Tempest
Hammerhead Class Frigate (NC-114)
Trip was out the door and into the corridor in a heartbeat. He reached the lift at the end of the hall before he realized…he was being pretty stupid.
Ship captains don't go running down the halls looking for trouble every time there's a security alert. That was the sort of thing Archer would have done. And hadn't that always bugged him? How the heck Jonathan had stayed alive and in one piece putting himself in the middle of things like he had, still after all these years…
…but he hit the call button anyway. Didn't even really think of not doing so. Because his ship was in trouble. And his crew. And it was pretty funny how he was starting to get it now.
Sit up on the bridge and wait for security to report back? After everything he'd just dragged this ship through over the last couple of days? Yeah, we're not going to do that. Should do it, sure. Of course. But…nope.
The lift opened and he stepped inside.
Or almost. He nearly stumbled and fell on top of everyone in there before he could stop himself.
There were aliens wrestling in the lift. And damned if that wasn't something you just don't see every day…
Commander T'Pol was laying on the floor there, with some Vulcan guy on top of her…in a headlock, no less…and Talla was laying back on top of him, both hands wrapped around whatever he was holding out…like a weird little alien double-stuffed cookie wriggling around on the floor of the lift. Wrestling over who gets to be the creamy filling in the middle.
"What the hell?" Trip said, startled. "What's going on in here?"
"He's got a bomb!" Talla grunted, both hands wrapped around one of the Vulcan Crewman's hands.
Now, Trip's first impulse was to run. Just turn around and start running. Because that's what normal, well adjusted and otherwise sane people do when someone says something like, 'He's got a bomb.'
But there was that thing about his ship being in trouble and how he wasn't supposed to allow that. So his left hand was still on track with that idea, and had missed the part about how the bomb might blow up and kill him. It reached down to his side and plucked the engineering scanner from there, bringing it up and ready. So it'd be handy when he caught up with things and decided he'd better do something about all this. Instead of running off in a panic like one of those normal people would do.
After the requisite moment of confused gawking, Trip wanted his scanner. And since it was there, waiting for him, he went to work.
"What happened?" He demanded, already cycling through various frequencies, trying to find the bomb and figure out that thing about not letting it blow up.
"I don't know." T'Pol said, her teeth gritted and her voice tense, still wrestling the Vulcan Crewman. "He has a PADD, which your Andorian officer believes may…"
"Right. Got it." Trip said, focused. Peering intently at his scanner. "On his arm? Dilithium resin, isopropanol...some organic compounds…"
Trip scanned the situation again, visually now.
"We don't have a damned bomb squad here…" He said, his eyes wide, rubbing his chin quickly and fretfully. Thinking out loud.
"Is the PADD transmitting?" T'Pol demanded, sharply.
"No, it's not." Trip snapped back, stepping forward into the lift. "We've got to get this guy…"
"Remove the power cell." She said, staring up at him.
Trip was dropping down on his knees in only a moment, getting the point right away. To hell with what the bomb was made of right now. Just keep whatever signal Talla was holding up from being transmitted…but he couldn't get to it, though. Because it had three separate hands wrapped around it.
So…he slapped one hand to his belt, to retrieve the tool he needed. Which wasn't there, of course. He was the Captain, not the engineer around here. Talla was the engineer…so he reached and snatched it from her belt instead.
Grabbing that bundle of hands being held out there, he held it firmly in place with a hand of his own. Then jabbed the sharp tip of the flux coupler in between all those fingers…piercing the transmitter cover there and jerking the tip around inside just so. Because a good engineer knew how to break things, too.
"Got it." Trip said, sharply. "Talla, get the hell out of here. You hold him, T'Pol!"
"I have him." She said calmly, bringing down the one hand that held her forearm across his throat. Pinching at his shoulder with it, while the man tensed and struggled all the more.
As Trip reached and pulled Talla clear, leaving her to stumbled forward out of the lift…something was going on there between the two Vulcans. T'Pol had her fingers dug in at his shoulder and…they were struggling in some way he couldn't quite figure out. He could sense it, but he couldn't see exactly what…
Then the Vulcan's eyes started rolling back in his head…and he began fitfully and desperately slamming the cast on his arm against the floor of the lift.
Trying to remain conscious, Trip thought at first. Or expressing his outrage at Commander T'Pol rendering him unconscious, however the heck she was doing that…
But, no.
No, that wasn't what he was doing…
Trip reached out to grab the man's arm without thinking, to stop him. Flailing at the air awkwardly for a moment when he missed. That arm slamming the cast it was wrapped in down forcefully to the floor yet again. So he changed tactics, swung down instead, and grabbed the Vulcan intel agent's knee. Dropped his scanner and slapped another hand on there for a good, solid grip on her calf. And pulled, throwing all his weight behind him, scrambling back. Dragging her from under the man to where he could reach her better, then grabbing the front of her uniform with both hands…
And Talla was there, reaching over him to grab and pull, too. Because she got it. She'd heard what he'd said before. Dilithium resin…
T'Pol, thankfully, seemed to catch on that they were trying to get her the hell out of there. Because she finally let go of the guy. And with that, no longer held up by his additional weight, they had her pulled free.
And laying back on the floor now, with the Vulcan laying on top of him and Talla sprawled in an awkward heap across them both, Trip yanked back one foot and kicked out high. Impacting the lift call panel.
Hoping he hit the right button…because he couldn't see over the damned Vulcan's head…
Almost too late. Just almost.
Something sizzled viciously inside the lift. And flashed, brightly enough that he could feel it glare all around him.
Then the lift door closed.
Commander Benning slammed into the door right behind Tulok. And his frustrated, open-palmed strike on the stubborn surface of the door was even more expressive than Tulok's. He even verbalized it as well.
"Damn it!" Benning yelled. And struck the lift door again with his fist, just to be certain he expressed himself properly.
"Commander T'Pol and your Andorian engineer are on the lift…" Tulok began.
Benning had already spun around, however.
"Feldman!" He yelled, back down the corridor. "Seal off Deck A, forward! Notify the bridge!"
The Human officer stalked back toward the brig, thrusting a single violent finger at the unconscious Vulcan on the floor. The one beneath the pile of injured Vulcans sitting on top of him.
"Carver, get that son of a bitch in the cell." He ordered. "Search him…hell, strip him. And get the Vulcan girl out of there."
"Bridge to Benning."
Benning tapped at his belt. "Benning! Song, seal the bridge! You've got a bomb in the lift, headed your way!"
"It's done. I've sealed off the whole deck but the Captain's in the conference room. What the hell's going on down there?"
"One of the Kolinahr crew had a damned bomb!" Benning snapped. "I don't know how he got past security but he's headed your way. And he's got Talla in the lift with him. And the Vulcan agent, T'Pol. We have a second man in custody down here as well."
"I'm sending a…"
Something thumped.
Hard.
"Alert. Explosion detected, forward lift shaft."
"Son of a bitch!" Benning snapped, teeth grinding, stomping quickly back to the lift. As if there were anything he could do about any of it now…
"Alert. Contamination detected, forward lift shaft. Emergency quarantine."
Benning stopped.
It took a split second for all the implications to fall into place there. Then he grabbed Tulok and start pulling…spinning and heaving him past him down the corridor, away from the lift…then staggering and leaping clumsily forward himself.
Before the bulkhead sealed him off in there, instead of the Vulcan.
When he hit the ground, he had to be quick to jerk his feet out of the way. And looking down across the floor where he lay, to be sure his feet were out of the way, he could see the two wounded Vulcan crewman there. Still on the other side of the bulkhead.
And he could see their eyes as they looked back from where they sat. Backs against the wall. A head wound bandaged on one of them. The other sporting a chest wound, not even wearing a shirt. Just a big, bulky and green-stained dressing across his chest.
But he could see them for that split second before the bulkhead slammed shut. See in their eyes that they almost understood what had just happened to them. That they probably wouldn't fully realize until after they were sealed away behind that bulkhead.
Benning already had a few images like that in his head. Things that stuck with him, even after many years in a few cases. Things that woke him up in the middle of the night. Or lay there in the bed, hidden until he lay down with them to sleep. Jumping on him the moment he did to torment him.
He sure as hell didn't need another one. Not that it really mattered. He had plenty enough already. But, still. He could have done without one more.
T'Pol blinked rapidly for a moment. Something was wrong with her vision. Until she realized her inner eyelid had slid into place, an autonomic reaction to the sudden flare that had lit the air for a moment. Flicking it back out of the way, she glanced around, moving only her head. Assessing herself cognitively for injury, as she was certain she must have been burned somewhere…she could smell it…
Everything shifted suddenly, slightly, with a loud thump from somewhere behind her and below…
"Alert. Explosion detected, forward lift shaft."
But she was buried beneath an Andorian, whose stomach lay across the back of her head. And the Human, Tucker, laid out fully along her body beneath her.
It was remarkably cool and comfortable there. And yet, of course, entirely unacceptable. So she lifted up onto her hands and knees, forcing the Andorian to scramble off her.
Tucker was still beneath, lifting his head to look wide-eyed past her arm at the door behind them.
"Son of a bitch…" He muttered.
"Alert. Contamination detected, forward lift shaft. Emergency quarantine."
His eyes widened. And he grabbed her arm. Partly to get it out of his way as he rolled to his stomach. Partly, it would seem, in the vain attempt to compel her off-balance away from the lift…
"Captain!" The Andorian called out, from where she scrambled to her feet herself, near at hand.
"Go! Get clear! Go!" He said, already starting to crawl rapidly forward, trying to get to his hands and knees in the process.
T'Pol got the general idea quickly enough. So she brought her feet up behind her, bending her knees, leaping forward and rolling out of their way. Then reaching back blindly to grab the first body part that came in range, to help pull someone clear of…whatever they were all trying to get clear of…
She had Tucker's hand for a moment. Then the Andorian tripped and fell across her arm. So she flexed with all her Vulcan strength, to send that one across her, over and out of the way beyond her. Seeing the bulkhead whisking shut forcefully, threatening to snatch the Captain's leg in its jaws, she whipped that hand back again to help him pull it clear…
And it shut firm with a slight 'shick'. Somehow, miraculously, without claiming any gangly extremities in the process. Despite how utterly uncoordinated the entire exercise had been.
Everyone lay still for a moment. To be sure they'd somehow survived the last few seconds.
"What happened?" T'Pol asked then. Once she thought she'd given the other two time enough to adjust to the situation.
"Dilithium resin." Tucker said, already rolling over again to get back on his hands and knees. "It's toxic. Especially when you detonate it!"
He slammed one balled fist down onto the floor, to emphasize that point. Pausing in his attempt to gain his footing in order to do so.
It was fascinating how quickly these Humans could process and express their emotions. Were she any less disciplined, she was certain she would still be processing the event. Still in shock.
The Andorian rose as well, though from the look on her face she hadn't yet determined what her own emotional reaction would be…
There were voices and movement down the corridor suddenly, so T'Pol tilted her head back to look, seeing Commander Song and two other Humans she didn't recognize exiting the bridge there. And realizing then that, of the three, she was the only one who had yet to regain her footing. So she moved quickly to rectify that.
"Captain? You okay?" Song asked anxiously, as she approached.
As she rose to her feet again, T'Pol saw Tucker nod. Not answering the question verbally. Staring at her instead, frowning. For several seconds.
"Yeah." He breathed, finally. "We're okay. It went off between decks, I think."
"Benning's down in the brig…" Song started to say.
"Don't breach containment." Tucker said, quickly. "Let Celestial deal with it. Keep that whole shaft sealed off. We have another lift, so everyone goes the long way. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Song nodded. Looking past him at the sealed bulkhead. Where a friendly little hologram display warned everyone that going beyond that point was a very bad idea.
"Bioweapon, Captain?" She asked.
Tucker shook his head again. "No. Not really. Dilithium resin. He had to smack it to set it off or it would have been a hell of a lot worse. It's still toxic, either way, though."
He pushed off from the wall, frowning, and turned back to them.
"You two okay?" He asked.
T'Pol nodded. Of course.
The Andorian nearly spit, though. "I'm fine. Who was that? And what did you do to piss them off, Captain?"
Tucker was staring at her again, though. As if waiting for something…
"Commander." He said, pointing. "You sure you're okay? 'Cause your leg's on fire."
She looked down. And, as he'd suggested, there was a small flame struggling there at the cuff of her pant leg. Doing its best to gnaw at the flame-resistant material it was forced to deal with. Feeble enough that simply raising her ankle to reach the flame and snuff it out was effective enough.
Then the Andorian started laughing. Which was odd.
So T'Pol turned to look at her, hoping for some clue as to what had prompted her hysteria.
"That's very funny." Talla said, still laughing lightly. As if that explained her behavior.
The Captain just snorted. Shaking his head.
But Commander Song grinned openly. "Damn, Talla." She said. "If I knew that's all it took to get you to laugh, I'd have set somebody's pants on fire a long time ago…"
"Song." Tucker snapped, suddenly. "Are we docked with the damned station yet?"
And that surprised T'Pol. Because he was clearly very angry.
"Uh…yes, sir." Song said. "I'd have called and told you but…"
She gestured toward the lift. But, you know, all that happened.
"Good." He said, his shoulders tense. "Get security stationed up at the other lift and down the starboard corridor. Then I want every damned Vulcan on this ship the hell off. All of them. Right now."
Captain Tucker began moving for the bridge then, sparing T'Pol only a fierce glare before doing so.
"Stun 'em and drag 'em if you have to. I don't care." He said, as he passed them all by. "Then you get our people off and the station crew on. Get those repairs started. I want this over with. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Song said, a little uneasily. As she watched him disappear onto the bridge and out of sight.
T'Pol watched him, too. And she considered whether she should do something about the irrational reaction the Captain was having to the situation. She knew instantly that it would be illogical to do so. He undoubtedly blamed her people for what had occurred. Therefore, for her to intervene and attempt to elicit reason could be expected only to exacerbate the situation.
But since she found herself already moving to catch up and do precisely that, she decided it was then logical to proceed, hoping for the best. To stop suddenly, after so obviously chasing after the man, would be…awkward.
"Captain Tucker." She said, once she'd drawn within range of speaking. On the bridge of the ship, where she was immediately distracted by the completely unexpected layout of the place.
There were no less than three large view screens on the forward wall. Each seemingly integrated with holographic components around the perimeter of the screens. Apparently to provide an alternate three-dimensional view…in fact, in order to project it into the center of the room.
The consoles of the various stations around the bridge likewise appeared to enjoy holographic technology, with the same setup as the display table in the conference room. All of them displaying controls that, as they were worked by the bridge crew in attendance at the moment, appeared to be holographic projections as well. Solid holographic projections, as in the conference room earlier. Several of them shifted as she watched, certain portions either spinning in place to reveal another set of controls or simply changing their shape entirely…
And before the Captain's chair, yet another console. Where a console of any sort was not normally to be found. The same as the others but much broader and longer. Obviously intended to display a wide variety of data and provide even greater options.
And other rainbow surfaces could be seen, dotted all around the bridge. With holographic projectors and various other implements she didn't recognize. Between consoles, in various place on the walls…even on the ceiling, and here and there on the floor…
"What?" Tucker snapped.
T'Pol blinked a couple of times. "Excuse me." She said. "I was…"
"Sorry, you need me to wait a minute?" He said, angrily. Stepping toward her. Aggressively. "Let you snap a few pictures? Let's never mind about how you aren't cleared to be on the bridge, Commander."
"Excuse me, Captain. I was…" T'Pol tried again.
"No! By all means. Go right ahead." Tucker continued. Still moving toward her. "Have a seat in the Captain's chair. In fact, go ahead and take over here. Maybe we can go find some more terrorists so they can blow up the ship. That sounds like fun."
She decided then not to speak further. It seemed to serve only to provoke him so far. And, as she would have predicted, he said nothing right away. Waiting for her to speak, so that he could respond aggressively again.
She waited then. Until he was forced to speak first.
"Well?" He demanded.
"I have done nothing to deserve your hostility, Captain." She said, flatly. "If you feel you must express it, then you should do so elsewhere."
"Oh! You've done nothing!" He said, gesturing extravagantly. "Not a thing! You know how long I've been Captain of this ship, Commander?"
"Five months and twelve days." She said.
Interestingly, that surprised him for some reason.
"That's…right." He stumbled. "And…do you know how many times this ship has been in a fight in all that time? Once. One time! If it even counts, because we didn't even fire a shot! We rolled in while some Orions were trying to raid a freighter, they fired wildly off our port and they warped away. That was it! Guess how many times we've had someone plant a bomb on my ship, Commander!"
"I would assume…"
"That's right. Not once." He said. "Not a single time. And we've had exactly one security alert around here. Not counting drills, of course. And you know why we had that security alert? Because a wire shorted in the alert system, Commander, that's why."
And that was it. Oddly enough. He folded his arms and glared at her. Seemingly having satisfied his anger already.
She'd expected he'd go on for a while longer. He was Human and they did tend to drone on when they were angry. But still, she was hesitant to speak now. Somehow certain that if she did, he'd simply interrupt her again.
But she opened her mouth to do so nonetheless…
And he interrupted her.
"You know how many men I've lost under my command?" He said, simply. Not angrily, as before.
"No. I do not." She said, suppressing frustration.
"Twelve." He said. "All in the last two days. Since you came on the scene. And not just you, don't get me wrong. All you people. That's twelve crewmen. Most of them with families back home. Some of them were married. Some had children."
She wasn't sure what to say about that. But he said nothing further.
"Captain," She said, calmly. "I am not responsible for that. Nor my people. The Romulans are to blame here."
"The same Romulans that are headed for Earth right now!" Trip snapped. "Heading through Centauri to get there, Commander."
"Yes, precisely." She said, still calm. "They are targeting Earth, not Vulcan. It is not logical to blame my people for this situation, Captain."
"Are…are you saying we brought this on ourselves?" Trip said, incredulously.
"No, of course not." She said. "You are being emotional. The Romulans remain responsible for their own actions. But you can in no way lay the blame for their aggression on Vulcan or the Vulcan people. No more than I could reasonably blame Earth or Humans. The Romulan people remain entirely responsible for what they do. And all the things you have noted have resulted from their choices. Not ours, nor yours."
T'Pol noticed, with some small surprise, that he was listening to her. Not waiting for an opportunity to have an emotional outburst, but actually considering what she was saying. So she continued.
"I understand the past two days have been stressful." She said. "And feeling responsible for this ship and her crew, then it has been all the more so for you. But you should not allow emotion to rule you, nor impact command decisions…"
"You're right." He said. Again surprising her.
He let out a long breath, relaxing somewhat.
"You're right." He said, again. "That wasn't fair. I'm sorry."
And…
…she had no idea what to say now. She'd never actually elicited reason from a Human before. And she realized then…she'd always assumed that wasn't entirely possible.
So she nodded slightly. And that was all.
The Human, Charles, ran one hand through his hair. Then lay that same hand across his eyes for a moment. And smiled slightly beneath it.
Snorting lightly. As if he were laughing at himself a little.
Then dropped his hand to look at her again. Still with a slight smile.
She was rather profoundly struck by that. The long series of very casual emotional expressions, all executed in so short a time. And moreover, that she perceived all of them and understood what they were intended to convey.
"Sorry." He said, yet again. "It has been a rough couple of days. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Or any of your people."
"I understand." She said. And was surprised at herself now.
Of course, she did understand…but she hadn't decided to say that. It was nearly unconscious, elicited from her by those same emotional expressions he'd projected. Intended in part, she knew, to provoke empathy from her. And all without him likely being aware of it.
Fascinating indeed.
She wondered vaguely why no one among her people had ever studied Human behavior and psychology to any significant depth. Surely one could write entire books and theses on nothing more than the most casual interactions…
"Look, let's…get back to Song." He suggested. "Get your people off the ship and over to medical. And we've still got to report in to Hauser…"
"Of course." She said. "I will have Tulok and T'Lea work with your security officers. I expect it will go much more smoothly with their aid."
"Sounds good." Tucker said, nodding. "And thanks."
And he walked back the way they'd coming, clearly expecting her to follow. Which she did, because she was, of course, distracted. Confronted with the knowledge that her understanding of Human behavior was still quite lacking.
She had no idea what he was expressing gratitude for. She'd been entirely logical throughout their exchange. One did not express gratitude for that. Or at all, if one wished to behave appropriately.