enemy, Captain Swaren,” Siliek announced, three seconds after he assumed his seat. “On screen,” Swaren ordered. The viewscreen swam into focus. Trip started at the sight of the attacker. “That’s Aegis,” he said in disbelief. Swaren glared at the communications officer. “Hail them.” The screen switched to a view of Aegis’s bridge. The person in the command chair was not Vaeben or Mnheia, but another person entirely. Trip recognized the triumphant smirk upon the face of the former communications officer. His stomach dropped; what had happened to Vaeben and Mnheia? If this woman was in command...a slow burning anger filled his gut. “This is Aendah Arrhae ir-Elehu t’Iwaain,” she said. The name caused a stir on the bridge, though Swaren made no obvious reaction. “Your ship has been severely damaged, Captain Swaren. Surrender and I will spare your lives.” Swaren snorted in disdain. “I was not informed of a change in command, Susse-thrai. Where is Enarrain Vaeben?” “Currently indisposed, as well as his lieutenant.” Arrhae answered. A slow smile came over her face. “I am in command now. This crew answers to me.” “I do not answer to you,” Swaren snapped. “I operate independently of the Tal Shiar.” She clucked her tongue at him. “Poor delusional fool. Do you not realize that the V’tosh Ka’tur is part of us now? We are all one big happy family. Soon we will initiate new members into our clans.” Arrhae’s smile grew wider. “Perhaps you will be open to negotiation, then? Give us Lieutenant Commander Charles Tucker and we will forget this ever happened.” Trip turned pale as all eyes hit him. Would the Va’tosh Ka’tur surrender him to save their own skins? Siliek and Swaren exchanged glances, then Swaren spoke. “Tucker is my honored guest, Susse-thrai, and subject to the rules of hospitality, which is more than you would ever grant him.” Arrhae nodded as if anticipating his reply. “Then you and your crew—and your ‘guest’—will die.” She nodded again. “Tak’khoi.” The screen went blank, then reformed into Aegis. Swaren scowled ad said, “Vorik, assist Lieutenant Commander Tucker. Aegis is only a transport; we can take her easily.” Then the viewscreen shimmered and two other Romulan ships came out of cloak to flank Aegis on both sides. Swaren glared at the screen as the enemy ships made a liar out of him. “Or not,” Trip muttered in the abrupt silence. Swaren made his decision. “Activate our cloaking device, Siliek. We must preserve our ship and crew.” “Yes, sir.” Siliek pushed a button and manipulated a bank of sliders on his console. The lights dimmed as everyone—and everything—on T’Varra’s bridge became lighter, more transparent. Nausea hit Trip and he swallowed hard to keep his stomach from rebelling. Even Swaren seemed a bit greener than usual. “Helm, course one-eight-zero. Get us out of this space.” “Yes, sir,” replied the helmsman. As T’Varra retreated, the Aegis and its sister ships moved to surround the Vulcan destroyer. Trip glanced down at the weapons board and was stunned to find the power levels below the bare minimum. The junior Tac officer noticed his concern. “We cannot fire our weapons under cloak,” he explained. “We have to de-cloak before we can fire. It is one disadvantage of this design.” Trip grunted and filed the information in his memory. If the Romulans couldn’t fire under cloak, it meant that they were vulnerable until they chose to reveal themselves. It’s used for stealth, so by the time they pop up, it’s too late for their victims. Quick attack, quick retreat. Suddenly, Siliek’s voice went up sharply in alarm. “Anomaly wave, fifteen hundred meters off our port bow—“ Swaren nodded and shouted, “All hands, brace for impact!” The wave struck them and passed through the Vulcan destroyer, setting fires and destroying electronics in its wake. Panels burst behind Trip and showered him with sparks. The Vulcans moved quickly to douse the fires and contain the damage. Seconds later, the wave hit the first Romulan ship and knocked it off course. It careened out of view as it hit Aegis and the second ship. The Syklonian transport shuddered as explosions erupted on its surface; the second Romulan ship opened up into a blossom of light. The lights on T’Varra’s bridge strengthened to full brightness. “Our cloak has failed,” Siliek announced. “We are visible to the enemy.” “Full retreat, Shopek,” Swaren told the helmsman. “We cannot waste this opportunity.” “Yes, sir—“ A second wave slammed into T’Varra, hard enough to dump Trip out of his seat. He clawed his way back to his station and called up the status reports. It was bad, very bad; the Vulcan destroyer had lost its aft engines and its shielding was down to twenty-five percent. A familiar flicker passed over Trip’s screen. The T’Varra’s shields was composed of Trellium-D, the same as Mnheia’s scout ship. It seemed to slow down the damage from the anomalies, but it didn’t stop their rampage. T’Varra limped away from the confrontation, but Aegis followed them, albeit slowly. Doctor Kov’s voice came through the scratchy intercom system. “Sickbay to Bridge.” Swaren pushed a button on his chair. “Bridge.” “Captain, we’ve just lost some of our life-support equipment and more casualties are being brought from all decks. We are rapidly running out of room; I have had to use the corridors and rooms adjacent to Sickbay.” “Acknowledged,” Swaren said coolly. “The status of Lady T’Pol and Lady T’Phena?” “Both of them are improving, but the anomalies have caused some more neurological damage. We must leave this area of space, Captain. It’s killing them.” Swaren nodded and glanced at the helmsman. “We are heading out of this space, Doctor. Approximate time to normal space—“ “Four point two minutes,” said Shopek, “at current speed.” “Very well. I will attempt to stabilize their conditions as well as I can. Kov, out.” The deck tipped once more to starboard as Aegis’s powerful, short-range lasers hit home. Swaren glanced over his shoulder. “Fire weapons.” Trip nodded and mashed the weapons button and T’Varra cut into Aegis’s hull. He winced at scratching the paint of Vaeben’s ship; he hoped Vaeben would forgive him later... if there was a later. Do not worry about the ship, Nveid. Save yourselves. Vaeben’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere. “What?” Trip muttered aloud. His question caught Siliek’s attention from the science station. Trip waited for more, but Vaeben’s voice was silent. An alarm screeched on Trip’s board and his eyes widened. “Captain Swaren, I’m reading an overload in Aegis’s starboard engine!” he reported. “They’re venting plasma.” “Can we lock onto any of their crew?” Swaren asked. Trip shook his head. “There’s too much interference.” “Time to exiting this space, Shopek?” “Two minutes, fifteen seconds.” A stream of lifeboats erupted from Aegis’s hull, each one striving to put as much distance between itself and the crippled ship. Then Aegis seemed suspended in space for a critical moment before both its engines roared to life and the freighter jumped into warp. Stunned silence came over T’Varra’s bridge. “I bet that was Vaeben,” Trip said to no one in particular. “Quite ingenious,” Swaren commented in a completely deadpan tone. |
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