Episode 8: The Phobia
Teaser
"There is no possible way that Brazil will ever beat England in the finals," Lt. Commander Wallace said, glaring at the Helm officer, "England has played a 7-0 season. Brazil has done a 4-3 season."
"I wouldn't underestimate the Brazil team if I were you," the Lt. smirked, "Brazil has a rich Football heritage. They've always proven their superiority."
"Superiority is for men who actually are superior," John Harrison said, sitting in the Captain's chair, "Not some degenerates from the South American Continent,"
"I gotta give it to you Commander," Tryke said as he stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge, "You have a Pre-Federation mindset when it comes to what's what. I'd say it reeks a bit of the Augments of the old Augment regimes on Earth."
Harrison turned his dark eyes to Tryke as he stepped around the crewmen at the aft stations. "My views are simply those of reality," he said, standing up to allow Tryke his seat, "Nothing more."
"Hm," Tryke hummed to himself, "Ensign, are our scans detecting anything?"
"Not a peep sir," the ensign replied from the Conn station, "Not all day-wait, that's odd."
"What is it?" Tryke asked.
"I'm getting readings of ships approaching from that nebula over there," he said, "Wait...holy s-t! It's the Jem'Hadar."
"Battle-stations!" Tryke snapped, and the whole bridge was lit up by red flashing lights as Red Alert flashed throughout the ship, "Hail the Spankem and the Tetolar
to come to our aid. Raise shields and charge weapons."
"Raising shields."
Six Jem'Hadar attack ships roared through space, charging weapons. The Kahn Noonien Singh turned towards them, power being shunted to the forward shields and the phaser array. Very quickly they were within target range.
"Prepare to fire all forward phasers at my command," Tryke ordered, holding up his gloved hand.
Just then, a massive ball of electricity erupted in the area of space occupied by the Jem'Hadar ships. The ball broke into several sections, each little section causing massive power failures on the enemy vessels. Just then, a ship decloaked and with six well-aimed shots, blew massive holes in the hulls of the enemy ships. Within seconds, all that was left of the enemy fleet was floating ruins.
"What the boner was that?" Wallace asked, her colorful use of metaphors causing a few of the males on the bridge to chuckle.
"Open a -"
"They're hailing us," she said, cutting Tryke off in mid-order.
Tryke frowned. Whoever was out there had just saved them a bunch of trouble.
"On screen," he said, and the screen opened with a male Humanoid Captain on the screen. He looked Terran, only without any imperfections. In fact, he looked absolutely flawless. No skin defects or anything to detract from his beauty.
"This is Captain Tryke the Federation starship Kahn Noonien Singh," Tryke said, "Thanks for the assistance."
"Captain Jemark of the Gent'elia warship No Tou Fee," the man said in a surprisingly rich voice, "I am glad we could be of assistance. Especially since it would be difficult for me to talk to you."
Tryke passed a glance with Harrison, gauging his reaction. The arrogant fool actually seemed a bit put out. That more than anything made him smile.
"About what?" he asked.
"An alliance that will save your Federation," Jemark said with a massive smile, flashing perfect teeth.
Act 1
"I won't lie Captain," Admiral Necyhev said over the open commchannel, "We need every ally we can get."
"So it's a go then?" Tryke asked, "They've given us an open invitation and coordinates to their home system."
"What do you know about them?" she asked. Tryke knew of her captivity, and she had been a stern woman before-hand. Now, she seemed to be working on zero energy, and the spark of determination in her eyes had dimmed to nothing but a smoldering ember. What had the imposters done to her?
"They call themselves the Gent'eila Triumverate," Tryke said, "They've also got some pretty advanced weaponry and cloaking technology. But beyond that, we have no idea."
"None at all?" she asked.
"No, ma'am," he replied with a shrug.
She nodded her head once. "Very well," she said, "Keep me apprised."
"I'll need to inform Admiral Beeotch we need to go there," he said.
"No," she held up her hand, "I'll take care of it. Just worry about getting us that alliance."
Ensigns Jonas and Welkerman were from different departments. Jonas was part of the Science Department while Ensign Welkerman was from Engineering. They also were of different races. Henry Jonas was a Terran who had been raised in the Human quarter of Betazed by his adoptive parents. Gila Welkerman was of mixed heritage, Terran by her father, and Trill by her mother. Her spots were not as pronounced as among pure Trills, but she had them still. They had been dating for nine months now, ever since Welkerman had been emergency transferred from the Saxton after most of the engineering crew was killed by a pulse of radiation that had infiltrated the shields.
"Well, well," a voice called out as Welkermen was stuck in a Jefferies tube, only her feet sticking out, "I think I see a trap."
"Only trap I see is in your bed Henry," she teased him, working with the hydro-spanner to fix a bent couple of panels.
"What are you doing down there?" he asked, bending down and sticking his head into the access port, looking as his girlfriend was working.
"Power to this deck has been flickering," she responded.
A short paused followed. "And what does those panels have to do with anything?" he asked.
"They're bent in such a way they are touching the energy conduits that run through this Jefferies tube," she explained, "Every jolt they bump it. I'd think you'd know that. You took the cursory course to engineering didn't you?"
Henry placed his hand high on her thigh and said, "I was too busy learning other skills. Like opening other kinds of access ports."
"Like removing your hand from my thigh?" she asked, slapping his hand with her free hand, "Seriously, you are a horny Human aren't you?"
"Only around you," he laughed, "Hey, so have you heard?"
"Heard what?" she asked, as the panel began warping into alignment.
"We're heading for a system to work out an alliance with an uber-advanced race," he replied.
"No," she said, "I've been too busy down here all day."
"Yeah," he said, "There's an open invitation to the surface, or so I've heard from Lt. Barley. You want to go?"
"Sure," she said, the panel making a popping sound as it finished setting. "Sounds like a plan."
On the screen in front of Tryke was a woman. Golden and blond stands of hair intermixed that reached down to her shoulders. Not a voluptuous bust, but certainly curvy figure. She sat on a chair, her face breaking in a bright smile. He stared at the picture before him, and he sighed.
"Sarah," he said, reaching out his ungloved hand and stroking the face with the back of his fingers, "I wish you were still here. I could use your help now."
The door chimed and Tryke pressed the side of the screen, the picture dropping to be replace by the book he had been reading. Star Crusades was the book. It was a sci-fi story.
"En-," he called, looking towards the door as it opened and Harrison stood in the doorway.
"We must speak Captain," he said, entering the room.
"-ter," Tryke said, frowning at the intrusion.
"The Gent'eila Triumvirate will not make a worthy ally in our quest for victory," he said, standing infront of the Captain, towering over him.
"Oh?" Tryke asked, leaning back in his chair, "And you know this…why?"
Harrison turned away from him. "There have been reports about them not being a tolerant society," he said, "In many ways antipathetic of what the Federation stands for."
"Really?" Tryke asked, lacing his fingers together, "What reports have you seen?"
Harrison didn't turn to look at him, but replied, "I have my resources."
Like what? Tryke didn't exactly know if he truly believed that. John Harrison was a confident and an arrogant man. So arrogant he'd believe anything that didn't fit with his views was automatically inferior and not worth his time.
"The Federation wouldn't ally itself with an enemy," Adam said.
"What about the Klingons?" Harrison retorted, "They're an oppressive government that murders its own people."
"Attitudes can change," he said, "I'm proof of that."
"What?" Harrison snorted, "By showing the Klingons how good we are they'll change? We've been allies for nearly eight decades! And they haven't changed and in many cases attacked us. Don't be so naïve, Tryke."
"We are going," Tryke said sternly, "We have our orders. Now back to your post."
Harrison turned to him slightly, and nodded slowly. "I hope you can live with the consequences if they aren't what you want," he said, leaving the room.
Disgusting.
That word crossed Lt. Max Chillens mind as he watched Welkerman and Jonas swapping saliva in the back corner of the mess hall. That was always their corner, and between hand touching and kissing, it made him feel disgusting inside to see it.
"Hey Max," a voice said, and he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see you and handsome Crewman Jacobs taking his usual seat. He glanced at his superior officer (they both were from the Science Department) and noticed the disgusted look.
"What's up?" he asked.
"They're doing it again!" he hissed.
"Who?" Jacobs asked, his webbed hand fluttering as it began to dissolve food through pores in his hand.
"Who do you think?" Max retorted, "Welkerman and Jonas."
"What about them?" Jacobs asked, his pink skin flushing brown as he continually transferred his food into energy through his hand. He took a look back. "They're kissing."
"It's revolting!" he snarled.
"They're in love," the alien rolled his eyes.
"Who cares?" he demanded, "I'm so sick and tired of these…these…people thinking they can shove their feelings in other people's faces."
"Not all of us are as rigid in our sense of privacy," the alien reminded him.
Chillens grunted. "You don't see me shove my homosexuality in their faces. It's a crime against the deities to be heterosexual. The Third Hell is reserved for those who desecrate the bodies of the opposite sex with sexual acts."
"Don't go off on your religious jibber jabber," the crewman sighed, "You're no fun when you are like this."
"Don't expect anything better from me," Chillens responded, looking at the plate of food before him, getting cold fast, "It's another two months before I get to see my husband again."
"How is Vance doing anyways?" Jacobs asked, closing his eyes as the energy that regulated his body was topping off. "Still proclaiming all gays should stick together."
"Something like that," Chillens remarked, "Don't call me that, you bi-sexual wack."
"Good bye," Jacobs said, thoroughly annoyed with his friends attitude. He stood up and left his human friend by himself.
Act 2
The Gent'eila Triumvirate was based in a tri-planetary system with a blue dwarf for a star. Usually, this would have been bad, as blue dwarfs were notorious for their radiation which was lethal to all organic matter. But, that was one of the first impressive things the crew of Kahn Noonien Singh was hit with. These people had actually invented a force-field that could actually encompass the entire surface of the sun and while letting the elements of life escape, kept the radiation levels to a bare minimum.
"Impressive," the helm officer breathed out.
"Give us twenty more years and we'll do even more impressive things," Harrison remarked from his seat.
"We are being hailed, sir," Wallace reported her station flashing.
"Onscreen," Tryke said and on screen came the perfect form of his new-found would-be ally.
"Greetings and welcome," Captain Jemark said, holding up three fingers pressed together and his thumb and pinking touching tips, "I am glad you have accepted our invitation."
"My superiors kind of insisted upon my coming here," the Captain shrugged, then with a small smile, "Couldn't be helped."
"Understood," the Gent male said, not catching the humor, "If you'll surrender your navigations to us, we'll guide you to our capitol city on Mal-ana."
Tryke turned to the helm officer. "Surrender the controls, Mr. Chester."
"Surrendering control," the humanoid replied, his gills on his neck pressing as he complied with the order.
"Welcome and greetings," Jemark said, striding up to Tryke as he finished dematerializing in the habitat ring.
"Long time no see," Tryke replied, surprised as the man gave him a hug which involved three thumbs with curled fists on the lower spine, "Um, what was that?"
"A traditional greeting of closeness," the man said, "And these must be Lieutenant Commander Wallace and your First Officer John Harrison."
"How do you know our names?" Wallace asked suspiciously.
"During our last transmission we accessed your database," he replied, and seeing the alarmed looks on Tryke and Wallace's face held up his hands defensively, "We needed to make sure you were good people. Can't expose our peoples to wicked influences."
"I detected no downloads of our database," Wallace said with a hint of disbelief, "How did you get into it?"
"We've invented technology that allows us to communicate and access the databanks of any ship we contact without detection," Jemark said.
"I'd like to see the technology," Wallace said, to which Harrison nodded his agreement.
"That can be arraigned," he said, "Let me first though introduce my First Officer, Calburn. It's been meaning to meet you."
Standing beside him, unnoticed at first, was a form, masculine in physical aspects, but with two hard lumps on its chest and a slight bulge in its groin area. Tryke couldn't help but stare.
"Are you a hermaphrodite?" Harrison asked.
"Indeed I am," Calburn said, "the Gent'eila have three sexes, all of which by themselves make up a third of the population."
"Come with me Captain," Jemark said, "The Council of Three would like to meet with you and discuss what we are offering."
"Of course," Tryke said, with a flourish of his hand, "Lead the way and we shall follow."
As they walked through the capitol city Mal-ana, so many things stuck out to them. Many buildings were not settled on the ground, but hovered in the air, by some technology that they couldn't see or discern. Domed parts of the city radiated heat, and this heat pulsed outwards through the city, recharging the energy of the city. Hovercraft flew through the city, as soundless as a whisper of the wind. They passed through parts of the city where stores and shops were opened, including outdoor restaurants. Here, they could see many people having their meals, but the food were small cubes that they ingested through food that through devices on their hands transfigured them into small cubes that they'd swallow whole.
Captain Jemark explained to them the origins of the Gent'eila. According to him, they were products of the Eugenics Wars that had ravaged Earth, but many of the people who had been brought into being through the genetics programs had wanted to escape the violence. So, they had escaped Earth and finding this system after a hundred years of travel, had quickly used their superior minds to create a society in which technology and the perfection of the humanoid form was paramount. They had started off as sixty men and women. They had grown to seventy-five billion people in the span of three centuries. Their unique and superior minds had allowed them to progress at a pace of two decades of progress for every decade that had passed.
He also proceeded to explain how the planets had been named. The original settlers had been from the three human genders. Even the very rare hermaphrodite gender. They had set up colonies on each planet and names them after each gender. Man-mal, It'thing and Wom-ady. They existed in complete respect of everyone and everything.
"You notice something queer, Captain?" Wallace asked after a long period of time as they passed a park. The trees of the park resembled oaks from Earth, but with bluish leaves that changed color due to the emotional state of those that were nearby each individual tree.
"I've noticed it too," he muttered, "There's no interaction between the three genders in a romantic atmosphere. Yes, business like, but every romantic group has been strictly between one gender."
"Ah, yes," Jemark said, suddenly sounding a little hesitant, "The Council of Three will explain everything."
They had just entered a massive building, with three corners, forming a circular triangle. Six guards were in the room, wearing red helmets, pink body suits and sapphire boots and gloves, bearing discs on the inside of their gloved hands that could only have been a version of the phaser. Forward they walked, up to a set of three chairs, which were pulsating slightly with the heartbeats of the people sitting in the chairs. And, just like with everything else on the planet, the middle was occupied by a male, the right by a female and the left by a hermaphrodite.
The Captain and First Officer bowed slightly, crossing their hands and placing the tips on their shoulders.
"May we present Captain Tryke and his officers," Jemark announced, looking up as he spoke, "They come to begin discussions of an alliance between us."
"Thank you Captain," the male said, "Welcome to the planet Man-mal. I hope your visit has so far been without incident."
"Thank you...Councilor?" Tryke said, unsure of how to address these people. Jemark in all his talk had forgotten to explain how to address the leaders of his government.
"Magistrate is our titles," the female explained, "But your thanks are welcomed, no matter how given. I am Katrala, from the planet Wom-ady."
"I am Magistrate Lef-dana of the planet It'hing," the Hermaphrodite introduced himself.
"And I am Magistrate Zekry of Man-mal," the first Magistrate said with a broad smile.
"My first officer Commander John Harrison and Security Chief Carol Wallace," Tryke introduced his officers, "I've been asked by my superiors to open negotiations with your people until the politicans have a chance to assign someone more fit to negotiations to arrive."
"Excellent!" Zekry clapped his hands together, "Meanwhile, while you are here, let me invite your people to the surface. We do insist though that the go to the medical facilities here though."
"Why?" Harrison asked, suspicion clear in his voice.
"Our medical facilities are..." Katrala said, looking for a word that wouldn't offend, "A bit more advanced then your own. We even have the ability to heal the soul. And I am sure your crew could use some mental and emotional rejuvenation."
"Don't worry, Commander," Tryke said, "I'll go first."
"But..."
"Believe me, Wallace," Tryke said, "I will trust you to save me."
"Very good," Jemark said with a small smile, "You'll not be disappointed."
"Why?" Harrison suddenly asked.
"Why what?" Lef-dana inquired, clearly a little puzzled by the question.
"If you people are so advanced," Harrison asked challenging, "Why do you need us? What could we possible give you?"
Tryke sent him a warning glare, but their hosts laughed simultaneously. It was odd to see heads of state laughing. But in unison? What was so funny?
"You misunderstand our offer," Lef-dana said, wiping at the edge of his mouth with his hand, "We don't need anything from you. Your technology is behind us by at least two hundred years. Your food is full of contaminants and your manpower, while it outstrips ours, is nowhere as perfect as our own, and...to be frank, your really infants compared to us. The Breen, who we trade with, is fifty years advanced then you are."
Tryke looked a bit aback. "Then why offer us an alliance?" he demanded, "If you don't need us, why offer us help?"
"Because the Galaxy needs you," Zekry explained, "We can see timelines, and any timeline where the Federation perishes, the whole galaxy is lost. You are quint essential to fabric of the galaxy. We might not need you now, but in the future, who knows?"
"We are a free trade society too," Katrala added, "And even if we don't need anything, the Tholians in particular like your toys and would pay handsomely for it."
Tryke and his officers remained silent. What a peculiar people. One that has no desire for the help of the Federation, but still offered it freely. That was always suspicious.
"Please return to your ship and let your superiors know everything we've said here," Katrala said.
The three bowed slightly, following the example of Jemark and Calburn and turned to follow them, who offered to escort them out of the city. Just as they reached the door, Zekry called out.
"Wait!" he said, "Before you go, I must stress one thing above all others."
"Yes?" Tryke said, turning to the Magistrate.
"Our entire society is based upon purity," he explained, "And part of that is morality. We expect you to restrain your crews sexual habits while here on the planet."
"Okay," Tryke nodded, "I'll tell them to be mindful."
"No," Zekry shook his head, "You don't understand."
"Understand what?" Tryke asked.
"Our morality carries capitol punishment for both citizen and stranger alike," he explained, "And your morality is less than perfect."
Tryke frowned. "As I said," he said, a little agitated, "I'll order my crew to restrain themselves."
"No," Zekry sighed, "You still don't understand."
"Understand what?" Harrison demanded, snapping out of turn, "Be straight with us."
The three Magistrates passed uneasy glances between each other. Whatever it was, they were almost Vulcanian in their discomfort at the subject. Finally, the Hermaphrodite sighed.
"Our society is completely Homosexual," he said, wringing his hands nervously as he talked about the sensitive subject, "We are completely hetero-phobic. Even the act of holding hands on this Triumverate that isn't in a business or professional type is punishable by death."
"Impossible," Wallace balked, "How do you procreate without some sexual exchange between the sexes?"
"Cloning," Katrala explained, "Everything is done by cloning. We have no male and female sex here. Not even the hermaphrodites would think of having sex outside their own gender. So, please...do not allow your heterosexual crew members to show public displays of affection here on the planet."
Tryke was completely...well...puzzled. A society completely built upon homosexuality? No intercourse between the genders? Even with cloning it was almost impossible for people to resist their urges. With that in mind, he turned and left the grand Council Chambers.
"That is absolutely ridiculous."
Tryke contained his sigh. Unfortunately for him, Necheyev had handed off the overseeing of this mission to Admiral Beeotch. The Admiral had been broken the news that Tryke was going on a diplomatic assignment, and after ranting and raving about how much he needed Tryke near the Tyre System, he decided to surrender himself to that fact. And he was playing his old ranting self.
"We do not, nor ever will submit to that idea of morality," he replied, "We shed those constraints shortly after the fall of the Augments on Earth. We shall live as we always lived."
"But the Gent'eila have made it quiet clear it is the law," Tryke said, his fist curling in annoyance at this utter stupidity. "They have strict laws against it."
"laws that they cannot force upon outsiders," Beeotch retorted.
"At least give me the go-ahead to let my crew know to keep..."
"No!" Beeotch cut him off, "You will not order your crew to hide their feelings. Beeotch out."
And with that the connection ended. He let out a frustrated growl and turned on his feet. Harrison was sitting there, his face showing no expression as he stared at the Federation emblem that covered the closed screen.
"This is a total disregard of the Prime Directive!" he snapped, pacing back and forth, "We are told as Starfleet officers to respect the other laws and customs of foreign powers. What is he thinking?"
"During wartimes the law falls silent," Harrison replied.
"That's no excuse," Tryke let out angrily, stopping by his desk and leaning heavily on it with his knuckles. "This will start a diplomatic incident we can't possible win without damage coming from it."
Harrison looked at the Captain, feeling the frustration of his Captain. A few seconds of silence passed as he allowed his Captain to think it over.
"Unless he wants there to be violence," Tryke grunted, turning around and sitting himself on the edge of the desk.
"You underestimate what really is going on here," Harrison said, "Beeotch is setting you up."
"For what?" Tryke exclaimed, "To fail?"
"Wasn't Beeotch one of those who gave you the assignment for the Delta Quadrant?" the Britain asked, "Wasn't he the one that was most adamant about you succeeding? And you failed him, staining his reputation. He's out for vengeance, sir."
Tryke looked suspiciously at him, "How do you know that?" he asked dangerously.
"Let's just say-"
"Your 'resources'," Tryke finished for him, "One day, you'll have to let me in on it."
Harrison made no reply. This was really going to turn out bad. Tryke knew it.
Act 3
"That really was something," Welkerman said, stretching her arms above her head, "I've never felt so good in years."
"I can believe it," Jonas replied, feeling the old aches in his body finally having been purged.
"I'm no longer sore in my lower back," she replied, "And I've never felt so firm before."
Jonas darted his eyes to her curiously. "Firm?" he asked.
"My breasts," she said, "They haven't felt like this since I was a younger woman."
Try as he might, Jonas couldn't keep himself from glancing at her bosom. And...they were a lot more...rounder than usual. He couldn't believe any woman could possibly have a pair as...His hand suddenly leaped to his face and connected with his jaw. Shut up!
"What was that about?" the woman asked, dropping her hands to her side.
"Um..." he said, his face turning red.
"Do you have a phaser in your pants?" she asked, her eyes drifting down.
"No!" he said.
"Oh..." she smiled slew-fully, "Happy to see me, are you?"
Raising his two hands, he pounded them against the railing on the bridge. He was so embarrassed he couldn't do anything else. It overlooked a massive lake, where a floating city hovered over the water. A bridge was being constructed towards the southern plains, and it was being shaped (if he could guess correctly) out of crystal that was being formed from the water by massive engines.
"I can't stand it anymore," he said.
"Is it really hurting that bad?" she asked, her grin getting wider, "I could massage..."
"No!" he said, "That's not what I meant."
"Oh," she said, frowning in confusion, "Then what?"
He dropped on both knees and pulling out a small box, opened it. A massive diamond ring caught the suns rays and dazzled in a flash. "Marry me?" he asked. The Trill's eyes opened wide, and she opened her mouth. But, at that moment, a massive shadow fell over them. Looking up, they saw a police vehicle. No matter what culture you were from, they all looked the same. Two holes opened, and with a tug, they were lifted from the ground and sucked into the holes.
They were in a dark room, separated by an invisible wall, that while repelling them from entering the other side, also cast the other occupants invisible. They could hear but not see the other.
"Citizens of the Federation," a monotone voice sqwaked at them, "You are under arrest."
"For what crime!" Welkerman demanded, "By what right do you hold officers of the Federation of United Planets?"
"For the breaking of Paragraph 7, Subsection 7 which states that any unnecessary touching of opposite genders is illegal and unlawful," the voice infomed them, "Or, in other words, you are arrested for the crime of heterosexuality."
Calburn pointed at the schematic he was showing the two. It showed in three dimensional image of one of the triangular ships of the Gent'eila, with two small bulbs jutting from the back. It wrinkled out of eyesight.
"As you can see," he said, tapping a button on the display, "The ships are completely invisible to the naked eye, and to everything except the most advanced scanners."
"Invisibilty cloaks," the Vulcan Chief Engineer said.
"A crude analogy," the hermaphrodite explained.
"How so?" Wallace asked, her arms crossed infront of her.
"That would imply that it is in normal space," he said, pushing up a bunch of data with a flick of his finger, "As with invisibilty cloaks, our Sub-shielding is invisible. But, unlike invisibilty cloaks, our ships actually are out of phase. Not only in normal space, but also in subspace as well."
The Vulcan's eyesbrows shot up in surprise. "A most interesting piece of technology. Can this be adapted to our systems?"
"This child's ship will be hard to work with," Calburn said, then with a glance backpeddled, "I mean-"
"Don't worry," Wallace said, "Inferior race, I'm sure we are."
"What do you mean they've been arrested?" Tryke demanded, staring at the viewscreen before him.
Before him on the screen was Lef-dana, his darker skin flushing slightely at having to talk about such a subject.
"They were arrested for the crime of heterosexuality which broke the laws of morality," the Magistrate replied, then gently but forcefully added, "Which you agreed to abide by while in our Triumverate."
"I was under orders not to tell my crew," Tryke said, a sense of anger washing over him.
"We know."
"You knew?" Tryke threw his hands up.
Lef-dana shrugged it's wide shoulders. "Your communications are still quite antiquated compared to ours," it explained, "It was more of an open channel to us than a secure channel."
"Then how can you punish them for obeying the orders I was able to give them?" Tryke asked, glaring at him.
"We gave you the choice to obey our laws," the Magistrate said softly, "Listen, Captain. I want this treaty signed. Your Federation is a good lot of people."
Tryke curled his fist a ball and shaking his head gently began to drum on the armrest of his Captain's chair. This would not do. Not at all.
"Will they get a trial?" he asked.
"Of course," Lef-dana nodded, "We can choose a Defense Councilor for them, or you can choose one of your own. But, please, for the sake of our soon to be alliance, please do not have a heterosexual defend them. It will only damage their case in the eyes of our people."
"Enter," Tryke called out as the door chimed.
In entered Lt. Max Chillens. He looked a little nervous as he entered the Ready Room, the intimidating gaze of Harrison following him. The door closed behind him.
"You summoned me?" he asked, looking at the Captain, who was looking at his console screen.
"Yes I did," Tryke said, looking up from the screen, "I've heard quiet a few good things from your Science Departments comrades. They think very highly of you."
A cautious smile spread across his face. "I do my job," he modestly bragged.
"You also had training as a lawyer?" Tryke asked.
"I did," he nodded, "I spent three years at Harvard College on Earth before I switched over to Starfleet, sir."
"Could you win a case if you were to find yourself being the defense console?"
"Of course, sir," he said, holding his head up high, "Why do you ask?"
"Two of our crew have been apprehended by Gent'eila authorities," he said, "I need you to prove that they are innocent of all wrong doings."
Chillens eyes widened. He had heard of very few incidents where a Federation citizen had been held for trial in a foriegn power. Of course, there were the famous examples. Jonathon Archer being held by the Klingons on trumped up charges of inciting rebellion. James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy tried in the assassination of Klingon High Chancellor Gorkon. There was even the example of Be'lanna Torres being held by a Delta Quadrant telepathic species for having hostile thoughts.
"Of course sir," he said, holding out his hand to receive the PADD Tryke was handing to him, "May I ask whose the people and what's the crime?"
"Lts. Welkerman and Jonas are being held for being heterosexual in this space," Tryke rolled his eyes, "We must prove that being straight is no crime."
The smile and enthusiasm of Chillens froze and he raised an eyebrow. Really? This was the best news he had heard all day. He pulled his hand back and stood up.
"Captain, I must respectfully refuse the assignment," he said.
Tryke's demenour turned from hopefully to cold. Chillens was nearly knocked back by the sheer change to his Captain. There was no life in his Captain. Only a grim determination. A very cold, unfeeling hostility.
"Why not?" he asked, his voice more drone than humans.
"On the grounds of religious and personal belief," Chillens said, "I cannot defend heterosexuals sir. It would be a condemnation upon me and my family. And besides, I think all straight people should burn for their sexual sins sir."
"That's where they are going," Tryke said slowly, placing his hands on the table and slowly pushing himself up, "They'll be executed to appease a morass sense of morality."
"Good for the Get'eila!" Chillens said, dropping formality as he became defensive, "I grew up in the gay colony of Bandis Umber. We'd stone straight people. And good riddance to them. They are a scourge."
"I am straight," Tryke said, "as is almost every person on this ship. And out of the few people on the ship who aren't straight, you're the only homosexual person. They will not allow us to have anyone else represent them."
"You can't seriously expect me to defend sexual offenders," Chillens said, a horrified look on his face.
"They...aren't...sexual...offenders," he said very slowly. Chillens might have been a tad bit taller than Tryke, but there was such a cold dead hatred that it was making his cower. "They are your comrades. You have served together. You will defend them."
"No!" he shook his head, "I can't! To defend them would require me to divorce my husband. It's part of the Sacred Book of Homo."
"You will defend them."
"No," he shook his head.
Tryke lashed out fast, his fist driving into Chillens stomach. Chillens bent over, gasping for air. Tryke spun around him, grabbing the crewman by the hand and twisting behind him, slammed his elbow into the shoulder blade of the taller man. As he dropped to the ground, crying out in pain, Tryke kicked his foot up and connected with his chin. As Chillens head raised up, his head whip-lashed to the side as Tryke round-house kicked him and laid him out flat. He gasped for air, blood trickling down his lip and pain shooting through his body.
"You will defend them," Tryke said, kneeling down by him, "Or I will divorce your arm from your socket."
Act 4
"Lts. Welkerman and Jonas," the guard said, "Before you go into the Court Room, we must pat you down."
The room they had just stepped into had flashed a couple times. This was a transfer point between the prison and the courtroom. "Why?" Jonas asked, suspicious of why these males would tell them this.
"Just to make sure you don't have any weapons on hand," came the reply.
Welkerman and Jonas passed glances between themselves. They'd been in prison for two days now. How were they going to have weapons. No was what they were going to say.
"Sure," Welkerman shrugged, much to her own surprise. "Of course."
"Okay," Jonas nodded, also to his own surprise. "Do as much a pat-down as you'd like. Especially on my lady right there. She likes being patted."
The guards moved forward and patted them down. Each pat sent a small jolt of electricity into their bodies. It was a little annoying. But what could they do? Their comrades would be waiting to save them. After a couple seconds, they pulled back.
"Ready to receive your trial?" asked the guard.
"Yes," they nodded.
The room spiraled around them and next thing they knew, they were standing in middle of a massive room, and looming over them was a tri judge panel. Each one of the three judges from the different genders of the Gent'eila Triumverate.
"Welkerman and Jonas," the judges said unanimously, "You are accused of the high crime of heterosexuality. Do you deny it?"
"No," they both said simultaneously. Wait, why weren't they able to say what they had really wanted to? Everything they were saying wasn't supposed to be.
"Will you abide by our punishments?"
Of course not. "Yes we will." That's not what we wanted to say!
"Then in accordance with the laws of the Triumvate," they proclaimed, "You are sentenced to death."
"Thank you."
"What do you mean they've already been found guilty?" Tryke demanded, jumping from his seat in complete outrage.
"The trial has already been taken place and the pronouncement was swift in coming," the Magistrate replied. "I'm actually surprised it took that long in coming to a conclusion."
"That's not what I meant," he snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the screen. "You told me we'd be allowed to have an advocate to defend them. But you went ahead without informing us when the trial was."
The Magistrate lifted an eyebrow. "It's not my fault you weren't here," she said defensively. "The trial was held at the time as dictated by law. You should have been responsible enough to be there. But you weren't."
Tryke clenched teeth, trying to maintain his composure. "You must reopen the case," he said, trying desperately to give his officers a chance. "We need a chance to defend them. If given enough time, we could prove the innocence of my officers."
"No," the Magistrate said sharply. "There will be no appeals. No repealing already firm and hardset judgments. The sentence will be carried out immediately."
Tryke spun on his feet and glaring at Wallace, raised a finger and pointed at her.
"Load all torpedoes and aim them at the lower districts of the capitol city," he ordered.
"Captain?"
"Do it!" he barked.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the Magistrate clicked her tongue, "You will find you have no weapons."
Tryke snorted. "For all your technonolgy," he retorted, "Federation warriors aren't exactly incapable of defeating a stronger force."
"Just ask your Chief Tactical Officer."
Tryke turned to her, to see a frustrated look on her face. That was all the answer he needed. He pointed to Wallace and directed with his hands towards the turbolift.
"Turn off that screen!" he snapped, but it remained on. And he walked into the turbolift, which did not open. He glared back at the screen.
"Engineering," he called over the intercom. There was no answer. "Engineering, respond!"
"You ship is trapped by our technology," the Magistrate repled. "There will be no attempts to free the prisoners. Their fate is sealed."
"There must be some way out of this predicament!" Tryke said, slamming a fist against the turbolift door. It didn't bend to his will.
"We can't hail any part of the ship," Wallace replied, frustration in her voice. "The entire console is frozen."
There was a yelp from the access panel to the Jeffry Tube.
"I'm afraid that way is blocked to us too," Harrison said, rubbing a burned hand.
"Get me some options people!" Tryke demanded.
Welkerman and Jonas were led into a small white room. The lighting of the room (which was from the walls themselves) throbbed bright and dim. Bright and dim.
Henry Jonas looked over at the small sled that hovered in the air as he was being pushed on a similar bed to the center of the room. No one had come for them, and the last time he had seen his beloved was back in the court chamber.
"Gila," he called out, "Gila!"
There was a muffled reply. Distorted as if by malfunctioning filters. But, he at least recognized it was her. Even as badly jarbled as it was, he knew she was on the bed.
"Henry!" Gila called from her own bed, staring at the empty bed beside her, "I know you are there. Please, speak to me!"
"If you can hear me," Jonas said, "I just want you to know-"
"The answer is yes. I will marry you."
"I love you."
"I love you."
A medical droid hovered over Jonas and began beeping. It slowly passed over his body, starting above the feet and moving upwards. Organ after organ shut down, and he could feel himself dying. Every organ was failing. As the droid passed above his eyes and they suddenly darkened, he could feel the love for her….dying.
Act 5
A small shuttle-craft, looking much like a drop of water, slid through space. It's journey was not far, and soon, the shuttle-bay doors to the Nebula-class Federation starship was opening. Not by the input commands of the crew aboard. But by the wishes of the occupant on the ship. As the shuttle glided in, and compacted to fit between the two box-shaped run-abouts, the crewmen looked in astonishment as the side opened and the hermaphrodite stepped out onto the deck, a man and a woman following him.
Tryke sat, legs crossed. Candles were lit and he allowed his mind to be taken in by the flame. It was an old Vulcan meditation technique that Merlek had taught him back in the days before the doomed mission that had changed everything. Before he was imprisoned.
His door chimed. He looked up annoyed that he was being interrupted.
"What?" he demanded.
"It's Ensign Trey of Gamma Shift," the voice of the young Trill announced.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"Magistrate Laf-dana has arrived and wishes to speak to you immediately."
The Magistrate was one of the last people Tryke wanted to talk to. He had talked with Admiral Beeotch about what had happened, and while the man fumed and ranted about 'ingrateful superior nincompoops' had been ordered by Starfleet Command to get the treaty ratified. And so, the treaty had been concluded, and he was all but eager to leave the Triumverate in the space dust.
"Tell him I'll meet him in the briefing room," he said, but the door opened and the put-out Ensign couldn't stop the magistrate from entering. A wave of his hand closed the door behind him.
"We are sorry for the rift between our two peoples that now occur," Lef-dana said, jumping to the point, "And I'm sorry you do not see our course as wise."
"There's no wisdom in punishment without knowledge of the laws in place," Tryke said, pushing himself up slowly from the ground. "It's barbaric."
The darker-skinned man sighed. "The purity of our people, thought as in deed had to be protected," he explained, "And even your superiors agreed to this alliance. Despite all that."
"Yeah," Tryke muttered, stepping over to the replicator, "Hot chocolate, whip-cream, caramel and chocolate drizzle."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Lef'dana said, "Jemark speaks highly of you. We could still be friends."
"I can't be friends with a race that kills my officers," he said, lifting the paper cup out of the replicator and drinking slow sips from it.
"Kill?" Lef'dana asked, frowning.
"Yes," Tryke said, growing angry, "It's a shame that such an advanced race kills people with capitol punishment."
"We executed them," the Magistrate replied, "Never killed them."
Tryke frowned in confusion. What was this fool talking about? "I don't understand," he said finally, "Executing is killing. That is what every culture calls it. No matter how advanced one is."
Lef'dana's eyes grew wide suddenly. "Oh. Oh dear. Oh dear. By all the Genitals, we are having a misunderstanding." And with that, he started to burst out laughing.
"What misunderstanding?" Tryke asked, lost at what was so funny about murdering innocent people.
"Our executions do not involving the taking of life," he said, wiping the saliva that had dribbled from his mouth, "We've moved past such things."
Tryke's eyes grew wide. "They don't? What do they involve then?"
"Reprogramming."
Gila Welkerman and Henry Jonas walked apart from each other as the time came for them to depart. A simple nod was all that passed. There was no acknowledgment of the other. They had an immense feeling of sadness. How could they have ever desecrated another genders body like they had?
Max Chillens sat with puffy eyes. He had just called out his marriage with his husband. That was as the Holy Text laid out for those who attempted, even in thought to defend the moral and sexual sinners. What a cruel life and Deity to demand such a sacrifice!
The doors to the mess hall opened and a set of footsteps walked up to him. He looked up, and saw someone he never suspected to see again.
"Lt. Jonas," he said, pointing to a seat, "Are you not dead?"
"No," Jonas said, sitting down, "But they helped me see the truth."
"Oh?" he asked, taken a little off guard, "What truth?"
"That what I lived my life before was wrong," he said, "How could I defile her like that?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, not sure what was going on. "Are you alright?"
"Everything is alright," Jonas said, smiling shyly, like a school-girl with a crush, "I've shed heterosexuality. I now realize men are only meant for men. And I realize I am in love."
"Oh yeah?" Chillens asked, rubbing his eyes, "With who?"
"I love you, Max," Jonas said, holding his hand, "And I never wanted to be parted from you."
Chillens was flabbergasted, but at once sent a thanks to the Deity. He had followed the precepts of his religion, given the penance that the Diety had demanded, and he had been rewarded. With the most handsome lover a guy could ever want.
