Payment
ByBlacknblue(akaBluenblack)
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.
Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.
Payment Chapter 24:
ANDORIAN CAMPAIGN, FLEET LAUNCH 3 DAYS, 19.0 HOURS
"Why?" Krasen was becoming more puzzled with each statement. Nothing this pair said made any sense. But the fact that they were trying to convince him made even less sense. Was that the purpose? Some devious Human plot to unseat his reason?
"Why what?" The woman smiled wryly. "Why did we come? Why did we bring Defiant through from another universe? Why are we telling you this?"
"Yes." Krasen waited. His captors shared a look.
"This will take some time," the man said. "Time that we presently do not have. It was unfortunate that this meeting required both of us to leave the station. We must return before our absence is noticed."
"For the moment," the woman said, "take it that we come from a point in history when the alpha quadrant has been overrun by an empire that is far worse than the Terrans. That's putting it mildly. Our objective is to strengthen the Terran empire by purging it of the internal weaknesses that resulted in our future coming to pass."
"Why would I agree to strengthen the Terrans?" Krasen shifted and gritted his teeth. His head was pounding. "All of this is madness. The longer you speak, the less sense you make."
The man stood up. "You might agree to strengthen the empire for one overriding reason," he said. "Because Vulcan will fare much better as a highly favored vassal of Terra, than she would as the raped and plundered slave of Cardassia."
The woman also stood up. "For now we must leave it at that." She touched a control and a transporter took effect. When Krasen's vision cleared he, and the chair, were in a small room that resembled a metal box. A bare bunk was attached to one wall. The opposite wall was adorned with a waste disposal unit and a wash basin. There was no visible exit, nor did there seem to be any ventilation duct. The chair's restraints opened and the man's voice came from an unidentifiable source.
"I recommend against attempting to escape. You are sealed within the heart of an asteroid, and the only exit is via transporter. There is no method for triggering transport within the cell. Any attempt to modify the mechanisms of your confinement unit might disable the life-support system. It will be no less than 52, and not more than 69 hours before either of us are able to return. The basin will provide generous water. You will be fed upon our return. I suggest deep meditation, but the choice is yours."
The woman's voice added, "Think about what we said. If you are still willing to listen, I am willing to offer more proof next time we talk. Sleep well." A click sounded, then silence.
ANDORIAN CAMPAIGN, FLEET LAUNCH 3 DAYS, 11.25 HOURS
The turbolift slid open and Travis rotated the captain's chair to face it. "Request permission to step aboard the bridge, admiral," Tucker said.
"Granted." Mayweather gestured. "Let me see those specs you were talking about."
Tucker obediently walked over and and handed him a PADD. "The upgrade is based on a minor modification of the units that were used in Defiant's universe during the last years of the twenty-second century. It offers a ten percent increase in range over current pulse rifles, the destructive power is fifteen percent greater, and the power pack is only six grams heavier."
Travis scanned the PADD with interest. "This looks promising." He glanced up. "Well done, Commodore. When did you find time to work on this?"
Tucker stood straight. "General Kuchera expressed a particular interest in pulse rifle upgrades, sir. It didn't require a tremendous amount of extra work. Unfortunately, this is the best we can do with our current manufacturing base."
Travis nodded thoughtfully. "You seem interested in earning the general's good opinion, Tucker."
"I am, sir," Tucker said. "The general is a remarkable man."
"Yes." Travis looked at him closely. "He is." After a moment the admiral said, "I will pass this on to him. He might decide to come back up and try out a prototype. Will that be a problem?"
"No, sir," Tucker said. "No problem at all. I will prepare a prototype, just in case."
"Do that," Travis said. "I'll try it out myself as soon as you get it done. Dismissed."
"Yes, sir," Tucker did an about face and headed for the turbolift, trying to suppress his sweat by sheer willpower. Once the lift door closed he wiped his forehead and took a shaking breath.
My nerves are shot. I have to move on to phase three soon, or cut my throat. I can't take much more of this.
His guards were waiting when the lift arrived at the transporter deck. When he walked out all five of them snapped to attention and, paradoxically, un-tensed noticeably. Tucker gestured and they fell in around him with smooth precision. "Parker," he said, "did that medic run a full tox screening on Drew? Is he sure that it was a simple allergic reaction?"
"That's what he claimed, sir," the young guard said, looking grim. "With your permission, sir. We can go back and make sure."
"Easy, Parker," Tucker lifted a hand and stopped just outside the transporter room door. "If he's telling the truth, it won't accomplish anything to scare him and Drew should be back on duty tomorrow. If he's lying, we'll know soon enough and you can all take turns at him." He pressed the door button.
"Thank you, sir," Parker said. Ugly smiles broke out all around Tucker. Drew was the most respected guard commander that Tucker had ever had. The rest of his bodyguard were not taking his illness well.
Three of them moved ahead into the room, giving it a quick check before signaling that it was safe for Tucker to enter. The technician on duty saluted respectfully, which Tucker returned. "How are things, Billie?" he asked. "Any trouble?"
"Not to speak of, sir," she said. She glanced around and casually pressed two buttons. "Cole is getting crazier, sir. Even the empress is starting to notice. I don't think it will be too long before she self-destructs." She keyed the buttons again. "So everything seems to be on schedule."
Tucker nodded. "Good to hear. Let me know if you need anything." His first three guards mounted the pad. "Energize." In a moment the all clear signal came and Tucker stepped up, along with the other two bodyguards. They materialized in the transport alcove aboard Jupiter station.
"Welcome back, sir," Ensign Eric Hess stood waiting with a PADD.
Tucker nodded. "Report."
Hess said, "Crew three on the torpedo upgrade detail needs a new welder. That junk they sent up from the planet blew out half its circuits before they finished the first mounting rack. Otherwise all is on schedule at the moment."
"Always something," Tucker muttered. "All right, take the spare welder from stores and rig up some kind of mounting for it. It's twice the size of what they need, but in zero gee they can make do."
"Yes, sir," Hess said. Tucker headed out, taking deep breaths.
Is it worth it? Really worth it?
He moved into the corridor and started toward command central.
Yeah. It's worth it. I haven't forgotten, dad.
ANDORIAN CAMPAIGN, FLEET LAUNCH 3 DAYS, 6.5 HOURS
T'Pol straightened from her improvised chem lab apparatus. Two seconds later the door parted and Tucker walked through, wearing his all-too-familiar expression of total exhaustion. She moved smoothly to the replicator and ordered coffee while he dug two sample jars out of his pocket and set them on his desk.
"Here's the last ingredient and the catalyst," her mate said. "How's the rest of it?"
"Progress is acceptable," she said, handing him the mug. He took it gratefully and starting pouring it down. She transferred the reagents to her work table and turned back. "Will you eat and rest?"
He shook his head, to her chagrin but not to her surprise. "No time. Three days left and five ships still to upgrade. We're not gonna make it, but we won't miss it by much. As long as we don't miss the deadline by more than half a day, Travis won't let Hoshi shoot anybody since what put us behind is those new torpedo mounts." He put down the empty mug and took a deep breath. "Thanks for the coffee."
A tingle of satisfaction worked through her, as it always did when he expressed appreciation for her efforts on his behalf. "You would be able to work with greater efficiency if you were properly fed," she offered.
"Maybe," he said, "but I won't work at all if I'm kicked out the airlock. Once the fleet takes off, I'll eat half a pig and sleep ten hours. All right?"
"Unlikely." She stopped herself at the precipice edge of sighing. "You habits are too deeply channeled. I would be satisfied with two full meals a day and six hours of sleep a night."
He chuckled. "No, you wouldn't. Don't lie." He gave her a look that lacked any trace of hostility. Her breath stalled in excitement.
It is working! The reference works are correct. The biochemical bond is forming.
T'Pol carefully touched her lip with the tip of her tongue. This was a non-verbal sexual signal that she had been practicing ever since they arrived on the station. Feedback through the bond informed her that her technique was improving. She put her hand on Tucker's arm and felt the bond heat in response. He quirked the corner of his mouth and removed her hand, but not roughly.
"Later," he said. "I need to get back to work. You ready to use the delivery system?"
"Yes," she said. "The new transporter technology is significantly simpler to use, and includes multiple redundant fail-safes." She paused. "You are certain that this mixture will accomplish your objective?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If the database wasn't lying, yeah," Tucker said. "Should put him into a semi-coma without any strain on his heart. And in five minutes it will dissolve and be untraceable. They used it for Intel ops in Defiant's universe."
"I don't recall any references in Defiant's database regarding Intelligence gathering methods," she had told him, feeling puzzled.
"Good," her mate had said. "You weren't supposed to." She blinked. "Be ready as quick as you can. The signal could come any time."
"Acknowledged." T'Pol watched her mate leave with a distracted expression. Tucker must have decrypted those portions of the database listed as Top Secret, which had defeated her best efforts. She was impressed yet again, and well pleased. A father of such proven intelligence would be valuable to their child, both genetically and pragmatically.
Tucker's plan to isolate the Butcher for application of the mind meld was elegantly simple. But it was her responsibility to execute the pragmatic details. She moved back to the workbench and began mixing ingredients. Two hours should suffice. Then all she had to do was wait.
ANDORIAN CAMPAIGN, FLEET LAUNCH 3 DAYS, 4.5 HOURS
"Attention!"
Tucker's bodyguard detail snapped as one man into stiffly upright postures. He followed suit and waited, fist on chest, in the middle of the corridor as Travis approached with his own entourage. The admiral stalked along the corridor with lethal effortlessness. His leading guards pushed past Tucker and took position with their weapons trained on the commodore's escort, scowling. The friction caused by Tucker's people killing the admiral's previous guards was not likely to subside in the foreseeable future.
Mayweather stopped and examined Tucker, then glanced at the weapon case on the floor between them. "You're certain the prototype is perfected?"
"Yes, sir," Tucker said. "I tested it myself earlier today."
Mayweather nodded. "Good. Bring it then. You are going to demonstrate it for me."
"Of course, sir." Tucker scooped up the case and fell in behind the admiral, having expected this. There was no way that Travis would put his hand on a prototype until Tucker demonstrated that it wasn't going to blow up in his face. They moved along the corridor to a down ramp, and into one of the larger testing labs. Two pairs of slender posts were positioned near the outer wall, with a heavily reinforced barrier of hull metal behind them. The group stopped and Mayweather shot him a curious look.
"Each pair," Tucker explained, "contain a set of emitters for a type one force field. The kind that Intel says are typically used by the insurrection for ground unit defense." He knelt and opened the case, pulling out a slender rifle, shorter than the standard pulse weapon and equipped with a side mounted instrument panel. "May I ask for the loan of a pulse rifle, sir? I want to demonstrate the relative performance characteristics. Or perhaps you would prefer to have one of your guards take the shot?"
Travis turned his head. "Sandoval. Here."
A MACO stepped forward and gave Tucker a lethal glare. "Awaiting orders, sir," Sandoval said stiffly. Mayweather's lip twitched and he pointed at Tucker. Sandoval's teeth gritted, but he turned to face the commodore and waited.
"Just a five second burst at the left hand force field," Tucker told him. "Full power." He stepped back two paces to get behind the hulking MACO. There was no sense piling on the temptation, after all.
Sandoval shouldered his weapon and activated it. Energy bolts ripped through the air, screaming across the lab to smash into the force field in blazing shockwaves. When he lowered the pulse rifle, the shimmering distortion between the posts appeared unchanged.
"Now, admiral," Tucker said. "This is what the upgrade can do." He casually took aim and squeeezed the activator toggle. A bright beam left the weapon with a quiet hum. It lanced across the room and sliced into the force field like an ancient straight razor cutting a throat. Sparks flew, smoke poured from the emitters, and one of the posts burst into flame. Automatic fire suppression systems instantly sprayed foam onto the spot, leaving nothing but a deeply scorched mark on the hull metal backstop.
Travis grinned and walked over. "Now, this, I like." He took the rifle from Tucker and examined it curiously. "How did you manage to get this kind of increase in power?"
"Actually sir," Tucker said, "there isn't much of an increase in real power. What the upgrade does is improve efficiency. Instead of using a portion of the power unit to contain and focus the pulse, this unit uses a more efficient algorithm to integrate and fine tune the harmonic interaction between the electromagnetic fields. It does all of that before the power ever starts to flow. You get substantially more power left over to apply to the beam."
Travis raised an eyebrow at him. "I see you've been hitting the text books. Good. Keep it up. Meanwhile, I'll tell the general that we have a new toy for him." He paused in mid-turn and spoke without looking at Tucker. "Whatever you have in mind with Kuchera, proceed with extreme caution, commodore. He hasn't survived this long by being stupid. Don't make me break in a new Station commander."
"Acknowledged, sir," Tucker stood rigid while Mayweather walked out with his escort.
TBC