Renaisterre
By Lieuten Keen
Chapter 20
Tower
Day Seven: A few hours ago
A long time ago Andie Brainerd had traveled the stars. She once landed on a world where she fell in with a disreputable crowd, who taught her some very interesting lessons; not the least of which was how to enter into places where she wasn't supposed to be. Or, in this case, how to exit places she didn't want to stay. For the first time since landing on a world that weighed down their womenfolk with ridiculously bulky gowns made of heavy fabrics and preposterously complicated coiffures, Andie found good use for the frippery; specifically, one of the straight pins that kept her bodice closed also opened the ball- and tumbler-style lock on her cage.
Sighing with relief at the ability to stand upright, she looked around the room, not wanting to spend any more time here than she had to. If Herak was coming back she didn't want to be here when he arrived. The first thing on her agenda was to reclaim some of her personal belongings. The toolkit was the first thing she picked up, thinking she could formulate some sort of weapon from the items inside. She got a nasty surprise when she opened the container though; a fat, hairy arachnidan jumped out at her, and she might have screeched with fear if silence weren't so important to her survival. No wonder they left the case behind, she fumed silently. Aside from the predator, the kit was empty. Annoyed at the inconvenience, she pulled the data card from the scanner and removed the power cell. If she couldn't have her toys, then they couldn't use them either.
Tensing at a sound nearby, she waited until she was certain she was still alone before finishing her perusal of the room. While she searched her eyes kept coming back to the standard tapestry on the wall. Old threads depicted a tall Tower with a bright light glowing from the top in the familiar triangle and star that was displayed on so many others in the castle. This wall hanging was different than the others somehow, but she couldn't quite pick out the variations. On a hunch, she pulled the fabric down and tucked it inside her bodice to look at later.
A quiet shuffle caught her attention and with wide eyes she glanced toward the door where a young man stood perfectly still with surprise. He carried a tray that steamed and smelled delicious, and he seemed surprised to find her outside her cage. Rising to her feet, she offered a bright smile, intending to present herself as a non-threat until she could think of something better, but her smile only made him nervous. He opened his mouth, perhaps only to greet her, but she couldn't take the chance. She slammed his head backward into the wall twice until his body slumped down onto the floor. It took a little extra time to drag him into the cage where she had so recently been a guest, but she wallowed in the glee of being able to lock someone else inside.
Just before she snapped the lock closed she was inspired with an idea. She took a few moments to divest the young man of his sensible vest and heavy pants, praying they would fit. They would suffice, she acknowledged, tugging the laces tighter to keep her shirt closed. He was a young boy and his garments fit pretty well. She felt much better once she was garbed in more comfortable clothes, although it was clear the young man never had to worry about squeezing boobs into his coats, she grimaced, adjusting the fabric. She definitely enjoyed locking the sleeping boy inside.
Her next stop was to retrace her footsteps back to the open room with the bloody couple from the village. Getting close to them was impossible; there were too many guards in this corridor. Regretfully she backtracked and headed for corridors that were dark and quiet. By ducking around a large barrel in order to evade detection, she found something else she sought; the rest of her medical kit. The satchel was nearly empty, but there were a few treasures left inside. Obviously they were things the simple folk couldn't find an immediate use for, like say, a nearly full tube of calcium gel, better known as bone paste. It was a quick-drying glue that was intended to never lose its cohesion. Andie grinned. She tucked the bone paste, the roll of gauze tape, and the slender screwdriver she found into her sleeves and got the hell out of there.
Finally standing in the Tower courtyard, she looked around trying to formulate a plan. She couldn't render the explosive chemicals inert because they were guarded. She couldn't flee because all the gates and all of the known tunnel entrances were guarded. She couldn't take on a garrison of guards by herself; she was crazy but she wasn't suicidal. It just wasn't fair that they were all armed and she wasn't!
One eyebrow arched thoughtfully as an idea formed in her head. Resting her hand above the vest where she kept the tube of bone glue, she considered her prospects with a mischievous smile. If you can't beat 'em, confuse 'em! Drawing a deep breath she changed direction and moved with purpose. From there it was simple work to steal a cloth bi-fold hat from a hook to hide her hair and face, as long as she kept her head down, and she was able to move throughout the fortress as close to invisible as she could manage.
By the time she made her way to the outer ward, her tube of glue was nearing empty, but her sticky fingers weren't finished yet with their work. Thrusting her shoulder out, she bumped into a large mountain of a man. A quick turn and a muttered apology earned a quick box to her ears from the cruel man, which stung worse than it should have due to the cold night air. She never stopped moving, just hunched her shoulders lower and kept moving.
"My lord, Herak," a second man called out from behind her. "You have dropped something." The helpful man's eyes widened at the sight of the silver device so unlike anything he had ever seen.
Herak whipped his eyes to the item on the ground, and snatched up the phase pistol, tucking it back into his belt and wondering how it might have come loose. "Did you think to steal from me?" he growled at the man who had spoken. In spite of the man's protests, Herak dealt him a blow that sent him reeling. "Nobody steals from me!"
Andie winced at the sharp cries of the man who took the beating that should have been hers. In her hands she could feel the cylinder she'd pulled from the machine and she wrapped her fingers around it. He might retain control of the phase pistol but she knew it wouldn't work without its power cell. She headed for the main gate.
"Stop right there, boy!"
Andie glanced up and noticed people looking in her direction and she changed course again, making for the stairs that would take her to the Tower walk. She cursed silently when Herak suddenly growled in recognition, and broke into a run. She almost made it to the top when hands clamped down on her shoulders, making her squeak in pain. The hat was torn off her head.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Herak snarled. He pulled his belt from around his waist and twisted the leather around her wrists, cutting deep into her skin. "But I knew I'd have use for you!"
"Touch me and I'll kill you," she threatened, struggling uselessly.
"Don't worry," he promised. "I won't lay a finger on you!" He dragged her up the remaining stairs and lashed her to the merlon with the free end.
She could see out across the valley from here; the campfires of the opposing force had grown in number since she last viewed them, and the light glinted off of metal shields, poised for ready use at the edge of the encampment. "Now what?" she hissed angrily.
"Now we wait," Herak informed her.
It wasn't long after that a single man on a white esther approached the main gates. He stopped within earshot of the wall and read from a scroll, offering peace if the antagonists would surrender. Herak signaled with his arm and two arrows were sped from archers on the wall, deep into the body of the man. The terrified esther turned and raced down the slope for home.
Andie turned her head to her captor. "You're going to pay for that," she hissed furiously.
"In a few more moments, you're going to be dead," Herak promised. He snapped his fingers and one of his guards escorted another female to the top of the stairs, but they did not set foot on the actual walk.
Sadiré stepped carefully to her assigned position; her cheeks flushed an unnatural red. She pulled her purple velvet cape further around her shoulders in a haughty gesture and looked with disdain upon the female tied to the wall.
"Tell them, Sadiré," Herak commanded. "The king sits out there. Tell him what you think of him."
The young woman cackled madly. She took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs, threatening to wipe the kingdom out of existence. "I will crush all who oppose me under my boots!" she cried out, among other things.
Andie's eyes opened wider. Sadiré was making those threats from a position right behind her, and from a distance there was only one conclusion to be drawn. Andie could only assume that the king and his advisors believed that she was the one calling out her intention to use the Power for her own selfish ends. "Oh, crap," she muttered. From her nerveless fingers dropped the cold cylinder. The soft tinkle of its landing was hidden under the young princess' cackle of maniacal glee. Andie bent to retrieve it, thinking to keep the power cell from Herak's hands, but Herak grabbed her shoulder.
"You're not going anywhere," he told her. He flipped open the communicator he carried and spoke into it. "Let's start a war," he told the person on the other end.
A loud explosion rocked through the canyon. A fiery ball headed toward her. Her bindings would allow her to do nothing but watch the projectile draw nearer. The impact of the cannonball created enough damage on its own, by knocking down the thin wall to which Andie was tied, but the phase pistol power cell she'd dropped was damaged by the brunt contact of the ball and subsequent stone fall. It only took one single spark to ignite the volatile chemical inside the cracked cylinder and in the ensuing explosion the whole balcony on which she stood dribbled away slowly beneath her feet.
The world seemed to move so slowly. Herak scrambled backward to avoid being dragged down with her. Her feet hung in the air without support just before the rest of her body followed, like a cartoon coyote who didn't realize he'd run out of road. A whistling sound pierced the night, just before the wind screamed in her ears. A shadow reached out of the darkness and impacted against her, driving the breath from her lungs. That was obviously the collision of other rocks against her body, she told herself, uncomprehending of the coarse feel of fur. There was a cold so deep it burned her skin; clearly the icy fingers of death.
Her final thought was: It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Tower Village
Day Seven: Night
The parish was pretty well deserted since the villagers had been moved into the Tower where they were subsequently incarcerated by those expected to protect them. It was fairly easy for Malcolm to evade the few soldiers stationed around while leading three women through the darkness. They all looked so nervous he couldn't be sure that something unexpected might make them lose all reason. Mistress Berthelde was the worst. She refused to move quickly. She didn't want to get her gown dirty. She was afraid of the king and all the king's men in light of the part she had played up until now for the opposing side. She didn't like the dark. Malcolm couldn't help but remember the doctor's ability to traverse dangerous territory with speed and relative peacefulness with nostalgia. He thought of her fondly until he remembered that she'd once thrown him off a castle wall.
His concern grew when a horse-like creature tore up the road toward the village with a rider flopping around on its back. Soon after, a boom echoed around the valley. Reed barked an order at the ladies to stay put as he maneuvered closer to the edge of the village to get a better look at the explosion and the harried rider. A sharp whistle behind him drew his attention momentarily toward Lady Theia. Her attention was elsewhere and Reed turned his head to see what she found interesting and saw a familiar blond woman struggling on the parapet with the cruel-faced Herak just before the bright light of an explosion disturbed his vision and sent dark spots and shadows streaking across his vision. By the time his eyes cleared, the walkway and the woman were nothing but rubble.
"No!" Malcolm choked out, moving forward intending to pull her body out of the debris. Another flash of movement caught his attention. That desperate rider was close enough to for Reed to recognize the shiny bald head bouncing above the graceful arch of an esther's neck, as Baldric raced up the narrow road through the village. Malcolm knew he may have been too late to save Andie from the pain of a bad fall, but he could sure dole out a little payback to the spineless coward who had attacked her.
Malcolm took a running leap at the balding cleric.
Starfleet Hollow
Day Seven: Nightfall
"May I have a word with you, Commander?"
Trip looked up from the conversation he was having with himself and saw T'Pol standing in the doorway to her pod. He hated the way he cringed at her request. She did not approve of this plan and her censure made him edgy. The day's repairs had moved faster than expected and he was looking at a suicidal launch date of hours not days. He couldn't afford to be edgy.
Of course, she was his superior officer and he had no choice but to obey.
"Sure, T'Pol," he sighed, turning sharply and veering toward her. To his surprise she actually stepped inside the pod and waited for him to follow. Many crewmen were still gathered around the central fire pit to eat their meager supper together and he was taken aback the Vulcan had arranged such a private meeting in plain sight of the Mess Tent.
Once he had entered, she pulled the door closed and sealed them inside an almost soundproof, tiny, dimly lit room.
"I have received word from Sergeant Chang," she began without preamble. "The incident at the Tower is growing more precarious for our crewmen. I understand your work on the Escape Pod is nearly complete and I would like to schedule a launch in just under an hour."
His breath caught in his throat. "An hour?" It was a totally different prospect to put into action something he wasn't certain would succeed than it was to work it out on paper. Frankly he was having trouble wrapping his head around the prospect. "You want us to try this out at night?"
"Daytime or nighttime will make no difference to the results of this plan," T'Pol pointed out.
There was something almost preternaturally smooth about the way the words were rolling off her tongue, especially in light of the difficulties she'd been having for several days just keeping her temper in check. Perhaps meditating really did work, Trip guessed.
"We were going to um...run some more diagnostics to make sure that we...er, had dotted all our 'i's and crossed all our 't's," he struggled to remember the basics of the plan he had concocted with Hess and Truax. It wasn't a good sign if he was supposed to be flying this mission. He'd been up for far too many hours.
"I have checked your results," T'Pol informed him. "The diagnostics are showing positive signs."
"Positive signs of what?" Trip asked, struggling to figure out which problem she was referencing now.
"Signs of positive success," she clarified. T'Pol stared deeply into his eyes. "Turn around, Commander, and sit down." She gestured to the bunk behind her.
"Why?" he inquired suspiciously, although he complied, almost without thinking about it.
"The Vulcans have used neural pressure to relieve stress and promote healing in their own bodies for years," T'Pol answered, settling behind him in a manner that was comfortingly familiar. Her hands were a delicate weight against his shoulders.
Automatically he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and picturing the muscles she touched. Trip was hyper-aware of the stench he must be exuding; he'd been working hard all day and there wasn't a shower handy. He breathed again. "I know about neural pressure," he finally retorted. It didn't sound as irritable out loud as it did in his head. Out loud his retort sounded...kinda sleepy.
"Breathe," she told him, adjusting her hands again and pressing through the thick material of his gray jumpsuit. The Vulcan could feel the hot knot of tension release under his skin and could sense his shoulders relax with the relief. She adjusted another pressure point. Obediently he inhaled, right on cue.
She breathed when he breathed. He hadn't done much more than splash water over his sweaty extremities and she could make out odors from several different sources. Sweat and dirt and engine oil, of course; those scents followed him everywhere, even on the sterile environment of the ship. T'Pol could make out the slight tang of the red earth that punctuated this world. There was the crisp linen starch that was steeped into the plain uniform. There was something else too; something deeper that she couldn't quite put her finger on. If she closed her eyes she would be able to smell the candles she lit for meditation, and feel the silk of the pajamas she wore during their sessions on board the ship. She would be able to remember in great detail the way his skin felt under her hands and the way his kisses tasted when she had finally given in to her urges. In a few more moments she would remember the shuddery way he had gasped when their bodies had joined. She would remember the delicate way he had traced her ear with his tongue and she would....
...Open her eyes and ask herself what the hell she thought she was doing indulging in fantasies she had no business indulging in at a moment like this! Her hands had stilled on his back and she pulled them away before an involuntary shudder could wrack her frame. She was beginning to think that she knew what was wrong with her, but she fervently hoped her diagnosis was incorrect. There was no time for this kind of foolishness. T'Pol closed her eyes again and drew in a deep breath. All those hours she had spent in here trying to get a grip on her emotional state and her control slipped away in one breath of engine oil and sweat!
Trip rolled his neck around on his shoulders. "Wow! That was great!" he remarked. He craned his head to look at her over his shoulders. "I feel like I just had an eight hour nap!" His thoughts were clear. His weariness and pessimism had disappeared with the knots in his muscles. When T'Pol remained silent he turned further around. "T'Pol?" he prompted her.
"I knew you were working too hard," she acknowledged curtly. "This is not a permanent solution; you should make plans to get an actual nap sometime soon. But in light of your current mission, I thought it would beneficial...for the whole crew." She struggled to look composed and not shaken to her core. "Commander," she added when she thought that her statement sounded too personal.
That megawatt smile spread across his features. "I'm sure the whole crew will thank you for it," he teased. "Commander," he added just to spite her.
"It was wrong to initiate a human in the ways of neural pressure," she fretted, not for the first time. She stood up and straightened her uniform. "Your species is not mature enough to handle such things with dignity."
Trip rose too, and faced her. "I'll have you know, I'm mature enough to enjoy getting felt up by a woman on any occasion." He recognized her mild attack as her way of dealing with something that embarrassed her, but it didn't stop him from poking back at her. Maybe she was embarrassed by the number of crewmen that waited outside. Or perhaps she was still worried about the upcoming launch. Speaking of which, he noted grimly before getting down to business. "I want to run a couple of last minute diagnostics with Hess and Truax and I'd like to go over the mission one more time with Mayweather and Romero," Tucker went on, picking up the blanket he was using in lieu of a coat and wrapping it around him. "Do you think the Captain and the others can wait an hour or two while we finish prep work?"
T'Pol considered the request, relieved to have her mind focused on work instead of...other things. "I suppose they will have to make do with your timeline," she acknowledged. "But do not dawdle." She really couldn't express how desperately she needed him to finish this quickly, she acknowledged silently.
"I'm already working at the speed of light," he grinned. He really did feel much better about lots of things. He considered suggesting that neural pressure be administered to every engineering team in the Fleet, but once again he was certain that would produce a lack of qualified teachers. Vulcan's didn't like to get their hands dirty, he snorted with amusement. "Can't get much faster than that!"
"All right then," the Vulcan remarked, then realized she had nothing more to add after that. "You are dismissed, Commander." There was a brief awkward moment before Trip ducked his head as a prelude to exiting, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.
T'Pol exhaled heavily. She realized her fists were clenched and forced herself to release them. There was too much work to do to indulge in worry. Or in anything else her mind thought to torment her with, she acknowledged. She grabbed her jacket and followed Tucker out the door.
Village Road
Day Seven: Night
Unlike the last two times he'd seen Andie fall, Malcolm didn't freeze in place to contemplate the idea that he had failed her, failed to save the woman in his care. He just moved, as quickly as his numb feet and shaking knees would carry him. Moving fast to intercept the rider before he cleared the edge of the village, Malcolm was grimly pleased that the cleric seemed to be headed for the Tower. It made him easier to target.
Baldric never saw the flying tackle, but he felt the weight of a wiry man drive him to the earth. They came up grappling with each other as the esther skittered away. Baldric punched Reed's face and Reed countered with a double fist to his midsection. They traded more blows. Baldric was taller and more muscular than Reed, but Malcolm had the training of Starfleet on his side. Reed stepped backward to avoid a blow and his ankle wobbled on an uneven portion of ground. Baldric pressed his advantage until someone spoke behind him.
"Hey, Baldy!"
Both men looked around.
"You missed, you son of a bitch!" A chunk of rock as big as a cantaloupe slammed onto the arch of his foot. Baldric howled and screeched and Malcolm didn't waste the opportunity to launch an uppercut that actually propelled the cleric into the air before dropping him on the ground with a thump.
"How do you like it when projectiles come flying at you without warning, huh? You like them boulders, pal?" Andie snapped, advancing to plant a steel-toed boot directly in his midsection instead. "Twigs! Pebbles!" She punctuated each syllable with a sturdy kick to the ribs, except for the last one which landed squarely between his legs.
Andie Brainerd was sporting several cuts and abrasions. Her hands and face were dirty and her clothes were torn. She was soaking wet and shivering so hard it was a miracle she was still on her feet. In other words, she looked fantastic, Reed thought.
Malcolm grabbed her trembling shoulders and pulled her back. "I think he gets the picture," he remarked dryly.
"I owed him that," she assured him with a snarl. She turned her head sharply to the side. "Don't move, Dirtbag!" she hissed at Baldric who struggled weakly. "You stay right there!"
"For a second I thought you were dead," Reed smirked, using his hands to check for injuries. "Then I remembered; you can fly." He cupped his face and probed her neck and spinal column.
"You bet your ass I can! Stop it!" Andie grumbled, swatting at his hands to stop his gentle ministrations. Her protestwas short-lived as her knees gave out and she started to fall.
Reed reached out and kept her from dropping like a stone by slipping his arms around her waist. "Damnit, woman! Can't you stay on your feet!" he chastised gently.
"Get your hands off me!" she grunted, pushing at him, causing her rescuer to stumble with the weight of both of them. "I said, don't move!" She turned to bellow at the fallen cleric beside her who groaned and shifted his weight.
"How'd you manage it this time?" Malcolm struggled and succeeded in remaining upright, but barely. He found her physical presence to be rather reassuring.
"I had help," the woman grunted before her attention was diverted. "Hey! Get back here!"
In spite of her directives to remain, Baldric took the opportunity provided when the pair tangled together and hustled to his feet, unmindful of the injuries he suffered. He took off at a shambling run in the dark night air.
Reed tried to untangle himself from Andie but she clutched his forearm to stop him. "Don't bother. He won't get far," she told him tiredly.
Something growled in the dark. That shadow that had collided with Andie had not been a shadow at all. It had been a Guardian of the Tower. Summoned by a whistle, Androcles had raced through the night and knocked Andie out of the thickest part of the falling debris, dropping her directly into the moat. The water was cold and his claws had dug into her shoulders, but in the end it had cushioned her fall, ending with a ducking in a pool of water rather than under a pile of brick and stone. That shadow now materialized from the darkness as Androcles passed by them at a dead run hunting down the man who had chanced to run. There was another loud roar, followed by a shriek and a gurgling sound. Then there was silence.
"He should have stayed," Malcolm uttered quietly, guessing that Baldric had just become a snack.
"We should get out of here," Andie murmured.
"I thought you and Androcles were friends?" Malcolm inquired.
"I don't think I'm the one he came for," she muttered. "I wasn't the one who summoned him."
Just outside the line of sight Reed thought he could hear the juicy sound of flesh tearing and the smacking of lips, and with her words he remembered the shrill whistle just before he had seen a flash of shadow. The sound of the whistle had come from behind him and now another sound came from that location as well; it was the sound of a woman's scream. "Damn!" he hissed, grabbing Andie's hand and hauling her to her feet. "I left those women alone in the village!" He set off at a run.
"I'm fighting for my life, getting thrown off a castle wall and you're picking up dates?" Andie snorted. The accusation held little rancor as she was struggling just to keep breathing as they raced across the uneven terrain in the dark.
Malcolm ignored her petulance. A soft squeal reached his ears and he picked up the pace. There wasn't any breath left for conversation. They returned to the village square to find it nearly empty.
Mistress Berthelde was on her knees, weeping into the hem of her dress. "They took her. They took the lady." Her shaking hand pointed back in the direction of the hidden hut with its tunnel entrance concealed beneath.
"Isn't this the maid who was stealing my stuff?" Andie panted crossly.
Reed could see this wasn't heading in a good direction. "She's the advisor of our old pal, Sadiré," he informed her shortly, looking around for signs of the other two women. He was out of luck. Signs of scuffle led off into the darkness, but there wasn't enough light to follow.
"Is Sadiré going to miss her?" Andie queried grimly.
"They took Theia," Berthelde moaned distraughtly.
Their conversation was cut off as a different set of guards surrounded them. Roland's guards rode up on esthers and kept them in place with drawn weapons. Berthelde took one look at the armed guards, shrieked and toppled over in a faint. For the second time, Malcolm moved quickly to wrap his arms around a woman before she hit the dirt. She lolled helplessly against him and he was forced to lift her into the air, cradling her body against his.
"Where is the cleric?" the captain of the guard demanded when he saw the trio. He pulled his mount to a halt to interrogate the new prisoners.
"He won't be coming back," Reed told him. "He had an encounter with a ktirya."
One gesture sent two men to verify the claim. "I see you have returned, Madam," Roland looked down his nose at Andie with disdain. "I expected you to be harrying that impostor."
"I'm preparing for my second wind," Andie huffed belligerently. "This is all part of my master plan."
"The king would like a word," Roland informed her.
"Fabulous," Andie muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I look forward to meaningful discourse." She refused to move until prompted by a sharp sword then stomped her feet in the direction indicated. Malcolm adjusted his hold on Mistress Berthelde and followed behind, trying not to let the woman dangle. The guards fell into pace behind them.
Although he didn't say anything, Roland could see the injuries that Andie suffered as she passed him by. She didn't ask for special treatment of her wounds, so he didn't offer any, but he did marvel at a woman who didn't complain. Captain Archer's woman was stranger than any female he'd ever known and the thought troubled him somewhat. Perhaps there were stranger things at work here this night.
Galen's Camp
Day Seven: Night
Andie entered the circle of earth around the fire in front of Galen's tent, followed by Reed and Berthelde, before the guards instructed her to halt. Beside her Reed laid down the woman who had fainted. She seemed to be making noises that would indicate a slow rise to consciousness. Someone threw a cloak over her shivering shoulders and she wrapped it around her gratefully. The thin material might ward off the chill but it wouldn't protect her from the verbal assault.
"I want my key back, woman!" Galen broke off conversation with a minion and crossed the open air to stand in front of the doctor.
She didn't even flinch. "It's good to see you on your feet, King," she answered sarcastically. Unconcerned with his title, she glanced past him to look at Archer. "I'm surprised to see you still on yours, Jon," she added, eyeing him with a frown. Her eyes took in the way his arm tucked against his side to protect his vulnerable spots and correctly guessed the reason. She started in his direction, but the king detained her with an imperious gesture.
"Return my key!" Galen demanded again.
Andie tossed him an irritated glance before meeting Archer's gaze. "I...may have...lost it...a little bit," she admitted slowly. "But I can get it back!"
"The whelp has control of the key?" Galen paled.
"They've prepped a wall to blow and they have hostages," Andie spoke quickly. "We have to get back in there and help the villagers!"
"What happened?" Archer inquired.
Andie explained as quickly as possible, and her words tumbled over each other. "Sadiré reneged on her claim of me as the Chosen One. She turned me over to Herak and he shot me. They're prepping a massive explosion to take out the wall between the mountain and the fortress. They're going to sacrifice all the villagers in the Great Hall so nobody will oppose them when they have the power they seek. I've done what I can to slow their progress but we need to stop them sooner rather than later."
Reed and Archer spoke at once. "What did you do?" They demanded in unison.
In spite of her disheveled appearance, that cocky grin stretched slowly across her face. "I slowed them down," she repeated, quite pleased with her actions.
"Andie, what did you do?" Archer growled again.
"I found my tube of bone paste and glued shut every keyhole I could find. That includes the lock on the cistern gate and the one leading to Sadiré's bedroom. And the armory, not that I think that'll do any good. Anyone who's any good at fighting already had weapons on them, I just thought that it might slow them down if they can't regroup or rearm or grab something bigger or..." She was babbling randomly again, so she clamped her lips shut over her chattering teeth.
"Glue?" Jon inquired with an arched brow.
"I also pulled the data card out of the scanner they had and deleted what power was left in the primary memory. They don't have access to bio signs anymore or updated maps of the tunnels."
"That's a start," Reed remarked.
"You still have your scanner?" she asked him, holding out a hand.
Reed handed it over. "I thought you were using UESPA's device. I don't think the technologies are interchangeable."
"Minor adjustment," she grunted, kneeling down and pulling open the back of the silver device used by Starfleet, and twisting the wires around. Once finished, she pulled the data cartridge out of her pocket and popped the thin tab off the top, using two wires to connect with the inner workings. Then she scanned her hand.
"What are you doing?" Reed inquired. He glanced anxiously at the natives surrounding them. They seemed to be growing more agitated the longer the three humans conversed amongst themselves.
"Testing a theory," she spoke shortly. "I scraped Herak's arm with my fingernails on the Tower walk. I want to run his DNA." She frowned at the results she got.
"That's enough foolishness," Galen stated stepping forward. "Captain, do your duty."
"You are under arrest, Lady," Captain Roland strode over and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back to her feet. "You have broken into the Castle of Renaisterre. You have assaulted His Majesty, King Galen. You have stolen from the king, and you were seen conspiring with the enemy." He pulled her toward the prison cages, but she struggled.
"I wasn't conspiring!" Andie snapped, yanking on her arm. "I got caught trying to seal the firing pins in the cannons! They tied me to the battlements and let Sadiré talk dirty to you! Then you conspired to fire on me!"
"Father Baldric fired that cannon," Roland interrupted her tirade. "We did not fire upon you."
Andie's eyes widened in surprise. "He was a priest?
"Cleric," Malcolm clarified.
"Whatever!" she shrieked, throwing her hands out in annoyance.
"He's dead now," Malcolm shrugged uncomfortably.
After a short consideration, Andie shrugged it off too and faced the old man. "King, look, I promise that if you let me go back into that Tower, I will get your key back. I'll even make sure that Sadire gets her comeuppance."
"You're not going to kill her!" Archer objected.
"It's possible that Sadiré's not aware of her actions," Malcolm added. "I think her tea is being drugged, much as her mother's was years ago."
"She's drinking Letizia's tea?" Andie queried. She pondered that silently for a moment, before closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly. After a moment she opened her eyes and focused on the king. "She'll be in your custody by dawn."
Galen stared at the slender female in front of him. He could understand now why Roland referred to her as an odd woman, and why Archer smirked and implied that Galen didn't know how strange she was. She spoke and moved as a man might, with confidence and passion. She exuded none of the grace or gentleness of a woman. Her tone to him was both arrogant and derogatory, but he didn't doubt her sincerity, in spite of his next question. "Why should I trust you, Lady?"
"Because you don't have any other choice," Reed suggested, stepping into the light. "They will make their move within hours, and you cannot hope to take the Tower by force before they have finished their work."
"You've already lost one man today," Archer stepped forward. "Let us help you defend your world."
Something wrapped around Andie's knee, causing a gasp of surprise but when she looked down she found Berthelde kneeling in the dirt and looking up at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were too bright, as though she had a high fever. The maid stole a look at King Galen. Her eyes moved back to Andie and then rolled out of focus.
"Who better to fight a woman than another woman, Your Majesty?" For the first time Berthelde spoke, drawing all eyes toward her. Her voice sounded dreamy and far away; she was having a vision. Her grip on Andie's leg tightened involuntarily until the doctor was almost wincing.
"The woman of shadows will bring light to the darkness...She will bear them all children...the beasts will feast on flesh of the cold, unnamed...he will drown in her...they will hold together until the sea..." For just a moment Berthelde's eyes focused on Andie who had not moved. She reached up her hand to slip it into the palm of the doctor and the kneeling body jerked like it had connected with a live electrical wire. "His divided personality will betray you." Her eyes flickered to Malcolm before glazing over again, the words spilling forth faster and faster.
"The bringer of life is the giver of death...one heart, broken...cities crumble under her Medusa gaze...she is another and another...one is lost, Bones, the other is broken...fire...the never-ending circle...of light...forever...the bright blue sky...the stars are watching!" Berthelde screamed and yanked her hand out of Andie's sweaty grip. She covered her face with her hands and wept.
The group stood in front of her, looking a little pale. The frantic way she grasped Andie's hand, the speed with which the words tumbled out, the hot look in the seer's eyes made gooseflesh break out on everyone listening. It had been distinctly uncomfortable. Archer was the first to break the silence. "Did that make any sense to you?" he asked Galen and Roland.
They both shook their heads faintly.
"Time is irrelevant," Berthelde whispered, before sinking into unconsciousness.
Malcolm's lips twitched. "That was definitely meant for you," he teased Andie soberly, speaking from quite close by. She hadn't even seen him moving near. He must have done it when it looked like she was being assaulted by the seer.
"But...Medusa gaze? What's that about?" Andie questioned. The frown didn't leave her face.
"Did any of the rest of that mean anything in particular to you?" he asked, curious about her response. She looked pale and flustered.
"No, it was just gobbledygook," she answered faintly.
He knew she wasn't telling him the truth. "The woman of shadows...the bringer of life and death...that doesn't mean anything to you?" he pushed, narrowing his eyes.
"She also said your divided personality will betray me," Andie challenged sharply. "You want to discuss that in detail?"
Reed shrugged noncommittally and stepped back, watching the mysterious doctor from under his dark lashes.
"Is there someplace where I can freshen up before we head back in there?" Andie asked Galen directly. Her tone had sharpened and the traces of unease fled.
It irked him that she did not pay him the respect of title, but he wasn't in the mood to pick a battle with the "bringer of life and the giver of death." He just nodded at Roland and the captain lifted an arm to usher Andie into his tent, providing her with a towel and bowl of clean water.
"If your woman has sealed the gates, how will you enter the fortress?" Roland inquired.
"I think they are anticipating that we will enter the same way we exited," Malcolm broke in. "I have a plan that takes us in a different direction. They won't be watching it as closely because it's not what they expect." He took a deep breath and tried to forget the unnerving prophecy. "You'll need to provide some distraction so they aren't looking at us." Roland nodded and took off to speak to his men.
"How are we getting in?" Archer inquired, closing the distance between himself and his armory officer.
"You don't expect to go with us, sir?" Malcolm inquired. Archer's earlier lack of faith in his armory officer still stung and the words were sharper than usual. He had made careful note of the way that the captain and the doctor had greeted one another, exchanging significant glances that were not meant to be understood by anyone else in the circle, not even him, and it brought back all the frustration of the previous evening.
"I'm going with you," Archer stated simply with a grin at the cheek of his overly cautious tactical officer trying to keep him from joining in.
"Shouldn't you remain here, sir?" Malcolm repeated.
"It's my job to go, Malcolm," Archer retorted, getting hot under the collar that a lieutenant would question his methods.
"Actually, sir, that is not your job at all. Your job is to lead your crew to safety, and you can't do that if you are placing yourself directly in the line of fire." Malcolm couldn't believe the words were flying out of his mouth, but he couldn't seem to stop the tide of speech, although he did lower the volume. "Your job is not to wander off in the night and lead us into worry! Your job is not to endanger our position when we are lost! It is not to parade around here as though you are possessed of perfect health when it is clear that activity causes you pain! It is not your job to lead a possibly fatal mission raid on a fortress when your leadership could best serve us by remaining on board ship...I mean, to remain behind to counsel this trigger-happy king!"
There was one slip of the tongue that held more meaning than the others. He hadn't even been thinking of it until the words came out of his mouth. Reed was still stinging from Archer's decision to take an explosive device deep into the heart of the ocean laboratory where the Xindi were preparing the weapon of mass destruction; a mission that had nearly been a one-way ticket and which had nearly cost the crew of the Enterprise their lives. It hadn't been an easy decision on either side, but obviously that memory was bothering Reed more than he'd thought.
"I'm the boss," Archer drew himself up to his full height and looked down at Reed. "I can do whatever I want! You're overstepping your bounds!"
"No, sir!" Reed refuted. "You are overstepping yours by leaving us to our fate while you make yet another decision that will, in all likelihood, lead you straight to your death!"
The sudden flare of temper surprised both men. The ensuing silence was awkward to say the least. Water that should have passed under the bridge had poured forth to soak them both in its chilly tide. Neither had expected to harbor such a grudge, not after so much time had passed, but it seemed that the tide was bringing it back in again.
Court martial was the first thing that flew through Archer's mind, but it was immediately deflected. Reed had always served his post well. In fact, the punitive solution was so out of context with the kind of man that Archer had always considered himself to be that his ire deflated entirely, leaving him exhausted. "You think we'll ever be able to leave the Expanse behind?" Archer asked quietly.
Malcolm wasn't quite ready to release his hurt feelings. "At least this time, Captain, you will, once again, still not know what it's like to be left behind since you insist on joining this mission."
The continued discomfort was broking up by the intrusion of the doctor who broke up the silence with her customary diplomacy. "You boys want to take some time to kiss and make up or can we go kick this bitch in the teeth and save the heavy petting for later?"
Malcolm snapped a particularly dour glare in her direction, fuming at the wrongness of that statement. When she refused to cower beneath his disdain, he snapped off a crisp salute to Captain Archer before turning on his heel and striding off into the darkness. He had a rescue to plan.
Jon didn't waste any time fuming; he snarled at the doctor. "You got something to say?"
For once, she didn't flounce around or make dirty jokes. "You know he's right," she began soberly. "I've seen ships tear themselves apart when their captain was lost. But you already know that, don't you? In spite of the fact that you keep tempting fate, you know he's right. Is all the fame and glory you seek worth all of their lives?"
"Is that what you think of me?" Archer asked, taken aback. "You think I'm a glory-hound?"
"Why else would you do something this foolhardy?" she asked quietly.
"Because it's the right thing to do!" Archer growled.
"Right thing for whom?" she countered.
"I'm the captain! I get to decide what's good for everyone! If you think you can do a better job, get your own commission!"
She was so quiet and so still for a moment she could have been a statue. It looked like she was considering his words in far deeper context that he had intended. Finally she just shrugged. "Whatever," she grunted, waving away the altercation. "You ready or do you need time to stroke your own ego?" She had washed away the worst of the dirt and blood and was close to looking presentable again. In addition to her dark pants and vest she had added a short cape to camouflage the fact that she had also helped herself to Roland's weapons. Two daggers, each with a blade as long as a man's forearm, peeked out of her belt.
Archer was slightly amused to note that a silver fork stuck out of the top of her boots. He wondered how desperate a fight had to get before she would resort to cutlery instead of weaponry. And then he wondered if she had ever resorted to cannibalism. Shaking his head, he decided to stop wondering about the doctor's odd habits.
"My lady, you cannot possibly mean to go!" Roland hurried up to the pair moving away from the tent and waved his hands in protest.
"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, pal." Andie patted Roland's chest companionably and leaned in to disclose a confidence near his ear. "I'm not really a lady," she whispered loudly.
Roland spluttered in confusion while she moved away with further clarification.
Archer choked back laughter. "It's complicated," he dodged rather than explaining. "She's going with us." He glanced at Andie. "Unless you'd like to remain here?"
"Bitch tried to blow me up," Andie growled. "I'm going. Besides none of you can handle her."
"I beg your pardon!" Reed's voice preceded him out of the darkness surrounding the campsite. Sergeant Chang followed him, carefully eyeing the armed men around him and trying to ignore the interest that his strange wardrobe and unfamiliar weapons incited. "I can handle a single woman just fine!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Andie scoffed. "You're a gentleman and she's not a trained soldier. You couldn't bring yourself to take her out. I have no such qualms."
"Enough arguing!" Archer held up a hand. "Are we ready to go?"
"I would respectfully request the right to attend your incursion party," Roland asked formally.
Archer looked askance at Reed who only shrugged. "We'll make room but we'd like to keep this raiding party as small as possible in order to sneak in undetected."
"What are our objectives, sir?" Chang inquired, shifting his shoulder under the weight of a coil of rope that Lieutenant Reed had asked that he bring.
"You are supposed to return for Lady Theia," Berthelde chastised wearily from the ground. In spite of her dirt mattress, she looked rather comfortable. Someone had brought her a pillow and a blanket, and she held a cup of tea in her weak grip. "Forgive me, Lady Andrea. It's been so long since I used my gift. I kept seeing images of the dead Theia, and Sadiré assured me she was dead and necromancy is forbidden. I thought I'd lost my mind as Letizia did. The release of my burden of guilt brought it all forth in a rush. I must have frightened you."
"Don't worry about it," Andie knelt down. "I've had my fortune read before. You didn't tell me much I hadn't already heard." She kept her eyes on the weak woman and ignored the jerk of Malcolm's head as she announced that. "Rest now and we'll bring Theia back to you." She rose and fell into line behind the departing men.
Malcolm fell into step beside her as they moved away. "You've had your fortune read?" he queried. He had also raided a weapon's chest, but he was armed with a phase pistol and a fresh quilted jacket.
"Well, you know," Andie shuffled her feet as she moved, "Fortune cookies at Madame Chang's, whatever."
That answer seemed insufficient for her unrest earlier. "A fortune cookie from Madame Chang's told you that you are the woman of shadows?" he prodded her lightly.
"Woman of shadows, lottery numbers, weather forecasting...it's all hokum and phooey, right?"
Malcolm couldn't stop the quick giggle. "You think weather forecasting is hokum and phooey too? There's hope for you yet." He sobered for a moment. "Are you sure you want to go back into this?"
"Where else would I be?" she answered lightly.
The answer was troubling, not because it was glib, but because Malcolm thought she might be telling the truth. Once more she was throwing herself recklessly into the fray without thought or concern for her own safety. He was beginning to recognize that she had an ability to avoid an unpleasant end, but that didn't make him more certain that he wanted her there. In short, he had to look after the captain and he had to look after the doctor; if they were both in danger, he didn't know which he would rescue first. That was the thought that troubled him. Pushing aside his worry, he tried to concentrate only on the maneuvers that would get them all through this action in one piece.
On the other side of the village Andie turned toward the hidden hut, the last place that Lady Theia and Mistress Dagmar had been seen.
"We're not going that way." Reed caught her arm. "I have another entry point in mind." He waited for her inevitable objection; she always objected.
"Lead on, Lieutenant," she waved him ahead.
Her acquiescence startled him, but he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He took point and led them in another direction. It was riskier, but he hoped that it would offer them the opportunity to surprise their enemy.