Stardate 2257.211
Location: Edge of the Taugan Sector
Velek tried to take in a deep breath, but the respirator over his mouth and nose restricted the airflow. It was hot even by a Vulcan's standard and even his hair felt itchy. After nearly two weeks of scrubbing plasma injectors he ought to have been accustomed to it, but he could never get used to the aches brought on by hours of sitting hunched over in cramped spaces. He had only a general sense of the time, but he had at least four more hours of this menial work left.
"I can't see what the harm would be in letting me transmit my stories back to my editor," Sahirce whined. "I'm sitting on seven unpublished pieces."
Velek would have preferred to work alone. He had a lot on his mind and didn't prefer the idle chitchat Sahirce loved so much. She was a journalist down to her bones and refused to rest until she'd sniffed out every minor detail of a person's background and because she never shut up, Velek felt compelled to feed her some facts from time to time, just to tame her need for information and settle her nerves. Perhaps it was time to opt for a different tactic.
"Do you not have family or friends on Cait who may be worried about you?" he asked.
He genuinely did not care about her answer and it violated every Vulcan instinct he had to pry too deeply into her life, but his sudden inquisitiveness sparked something in her.
"My family is pretty used to me disappearing for months on end," she laughed. "And my boyfriend is a geologist at a mining startup so he's gone a lot too."
"I see," Velek said, sensing the correct thing to do would be to inquire after her boyfriend, but Sahirce was not one to let the conversation turn toward herself.
"I'm sure your family will be relieved when you make it back to Vulcan," she mused. "Can't be easy for you, having everyone think you're dead."
"No," Velek murmured, wishing he could pull the respirator off his face and scratch his chin.
"Is that a, 'no they won't be relieved,' or 'no it hasn't been easy for you?'"
Velek flicked his eyes in her direction. He wasn't eager to become her next feature story. More than that, he found himself slapped by a sudden thought. What if he didn't go home?
He'd spent these past weeks operating under the assumption that he would go back to Vulcan because what else was he supposed to do, but what if he didn't? His whole life had been lived in the shadow of his parents' ambitions and he'd ridden a wave of mediocrity and disappointment all the way to being Personal Assistant to the Senior Aide of Ambassador Sarek, a job which couldn't be less fulfilling under any circumstances.
For the first time, his "death" did not distress him, rather, it seemed a unique opportunity to abandon a lifetime of expectation and Vulcan tradition and find his own path. He thought of Mr. Barth and the audition for Federation Troopers. Becoming famous would be impossible if he wanted to continue with the theory that he'd died aboard the Nor Kala'th, but he could invent a new identity. He could be whoever he wanted, as long as he never returned to Vulcan. He could be free of the burden of being Vulcan.
Was such a thing even possible? The Federation collected the DNA of all citizens at birth, but so long as he stayed clear of medical facilities and kept to the right side of the law, who would ever know? It would be difficult without a passport, but he was moderately confident in the existence of a market for falsified documentation. He wouldn't be surprised if everyone aboard the Onca not only knew where to get fake documents but also had such things in their possession.
Even if he did keep to himself and secure a false passport, it would be extremely difficult to get by on a major Federation planet like Earth or Rigel and as a Vulcan, he would certainly stick out. Getting work, housing, grocery coupons and so much more depended on documentation. It might be more doable on a colony world—lots of people moved to colonies to start new lives and seek new opportunities.
His mind turned to Nebor's End and he winced. Not all colony worlds were like Mavis' home planet, surely. He had visited the Vulcanis Lunar colony as a boy and found it very pleasant. Yes, with a little research, he could find a place that was large and developed enough to be comfortable yet remote enough that living on a falsified passport could be achievable.
Maybe Mavis would even agree to go with him. She never had seemed keen on the idea of going to Vulcan anyway. The temperature rose in his cheeks and he lifted a finger to scratch around the edge of his mask.
"Velek, you ok?"
He turned to see Sahirce waving at him. He gave a tiny nod and put the idea of reinventing himself out of his mind. It was impossible, not to mention unethical. His parents would have received a death benefit from the Vulcan government. Even without that consideration, they were still his parents and deserved to know the truth, as did T'Vika, his betrothed. The weight of personal responsibility felt like a crushing blow to his brief encounter with wild optimism.
"You're not really much of a talker," she said, crawling forward half a meter to find a new spot to clean.
"No," he agreed.
He scrubbed halfheartedly for another twenty minutes until Sahirce suggested they take a break and get some water. They crawled back through the narrow space and exited near the rear of the engine room. The temperature was at least ten degrees cooler and the air was fresh and when he pulled the respiratory from the lower part of his face, the experience almost seemed delicious. He sat on a toolbox and Sahirce returned with two cups of water and took a seat next to him.
Just as the water began to trickle down his throat, his ears detected the faint sound of the door opening over the hum of the warp drive. People came in and out of the main engine room all the time so he didn't bother to get up. When he noticed it was Aeran and Mavis, his muscles tensed. They were half-turned away from them and because both he and Sahirce were wearing dark clothing and sitting in half-shadows and mostly concealed by a Jeffries tube, he was almost certain neither Aeran nor Mavis had noticed their presence.
"I think with the modifications I suggested, we could push the engine another half warp factor," Mavis said proudly, leaning over a control panel.
Aeran's hand came to rest on Mavis' back. "A couple weeks crewing on a private yacht and you think you've got warp theory down?"
"My ideas are good." The quieter tone of her voice suggested Aeran's remark had caused her confidence to waver.
Aeran's hand traveled down to Mavis' waist and a knot formed in Velek's throat. Why would she permit him to touch her in this way?
"They are," he smiled. "And I agree with you."
His hands traveled even further down toward the rounded edges of her buttocks and only then did Mavis stiffen and shrug away from his touch. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"I don't think you're a girl." His smiled grew broader. "I think you're a woman."
The greener Mavis' cheeks flushed, the paler Velek's seemed to grow. He believed this exchange was referred to as flirting. He sensed it would be polite to make his presence known before Mavis and Aeran's exchange became even more intimate, but he was paralyzed by all kinds of formidable emotions he couldn't even name. In his periphery, he saw Sahirce watching the events unfold with the calm interest of a person who traded secrets for a living.
"I meant what I said the other night, you know," Aeran continued.
"What's that?"
"About getting to know you better."
Mavis bit her lip. "We should probably get back to discussing the warp engine."
"Tell me you aren't interested in me and I'll never say another word about it again," he insisted.
The silence that ensued lasted an eternity and was broken only when Aeran asked, "So if you don't answer, does that mean you are interested?"
"I've known guys like you my whole life," she sighed. "Guys like you are trouble."
"Why do you think that?"
"You're a Romulan pirate. What's left to know?"
His playful expression faltered. "It must have been nice to grow up in the Federation with all its pristine principles."
"You have no idea how I grew up," Mavis countered.
"I'd love to know."
"I grew up dirt poor on a remote colony world," she explained. "People stole from each other. There was a brothel down the road. Half the colony was either always drunk or hooked on any number of drugs. Places like Vulcan and Earth are nice enough, but the wider Federation isn't always so great."
"I gotta tell you, neither is the Romulan Star Empire. And trust me, I know the Federation isn't always kind either. I spent two years in a secret Federation prison."
Mavis' eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline. The growing look of concern on her face made the erratic feelings in Velek's gut churn even faster.
"Can I ask why?"
"That's what happens when you cross the Neutral Zone and get caught."
"Do you mind if I ask why you crossed the Neutral Zone in the first place?"
He chuckled. "To escape, of course."
Mavis gave him a knowing look and Aeran bobbed his head. "I used to be in an organization called the Tal Shiar. It's a secret police force. Anyway, about twelve years ago, my sister-in-law was suspected of being a traitor so they brought my wife in for questioning. She never came back."
"I'm so sorry," Mavis breathed, gently reaching out to lay a hand Aeran's forearm. The gesture probably registered as a light touch to Aeran, but to Velek, it felt like a vicious slap. "I didn't know you were married."
"I wasn't married long," he admitted. "But I did love her. You remind me a lot of her. But anyway, I got myself smuggled out of the Empire, ended up getting arrested by the feds a few weeks later, got shipped off to a space station prison, met Kovos there, broke out, and I've been hustling ever since. It's kind of hard to make an honest living when every government you can think of considers you a traitor or an enemy."
Mavis offered a small nod. "Sorry I judged you."
Aeran smiled. "No need to apologize."
Mavis moved her hand from his arm and laid it atop Aeran's hand. Velek's heart was now thundering so hard he wondered if he were on the verge of a major cardiac event. The tender moment between Mavis and the escaped Romulan convict was interrupted by Jaaro's voice wailing through the intercom.
"Mavis, you're wanted on the bridge."
Mavis' hand retracted from its perch above Aeran's and she pointed with her thumb toward the door. "I should go."
"But before you do…" Aeran grabbed her hand back, pulled her toward him, and pressed his lips against hers.
Other words may have been said, but Velek couldn't hear them through the rush of blood through his ears. Had it grown even hotter in here? Why was it so difficult to breathe? Why did things seem to be moving so slowly?
Mavis pulled away and the movement of her lips suggested she was saying something to Aeran. Her face was a deeper shade of green than he would have imagined possible, but she didn't appear to be angry or upset in any way. She drifted out of the room, leaving Aeran to study the control panel for the warp engine.
Sahirce gently tapped his shoulder and he jumped, slamming his head into the side of the Jeffries tube and sending a resonant clang through the engine room. He should have felt pain, but there was none.
"Hello?" Aeran called.
"Oh, hi," Sahirce replied, standing up from behind the curve of the Jeffries tube to look him more directly in the eye.
"What are you doing over there?" Aeran asked. Velek noticed a green flush developing in the man's face.
"We just decided to take a quick break from scrubbing the plasma vents," Sahirce sighed, pointing to her respirator. "Didn't even notice you were here. Is everything ok with the warp engine?"
She was such a cool liar but Velek felt too numb to be impressed.
"Oh. Uh, yeah, engine's fine. How's it going, you know, with the cleaning?"
"It's really exciting stuff," she teased. "But it's going."
Aeran glanced at him and gave a small smile. "You doing alright, Velek?"
Velek could barely respond because he hated the man so much, but he was able to mumble, "Yes."
"That's good."
Velek grabbed his respirator and prepared to crawl back into the plasma vent. A wild urge to hurl the mask against the wall, or better yet, directly at Aeran's face, surged through him but he managed to keep his composure. How could Mavis be interested in a man like that? Sure, Aeran was tall, broad-shouldered, and most people would generally consider the composition of his facial features to be symmetrical and well-proportioned, but he was a criminal. A defector and an escaped convict and a pirate.
Mavis was rough around the edges, but she had a sweet and gentle soul. For the past week, they'd stayed up late into the night reading through the Buddy and Buster anthology. He was coming to appreciate the sound of her voice as she stumbled over longer and longer words. He was actually enjoying her company and no longer minded hearing the braying sound of her laugh.
Just as he was preparing to duck back into the vent, the intercom crackled to life again. This time it was Kovos, and his message sounded ominous.
"This is your captain speaking," he drawled. "Despite the objections of one of our first officers, we'll be taking a minor detour. Please arm yourselves and report to your stations."
Mavis slumped back in the chair at the rear of the bridge in shock. She had expected to dwell on the unexpected kiss from Aeran all day long but at the moment, it was quite far from her mind. Kovos and Jaaro were arguing tactics and technically, she had a right to voice her opinion on how they should do it, but she didn't want to do it at all.
"Play the message again," Jaaro barked.
Kovos groaned but tapped a button to initiate playback. The shaky Orion woman's voice echoed through the speakers once again.
"This is the Orion starship Aljacor. Our warp core lost containment and we had to eject it. The aft of our ship suffered major damage and life support will fail soon. There are fourteen aboard including five children. Please, anyone out there. Help-"
The message cut off. Mavis shuddered.
"I say we go in slow, come in from the rear and try to mask our ship in whatever remains of their warp trail." Kovos insisted.
"It's only been thirty minutes since they sent the message, but any pirate in a fifteen light year radius will have gotten this message and be thinking the same thing we are," Jaaro declared. "We should go in fast and get out fast. No telling how long their containment will hold."
They bickered back and forth for another minute before Jaaro turned to Mavis. "Kovos and I can't come to an agreement. Will you join me in voting against him?"
"We should be saving those people," she snarled. "Not robbing them."
"They're Orions," Kovos growled. "The same people who enslaved you and sold you to the Caitians and you defend them?"
"I doubt they're the same people," she said, rising to her feet. "We don't know that these Orions are slavers."
"All Orions are the same," Jaaro sighed. "I never met a good or honest one."
"People say the same about Nausicaans," she retorted.
"And people would be correct," he grinned.
"There are kids on that ship," Mavis protested.
"So? We're not going to kill them," Jaaro said with a roll of his eyes.
"Yeah, we're just going to take their stuff," Mavis barked. "Because that's so much better."
"I am a pirate," Kovos said in a very resigned tone. "What is it you thought pirates did if not this?"
"But I'm not," Mavis replied. She looked over at Jaaro. "And I didn't think you were either. You trade in drugs."
"I trade in whatever's convenient," he shrugged. "And besides, I owe the Orions for what they did to me."
"Please, don't do this."
"I already talked to Ahlis, Lunda, Gary, and Zal," Jaaro replied smugly. "You don't have the votes to override this. This is happening. It's up to you how it happens."
Mavis fought back tears and wished Velek were here. He would know what to say to convince them how wrong it was to rob people on a disabled ship. Why had she agreed to serve as co-first officer?
The raid began forty-five minutes later and happened so fast that Mavis barely had time to process that it was really happening. She and Zal were instructed to remain behind on the bridge to monitor operations while Aeran stayed behind in the engine room in the event they needed to flee in a hurry. Sahirce and Velek were ordered back to their rooms under protest. She felt helpless and numb. She had an acute sense that no matter what happened, there would be no coming back from this. For the rest of her life, she would be someone who had once participated in piracy, and against helpless Orion children at that.
The open communication channel was full of the pleas and cries of Orions and the stern demands of Kovos, Jaaro, and the others. One Orion man tried to fight back and was killed and Mavis wheeled around in her seat and promptly vomited on the floor.
Zal peered down at her. "You literally don't have the stomach for this?"
"These people weren't hurting us," she gasped. Tears finally began flowing down her face.
"Neither were all of the Caitians we killed back on Cait," he replied. "You didn't seem to mind killing people then."
"I didn't kill anyone."
"No, you just let other people kill on your behalf. And you're not killing anyone now, so what's the problem?"
She sat up. "Everyone at that compound on Cait was complicit in making people fight to death in an arena for entertainment. These people sent out a distress call begging for help and we attacked them."
"In this part of space, if we hadn't come along and done this, I promise someone else would have. The Nausicaans, even other Orions. And just because not all Orions are directly involved with the slave trade doesn't mean they don't all benefit from it. How do you think their government operates? No one is innocent in this life, not me, not you, not them."
"So that's your philosophy?" she muttered. "Kill or be killed? Screw or be screwed?"
"I have yet to see it be proved wrong," Zal replied with a sober grin. "And we're not going to kill them if they don't fight back so calm yourself."
"How is robbing them while their ship is about to lose containment and leaving them for dead not equivalent to killing them?"
"First of all, they would have died whether or not we showed up. Second of all, who says we're going to leave them behind on that ship?"
"We don't have space for fourteen more people aboard ours," Mavis pointed out.
"By my last count, it was thirteen after that guy went after Kovos with a kitchen knife."
"How can you be so glib about this?" she snapped, her voice breaking in anger.
"Robbing a stranded Orion vessel doesn't even round out the top hundred worst things I've seen or done. Sorry it's distorting your moral compass, but that's your problem, not mine."
The communications computer chirped. "Kovos to Zal, prepare to beam us back. Sending the coordinates now."
The yacht had a tiny transporter pad capable of transporting a single person at a time and less than three minutes later, the rear lower deck was full of crying and shouting Orions contained in a tiny space behind a force field. Mavis followed Zal on shaking legs to investigate the scene and when they arrived, she heard Kovos and Jaaro arguing.
"We will sell them and split the profits equally, just as we plan to do with this ship," Kovos bellowed, inching toward Jaaro until their noses were mere centimeters apart.
"Not even in the Metropolis can you sell people," Jaaro replied, crossing his arms and evidently unfazed by Kovos' frustration. "Tell you what: you can keep mine and Lunda's profits from selling this ship if you give us the Orions."
"I will not be sold!" screamed one of the Orion men. "I am not a slave!"
Jaaro looked at the man, pointed his phaser at the little boy standing next to him, and shook his head in warning. The man went silent, but the weight of the threat threatened to crush her already overburdened conscience. Mavis felt ready to faint but also felt prepared to tackle the hulking Nausicaan who would threaten to hurt a little boy just to shut his father up.
"Thirteen Orion serfs are worth twice what your cut of this ship would be," Kovos reminded him.
"But unless you can sell them, they're worthless to you. And as a Klingon, you don't have the right to barter under the Nausicaan exchange."
"Less than worthless, actually," Lunda added. "Because you have to feed them."
"We all worked to capture them, and we should all reap the rewards," Kovos insisted.
"And I disagree," Jaaro argued, his tone more dangerous than ever.
They both looked to Mavis and she knew what would come next. As first officer, Jaaro had the right to challenge the captain, but he needed the support of the other first officer to overrule him. Just as before, Mavis didn't like either plan and was prepared to say so, but Velek beat her to it.
"These people are not your property to do with as you see fit. Slavery is illegal and abhorrent. This was true when the Orions enslaved us and it is just as true if we enslave these Orions."
"We're not in Federation space right now," Jaaro sneered. "And even if we were, when did the law ever stop crime from happening?"
"Just the same," Velek replied. "I do not agree to it, just as I did not agree to attacking their ship."
"We don't need your consent," Kovos replied.
"We agreed to follow Xindi astral law," Velek rebutted. "And if I understand it correctly, the first officers may challenge the decision of the captain, and if no agreement can be made between the first officers, then the matter is put to the rest of the crew for a vote."
All eyes in the room turned to Mavis. She felt like she would be sick again and couldn't stop staring at the Orions imprisoned behind the force field.
"Well, what's it going to be, Mavis?" Jaaro yawned, clearly going through the motions despite knowing what her answer would be.
"I didn't agree to the raid on their ship and I don't agree to this."
"It doesn't change anything," Kovos said. "You don't have the votes to reverse this decision, you can't-"
"I agreed to the raid," Ahlis interrupted. "But I didn't agree to this. I smuggle cargo. People aren't cargo."
"I don't agree to this either," Sahirce said, raising her paw from her position behind Velek in the short corridor. "Never did, never would."
"I say we keep them and give them to the Nausicaans to sell," Gary said, giving Jaaro and Lunda a tired look. "That way we get some profit."
"Same," Zal added.
"And I think we all know how Lunda will vote," Jaaro said, looking at his Nausicaan friend.
"So that's three for letting me and Jaaro sell them and three against enslaving them at all," Lunda announced.
"I haven't voted," Aeran said. He emerged from behind Sahirce and looked around the room. His eyes landed on Kovos. "No matter what happens, you're not going to get your way, you know."
Kovos growled. "Fine. So we let the Nausicaans keep the Orions."
"I didn't say I agreed to Jaaro's plan either."
For the first time since the incident began, Mavis felt a glimmer of hope. Aeran was a pirate, but he was a good man. Wasn't he?
"So you intend to vote with this petaQ?" Kovos howled, pointing at Velek.
Aeran glanced at Velek and then back at Mavis.
"You swore a blood oath!" Kovos continued.
"Aeran, please," Mavis breathed. "Aeran, please don't vote to make these people Nausicaan slaves. Please."
"You've made me take a lot of blood oaths, old friend," Aeran said to Kovos with a tiny, forced smile. "But if I remember correctly, the most recent one involved taking revenge on the Orions who enslaved us. We don't know who these Orions are."
"You are thinking with your penis!" Kovos shouted, marching in Aeran's direction. "Who got you out of that Federation prison? Who saved you when that Gorn freighter attacked us? Who took a knife to the ribs when you got in trouble in that bar on Terisia Prime? Who has been there for you these past years? You would throw all of that away for the affection of this girl?"
Aeran glanced down at his boots and then turned toward Mavis. The obvious conflict in his eyes threatened to break her. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath.
"Aeran, please," Mavis begged. "Please?"
