INIQUITY
Chapter Four
"What are you planning on doing with the Priigels, Captain?" asked Dr. Phlox as he gently straightened the sheet over Trip.
Jon sighed. "I want those two off my ship. The sooner the better," he replied.
"Perhaps we should take them back to Kabaltan Minor and turn them over to the authorities there," offered T'Pol. She'd been standing quietly at the foot of Trip's bed.
"At high warp, that would take us five days. I'm not sure I want them here for that long." Jon looked down at his sleeping friend. He looked incredibly pale but there were no signs remaining of the awful burns. He felt the anger building again toward the woman who'd hurt Trip but he held it in careful control.
"The only other option, Captain, is to let them go," said T'Pol in a very matter-of-fact tone.
"Tanner to Dr. Phlox," came a frantic voice over the comm.
Phlox hussled over to the comm. and fingered a button. "Dr. Phlox, Ensign. What can I do for you?"
"We have a medical emergency in the mess hall, Doctor. Its Lieutenant Reed."
"I'm on my way," replied Phlox. He turned around and looked at Jon then grabbed a medical bag from the nearby counter and headed for the doors.
Jon jogged to the comm. and after hailing the armory, ordered additional crew to sickbay and to the mess hall. Then he motioned to the young security crewman who had been standing silently by the doors, a phase rifle held tightly in his grip. "I want you to stay close to Commander Tucker, Crewman. Don't let anyone near him. More people are on their way down here to help you. You understand?"
The young man nodded obediently. "Yes Captain. I won't let anything happen to the commander, sir," he responded crisply.
Jon headed out the doors followed closely by T'Pol.
They arrived at the mess hall to find Dr. Phlox tending to Lieutenant Reed's head wound. The man was conscious but unsteady. Jon looked passed the two men to the door to his private dining room. Ensign Ely Tanner stood by the door. He looked up to acknowledge the presence of the captain.
"What happened here, Ensign?" Jon asked.
"I came in a couple minutes ago, sir, and found the lieutenant out cold on the floor. After I called for the Doc, I noticed that this door was fused shut. I've asked for someone from engineering to come up so we can get it open," explained Tanner.
"What about the entrance through the galley?"
"It's fused as well, sir."
Jon approached the door and ran his fingers along the melted metal. It was still warm.
The captain swung around to face T'Pol. "Sub-commander, put the ship on tactical alert. And then remain here until they open the door. I'm heading back to sickbay. She'll be going for Trip," he said then he was running for the main door.
As Jon ran down the corridor, his heart thundering in his ears, the alert claxons sounded.
The scream woke Trip immediately. After a minute of brief confusion, he realized that sickbay was nearly dark. He turned his head to look around, a feeling of dread washing over him. The room was barely lit, the only illumination coming from the glow of the lights from Phlox's various pieces of equipment. With the help of adrenaline, Trip managed to roll off the bed. He was still weak and he clung to it for support. He peered through the dimness, his eyes settling on a slumped figure near the doors. Cautiously the engineer lowered himself to the floor and crawled toward the body.
As he drew nearer, he could see that it was Crewman Brad Winfield, a member of Malcolm's team. Trip could also see by the odd angle at which the young man's head lay that he was most likely dead.
The engineer reached out a shaking hand and gently probed the man's neck for a pulse. He found nothing. He was about to lay his fingers across the man's wrist, when he felt a breath on the back of his neck. He turned to find no one there.
"Not again," he mumbled. He swallowed hard. This time Rhea had killed.
"Commander Tucker."
Trip froze.
The process of opening the door was quick and T'Pol made a mental note to thank Lieutenant Anna Hess later. The young woman had reacted quickly and efficiently. Now the engineer stepped aside then pushed the entrance button. Dr. Phlox and Reed stood on either side of the sub-commander as the door slid open. Both men gasped. There were two bodies in the room, both burned beyond recognition. T'Pol heard Hess behind her gag and then vomit.
"Oh Lord," whispered Reed. He followed the doctor and they both knelt by the first charred remains. Dr. Phlox pulled out his scanner and ran it over the body.
"This is Ensign Toth, Lieutenant," Phlox said quietly.
T'Pol remained at the door. The smell was unbearable but she schooled her face not to show her repulsion. Lives had been lost and she needed to find out why. She watched as Reed and the doctor shifted to kneel beside the other corpse.
"This one must be Raltus. My god, she killed her own husband," whispered Reed. "Perhaps she killed Ensign Stockton as well," he pondered.
"You may be right, Lieutenant," replied Phlox. He ran his scan then he stood and faced T'Pol in one swift motion, his face an expression of utter confusion and fear.
Jon reached sickbay only to find a darkened room. His eyes darted around then fell on the empty bed where only mere minutes ago he'd left Trip sleeping. She had him and the very thought filled Jon with fear.
The captain stepped further into the room, his eyes fully adjusted to the dimness. He turned slightly then caught sight of a body in his peripheral vision. He knelt down and checked for signs of life. The young man was dead, his neck broken cleanly.
He stood up as two other crewmen entered. They stared down at their fallen comrade, stunned looks on their faces. Then they both stood straight and awaited instructions from their captain.
Jon keyed the comm. "Archer to T'Pol!"
There was a long moment then his science officer responded. Her voice sounded slightly off.
"Trip's not---," Jon began.
"I know, Captain. We've isolated his bio signs. He's in Cargo Bay 2," replied T'Pol. "We're on our way there now. Lieutenant Reed and security are with me as is Dr. Phlox." Her voice halted. "Captain, it isn't Mrs. Priigel who has the commander. We found her remains in the dining room."
Malcolm keyed open the door to the cargo bay. The instant it slid open, he had his phase pistol pointed at the being within.
The elderly man stood at the center of the room surrounded by stacks of cargo containers. He had one arm extended out in front of him with the palm of his hand facing away from his chest. Trip was pinned to his back against the opposite wall, suspended about a meter off the floor. He wore only Starfleet issued blue pajama pants. Malcolm could see his friend's face. Trip was pale but he appeared to be alert. The lieutenant wondered briefly what other hidden powers the Kabaltan intended to use on Trip.
"Release him, Raltus!" shouted the captain as he barreled his way into the room. He was out of breath from running. Malcolm moved with him, phase pistol at the ready.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Captain," replied Raltus. The man turned his head slightly to reveal glowing eyes. "He can't get away with what he's done."
"And what is it you think he's done?" asked T'Pol. The Vulcan moved further into the room, her phase pistol held at her side.
Malcolm motioned for his team to spread out then he turned his attention back to Raltus.
"He took my wife away from me," said Raltus, his voice tight. The old man focused on Trip. "And now he'll be punished!"
"If the commander took your wife away, as you say, then why did you kill her?" T'Pol stepped a little closer and Malcolm realized she was stalling for time.
"Our marriage was based on trust, Sub-commander. She broke that trust," Raltus replied matter-of-factly. "Besides I was hungry."
"Hungry?" asked Archer.
"You humans are very slow-witted, aren't you? I'm the one who's sick, Captain! I'm sorry about your Ensign Stockton. I was beginning to lose control so I needed her. Sometimes I'm forced to do awful evil things in order to survive!"
"So while you were in the captain's company, you were killing an innocent woman?" asked Malcolm incredulously.
"Like I said, Lieutenant, awful evil things. I have to survive."
"What about now, Raltus? Are you doing this to Trip just to survive?" yelled Archer in anger.
"No, Captain. I'm doing this for my own satisfaction!" Raltus motioned with his extended hand as if flicking away a pesky fly and Trip cried out in pain. Malcolm watched in horror as his friend's ankle turned unnaturally then he heard the sickening crack of breaking bone. The lieutenant fired on Raltus immediately and his team did the same.
There was no effect.
"Stop it, Raltus!" shouted Archer.
The old man inhaled deeply and smiled. "Ah, such emotions," he breathed. He turned to look at T'Pol. "Even from you, Sub-commander. My wife thought you were an emotionless bitch but she was wrong, wasn't she? Your emotions are bubbling to the surface - fear, anger, concern - you're afraid for him, aren't you?"
T'Pol remained silent in response but her dark eyes burned like coals.
Malcolm glanced at Trip. The commander was breathing hard, his body covered in perspiration.
Raltus turned his attention back to the engineer. "Commander Tucker," he said with a smile. "Your hands are your job, aren't they?"
Trip's face contorted in pain as one by one, Raltus broke the fingers of his right hand.
Archer charged the Kabaltan but was thrown to the floor when the old man raised his other arm.
The captain struggled to his feet. "Raltus, please," he pleaded. "Let him go."
Malcolm could see that Trip was barely conscious now. He felt powerless to help his friend and in a single heartbeat, he recalled his time spent with the gregarious commander. Malcolm said a silent prayer that he would get many more years of his friend's treasured company.
Raltus flicked his wrist again and Trip moaned. His side began to visibly compress ever so slowly until the snapping of several ribs could be heard. Malcolm felt sick with fear. He fired his phase pistol again but Raltus merely laughed at him.
Then the chirping of a communicator filled the room.
Archer pulled out the little device and flipped it open.
"Captain, you were right. The shuttle's left the launch bay. There's one life sign on board. It's Kabaltan, sir."
Archer looked at Raltus. "Destroy it!" the captain ordered, his voice heavy with venom.
Jon watched Raltus' face as he gave the order to destroy the man's shuttlecraft. The old man's eyes glowed more brilliantly as he locked gazes with the captain then he looked back at Trip. Jon felt his world shatter as he watched his friend's body being hurled across the cargo bay to land with a sickening thump against a stack of containers. The commander slid to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Then Raltus was gone.
Dr. Phlox rushed by Jon to get to Trip.
"The shuttle has been destroyed, Captain," announced a distant voice.
"Good work," replied Jon. He flipped shut his communicator and jogged to his fallen friend's side all in one swift motion.
Dr. Phlox knelt beside Trip, his scanner in hand. "We need to get him to sickbay immediately!" he said. Jon had never heard such urgency in the doctor's voice and he felt his stomach clench.
Two crewmen instantly stepped forward and gently lifted the unconscious commander between them. They quickly left the cargo bay, the doctor at Trip's side. Jon followed with T'Pol and Malcolm right on his heels.
Several days later, Trip found himself sore, bored silly and very tired of sickbay.
"Come on, Doc. I feel fine," he whined. He gave Dr. Phlox one of his patented "looks" but it didn't seem to affect the Denobulan. Always worked on my mama, thought Trip in frustration.
"You've made astounding progress in the last few days, Commander, but you're still not ready to be discharged," admonished Phlox. "Now be still."
Trip did as he was told and settled himself on the uncomfortable bio bed. He stared up at the ceiling then expelled a long dramatic sigh, which did nothing but get an exasperated shake of the head from Phlox.
An hour later, the engineer stood in front of his quarters. He could still fool the best of them, he thought with satisfaction. Trip recalled many occasions when, as a child, he had managed to deceive his parents into thinking he was sound asleep then sneak out of the house to join his friends in creating all sorts of mischief. Now as he keyed in his entry code, creating mischief was not at the top of his to-do list. All he wanted was to sleep in his own bed surrounded by his own things.
As his door slid open, Trip gingerly stepped over the threshold, feeling the rub of the brace that supported his still-healing ankle. Carefully, he made his way to his bunk. He looked down when his foot kicked something. He grimaced as the little padd spun around then settled in the middle of the floor. T'Pol's long-range sensor upgrades, he remembered. Slowly Trip knelt and picked up the little device. The movement brought him pain and he placed his bandaged hand over his ribs as he stood again. Suddenly a hypo spray full of pain medication sounded appealing but he knew he didn't want to return to Phlox's domain, not quite yet anyway.
Trip moved slowly to his bunk then carefully sat down. He swung around, bringing his legs up so that he could lay flat. He was breathing hard from the exertion and discomfort but it was still worth it. At that moment, his tiny bunk was the most comfortable bed in the universe. He rested his injured hand across his chest then switched on the padd with his good hand, settling in to review T'Pol's proposed changes.
Only a few minutes had passed when the words began to run together and blur. Then they faded away completely.
Continued
